a third time.

This was all very mysterious, but Guapo, guessing what was the matter,
solved the mystery by crying out,--

"_Tatou-poyou_!"

"Where?" inquired Don Pablo.

"Yonder, master, yonder in the body of the beast."

Don Pablo looked, and, sure enough, he could see something moving; it
was the head and shoulders of an armadillo. It had burrowed and come up
through the body of the deer, thus meeting the vultures half-way! No
doubt, it was the mysterious mode by which it had entered on the stage
that had frightened them.

They soon, however, got over their affright, and returned to their
repast.

The armadillo--a very large one--had, by this time, crept out into the
open air, and went on eating.

For a while the zamuros took no heed of him, deeming, perhaps, that,
although he had come in by the back-door, he might have as good a right
upon the premises as themselves. Their pacific attitude, however, was
but of short duration; something occurred to ruffle their temper--some
silent affront, no doubt, for the bark-hunters heard nothing. Perhaps
the _tatou_ had run against the legs of one, and scraped it with the
sharp edge of his corslet. Whether this was the cause or no, a scuffle
commenced, and the beast in armour was attacked by all the vultures at
once.

Of course he did not attack in turn, he had no means; he acted
altogether on the defensive; and this he was enabled to do by simply
drawing in his legs and flattening himself upon the ground. He was then
proof, not only against the beaks and weak talons of a vulture, but he
might have defied the royal eagle himself.

After flapping him with their wings, and pecking him with their filthy
beaks, and clawing him with their talons, the zamuros saw it was all to
no purpose, and desisted. If they could not damage him, however, they
could prevent him from eating any more of the deer; for the moment he
stretched out his neck, several vultures sprang at him afresh, and would
have wounded him in the tender parts of his throat had he not quickly
drawn in his head again. Seeing that his feast was at an end--at least
above ground--he suddenly raised his hind-quarters, and in a brace of
seconds buried himself in the earth. The vultures pecked him behind as
he disappeared, but the odd manner of his exit, like that of his
_entree_, seemed to mystify them, and several of them stood for some
moments in neck-stretched wonder.

This scene had scarcely ended when a pair