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CHAPTER XXV

A GROUND-SQUIRREL. – A MOUSE'S NEST. – HUMMING-BIRDS AND THEIR YOUNG ONES. – THE LOCUST-TREE. – MEXICAN WOLVES AND THEIR RETREAT

I was suddenly awakened by the report of a gun just as the day was breaking. L'Encuerado showed me an enormous squirrel, with a gray back and white belly – a species which never climbs, and is, for this reason, called by Indians amotli (ground-squirrel). This animal, which lives in a burrow, has all the grace and vivacity of its kind, but it can never be domesticated. It generally goes about in numerous bands, and, when near cultivation, will commit in a single night great destruction; the farmers, consequently, wage against it a war of extermination.

Just as we were setting out, l'Encuerado, whose arm was visibly healing up, again took charge of the basket. I allowed him to carry it, on the condition he should tell me as soon as he felt tired. I went in front, leading Lucien by the hand, and the rocky slope was descended without accident. The oaks were small and scattered, and left us an easy passage over ground covered with dry leaves, which rustled under our feet.

"We might almost fancy we were in Europe," said Sumichrast, suddenly halting.

"Yes," I replied; "it seems as if the yellow leaves had already felt the autumnal winds."

"There's a dead tree," said my friend; "I feel sure, if we examine its bark, we shall find some insects of our own country."

My friend's hopes were not realized, and the only result of his search was to disturb the rest of two mice with slender muzzles. One of them escaped, while the other tried its best to protect a litter of five little ones, buried in some fine vegetable débris. Lucien examined the young ones with interest, and after replacing the bark, as far as possible, in its original position, rejoined us outside the wood. A descent so rapid that we could scarcely keep our balance brought us among a quantity of bushes covered with double thorns, which Lucien very justly compared to bulls' horns in miniature. At last the ground became more level, and, directing our course to the right, we turned into a plain, surrounded by woods.

"Both trees and plants seem larger here than on the mountains," said Lucien.

"You are quite right," answered Sumichrast; "the vegetation in the Terre-Chaude is more vigorous than that of the Terre-Tempérée. As you advance farther into it, you will be able to judge."

"Did you see that great insect that flew buzzing past us?"

"Yes, Master Sunbeam; but it was a humming-bird, not an insect."

"A humming-bird!" cried the boy, at once unfolding his butterfly-net.

And off he went in pursuit of the fugitive. The agile bird made a thousand turns, and always kept out of reach of the young sportsman, who at last stopped suddenly in front of a shrub. When I joined him, he was contemplating three little nests, fixed in forked branches, and covered outside with green and yellow lichens.

"There's the bird!" said Lucien, in a low voice.

I lifted up the little naturalist; two hen-birds flew off, and at the bottom of each nest he could see a couple of eggs of a greenish color, and about the size of a pea.

"If you hold me a little closer, papa, I can take the eggs."

"What would be the good, my boy? Look at them as long as you like, but don't deprive the little birds of what is most dear to them."

"There's one bird which has not moved," observed Lucien.

"Then, no doubt, its little ones are hatched."

"The whole of its body seems to glitter; it looks as if it was blue, green, and gold color. It sees me, and is moving. Now it is perched upon the tree! Only look, papa! there are two young ones in the bottom of the nest."

I put Lucien down on the ground, so that he might go to l'Encuerado, who was calling him. The Indian had found a humming-bird's nest fixed on a branch, which he had cut off and was bringing us. The elegant little structure was a perfect marvel of architectural skill, lined inside with the silky down of some plant. Two young birds, still unfledged, and scarcely as big as nuts, opened their beaks as if to ask for food. I directed l'Encuerado to replace the branch on the tree from whence he had cut it, and to fasten it so that it could not fall down. I followed him, to make sure he did it rightly. As soon as we came near the shrub, the mother fluttered all round the Indian, and at last settled down, panting, on her young brood.

"You're a brave bird!" cried the Indian, "and I ask your pardon for having carried away your house. Don't be afraid, my name is l'Encuerado, and you may safely trust in me. Don't tremble! I would sooner be hurt myself than cause you the least harm. There, now you are all firmly fixed again, and you may live in peace. Your little ones can tell you that I have not teased them; I only wanted to show them to Chanito. Good-bye, Señor Huitzitzilin! you are a brave bird, and it's I, l'Encuerado, who tells you so!"

And the Indian went away, saluting the valiant mother with so many waves of his hat that the poor bird must have thought her last hour had come.

"What do these beautiful little birds feed upon, M. Sumichrast?"

"On the juices of flowers and small insects. Look! there is one hovering, and its wings are moving too fast for us to see them. Don't stir! I see a branch so covered with blue flowers that it can hardly fail to attract the bird. Now it is settled above one of the corollas, and plunges its head into it without ceasing to beat with its wings. Its cloven tongue soon sucks out the honey concealed in the flower, and its little ones will greet it when it gets back with open beaks to receive their share of the spoil."

"They are funny birds, those," said l'Encuerado to Lucien. "In three months – that is, in October – they will go to sleep, and will not wake up till April."

"Is that true, father?"

"I rather fancy that they migrate."

"Now don't teach Chanito wrongly," said l'Encuerado, repeating a common phrase of mine; "the huitzitzilins do not migrate; they go to sleep."

"This fact has been so often related to me by Indians living in the woods," said my friend, "that I feel almost disposed to believe it."

"Don't they say the same of the bats and swallows? and yet we know they change their habitat."

"Yes; but with regard to humming-birds, they assert that they have seen them asleep. At all events, it is certain that they disappear in the winter."

The clucking of a bird of the gallinaceous order, called the hocco —Crax alector– interrupted our discussion, and my two companions carefully proceeded towards a dark-foliaged tree, a little outside the edge of the forest. The clucking suddenly ceased; we heard the report of a gun, and I saw three of them fly away into the forest. L'Encuerado was climbing a tree when I came up, for the bird he had shot had lodged among the branches.

"Do you see the long pods which hang on that tree?" cried Lucien.

"It is a locust-tree covered with fruit," said my friend; "it is a relation of the bean and the pea."

"Are the pods eatable?" asked the child, as one fell at his feet.

"You may taste the dark pulp which surrounds the seeds – it is slightly sweet; but don't eat too much, for it is used in Europe as a medicine."

L'Encuerado dropped at our feet the great bird which Sumichrast had killed. It was larger in size than a fowl, with a crest upon its head. Its cry – a sort of clucking of which its Spanish name gives an idea – tells the traveller its whereabout, although it is ready enough in making its escape.

L'Encuerado returned to the bivouac, and Sumichrast led us along the edge of a ravine, obstructed by bushes and shaded by large trees.

We had been quietly on the watch for a minute or two, when three young wolves, of the species called by the Indians coyotes, came running by, one after the other. They were soon followed by a fourth, and then the mother herself appeared. She glared at us with her fiery eyes, and then raised a dull, yelping noise, which brought her young ones to her.

"Upon my word!" exclaimed Sumichrast, "does this wretch intend to give us a present to her children?"

I stuck my machete into the ground, so as to have it at hand; and the brute lay down on the ground, as if ready to spring.

"Now then, my fine lady, come and meddle with us if you dare!" muttered my friend, imitating l'Encuerado's tone.

The coyote uttered a shrill cry, and almost immediately a sixth came and stood by her.

"Don't fire till I tell you," said I to Lucien, who seemed as bold as possible.

"You take the dog-wolf," cried Sumichrast to me; "but we won't provoke the contest."

Seeing us evince no fear, the brutes suddenly made off. Sumichrast descended to the bottom of the ravine, and then called me. I noticed among the high grass the entrance of a burrow strewed with whitened bones. Two yards farther on I saw the head of one of the animals, with eyes glittering like a cat's, glaring out of the entrance of another burrow. I threw a stone at the beast, which, far from showing any fear, curled up its lips and showed us a very perfect set of teeth.

As it was by no means our intention to make war upon wolves, I returned to the plain with Lucien, who had shown no ordinary coolness. I was glad of it, for my great wish was to inure him to danger, and I feared the Indian's misadventure with the otter might have had a bad influence.

"Didn't those wolves frighten you?" asked my friend of the boy.

"A little – especially their eyes, which seemed to dart fire."

"And what should you have done if they had sprung at us?"

"I should have aimed at them as straight as I could; but wolves are much braver than I thought."

"They were anxious to protect their young ones, and their den being so near made them all the bolder."

When l'Encuerado heard that we had coyotes near us, he made up a second fire for the night. The eastern sky was beginning to grow pale, and as we were supping we saw the paroquets in couples flying over our heads towards the forest. Humming-birds were flitting in every direction, and flocks of other passerines flew from one bush to another. When they offered to perch near our bivouac, l'Encuerado requested them in polite terms to settle a little farther away, and, on their refusal, urged his request by throwing a stone at them, which but rarely failed in its purpose. The sun set, and the mountains stood out in black relief against the pink sky.

The moon now rose, and I can hardly describe the marvellous effects of light produced by its rays on the sierras. L'Encuerado had made a second fire, and had taken Gringalet aside to insist upon his not roaming beyond the ground illuminated by its flame, telling him that the coyotes, which would doubtless pass the night in prowling round our bivouac, were very fond of dogs' flesh. As if to add weight to this prudent advice, a prolonged howling was now heard, which the dog felt obliged to respond to in his most doleful notes.

"Oh!" cried Sumichrast, "are those beasts going to join in the concert made by the grasshoppers and mosquitoes?"

Lucien, who had gone to sleep, started up.

"Where's my parrot?" he cried.

"Sleep quietly, Chanito!" replied the Indian. "It is roasted, and we shall eat it to-morrow morning at breakfast."

This reply and Lucien's disappointed face much amused us. L'Encuerado's fault was too much zeal: not knowing that Sumichrast was going to skin the bird, he had sacrificed it. In order to repair his error, he promised Lucien hundreds of parrots of every color; so he went to sleep and dreamed of forests full of birds of the most brilliant plumage.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE PATH THROUGH THE FOREST. – A FORCED MARCH. – THE BROMELACEÆ. – MOSQUITOES. – THE WATER-PLANT. – THE PROMISED LAND. – A BAND OF MONKEYS

Gringalet's barking, the yelping of the coyotes, the heat, the song of the grasshoppers, and the sting of the mosquitoes, all combined to disturb our rest. About five o'clock the sun rose radiant, and was greeted by the cardinals, trogons, and parrots. Lucien was aroused by all these fresh sounds, and his eyes rested for some time on the wall of verdure which seemed to bar the entrance of the forest. A cloud of variegated butterflies drew his attention for an instant; but he was soon absorbed in contemplating the humming-birds with their emerald, purple, and azure plumage.

L'Encuerado, whose arm was now completely healed, had again taken possession of the load, and Sumichrast commenced cutting the creepers in order to open a path. I relieved him every now and then in this hard work, and Lucien availed himself of the moments when we stopped for breath to have a cut at the great vegetable screen which nature places at the entrance of virgin forests, as if to show that there is within it an unknown world to conquer. Unfortunately, the small height of the boy rendered his work useless; but he at least evinced a desire to take his part of the labor. At last the thick wall of vegetable growth was passed, and we found ourselves in a semi-obscurity, caused by the shade of gigantic trees.

"Are we now in a virgin forest?" asked Lucien.

"No, for we are only just entering it," I replied.

"But the ground is so bare; there are no more creepers, and the trees look as if they were arranged in lines."

"What did you expect to meet with?"

"Plants all entangled together, birds, monkeys, and tigers."

"Your ideal menagerie will, perhaps, make its appearance subsequently. As for the entangled plants, if the whole forest was full of them, it would be absolutely impenetrable. The soil is bare because the trees are so bushy that no rays of the sun can penetrate, and many plants wither and die in the shade; but whenever we come upon a glade, you will find the earth covered with grass and shrubs."

"Then the forests of the Terre-Tempérée are more beautiful than those of the Terre-Chaude?"

"You judge too hastily," replied Sumichrast; "wait till our path leads along the edge of some stream."

"All right," muttered the boy, shaking his head and turning towards his friend; "the woods we have gone through are much more pleasant. It is so silent, and the boughs are so high that we might fancy we were in a church."

The boy's remark was far from incorrect. The dark arches of the intersecting branches, the black soil formed by the accumulated vegetable débris of perhaps five or six thousand years, the dim obscurity scarcely penetrated by the sunlight making its way through the dark foliage – all combined to imbue the mind with a kind of vague melancholy. The limited prospect and the profound silence (for birds rarely venture into this forest-ocean) also tend to fill the soul with gloomy thoughts, and prove that health of mind as well as of body depends upon light.

A furnace-like heat compelled us to keep silence, and tree succeeded tree with sad monotony. The moist soil gave way under our feet, and retained the traces of our footsteps. At a giddy height above our heads the dark foliage of the spreading branches entirely obscured the sky. Every now and then I gave a few words of encouragement to Lucien, who was walking behind me quite overcome with the heat; especially, I recommended him not to drink, in the first place, because the water must be economized, and next because it would only stimulate his thirst.

"Then we shall never drink any more," said the boy.

"Oh yes! Chanito," rejoined the Indian, "when we form our bivouac, I shall make plenty of coffee, and if you sip it, in a quarter of an hour your thirst will be quenched."

"Then I hope we shall soon reach our bivouac," said Lucien, mournfully.

If I had consulted my own feelings, I should now have given the word to halt; but reason and experience enabled me to resist the desire. It would really be better for Lucien to suffer for a short time than for us to lose several hours, especially if we failed to find the stream we were seeking. It was necessary to cross without delay the inhospitable forest which we had entered, instead of waiting until hunger and thirst imperiously cried – Onward! when perhaps we might be too exhausted to move.

The ground became undulating, and I hastened forward, thinking to meet with what we wished for, when a glade, which enabled us to catch a glimpse of the sun, enlivened us a little. Here there was some grass, and a few shrubs and creepers. I called Lucien to show him what to us was a new plant, the Bromelia pinguin of botanists.

Its ripe pink fruit was symmetrically placed in a circle of green leaves. Lucien, kneeling down, tried to pluck them.

"Pull one from the middle, Chanito," cried l'Encuerado; "that's the only way to get them."

The boy seized the centre berry, which came out, and, like the stones of an arch when the key-stone is taken out, all the cones fell. Under their thick husk there was a white, acid, melting pulp, well adapted to quench the thirst; but I recommended Lucien not to eat more than two or three of them. A second clump, a little farther on, enabled us to gather a good stock of them. Providence could not have placed in our path a more valuable plant, for the hundreds of cones which we had gathered would enable us to brave the necessities of thirst for two or three days. We now walked on at a quicker pace, and Lucien, a little refreshed, kept his place courageously by my side.

"Well!" said I, "you must confess now that virgin forests may have something good in them. How do you like the timbirichis?"

"They are excellent; what family do they belong to?"

"They are akin to the pine-apples, and therefore belong to the bromelaceæ."

"But the pine-apple is a large fruit, which grows simply on its stalk."

"Yes, so it appears; but in reality it is formed by an assemblage of berries all joined together. The strawberry, which belongs to the rose family, is similarly formed, and few people would believe, when they swallow a single strawberry, that they have eaten thirty or forty fruits."

For an hour we scarcely exchanged a word, but walked silently on, soaked with perspiration, and scarcely able to breathe the heated air.

"I think there is a glade," murmured Lucien, pointing to the left.

"So there is; forward! forward!"

Five minutes after we reached an open spot bathed in sunshine amidst a thicket of tree-ferns and high grass. The trees, placed more widely apart, were covered with gigantic creepers drooping to the ground. Here we again heard the note of the hocco.

While I was clearing the ground, Sumichrast and l'Encuerado took up a position amidst the bushes. I gave some water to Gringalet, whose tongue hung out, for he had possibly suffered most, as he would not eat the fruit which afforded us relief.

Two shots were fired shortly afterwards; but the sportsmen soon returned with such a disappointed air that I felt sure they had been unsuccessful.

I made a joke of the matter, and pretended that the dry maize-cakes were better than the fattest turkey. I spoke with such apparent seriousness that my companions began to get animated, and a sharp controversy gave a zest to our frugal meal. I asserted, too, that the tepid water in our gourds surpassed in flavor the product of the coolest spring, and that the acid timbirichi was the best of fruits. Gradually, however, I gave way, and at bed-time pretended to be quite converted. I had amused our party, and that was all I wanted.

The night passed without any incident save the continued attacks of mosquitoes, and the unfortunate Gringalet pressing close to us to avoid the cruel stings of the blood-thirsty insects which much annoyed him.

At sunrise I gave the word to start, and all day long we met with no glade to give variety to our path. I could not help admiring Lucien, who, although suffering from heat, fatigue, and thirst, uttered not one complaint, but only looked at me with a sad face. Two or three times I tried to enliven him; the poor little fellow then shook his troublesome burden and smiled back so painfully that I was quite affected. L'Encuerado, overwhelmed by his basket, puffed noisily, and declared every now and then that he could sniff the river and the smell of the crocodiles. This nonsense enlivened our march a little; but soon, dull and silent, we resumed our sluggish pace. At last fatigue compelled us to halt, when Lucien and l'Encuerado went off to sleep, quite forgetting their suppers. I proposed to Sumichrast to regain as soon as we could the mountain path.

"Let us keep on one day more," said my friend; "we have still four bottles of water left, and even if we give Lucien and Gringalet the largest share, it will serve us for another twenty-four hours."

The next day, just as we were starting, l'Encuerado killed a hocco. The fire was soon lighted, and the game washed down with a mouthful of brandy, which somewhat restored our energy. About midday, when the heat was most intense, the aspect of the ground altered, the trees became wider apart, and our strength seemed to redouble.

"Now, Master Sunbeam!" cried Sumichrast, "lengthen your strides a little, if you please; don't you hear the murmur of a stream?"

"Three days you've been telling me this story, so that now both Gringalet and I are skeptical."

"How will you behave when you cross the savannahs?"

"Just as at present. I would walk without drinking, so as not to excite my thirst," replied the child archly, who had failed to be convinced by our reasoning.

"Oh, come! I thought you were too ill for irony. Never mind, I can bear witness that you have behaved like a man. What do your legs say?"

"That they would be very willing to rest."

"You would like to find yourself at Orizava?"

"I should rather see a stream, an alligator, and a puma."

"You are most unreasonable. I should be contented with the stream."

"Don't you find that the mosquitoes in the Terre-Chaude bite much sharper than those in the Terre-Tempérée?" asked the boy, addressing l'Encuerado.

"No, Chanito; they are all alike, for they belong to the same family, as your papa says."

"Then they must be more numerous here, for every instant one receives a fresh pinch."

"You must not complain yet, Chanito; you'll see what it will be when we reach the stream."

"How will it be then?"

"We shall not be able to open our mouths without swallowing some of these blood-suckers. But, Chanito, do you know what these mosquitoes are?"

"Yes, papa told me yesterday that they were diptera, and relations of the gadflys. Their proboscis is a kind of sheath inclosing six lancets, by the help of which they pierce our skin and suck our blood."

"But where do these hungry wretches come from?"

"From the water, where the insect lays its eggs. You know those little worms which are constantly moving up and down in pools; they are the larvæ of the mosquito."

"The mosquito, that terrible scourge of the Terre-Tempérée and the Terre-Chaude, renders these regions inaccessible to the inhabitants of the Terre-Froide. They can not get accustomed to their bites, which cover their bodies with large red pustules, causing fever and want of sleep, and giving the victims the appearance of having just recovered from small-pox."

Again we walked on without talking, for the heat dried up our throats. Suddenly some singular cries reached our ears.

"The clucking of an oscillated turkey!" cried Sumichrast.

L'Encuerado laid down his burden, and my two companions started off in search of the birds. They joined us again in about a quarter of an hour, each carrying a fowl with metallic-colored plumage dotted over with spots, almost as large as a common turkey. It belongs to the gallinaceous order, and is only found amidst the forests of the New World, particularly in Honduras.

"Well!" cried Sumichrast, "we have plenty to eat now; but this is a bird which is found at a long distance from streams, and warns us to economize the contents of our gourds."

Five hundred paces farther on we saw some stones covered with moss, and an enormous upright rock like a tower. We saluted the colossus without stopping to examine it, and lengthened our strides, although the ups and downs in our path gradually became more numerous. Gringalet every instant raised his nose to sniff the air, and the hope of at last emerging from the forest drew us forward with increased ardor, impelled, as we were, by the desire of at last finding the longed-for stream. Lucien actually mustered up a run, while his cheeks flushed and his eyes glistened with anticipation.

"Here are grass and flowers! Forward! forward!" cried Sumichrast.

"Forward!" Lucien re-echoed.

The great trees, which were now farther apart, allowed the rays of the sun to penetrate the foliage, and the creepers drooped down in flowery festoons. The convolvuluses, the ferns, and the parasites, all entangled together, compelled us to use our knives. A somewhat steep ascent, anxiously scaled, led us up to a plateau. In front of us stretched a prairie dotted over with thickets, and bordered with forests of palm-trees, laurels, magnolias, and mahogany-trees, from which sounded the songs of various birds, mingled with the harsh cry of parrots.

Panting, weary, and perfectly soaked with perspiration, I proposed to bivouac on the plateau. Indeed, the sun was setting, and we had only just time to collect the wood we required for the fire. This task finished, I went and sat down with Lucien on the highest point we could find. The mountains of the Terre-Tempérée showed against the horizon, although we were already at least fifteen leagues from them. We long looked down on the tree-tops of the forest we had just crossed, and the uniformity of the dark-green foliage had a most gloomy aspect; and, while close round us there were a number of birds fluttering about the trees, none of the feathered tribe ventured into the solitudes we had so lately traversed.

"I can not catch a sight of either rivulet or stream," said Lucien.

"Courage!" replied Sumichrast, who had seated himself by us. "The birds which are flying round us can not live without drinking, and their large number shows that there is plenty of water near."

"Hiou! hiou! Chanito."

"Ohé! ohé!" replied Lucien, darting to the place whence he heard the familiar cry.

The two friends went down the hill together, l'Encuerado carrying his enormous gourd.

"Can he have discovered water?" said I to my companion, and I approached the fire where the game was roasting under the inspection of Gringalet. Sumichrast remained to look after the cooking of the birds, and I overtook Lucien and the Indian just at the moment when they were bending over a plant with scarlet-red leaves, which grew encircling the stem of a magnolia. About a glassful of limpid fluid flowed from it into the calabash.

"Can we get water from this shrub by merely pressing it?" asked Lucien, with surprise.

"All that is needed is to bend it," I replied. "It treasures up the precious dew between its leaves, and l'Encuerado and I should have died of thirst in one of our expeditions if it had not been for this plant."

"Why doesn't it grow in every forest?" asked Lucien.

"Certainly, if it grew everywhere, one of the greatest obstacles to travelling in the wilderness would be removed."

"And what's the name of this plant?"

"The Creoles call it the 'Easter flower;' it is one of the bromelaceæ."

"Does it produce any fruit good to eat?"

"No, but in case of extreme necessity its large red leaves would appease hunger."

We reascended the hill, when an uproar proceeding from the edge of the forest reached our ears. L'Encuerado smiled, showing us the double range of his white teeth.

"See down there," he said to Lucien, pointing to a corner of the wood, away from which all the birds seemed to be flying.

There was a whole tribe of monkeys frolicking about among the creepers.

"Let us go and look at them more closely," said Lucien.

"It is too late now, Chanito; they have just been drinking, and will soon go to sleep; but we shall eat some of them to-morrow – and now our supper is waiting for us."

We finished our meal, and when the sun was setting we saw the paroquets fly by in couples, and humming-birds flitting about among the bushes; suddenly a formidable roaring made us all tremble.

"Oh! what is that dreadful noise?" cried Lucien.

"A tiger!" said l'Encuerado, whose eyes glittered with excitement.

"Not a tiger, but a jaguar (Leopardus onca)," said I; "the former animal is found only in the Old World."

The king of the American forests again saluted the setting sun. Gringalet, with his tail between his legs, came crouching down close to us; a second fire was lighted, and we lay down to sleep with the indifference which familiarity gives even in regard to the very greatest dangers.