A Casebook of Curious Cases

By Adam Dumphy

"Fact is stranger than fiction" is a common American maxim. It ought to be true as it has been repeated innumerable times for at least six generations.
As with so many things written down, Adam Dumphy does not agree. He feels that if this is true writers of fiction should be ashamed. They are not doing their job.
Adam much prefers Mark Twain's "First get the facts then you can scramble them any way you like." Mark was probably talking about politics but it could be applied to writers also.
Best of all Adam prefers a scramble of fact by fiction. That is what he does. And after thirty years of medical practice he is certain there are many "facts" not true and much "fiction" learned subsequently to be fact.
In his medical practice his motto was "Primum non nocere." (Firstly do no harm.) He still believes that. And after all what is the harm in writing something that is not widely read if it might cheer up at least a few someones who do read. Logan Pearsoll Smith once wrote "A best seller is a gilded temple of mediocrity." He likes that.
Here is Adam's latest harmless presentation.

Ishi Revisited, Remains Tell the Story of a Recluse, a Phoenician Goddess in Modern California, A Look at that Awful Drug Scene, A Genuine Custer Survivor, Amelia Earhart returned, Shambu and his Friends Perform, Polka Dot Teeth are Revealing, the Clarence Pendelton Tremor explained, A Genuine Forgery or was it?
Curious cases all. And each solved for the reader in this offering.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781463431990

Adam Dumphy

Inflamed by a novel of and during the Spanish Civil War of 1936, titled, “The Kansas City Milkman”, Adam Dumphy searched out and contacted a clandestine enlistment center for the British Ambulance Corps operating there. Clandestine as it was at the time an illegal act to aid either side in the conflict. To Adam that fit the novel and made it all the more interesting to him and more Hemingwayesque. He ever after felt the British people generally to be biased and intolerant as he was rejected and simply for being only twelve years old. Still he found himself fascinated by that most peculiar of wars even as some men are towards our American Civil War. All the books and information he collected then he still has. His loyalty he has tried to maintain unbiased to either side although it has varied in degree from one side to another from year to year. Now from the vantage point of eighty years of age the only thing he can decide with certainty about the affair is that both sides got a very “bad press”. But then he believes that is true of most major events.

Book preview

Contents

The Curious Case Of

The Ambivolent Aborigine

The Curious Case Of

The Recluse’s Remains

The Curious Case Of

The Intangible Taneth

The Curious Case of

the Flaming Grandmother

The Curious Case Of

The Man Who Saw Memories

The Curious Case Of

the Genuine Custer Battle Survivor.

The Curious Case of the Family Shame

The Curious Case of

the Bombstaple Butterfly

The Curious Case Of The Gloomy Society Of The Bretheren Of The Polka Dot Teeth

The Curious Case of the 1943 World as Seen by a Noninflammable Flaming Youth

The Curious Case of the Genuine Hoax

ABOUT THE BOOK:

ABOUT the AUTHOR:

My Classics Professor (Wm. Ernest Ficke, Bs. Ma. PhD.) at the University of Dubuque (Iowa, 1944) was often wont to say, Who reads fiction idles. Too frightened of him then and his red penciled remarks in the margin of my compositions I never verbally disagreed. But I did disagree silently then and still do. So if that is true, and you decide to read this presentation, your engine is in neutral, you are idling, as it is entirely fiction.

This book is dedicated to all readers who disagree with the good Dr. Ficke.

The Curious Case Of

The Ambivolent Aborigine

(Ishi revisited)

When I had a separate line brought in from the street to the phone at arm’s length of the ‘convenience’ in the upstairs bathroom everyone in our small town heard of it at once and laughed inordinately. A wonderful idea generally for a man on call twenty-four/seven, even I at times found it inconvenient.

And since then it seemed that guests never felt the urge downstairs where there was a large bathroom with a marble topped ‘convenience’ awaiting their pleasure. Only when upstairs getting their wraps or on tour did they request use of an aid station.

Worst from my point of view was the conviction that some demented or sadistic electrician had broken in at night and wired the phone to the toilet seat so that every time the seat was lifted up the phone rang. Of course the reverse would have been worse.

It was a warm, lazy, Labor Day Holiday, my weekend supposed to be off from the hospital and a resident physician taking the duty and I had slept in late. I stumbled half alive into the john raised the seat and waited for the phone to ring. I was congratulating myself on a broken connection when it rang.

I grabbed the infernal instrument and interrupted the speaker, Go away. I said in a courteous manner

The thing kept babbling so I tried again. There is no one here to answer and besides I’m not on call. So sorry. Don’t bother to call back.

The voice continued uninterrupted, TJ? It’s Jus. We will be by in thirty minutes.

Oh no you won’t. I explained as discourteously as possible.

It is another Curious Case. You will love it.

Love it? If so it will be an unrequited, altruistic love at long distance.

Oh come on TJ. I know your little wife doesn’t want you to go on these trips but that is why she is a wife and not a movie starlet…Listen. Did you ever hear of an Indian, supposedly the last remaining survivor of some primitive tribe? They had him at UC Berkeley about 1910. Someone found him in Northern California half starved to death and took him to Berkeley to the UC Museum there and studied him for years. They called him a living Neanderthal. He used to appear at Historical Society Lectures, little old ladies Benefit Teas, and County Fairs and demonstrate how to make arrowheads and baskets the old way.

’Heard of him?’ Sure I have heard of him. His name was Ishi. He was a Southern Yana. He had some extracurricular activities also. He used to hide in the bushes in front of the University and throw rocks at the street car windows then pop out when the car had passed to pick up the broken glass. Street car glass was easier to make into arrow heads, oh… excuse me all you purists, I mean projectile points as it is called nowadays, than obsidian apparently.

Well we have another one. The CHP saw him crossing a back road and ran him down. They say he is far more primitive than anything they have ever seen before and about starved to death.

I just can’t go Jus… Where did you say they found him?

I was interrupted by the tinkling, melodious voice from the bedroom that had jangled my heart strings since second grade.

Why don’t you go with him, T.J.?

What?

I said ‘If that is Justin your jerky games leader and faithful companion why not go with him.’ You always like his cases so.

But Dede last time you said…

Don’t be silly, Dear. I would never interfere with your adultish pleasures or do I mean adolescent preoccupations.

She paused before delivering the stinger. And give my love to dear Viscount Ranulf Ashley David Ethelred Fitzwiskers.

It’s Fitzgerald.

Whatever.

Justin was talking again and I realized this was something I would have to carefully sort out.

Sorry, Jus, I just can’t go. I shouted. And in a whisper, Forty five minutes, Ok?

Returning to the bedroom I found Dede turned away and smothered to the eyes in a pink coverlet.

Dede… She didn’t let me finish as she often did not.

If you want to leave a cozy bed and the warm arms of a loving, languorous houri it is perfectly all right with… I interrupted her as I often did.

Dede how is it that I can change from a ‘dear darling’ man into a coarse unthinking beast in just under three minutes?

She turned over and showed a grin. Isn’t that funny? I have often wondered that myself. For a moment she pondered the imponderability of the human male. But I would never be a domineering wife.

You wouldn’t?

I will be brave, true and dutiful and let you go. You will never see the burning tears.

It was my turn to ponder. Something was not right here. I pondered her words

Is there a sale at the Broadway today, Baby?

She sat up and put an unconvincing finger to her cheek. Now that you mention it I do believe I did hear…And well if you are going to be away anyway I might as well…

Wait a minute. You caved in too easily. Caved in far, far too easily. Let me think. The sale started yesterday and you have already bought something, something expensive!

Oh TJ I hate you when you are like that.

Like what?

Well… like sort of right. A truly loving husband would never do that. But wait until you see it.

I climbed back into bed. It was cozy and there were those loving arms. But there was something else. "Ah…Dede about that English geek you mentioned…’

She interrupted with a giggle. Oh I love it when you are jealous. Are you?

Yes.

TJ don’t be silly. I’ve loved you since kindergarten. Didn’t I smuggle out my sister’s high heels and picture hat from her closet to wear to ‘Show and Tell’ in the second grade?

You sure did and you had a shape even then.

And I still have it, Chum. And don’t you forget it.

And she flounced off to the bathroom.

Forty minutes later I was running down the front steps to find a long black and white Highway Patrol car panting at the curb. In those days the CHP drove cars, not minivans or Jeeps. They were Olds and Buicks mainly and there was nearly three hundred horses under the hood so that nothing less than a foreign race car that tried to out run it was even in the race. And the CHP was inordinately fond of the chase.

The driver was a Highway Patrol Man and an old friend, Hal Winters. A well set up man and a fine athlete once he was now starting to grow the belly that goes with sergeant rank. His belt buckle was generally ‘out of sight’. He would never acknowledge it but I noticed that he had given up watering the front yard in shorts and had begun to wear Hawaiian shirts that hung way down. Although the flesh was drooping the spirit was willing and Hal was known for his ability to pry free coffee out of most of the waitresses in the County. Not uncommonly his wife had to send out a Code 4 to remind him he was late for a dinner party. Often he would be in a drive-in restaurant somewhere with a dead battery in the Patrol Car just from its sitting there so long with all the patrol equipment turned on.

There were two occupants in the front seat both wearing frowns so I knew they had been waiting, I had had breakfast while they were barely sustaining life with black coffee. My minor guilty feeling left when I remembered that I was not the one who needed to lose weight.

Well aware of the tendency that when three human being types, especially hungry ones, are placed in close association for any length of time how two would team up against one, I deciding to strike first and ignoring their obvious urgency I tried to convert this unfailing trait into a humorous, harmonious circle. Hal was the easiest to influence through his inordinate pride in the black and white.

I therefore kicked a tire, thumped the hood and announced, Ladies and gentleman. This is not a commonplace stripped down model despite the low, low price. No indeed. Not just a hearse as it appears but a stripped up doom buggy.

All I got were disgusted stares. It was too late and it was already two against one I realized. Me the one.

Climbing in the front seat I nudged over the middle occupant who was, to be kind, plump. I returned his look to see a little piglet of a man, the leading pathologist in the town and by default then pathologist for the Coroner’s Office and involved in any odd case that came along.

He was as always neatly professional in his uniform of dark suit, immaculate shirt, gold cuff links flashing, a dotted bow tie and cordovan brogans. The best of companions really we had been together through high school, college and Medical School. We had only lately separated in spirit and then only slightly. It was over his sheep-like following in awe anything new in Medicine or Science. I was the rebel he was the confirmed believer.

I struggled on. And to top off the morning here is the Rhett Butler of the Morticians Circle.

Again I was ignored. The conspiracy was fully in effect.

It seemed a difficult audience this morning but I tried again to do my duty as a courteous guest to lighten the morning and bring pleasure to my companions.

Did you hear about the about the cross word puzzle addict who on retirement wanted something new and big to keep him occupied. So he bought a 250 pound puzzle?

Really? From Jus.

Don’t ask. From Hal.

It is quite true. He married the widow next door. Then he had puzzles and all the cross words he wanted.

I told you not to ask. From both.

This seemed a most difficult audience. "Or about the two hospital nuns who were making home visits to the sick when they ran out of gas. They had no gas can but did have a bed pan with them. Taking it they walked to the nearest gas station, filled the bed pan with gas and returned to pour the gas into the gas tank when a drunk pulled up.

’Begorra, Sisters, I don’t think it will work but I certainly respect your faith.’

This time there was a stony silence.

The silence persisting. I switched to a subject less controversial. Cosmetics specifically designed for the knee caps were first invented in 1922 by a Theophilus Mulvaney of Boston. Prior to that time house paint was used as water color did not last through an evening. When it went out of style house painters previously much in demand as fashion stylists became destitute. Of course the …

Hal gunned the engine and zoomed into the street and around a corner then accelerated to at least eighty five mph in a thirty mile zone as he knew I disliked speed.

Officer if you continue at this speed I will report you to the secretary of the sports car club. I complained.

A deepening silence prevailed.

I was still trying. And the only really practical brassiere was invented by a Frenchman in…

But they had their way I was silent for a while. Finally Hal grunted in disgust and drawing out a handkerchief blew his nose loudly, ’Well at least those awful jokes cured my cold. Now I am really sick.

We proceeded in silence.

We stopped at a crossroads back country store for directions and knowing these affairs from past experience I bought a supply of prepackaged sandwiches and six cokes.

We turned down a dirt road and ended up at a small poorly painted frame ranch house with a corral behind it. A half dozen bodies including Border Patrolmen, cowboys, kibitzers and gawkers were leaning on the top bar and they opened a path for us then followed like spectators at dog fight. In the corner, made by the house and corral, crouched a slight figure, back against the wall, knees drawn up, one foot tucked under. Small to begin with it seemed shrunken into just bones. Ribs, collar bones and knee caps stuck out like a skeleton draped with a wet blanket. The skin hung in loose folds, so thickened, dry and coarsened that it resembled elephant hide. The hair was burned off close to the skull as was once done by many Indian tribes as a sign of mourning. The ear lobes were missing apparently amputated, the front teeth were filed to sharp points and raised cicatricial scars decorated the arms and legs. A short apron covered the pubic area and an irregular shawl of hide was draped over the shoulders. And that was drawn in at the waist with a belt of woven tule strands.

The only sign of life was an occasional shiver.

Justin nudged me with a fat elbow. Look at that TJ. Right out of the Neanderthal or earlier. Didn’t I tell you this case was a good one?

Sure, Jus, sure.

I moved closer. The native didn’t look up or move. And there was a strange odor over all, definite, pungent and vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place it. Maybe just the smell of grime and humanity.

The foot was the nearest thing near me. It was long for the body size, very slender, not really heavily calloused but with perfectly straight toes. What did a foot look like that had never worn shoes? I had never seen one so wasn’t sure. Like that I guessed.

I tried to remember what I knew about anthropometry. The native’s stature was barely five feet. The cephalic index of that almost bare skull was surely dolichocephalic. I seemed to remember that the Maya people were one of the broadest headed in the world, not long headed. Other Mexican tribes really should be the same. There was no epicanthic fold. The forehead was square with a thin, small nose. The Filipinos had thin, small noses, I remembered, but that was an ocean away. The pelvis was narrow with a wide flair to the pelvic brim.

A sudden movement startled me. It was a graceful movement of the arm with the hand going to the mouth, then a rubbing of the thumb on the forefinger and then a twist of the fingers toward the ground. It startled me as it was a familiar motion. Something I was familiar with but what? It almost seemed the repeated unconscious motion of the heavy smoker to remove a tobacco shard from the lips or tongue. What in the world? Also, at the movement, there had been revealed a suspicious bulge under the rabbit skin cape.

What about it T.J? The last survivor of some primitive tribe. This child was given the last food sent out of the mountains to find survival. Or everyone else starved or died and this is the only one who could travel.

It is a girl, Jus, and nearly full grown.

A girl? All the spectators moved in closer.

What about the rest?

How do I know? Those professional football players all look Neanderthal to me.

I took off my coat sighed and thought what my wife would say and put it around her. She caressed the fabric and drew it close.

I leaned close. And in a soft voice I whispered. Tu eres falsa. Una postiza.

Just for a moment I caught the direct gaze of two very bright eyes. Had she understood or was she just surprised at the sound of a soft and friendly voice?

Justin was offended. TJ what are you doing? Is this another of your awful jokes?

I don’t know what I’m doing, Jus. Just floundering I guess. None of this makes sense. But if I were you I would hedge.

But what should I tell them? Some are reporters here already.

Tell the crowd that this may be a modern girl. I’m not even sure she is Indian. And then tell them to get out of here and leave her alone.

TJ they already have photos and the whole story. Besides what modern girl would let herself get into this condition? Look at her skin, those teeth and the scars.

I don’t know, Jus. I just don’t know. I just doubt easily. Look for yourself at the skull and bone structure. Those light bones have never seen heavy labor. Besides a truly starved person has a red, tight, shiny skin. This girl has just been on a crash diet and her skin is too big for her.

He nibbled his forefinger and then faced the crowd of curious.

We are uncertain of the exact origin of this girl whether she is of Indian or mixed blood. And she may even be modern in her bone structure. How she came to be in this condition we have no knowledge. Even a hoax cannot be excluded as yet. He added the last reluctantly

The crowds melted away to pass on the news and more or less alone with her I sat beside her and pondered. It was a quandary. I had no equipment, no previous experience in such as this. What is it that differentiates the modern, civilized girl from a nonmodern uncivilized one? Soap, perfume, independence? I almost added hard headedness.

I drew my handkerchief out and held it to her. I was linen and embroidered with blue edging. At first she did not move but then a claw hand emerged from under the shawl and grasped the kerchief and drew it back under my coat. After a moment the handkerchief appeared again and was subjected to a close examination then it disappeared again.

After a minute it reemerged was smelled all over then rolled and tied around her upper arm. She had figured it out as an ornament and had put it to proper use. Was that civilized or native? I decided it was just feminine.

Looking further for something to use for a test I noticed my sandwiches still wrapped in waxed paper. I offered her one and it was promptly accepted. For a time she just held it and felt it then just held it in her hand in indecision. Suddenly I thought I knew her problem so I withdrew the other sandwich. I took a large bite from it, paper and all, and chewed and swallowed.

I got another look from those remarkable eyes. And there was no doubt any longer in my mind. There was laughter inside there somewhere.

Then very slowly and with obvious distaste she ate the sandwich paper and all while I hid my laughter. From that time on it was a duel between us.

Jus interrupted. TJ cut that out and let’s get the poor child into town where she can get proper clothes and food. You can play your little games then. Aren’t you ever growing to grow up?

She started the tricks. I said defensively.

Maybe so but until I can get an expert opinion I am going to keep you two separated.

We were interrupted as a long black Bugatti 40s pulled off the highway and proceeded gracefully, sedately even, up the dirt road. It paused where the other cars were parked then continued on over the rough pasture to within thirty feet of us when stopped by an old irrigation ditch.

It sat there a moment rocking back and forth gracefully on its expensive springs. A door opened and a uniformed chauffer emerged from the driver’s seat, billed cap, puttees and all. I recognized the advent of an old antagonist.

The great man emerged from the passenger door when held open for him, the picture of a pucka sahib. A tall, elegant man in safari shorts and bush jacket, knee socks and jodhpur boots. His man hurried around from the trunk of the car to produce a pith helmet against the bright sun complete with havelock and they came toward us.

One of the deep foreheads from the University he was an English Milord who had spent two years in San Diego during the war when his father was sent here to organize the aircraft industry for the Battle of Britain and he had returned now on a project of some kind.

Justin murmured. Thank goodness. Here is authority, stable, reasonable authority.

He hurried forward, Good Morning Viscount Fitz Gerald. How very nice of you to drive way out here. I am so glad you got my call and could come to give us your opinion. He was practically bowing at the waist.

The ‘Vispop’, already a Don at Oxford and a ‘Dom’ from some university in Portugal was wasting his expensive time just now as Visiting Professor in Linguistics at State. His field was ogam, his interests catholic. His handsome nose was stuck into everything and anything interesting or unusual in the area. Besides he was charming, svelte and classy, everything that I was not. He even smelled British. And I hated him.

The crowd surrounded him as they always did and led him to the corral babbling out all the news into the man’s ear.

He stopped before me and looked me over, Ah yes, Thaddeus the game’s afoot again. And here is your faithful Watson come to admire.

I wasn’t about to make friends that easily.

"My Watson? More like Walter Winchell come to record my deficiencies in ‘ink of madder and spiteful glee.’

Please Thaddeus. ‘Pen tipped in madder’, Lad. That is very good and I would plagiarize it at first opportunity but it has been done you know.

Already behind in the game by points I turned to look at his outfit. I knew I had to come up with something pithy or I would be eclipsed at the very start.

Gor blimey, Bwana what a costume. Trekking into the Himalayas later? Or is it Dr. Livingston himself on safari? Where is your elephant and howdah?

He laughed his happy laugh and turning to his man, chauffer and perennial straight man, Stebbings. Where is the elephant today? Why didn’t we bring him?

The tall chauffer paused only momentarily. Then without change in his frozen facial expression announced, Unavailable Milord. In the shop for its 30,000 mile check up.

The two turned to me the blankest of stiff-upper-lip blank faces. But I knew that inside they were laughing. Laughing like hell. Lord I was already behind two to zip.

He took my arm in his friendly manner and turned to the girl.Whatever is your magnetism, my dear chap that attracts these cases to you? I envy it. For it seems unfailing. And here is another one. What are your thoughts?

Entirely my own.

"A yes. Another jousting then I presume. I would much rather work with you but if you insist. Marques of Queensbury then?

Bugger the Marques. To you that means anything goes.

He reached behind without even looking to receive the cane handed him by Stebbings, the kind of cane that pops open into a spectator seat and he sat back comfortably to observe the girl. In case you have never tried that it is hard to do. I tried it once and fell on my can. He sat there solid and comfortable

Justin the blabbermouth was peaching on me.

TJ thinks her a hoax… He continuing to repeat everything I had said and a lot of what I had not said but thought.

Thaddeus’ thoughts are always pithy. Perhaps in this case he is lacking in hospitality or milk of human kindness. Look at the poor child, after all. He thought a minute. Stebbings.

Milord.

I doubt the poor thing and these men have had dejeuner. Could there be one of your famous picnic baskets in the tonneau?

Indeed yes, Sir. The man loped away and returned to spread a checkered cloth on a folding table. Iced goblets and a chilled bottle appeared and after pouring he offered one to the Milord.

Our guests first please. So the cops, three cowboys, a couple of yokels sipped from dainty goblets that they could hardly hold in work hardened hands a wine they had never heard of before.

Thaddeus here is a bit of a Young Turk, Stebbings. The Viscount continued without taking his eyes off the girl. He would probably prefer coca cola in a paper cup.

The chauffer did show astonishment at that. He looked up to the sky a moment and, I sincerely regret, Doctor, that we have nothing such as that. Would Chateaubriand in a dirty glass suffice?

Surely you have no such thing as a dirty glass in that immaculate basket.

No Sir, but I could roll it in the sand a minute to give the proper effect.

As the sand had once been a cattle corral I declined.

Wait Stebbings the girl too.

I objected. Wait a minute, Willy. That seems more than hospitality or human kindness demands.

Oh?

A poor innocent primitive like this given a glass of wine by a polished gentleman with extensive experience of womankind such as yours, who knows what it might lead to. She would be as putty in your hands.

It was the Milord’s turn to show surprise. ’Extensive experience’ with women? Me? Oh I say… Expensive possibly but certainly not… but his mind was on something else.

Stebbings. In your extensive knowledge of pastry cooks and upstairs maids and such would you opine in that inimitable manner of yours, a single word or two perhaps, your opinion of the girl in question?

The tall butler/chauffer cum straight man leaned forward. The girl’s eyes which had never left the Milord since he got out of the car shot a glance at his man.

The man looked up to the sky.

A word, Milord? Two words perhaps Milord?

Certainly, my good man. Three even.

Hardly necessary… I would say…Not inexperienced.

The great man considered his. You see Thaddeus you have an advocate already and a not inconsiderable one.

He offered the girl his glass. She took it, gingerly felt it, bit the rim with her sharpened teeth and smelled it carefully. Then she threw her head back and gulped it down in one swallow and extended the glass for more.

The Viscount was again surprised, astonished even, a rare thing. It showed as one eye brow was elevated a millimeter. By Jove. Perhaps you do have a point Thaddeus. Is soda available, Albert?

Perrier, Sir.

The Milord diluted up another glassful and handed it to her with the same response. And then there were delicate sandwiches sliced in sixths, and caviar with camembert. The girl ate everything offered her but preferred the wine.

What are you going to do with her, Thad?

Damn him! I hadn’t thought that far ahead until he asked.

Thinking fast I decided. Well there is a room in Psych Department at State College with a look through mirror. Those unprincipled heartless snoops use it to observe recalcitrant children. We might turn her over to Anthropology who can watch and record her every phony action.

Just the thing. She certainly is deserving of expert care and study. And the poor child the sooner we get her into proper care the better.

As all women will with him she took his preferred arm readily and walked off with him passively. She would have proffered the Bugatti but she was led to the Patrol Car. Then to my astonishment she would only enter if I sat in the rear beside her. Once settled in the seat she huddled in one corner and burst into sobs and tears. I put an arm around her and she hesitated only a moment then snuggled against me and head on my shoulder she fell asleep.

I would have thought that this was due to my overwhelming masculine charm had I not found on arriving home that my gold plated pen and pencil set were missing and doubted not that if I could have looked into her rawhide sack I would have found them there.

Also I could never get the peculiar odor out of my coat. Dede mentioned firmly that if I planned having any other young woman’s head on my shoulder to please choose one who used a deodorant.

For some days my only contact with the girl was through the newspapers. The first headlines described her capture and showed pictures of her wearing my coat. Several days later she was still on the front page. Her cloak and the small obsidian tool she carried were entirely authentic

An authority at Yale found her mutterings akin to Mayan. She was shown in simple tasks. One expert described her hand woven baskets as of a very old pattern and undoubtedly authentic. Her pottery was similar to that of Maria of the Pimas, whoever that was. She