lf
down to the ground. Its large black eyes, of unusual mildness, were
widely opened, and its nose slit like hares and rabbits. It was just
about to stretch itself, when, to our great regret, l'Encuerado shot it;
the poor beast fell over on the ground, and placing its hand-shaped
paws on the wound, rolled itself up into a ball at the foot of a tree.
Gringalet darted forward to seize it, and then immediately retreated,
howling with pain; he came back to us with his muzzle bristling with the
porcupine's quills, which were about two inches long and finely pointed.
The unfortunate dog rubbed his nose against the ground in order to get
relief, but, of course, this only increased his pain. Lucien ran to help
him, and at last succeeded in extracting them.

"Have you lost your senses?" asked l'Encuerado of the dog, while washing
the poor beast's nose and mouth. "The idea of trying to bite a
_huitzttacuatzin_! Upon my word, I thought you knew better than that. No
doubt it's a good thing to be brave, but you must manage to be less
stupid when you are in the forests of the _Terre-Chaude_, unless you
want to be devoured by a tiger, or scratched to pieces by an ant-eater."

After listening to l'Encuerado's speech, Lucien scolded him for firing
at the poor animal, and then joined us, close to the porcupine, which
was dying. It was about the size of a fox, and its fore paws were
furnished with four toes armed with claws. This animal, which is slow of
pace and entirely inoffensive, spreads round it a sickening musky odor.
It lives on fruit, roots, and insects, and, aided by its prehensile
tail, climbs trees with great skill. It but rarely tries to make its
escape at the approach of the hunter, who, moreover, utterly despises
such worthless game.

L'Encuerado reminded us that we had now been travelling twelve days, and
that it was the first Sunday in May. We should have devoted it to rest
if our morning's hunting had been successful; but, unless we contented
ourselves with a dinner composed only of rice, we were obliged to shoot
some eatable bird or animal to fill our stew-pot. We heard some doves
cooing, and l'Encuerado went off alone in the direction of the sound,
for these birds are difficult of approach. Gringalet, notwithstanding
our calls, ran after the Indian.

Lucien climbed the rock which hung over the pool, and made signs for me
to come to him, saying, in a low voice,

"Papa, come and look at this strange animal."

I al