A PAIR OF SLOW GOERS.
At length, all things being ready, Don Pablo and party set out for a
day's work among the cinchonas. As it was the first day of
bark-gathering all went along to enjoy the novelty of the thing. A
"mancha" 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
"ambaïba" 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 aï. 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 untrue. It is true the aï does not move rapidly over the
ground, but the ground is not its proper place no more than it is that
of the orang-otang, or other tree-monkeys. Its conformation shows that
nature intended it for an inhabitant of the trees, where it can move
about with sufficient ease to procure its food. On the branches it is
quite at home, or, rather, I should say, _under_ the branches, for,
unlike the squirrels and monkeys, it travels along the under sides of
the horizontal limbs, with its back downward. This it can do with ease,
by means of its great curving claws, which are large enough to span the
thickest boughs. In this position, with a long neck of _nine
vertebræ_,--the only animal which has that number,--it can reach the
leaves on all sides of it; and, when not feeding, this is its natural
position of repose.
"Its remaining during its whole life in one tree, or suffering itself to
fall from the branches, are romances of the early Spanish voyagers, to
which M. Buffon gave too much credit. The aï does not descend to the
ground at all when it can help it, but passes from one tree to another
by means of the outspreading branches. Sometimes, when these do not
meet, it has cunning enough to wait for a windy day, and then, taking
advantage of some branch blown nearer by the wind, it grasps it and
passes to the next tree. As it requires no drink, and can live without
any other food than the leaves of the _cecropia_, of course it remains
on a single tree so long as it has plenty of leaves. See!" exclaimed Don
Pablo, pointing up; "here are several trees stripped of their leaves!
I'll warrant that was done by the aï."
"_A-ee_!" echoed a voice in the most lugubrious tones.
"I thought so," cried Don Pablo, laughing at the surprise which the
voice had created among the rest of the party. "That's the very fellow
himself,--this way,--here he is!"
All of them ran under the tree to which Don Pablo pointed, and looked
up. There, sure enough, was an animal about the size of a cat, of a dark
hay colour, with a patch of dirty orange and black upon the back. This
could be easily seen, for the creature was hanging along a horizontal
branch with its back downward, and its huge curving claws, all in a
bunch, were hooked over the branch. Its hair was thick and rough, and no
tail was visible, but its small round head and flat face was almost as
like the human face as is that of any monkey. Indeed, the others would
have taken it for a monkey,--Guapo excepted,--had they not been already
talking about it.
"Oh, yonder's another!" cried Leon, pointing higher up in the tree; and,
sure enough, there was, for the aï is usually found in company with its
mate. The other was a copy of the one already observed, with some slight
difference in size--no doubt it was the female one. Both had observed
the approach of the party, and now uttered their melancholy
"Ayee--a-ee!" that sounded anything but agreeable. In fact, so very
disagreeable is the voice of this creature, that it has been considered
its best weapon of defence. Beside the utterance of their cry, neither
of them made any effort to escape or defend themselves.
Don Pablo and the rest were about to pass on and leave the aïs to their
leaf diet, but Guapo had other notions on that subject. Ugly as these
creatures were, Guapo intended to have one of them for his dinner. He,
therefore, begged Don Pablo to stop a moment until he should get them
down. How was this to be done? Would he climb up and drag them from the
tree? That is not so easily accomplished, for the aïs, with their
crescent claws, can hold on with terrible force. Besides, they were out
upon the slender branches, where it would have been difficult to get at
them.
But Guapo did not intend to climb. The tree was a slender one--he had
his axe with him--and the next moment its keen blade was crashing
through the bark of the ambaïba wood. A few minutes served to bring the
tree down, and down it came, the aïs screaming as it fell. Guapo now
approached to seize them, but about this he used some caution. Both
finding themselves without hope of escape, prepared for defence. Buffon
asserts that they make none. That is not true, as was seen by all the
party.
Throwing themselves on their backs, they struck out with their fore-arms
in a sort of mechanical manner. These with the long horny claws they
kept playing in front of their bodies, striking alternately with them,
and rapidly, as a dog will do when suddenly plunged into water. Guapo
did not put his hands near them. He knew they would not bite, but he
also knew that he might get a scratch with the sharp claws, and that he
did not wish for. But Guapo had a way to take them, and that he now put
in practice. Lopping a couple of branches from the tree, he held one out
to each of the aïs, and touched them with it on the breast.
Each, as soon as it felt the branch, clutched it tightly between its
powerful fore-arms and held on as if for life and death. It would have
taken a stronger man than Guapo to have pulled either of the branches
away again. The thing was now done. Giving his axe to Leon to carry for
him, Guapo lifted an aï, still clinging to the branch, in each hand, and
carried them off as if they had been a pair of water-pots. He did not
wish to kill them until he got them home, alleging that they were better
for eating when freshly butchered.
The bark-hunters now continued their route, and shortly after entered a
little glade or opening in the forest, about an acre in size. When they
had reached the middle of this, Guapo threw his aïs upon the ground and
marched on.
"Why do you leave them?" inquired the others.
"No fear for them," replied Guapo; "they'll be there when we come back.
If I carried them into the woods, they might steal off while we were at
work, but it would take them six hours to get to the nearest tree." All
laughed at this, and went on, leaving the aïs to themselves. Before
passing out from the glade, they stopped a moment to look at the great,
conical nests of the termites, or white ants, several of which, like
soldiers' tents, stood near the edge of the glade. It was yet early, the
air was chilly, and the ants were not abroad; so that, after gazing for
a while on these singular habitations, the bark-gatherers pursued their
way, and were soon under the shadow of the cinchona trees.