T. S. Stribling

“ The Stendill agent relighted his cigar and conned this new hypothesis—a flying man—a man who could fly noiselessly— The idea began to paint a new fantasia before Lassiter's mind, i
“Besides that,” droned out Birdsong, “I saw this gaucho laying right down on his horse's neck.”
The Stendill agent turned in irritation.
“Look here, Birdsong, gauchos live in the Argentine. How can you imagine one would be riding over the Andes at midnight?” ”

“ If they wished to discourage contact with less cultured tribes, such as the Bujeans, would they not post guards in these mountains and kill the stock of travelers in an effort to frighten them?”
“Why wouldn't they kill the travelers themselves, señor?”
“Because they are civilized. You and I, for instance, we would avoid murder to the last extremity.” ”

“ Birdsong pursued the topic.
“Brother Lassiter, maybe the Lord provided that gaucho with a miraculous rope to get me past this bottomless pit made by the devil.”
“No doubt—no doubt—” and he returned to his study of the rope.
The Colombian joined Lassiter and helped him study the new find. The two men walked into the tent to sit and smoke and talk. Birdsong continued his work outside.
“This will explain Chombo Meone's story,” began Lassiter. “Take the supposition of the Jivaros, a small, but highly civilized people here in the Andes. ”

“ IV ON THE following morning, the three men held a sort of inquest over the dead mules. Lassiter examined the top side of one of the brutes, the men then heaved the body over and the promotor set to work on that side. He made a minute examination, brushing the hair the wrong way to get at the skin. He did not find a single cut or puncture or scratch. The three mules lay intact.
After some half hour's investigation, he glanced up as Nunes—
“What about strangulation?” ”