Free The Active Side of Infinity by Carlos Castaneda

them to tourists there."
    I had seen the Yaqui masks that were sold in the stores in town. They
were very rude masks in comparison to the ones I had, and Jorge
Campos had indeed picked out the best.
    I left him in the city and headed for Los Angeles. Before I said
good-bye, he reminded me that I practically owed him two thousand dollars because he was
going to start his bribing and working
toward taking me to meet the big man.
    "Do you think that you could give me my two thousand dollars the
next time you come?" he asked daringly.
    His question put me in a terrible position. I believed that to tell him
the truth, that I doubted it, would have made him drop me. I was convinced then
that in spite of his patent greed, he was my usher.
    "I will do my best to have the money," I said in a
noncommittal tone.
    "You gotta do better than that, boy," he retorted forcefully,
almost angrily. "I'm going to spend money on my own, setting
up this meeting, and I must have some reassurance on your part. I
know that you are a very serious young man. How much is your car worth? Do you
have the pink slip?"
    I told him what my car was worth, and that I did have the pink slip,
but he seemed satisfied only when 1 gave him my word that 1
would bring him the money in cash on my next visit.
    Five months later, I went back to Guaymas to see Jorge Campos. Two
thousand dollars at that time was a considerable amount of
money, especially for a student. 1 thought that if perhaps he were
willing to take partial payments, I would be more than happy to commit myself
to pay that amount in installments.
    I couldn't find Jorge Campos anywhere in Guaymas. 1 asked the owner of
the restaurant. He was as baffled as I was about his disappearance.
    "He has just vanished," he said. "I'm sure he went back
to Arizona, or to Texas, where he has business."
    I took a chance and went to see Lucas Coronado by myself. I arrived at
his house at midday. I couldn't find him either. I asked his
neighbors if they knew where he might be. They looked at me belligerently
and didn't dignify me with an answer. I left, but went by his house again in
the late afternoon. 1 didn't expect anything at all. In fact, I
was prepared to leave for Los Angeles immediately. To my surprise, Lucas
Coronado was not only there but was extremely friendly to me.
He frankly expressed his approval on seeing that I had come without Jorge
Campos, who he said was an outright pain in the ass. He complained
that Jorge Campos, to whom he referred as a renegade Yaqui
Indian, took delight in exploiting his fellow Yaquis.
    I gave Lucas Coronado some gifts that I had brought him and bought from
him three masks, an exquisitely carved staff, and a pair of rattling
leggings made out of the cocoons of some insects from
the desert, leggings which the Yaquis used in their traditional dances. Then I
took him to Guaymas for dinner.
    I saw him every day for the five days that I remained in the area, and
he gave me endless amounts of information about the Yaquis-their
history and social organization, and the meaning and nature of their
festivities. I was having such fun as a field-worker that I even
felt reluctant to ask him if he knew anything about the old
shaman. Overcoming second thoughts, I finally asked Lucas Coronado if he knew the
old man whom Jorge Campos had assured me was such a prominent shaman. Lucas
Coronado seemed perplexed. He assured me that to his knowledge, no
such man had ever existed in that part of the country and that
Jorge Campos was a crook who only wanted to cheat me out of my money.
    Hearing Lucas Coronado deny the existence of that old man had a
terrible, unexpected impact on me. In one instant, it became
evident to me that I really didn't give a damn about field-work. I only
cared about finding that old man. I knew then that meeting the old shaman had
indeed been the culmination of something that had nothing to do with
my desires, aspirations, or even thoughts as an anthropologist.
    I wondered more