sted by caimans--as the country around was wild and
thinly settled. The vaquero had a wife and one child, a daughter--who
was about six or seven years old; and being a pretty little girl, and
the only one, she was of course very dear to both the parents.

"The vaquero was often absent from home--his business with his cattle
carrying him to a great distance into the woods. But his wife thought
nothing of being thus left alone. She was an Indian woman, and used to
dangers, such as would terrify the females that live in great cities.

"One day when her husband was absent as usual, looking after his cattle,
this woman took some clothes to the river bank for the purpose of
washing them. The river was the only water near the rancho; and by thus
carrying the clothes to it, she saved herself the trouble of fetching
the water a good way; besides, there was a broad, smooth stone by the
bank, where she was accustomed to beat out her linen. Her little
daughter accompanied her, carrying one of the bundles.

"On reaching the spot, the woman filled her vessels with water, and
commenced her work; while the child, having nothing else to occupy her,
began to gather some ripe guavas, plucking them from a tree that grew
out from the bank, and hung somewhat over the river. While the Indian
mother was thus engaged, she was startled by a wild scream and a plunge,
that were heard almost together; and, on looking round, she saw her
child just sinking in the water. At the same time, she beheld a hideous
object--a huge caiman--making for the spot! Filled with horror, the
woman dropped her linen, and rushed out upon the bank. She did not
hesitate a moment, but plunged into the river, which buried her to the
neck. At that moment the child rose again to the surface. The mother
seized her by the arms; and was about raising her out of the water, when
the caiman swept forward open-mouthed, caught the limbs of the little
girl, and with one crunch of his powerful jaws severed them from the
body! The little girl screamed again; but it was her last scream. When
the mother struggled to the shore, and laid the mutilated body upon the
bank, the child had ceased to breathe.

"For some moments sat the wretched mother, gazing upon the still
quivering remains. At intervals, she stooped down and kissed the pale,
withering lips. She did not weep. I have said she was an Indian. They
do not act as whites do; but, anyhow, her anguish was too keen to