“They hopped grotesquely like the ill-omened zopilotes or scavenger vultures they initiated. A querulous clucking accompaniment was uttered by the chorus of spectators and the files of bronze bodies advanced and retreated, swayed and circled in slow-hopping processions around the blanketed heap upon the ground that represented the body. “Suddenly the drum rhythm changed and a curious whistling pipe music was heard. The heap of blankets stirred and rattled, from the heap an arm flung out white bones, a skull rolled to the feet of the spectators, then the blankets were flung aside and an Indian youth, completely nude, but painted white and marked with ritual signs, leapt from the pile. “Rising to his full height he donned a towering feather headdress of humming bird and quetzal feathers which gleamed like a myriad jewels in the torchlight. “Three times the spectators claimed him as the risen God, then the drums broke out into a violent triumphant dance in an infectious measure in which both dancers and spectators joined. “In the meantime a cloth or canvas housing had been drawn over the roofless temple by minor priests. The brazier was carried inside, and suddenly the Boy God, leaving the dancers, ascended the steps and entered the prepared pavilion. “As suddenly the drums fell silent and the shrill pipes alone kept up the eerie tune. “My friend touched me on the shoulder, the seated elders rose, and, following the high priest, we made our way into the sanctuary. “Ranging ourselves along the walls we sat down in an open square. In the centre was the youth stretched on a skin-covered native bedstead, at its head the brazier. “Swiftly the door was sealed with skin mats; then to the accompaniment of a muttered ritual and much raising and lowering of skull-tipped wands, the priest cast herbs into the brazier. The heavy smoke wreathed about in the close room and a sense of languor fell upon me. “Right and left I could hear the elders inhaling the vapour, then one after another they succumbed to its influence. Then came an invocation to the spirits, and the old men began to talk to spirits that they alone could see among the hazy, drug-laden smoke of the lodge. “As if inspired, the boy uttered oracular wisdom, now answering questions put to him, now declaiming what he had heard the spirits say. Slowly the drug gained in its effect over me. The painted leather screens on the rude walls became instinct with life, the crude stone carving seemed alive and writhing, and all the air seemed charged with flashing processions of colours and sonorous music. “I must have been overcome by the fumes, for I remember nothing more till I came to in the dawn-light in one of the terraces outside the building. They gave me a calabash of herb-scented goat’s milk to drink, and in a moment or two my brain cleared.... I made it my interest to get some of the marihuana herb, which I send you.”