of the cinchona trees was not far off, so their journey would
be a short one. For this reason, the horse and mule remained in the
stable eating the fruits of the "murumuru" palm, of which all cattle are
exceedingly fond. Even the hard undigested stones or nuts, after passing
through the bodies of horses and cattle, are eagerly devoured by wild or
tame hogs, and the zamuros, or black vultures, when hungered, take to
the pulpy fruit of this thorny palm-tree.

It was a very early hour when they set out, for Don Pablo and his people
were no sluggards. Indeed, in that climate, the early morning hours are
the pleasantest, and they had made it a rule to be always up at
daybreak. They could thus afford to take a _siesta_ in their hammocks
during the hot noontide,--a custom very common, and almost necessary, in
tropical countries. Their road to the cinchonas led up the stream, on
the same side with the house. After going a few hundred yards, they
entered a grove of trees that had white trunks and leaves of a light
silvery colour. The straight, slender stems of these trees, and the
disposition of their branches,--leaning over at the tops,--gave them
somewhat the appearance of palms. They were not palms, however, but
"ambaiba" trees. So said Don Pablo, as they passed under their shade.

"I shouldn't wonder," added he, "if we should see that strange animal
the ai. The leaves of these trees are its favourite food, and it lives
altogether among their branches."

"You mean the 'nimble Peter,' do you not, papa?"

This inquiry was put by Leon, who had read about the animal under this
name, and had read many false stories of it, even in the works of the
great Buffon.

"Yes," replied Don Pablo; "it goes by that name sometimes, on account of
its sluggish habits and slow motions. For the same reason the English
call it 'sloth,' and it is known among naturalists as _bradypus_. There
are two or three species, but all with very similar habits, though, as
usual, the French classifiers have separated them into distinct genera."

"Why, Buffon says," rejoined Leon, "that it is the most miserable
creature in the world; that it can scarcely get from tree to tree; that
some remain in the same tree all their lives, or, that when one has
eaten all the leaves off a tree, it drops to the ground, to save itself
the trouble of getting down by the trunk, and, that when on the ground
it cannot move a yard in an hour. Is all this true?"

"Totally untru