Arthur O. Friel

“ Nowhere in those walls, except where we had entered, was any sign of a door. None of the clay vessels was big enough to hold a man, unless it was built around him after death. Yet I went poking around among the jars and tested the walls before I would admit that no prisoner was in the place. Then I had to give it up.
“Pedro, perhaps you can find something,” I said. “Look.”
As he stepped away I took his place, guarding the wizard with drawn machete and giving him no chance to try any trick, human or devilish. ”

“ The thatch walls seemed unbroken everywhere.
Whispering together, we decided on a ruse. We wanted to look into that hut without letting the priest know of it. But our only chance to do so was to find the door; for the place was so small that any attempt to cut into the walls, as we had intended to do at the maloca, would be heard inside. So we separated, each finding a position where he could watch one side and one end at the same time. Then Pedro gave the wail of an owl.
An owl wailing in broad day was queer enough to make even a wizard look around him ”

“ I have looked inside and watched the people of the Bat long enough to know.”
The pajé answered never a word. His sullen stare did not waver.
“Now the day ends,” Pedro added, “and we must go.”
A grim light passed over the other's face. I read his thought—that now he could put men on our trail. But my comrade's next words brought to his forehead the blackest scowl I had yet seen there.
“Yes, we go. And since your spirit of the jar yonder is dead, we fear you may be lonely. So we shall not leave you alone. We take you with us.
“Lying priest, say farewell to the people of Andirah. Turn. ”