onsternation; "wishing to
descend more rapidly, and fearing another tumble, I advised him to sit
down and slide carefully. I did not foresee the very natural results of
such a plan."

"Well, papa! it does not matter in the country."

"If my advice had been taken," broke in l'Encuerado, "he would have had
a pair of leathern pantaloons, which wouldn't suffer from such
contingencies. Never mind, Chanito, we'll mend them with the skin of the
first squirrel which comes within reach of my gun."

We were now passing through a dark gorge full of thick brush-wood. In
front of us rose a wooded mountain, which we had to climb. The shrubs
were succeeded by gigantic thistles, which compelled us to advance with
extreme care. These troublesome plants grew so thickly that we were
obliged to use our knives to clear a passage. L'Encuerado, putting down
his load, taught Lucien how to handle his; showing him that a downward
cut, if the weapon slipped or met with but little resistance, might be
dangerous. Enchanted with his lesson, and cutting down several stalks at
a blow, our young pioneer soon opened for us an avenue rather than a
path. The thistles gradually became fewer. Sumichrast walked in front,
destroying the last obstacles that severed us from the under-wood.

It was now breakfast-time, and as we continued our course we looked out
for a favorable spot to halt at, when the measured strokes of an axe
fell upon our ears. This noise told of the presence of wood-cutters, who
were certain to be provided with maize-cakes and beans; so we resolved
to make our way up to them, and thus economize our own resources. After
an hour's difficult ascent, just as we were despairing of reaching the
Indian, whose axe had ceased to sound, Lucien cried out:

"Look, papa, there's a fire!"

At the same moment Gringalet began barking furiously, and a few paces
more brought us to a burning charcoal-oven. The charcoal-burner, who was
surprised at our visit, seized his long-handled axe. But the presence of
the child appeared to reassure him.

"Good-morning, Don Jose," said I, using the common name which is applied
in Mexico to all the Indians.

"God preserve you," replied he, speaking in broken Spanish.

"Are you all alone?"

"No. I have six companions."

"Well, will one of you sell us some maize-cakes, and give us some
water?"

"We have neither water nor cakes."

"I'm quite sure you will be able to find some," I replied, placing a
half-pias