t somewhere, as the dogs scarcely ever
stirred from his side. Turning back, I went to the spot where they
had appeared to me; and there, after a while, I caught sight of a dim,
yellow form as one of the brutes rose up to look at me. He had been
lying on the ground by the side of a wide-spreading bush, dead and
dry, but overgrown by a creeping plant which had completely covered
its broad, flat top like a piece of tapestry thrown over a table, its
slender terminal stems and leaves hanging over the edge like a deep
fringe. But the fringe did not reach to the ground and under the bush,
in its dark interior. I caught sight of the other dog; and after gazing
in for some time, I also discovered a black, recumbent form, which I
took to be Nuflo.

"What are you doing there, old man?" I cried. "Where is Rima--have you
not seen her? Come out."

Then he stirred himself, slowly creeping out on all fours; and finally,
getting free of the dead twigs and leaves, he stood up and faced me. He
had a strange, wild look, his white beard all disordered, moss and dead
leaves clinging to it, his eyes staring like an owl's, while his mouth
opened and shut, the teeth striking together audibly, like an angry
peccary's. After silently glaring at me in this mad way for some
moments, he burst out: "Cursed be the day when I first saw you, man of
Caracas! Cursed be the serpent that bit you and had not sufficient power
in its venom to kill! Ha! you come from Ytaioa, where you talked
with Rima? And you have now returned to the tiger's den to mock that
dangerous animal with the loss of its whelp. Fool, if you did not wish
the dogs to feed on your flesh, it would have been better if you had
taken your evening walk in some other direction."

These raging words did not have the effect of alarming me in the least,
nor even of astonishing me very much, albeit up till now the old man had
always shown himself suave and respectful. His attack did not seem quite
spontaneous. In spite of the wildness of his manner and the violence
of his speech, he appeared to be acting a part which he had rehearsed
beforehand. I was only angry, and stepping forward, I dealt him a very
sharp rap with my knuckles on his chest. "Moderate your language, old
man," I said; "remember that you are addressing a superior."

"What do you say to me?" he screamed in a shrill, broken voice,
accompanying his words with emphatic gestures. "Do you think you are on
the pavement of Caracas? Her