uan," he said.
"And who is Juan?"
"The eldest of my grandchildren. He is watching a flock of goats in the
plain which belong to us."
The voice of the old man woke me next morning, and I got up at the same
time as Sumichrast, who was still in a semi-torpid state from having
slept so well. Lucien and l'Encuerado, who had risen earlier, had
already explored the ravine, led by the youngest of the children; for
the elder ones worked, according to their several abilities, at
collecting wood or cultivating the fields.
Our first care was to unpack the insects and bird-skins we had
collected, and the whole colony now surrounded us and asked us
innumerable questions. To our great disappointment, we found we could
only retain the most remarkable of our "treasures." Hitherto, the
bird-skins had taken the place in the basket of the provisions we had
eaten; but, after making an inventory, I came to the conclusion that,
when our provisions were renewed, it would be perfectly impossible for
l'Encuerado to travel with such an increased load. So we were compelled
to reject many of the specimens, though not without regret. Suddenly the
idea struck me of questioning Coyotepec about his son's annual journey
to Puebla.
"He will start in fifteen days," answered the old man.
"Will he go alone?"
"No; he takes with him three of our biggest lads and six donkeys."
"And are the donkeys laden?"
"Yes; but the boys start without any burden."
In an hour's time (an Indian never decides any thing without much
consideration) I arranged with my host that he should transport to
Puebla two cases in which I could pack my valuables.
Such a piece of good luck made us feel quite jolly; for by this means we
were enabled to preserve the whole of our collections, instead of
throwing many of them away, as had often before happened.
We were now in want of cases, and Coyotepec had neither saw, hammer, nor
nails; but he gave me some rough boards, on which we all set to work.
L'Encuerado and Sumichrast smoothed the planks with the help of two
woodman's hatchets, while I cut pegs, all laboring without intermission
until the next evening. A little before sunset we had succeeded in
making two large and tolerably light boxes, a task which, without proper
tools, was more difficult than any one could suppose who had not
undertaken it.
Sunday, which was Whitsunday, found us quite amazed at our performance.
L'Encuerado had succeeded in weaving so
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