g further that
nothing more can be done till morning--the gaucho and his companions go
back to their horses, with the intention of taking off the saddles, and
otherwise disposing of them for the night.

It was at first proposed to keep them tied to the scaffold-posts, but on
a second inspection of the place, Gaspar sees it is not the best one
either for their animals or themselves to pass the night in. Should
they go to rest under the scaffold, while asleep, their horses turning
restive might pull down the posts, and bring rattling about their ears
the bones of some dead _cacique_! Besides, the ground underneath is not
nice to repose upon; being without herbage and trampled all over, some
parts seeming freshly turned up. The gaucho would prefer a patch of
soft grass to lay his limbs along, and this very thing he has noticed
while they were out on the brow of the eminence overlooking the town.
Here a grand fig-tree had attracted his attention, under its branches
seeming the most proper place for them to encamp. Its far-spreading and
umbrageous boughs drooping back to the ground and there taking root--as
the Indian _banyan_ of which it is the New World representative--
enclosed a large space underneath. It would not only give them a
shelter from the dews of the night, but concealment from the eyes of
anyone who might chance to be passing that way.

With these manifest advantages in favour of the ground under the
fig-tree as a camping-place, and the disadvantages of that beneath the
scaffold, the latter is without further ado forsaken, and the former
taken possession of.

As no camp-fire can be safely kindled, nor food cooked, they must go to
sleep supperless.

Fortunately none of them is a-hungered, all having made a hearty meal
while within the _macaw's_ grove. There they had polished off the grand
"drumsticks" of the ostrich, by good luck already roasted. So caring
not for supper, after having disposed of their horses by tying them to
branches of the fig-tree, they stretch themselves along the ground, and
seek repose, which on this night they all need, as much as on any other
since starting upon their long-protracted expedition.

Still, they do not intend to be all asleep at the same time. In such a
place, with the danger of being found in it, that would never do. One
of the three must remain awake and on watch; so it is arranged that they
take the duty of sentinel in turns. As the present hour appears to