maybe there is a buck in it for both of us. Ac-
cording to what I hear, he is flat on his ass.
We are lucky to hit him in that condition. If
he was in the chips and drinking champagne
out of galoshes in the whorehouses of Puyo,
he would hardly be interested to sell me a
few hundred Sucres’ worth of yagé. And,
Gene, for the love of Christ, when we do
overhaul this character, please don’t say,
‘Doctor Cotter, I presume.’”
It was dark when they reached Cotter’s place,
asmall thatched hut in a clearing. Cotter was
awiry little man in his middle fifties. Lee ob-
served that the reception was a bit cool. Lee
brought out the liquor, and they all had a
drink. Cotter’s wife, a large, strong-looking,
red-haired woman, made some tea with cin-
namon to cut the kerosene taste of the Puro.
Lee got drunk on three drinks.
Cotter was asking Lee a lot of questions.
“How did you happen to come here? Where
are you from? How long have you been in