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Updated: July 8, 2025
This was no sooner said than done, and l'Encuerado leaped on board, dragging his victim after him. The peccaries collected on the shore continued to utter loud grunts of rage; but we were beyond their reach, for the raft was soon carried past them by the current. "Are peccaries carnivorous?" asked Lucien. "Yes, indeed, Chanito.
A shot fired by the Indian led us back to the bivouac; our companion had just killed an ocelot, called by the Indians ocotchotli. "You see this animal, Chanito?" cried l'Encuerado, who was stroking its black and brown spotted fur; "well, its tongue is poisonous.
"Matter to him! why, Chanito, he knows well that we are Christians, and yet he bewitches us. Wait a bit, I'll match him." And rearing himself up against the trunk of a tree, standing on his head, with his legs in the air, l'Encuerado kicked about with all the frenzy of one possessed.
Chanito," rejoined the Indian, "when we form our bivouac, I shall make plenty of coffee, and if you sip it, in a quarter of an hour your thirst will be quenched." "Then I hope we shall soon reach our bivouac," said Lucien, mournfully. If I had consulted my own feelings, I should now have given the word to halt; but reason and experience enabled me to resist the desire.
I cut the mooring-line; and, seizing hold of the boat-hook, directed the raft towards the right bank, whence the uproar seemed to proceed. "Hiou! hiou! Chanito!" "Ohé! ohé!" I answered. I was just going to spring off, when the Indian came in sight, followed by Gringalet, and plunged into the water, holding his gun above his head.
"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.
"Do you know, Chanito," said l'Encuerado, who had now joined us, which showed that the cooking did not require his undivided attention, "that when the mother of the young scorpions does not supply them with food, they set to and devour her." "Is that true?" asked Lucien, with surprise. "If the little ones do not actually kill their mother, at all events they feed on her dead body," I answered.
"That's something new to me," said I, looking hard at my son, who blushed. "At any rate, orange-trees are very different in size from cotton-woods, so you risked killing him." "No; I kept tight hold of him. You very well know that if Chanito were likely to come to his death by my fault, I should die first." "That wouldn't bring the boy to life again.
Chanito!" we heard shouted in the distance. "Hallo! hallo!" answered the boy. And, soon after, l'Encuerado returned, carrying a fawn on his shoulders. "Oh! what a pretty little creature!" cried Lucien; "why didn't you take it alive?" "Bullets are the only things that can run as fast as these animals, Chanito." "What became of the mother?" asked Sumichrast.
"A church made of diamonds, Chanito!" We moved towards the entrance by an inclined passage, down the slope of which we followed l'Encuerado. The distance between the walls gradually increased, and soon we found ourselves in a vast hall studded with stalactites; in it Sumichrast arranged the lighted torches.
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