the bank. In a few minutes he
was out of sight, and Leon, seeing nothing more of him, kept his eyes
sharply fixed upon the tapir.

The latter remained quietly feeding for about ten minutes, when the boy
saw him give a little start. Perhaps, thought he, he has heard Guapo
among the weeds--for the tapir has good ears--and that was what caused
him to make the motion. The tapir stopped feeding for a moment, but
then recommenced, though evidently not with as much eagerness as before.
Presently he stopped a second time, and seemed undetermined as to
whether he should not turn and take to the clear water. In this way he
hesitated for several minutes; then, to the astonishment of Leon, his
body began to rock from side to side, and the next moment, with a
plunge, he fell heavily backward, making the waves undulate on all sides
of him. The arrow had done its work--he was dead!

A loud shout from Guapo echoed along the river, and the Indian was seen
plunging forward to the dead tapir, which the next moment he had seized
by the leg, and was dragging towards the bank. He was here met by the
whole party, all of whom were anxious to see this rare and singular
creature. Ropes were soon attached to the legs, and Guapo, assisted by
Don Pablo and Leon, drew the huge carcass out upon the shore; and
dragged it up to the house.

Guapo at once skinned it, carefully preserving the hide to made soles
for his sandals and other purposes; and that night all of them tried a
"tapir-steak" for supper. All, however, Guapo alone excepted, preferred
the flesh of the purple macaws, which, cooked as they were with onions
and red pepper, were excellent eating, particularly for Spanish-American
palates. Guapo had all the tapir to himself.

The bamboo palm-house was now quite finished, and several articles of
furniture too--for during the nights both Don Pablo and his trusty man
Guapo had worked at many things. You will, no doubt, be asking where
they procured lights,--will you not? I shall tell you. One of the
loftiest and most beautiful of the palm-trees--_the wax-palm (Ceroxylon
Andicola_)--grew in these very parts, for the lower slopes of the Andes
are its favourite habitat. Out of its trunk exudes wax, which has only
to be scraped off and made into candles, that burn as well as those made
of the wax of bees. Indeed, the missionaries, in their various
religious ceremonies,--or "mummeries," as they might be better styled,--
have always