interest. They were very anxious to witness the result. They were not
kept long in suspense. I have already stated that many ants were
crawling about. There were dozens of them "quartering" the ground in
every direction in search of their own prey; and they left not an inch
of it unsearched. At last one was seen to approach the trap of the
ant-lion. Curiosity brings it to the very edge of that terrible
pit-fall. It protrudes its head and part of its body over the brink--it
is not such a terrible gulf to look into--if it should slip down, it
could easily crawl out again. Ha! it little knows the enemy that is
ambushed there. It perceives something singular--an odd something--
perhaps it might be something good to eat. It is half-resolved to slide
down and make a closer examination of this something. It is balancing
on the brink, and would, no doubt, have gone down voluntarily, but that
is no longer left to its own choice. The mysterious object at the
bottom of the funnel suddenly springs up and shows itself--it is the
ant-lion in all its hideous proportions; and before the little ant can
draw itself away, the other has flung around it a shower of sand that
brings it rolling down the side of the pit. Then the sharp callipers
are closed upon the victim--all the moisture in his body is sucked out--
and his remains, now a dry and shapeless mass, are rested for a moment
upon the head of the destroyer, and then jerked far outside the pit!
The ant-lion now dresses his trap, and, again burying himself in the
sand, awaits another victim.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
THE TATOU-POYOU AND THE DEER CARCASS.
Dona Isidora and Leona had watched all the manoeuvres of the ant-lion
with great interest, and Leona, after the bite she had had, was not in
any mood to sympathise with the ants. Indeed, she felt rather grateful
to the ant-lion, ugly as he was, for killing them.
Presently Leon returned from the woods, and was shown the trap in full
operation; but Leon, upon this day, was full of adventures that had
occurred upon the hills to himself, Guapo, and Don Pablo. In fact, he
had hastened home before the others to tell his mamma of the odd
incidents to which he had been a witness.
That morning they had discovered a new _mancha_ of cinchona-trees. When
proceeding towards them they came upon the dead carcass of a deer. It
was a large species, the _Cervus antisensis_, but, as it had evidently
been dead several days, it was swollen out to twice its original size,
as is always the case with carcasses of animals left exposed in a warm
climate. It was odd that some preying animals had not eaten it up. A
clump of tall trees that shaded it, had, no doubt, concealed it from the
sharp sight of the vultures, and these birds, contrary to what has so
often been alleged, can find no dead body by the smell. Neither ants
nor animals that prey upon carrion had chanced to come that way, and
there lay the deer intact.
So thought Don Pablo and Leon. Guapo, however, was of a different
opinion, and, going up to the body, he struck it a blow with his axe.
To the surprise of the others, instead of the dead sound which they
expected to hear, a dry crash followed the blow, and a dark hole
appeared where a piece of thin shell-like substance had fallen off.
Another blow from Guapo's axe, and the whole side went in. Not a bit of
carcass was there; there were bones--clean bones--and dry hard skin, but
no flesh, not an atom of flesh!
"Tatou-poyou!" quietly remarked Guapo.
"What!" said Don Pablo, "an armadillo, you think?" recognising, in
Guapo's words, the Indian name for one of the large species of
armadillos.
"Yes," replied Guapo. "All eaten by the tatou-poyou. See! there's his
hole."
Don Pablo and Leon bent over the sham carcass, and, sure enough, under
where its body had been they could see a large hole in the ground.
Outside the carcass, also, at the distance of several feet was another.
"That is where he entered," said Guapo, pointing to the second. "He's
not about hero now," continued he, "no, no,--ate all the meat, and gone
long ago."
This was evident, as the hollow skeleton was quite dry, and had
evidently been empty for a good while.
Don Pablo was pleased at this incident, as it gave him an opportunity of
verifying a curious habit of the armadillos. These creatures are among
the finest burrowers in the world, and can bury themselves in the earth
in a few seconds' time; but, being badly toothed,--some of them
altogether without teeth,--they can only feed upon very soft substances.
Putrid flesh is with them a favourite "dish," and in order to get at
the softest side of a carcass, they burrow under, and enter it from
below, rarely leaving their horrid cave until they have thoroughly
cleared it out.
The bark-hunters now passed on, Don Pablo making many inquiries about
the armadillos, and Guapo giving replies, while Leon listened with
interest. Guapo knew a good deal about these curious creatures, for he
had eaten many a dozen of them in his time, and as many different kinds
of them too. Their feeding upon carrion had no effect on Guapo's
stomach, and, indeed, white people in South America relish them as much
as Indians. The white people, however, make a distinction in the
species, as they suppose some kinds to be more disposed to a vegetable
diet than others. There are some in the neighbourhood of the
settlements, that _occasionally pay a visit to the graveyards or
cemeteries_, and these kinds do not go down well. All of them will
devour almost any sort of trash that is soft and pulpy, and they are
more destructive to the ant than even the ant-eaters themselves. How
so? Because, instead of making a nice little hole in the side of the
ant-hill, as the tamanoirs do, and through this hole eating the ants
themselves, the armadillos break down a large part of the structure and
devour the _larva_. Now the ants love these _larva_ more than their own
lives, and when these are destroyed, they yield themselves up to
despair, refuse to patch up the building, the rain gets in, and the
colony is ruined and breaks up.
It does not follow, however, that the flesh of the armadillo should be
"queer" because the animal itself eats queer substances. Among
carnivorous creatures the very opposite is sometimes the truth; and some
animals--as the tapir, for instance--that feed exclusively on sweet and
succulent vegetables, produce a most bitter flesh for themselves. About
this there is no standing law either way.
The flesh of the armadillo is excellent eating, not unlike young pork,
and, when "roasted in the shell" (the Indian mode of cooking it), it is
quite equal, if not superior, to a baked "pig," a dish very much eaten
in our own country.
Guapo did not call them armadillos--he had several Indian names for
different kinds of them. "Armadillo" is the Spanish name, and signifies
the "little armed one," the diminutive of "armado" or "armed." This
name is peculiarly appropriate to these animals, as the hard bony casing
which covers the whole upper parts of their bodies, bears an exceeding
resemblance to the suits of plate armour worn in the days of Cortez and
chivalry.
On the head there is the helmet, the back is shielded by a corslet, and
even the limbs are covered with greaves. Of course, this armour is
arranged differently in the different species, and there is more or less
hair upon all, between the joinings of the plates.
These points were not touched upon by Guapo, but others of equal
interest were. He went on to say that he knew many different kinds of
them;--some not bigger than a rat, and some as large as a full-grown
sheep; some that were slow in their paces, and others that could outrun
a man; some that were flat, and could squat so close as hardly to be
seen against the ground,--(these were _tatou-poyous_, the sort that had
hollowed out the deer); and some again that were high-backed and nearly
globe-shaped. Such was Guapo's account of these curious animals which
are found only in the warmer regions of North and South America.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
AN ARMADILLO HUNT.
Conversing in this way, the bark-hunters, at length, reached the
cinchona-trees, and then all talk about armadillos was at an end. They
went lustily to their work--which was of more importance--and, under
Guapo's axe, several of the cinchonas soon "bit the dust."
There was a spot of open ground just a little to one side of where these
trees stood. They had noticed, on coming up, a flock of zamuros, or
black vultures, out upon this ground, clustered around some object. It
was the carcass of another deer. The first blow of the axe startled the
birds, and they flapped a short way off. They soon returned, however,
not being shy birds, but the contrary.
There was nothing in all this to create surprise, except, perhaps, the
dead deer. What had been killing these animals? Not a beast of prey,
for that would have devoured them, unless, indeed, it might be the puma,
that often kills more than he can eat.
The thought had occurred to Don Pablo that they might have died from the
poisoned arrows of an Indian. This thought somewhat disquieted him, for
he knew not what kind of Indians they might be,--they might be friendly
or hostile;--if the latter, not only would all his plans be frustrated,
but the lives of himself and party would be in danger. Guapo could not
assure him on this head; he had been so long absent from the Great
Montana that he was ignorant of the places where the tribes of these
parts might now be located. These tribes often change their homes. He
knew that the Chunchos sometimes roamed so far up, and they were the
most dangerous of all the Indians of the Montana,--haters of the whites,
fierce and revengeful. It was they who several times destroyed the
settlements and mission stations. If Chunchos were in the woods they
might look out for trouble. Guapo did not think there were any Indians
near. He would have seen some traces of them before now, and he had
observed none since their arrival. This assurance of the knowing Indian
quite restored Don Pablo's confidence, and they talked no longer on the
subject. After a while, their attention was again called to the
vultures. These filthy creatures had returned to the deer, and were
busily gorging themselves, when, all at once, they were seen to rise up
as if affrighted. They did not fly far,--only a few feet,--and stood
with outstretched necks looking towards the carrion, as if whatever had
frightened them was there.
The bark-hunters could perceive nothing. It was the body of a small
deer, already half eaten, and no object bigger than a man's hand could
have been concealed behind it. The zamuros, however, _had_ seen
something strange--else they would hardly have acted as they did--and,
with this conviction, the bark-hunters stopped their work to observe
them.
After a while the birds seemed to take fresh courage, hopped back to the
carrion, and recommenced tearing at it. In another moment they again
started and flew back, but, this time, not so far as before, and then
they all returned again, and, after feeding another short while, started
back 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 of fresh armadillos were
espied, coming from the farther edge of the opening, and, in fact, from
the edge of a precipice, for the river flowed close by, and its channel
was at that point shut in by cliffs. These two were large fellows, and
were making speedily towards the carrion, in order to get up before it
was all gone. Guapo could stand it no longer Guapo had tasted roast
armadillo, and longed for more. In an instant, therefore, axe in hand,
he was off to intercept the new comers. Don Pablo and Leon followed to
see the sport and assist in the capture.
The armadillos, although not afraid of the vultures, seeing the hunters
approach, turned tail and made for the precipice. Guapo took after one,
while Don Pablo and Leon pursued the other. Guapo soon overhauled his
one, but, before he could lay his hands upon it, it had already half
buried itself in the dry ground. Guapo, however, seized the tail and
held on; and, although not able to drag it out, he was resolved it
should get no deeper.
The one pursued by Don Pablo had got close to the edge of the precipice,
before either he or Leon could come up with it. There it stood for a
moment, as if in doubt what plan to pursue. Don Pablo and Leon were
congratulating themselves that they had fairly "cornered" it, for the
cliff was a clear fall of fifty feet, and, of course, it could get no
farther in that direction, while they approached it from two sides so as
to cut off its retreat. They approached it with caution, as they were
now near the edge, and it would not do to move too rashly. Both were
bent forward with their arms outstretched to clutch their prey; they
felt confident it was already in their grasp. Judge their astonishment,
then, at seeing the creature suddenly clew itself into a round ball, and
roll over the cliff!
They looked below. They saw it upon the ground; they saw it open out
again, apparently unharmed, for, the next moment, it scuttled off and
hid itself among the rocks by the edge of the water!
They turned toward Guapo, who was still holding his one by the tail, and
calling for help. Although it was but half buried, all three of them
could not have dragged it forth by the tail. That member would have
pulled out before the animal could have been dislodged; and such is not
an unfrequent occurrence to the hunters of the armadillo. Don Pablo,
however, took hold of the tail and held fast until Guapo loosened the
earth with his axe, and then the creature was more easily "extracted."
A blow on its head from Guapo made all right, and it was afterwards
carried safely to the house, and "roasted in the shell."
That was a great day among the "armadillos."
CHAPTER THIRTY.
THE OCELOT.
During the whole summer, Don Pablo, Guapo, and Leon, continued
bark-gathering. Every day they went out into the woods, excepting
Sunday of course. That was kept as a day of rest; for, although far
from civilised society, there was not the less necessity for their being
Christians. God dwells in the wilderness as well as in the walled city,
and worship to Him is as pleasing under the shadow of the forest leaves,
as with sounding organ beneath the vaulted dome of the grand cathedral.
During week-days, while the others were abroad, Dona Isidora and the
little Leona were not idle at home; yet their whole time was not taken
up by the mere concerns of the _cuisine_. They had an industry of their
own, and, in fact, one that promised to be almost as profitable in its
results as the bark-gathering. This was neither more nor less than
preparing _vanilla_.
Some days after arriving in the valley, while exploring a wood that lay
at the back of the cultivated ground, Don Pablo discovered that every
tree carried a creeper or parasite of a peculiar kind. It was a small
creeper not unlike ivy, and was covered with flowers of a
greenish-yellow colour, mixed with white. Don Pablo at once recognised
in this parasitical plant one of the many species of llianas that
produce the delicious and perfumed vanilla. It was, in fact, the finest
of the kind--that which, among the French, is called _leq_ vanilla; and,
from the fact that every tree had a number of these parasites, and no
other climbing vines, Don Pablo came to the conclusion that they had
been planted by the missionaries. It is thus that vanilla is usually
cultivated, by being set in slips at the root of some tree which may
afterwards sustain it.
In the course of the summer, these vanilla vines exhibited a different
appearance. Instead of flowers, long bean-like capsules made their
appearance. These capsules or pods were nearly a foot in length, though
not much thicker than a swan's quill. They were a little flattish,
wrinkled, and of a yellow colour, and contained inside, instead of
beans, a pulpy substance, surrounding a vast quantity of small seeds,
like grains of sand. These seeds are the perfumed vanilla so much
prized, and which often yield the enormous price of fifty dollars a
pound! To preserve these, therefore, was the work of Dona Isidora and
Leona; and they understood perfectly how to do it.
First, they gathered the pods before they were quite ripe. These they
strung upon a thread, taking cane to pass the thread through that end
nearest the foot-stalk. The whole were next plunged for an instant into
boiling water, which gave them a blanched appearance. The thread was
then stretched from tree to tree, and the pods, hanging like a string of
candles, were then exposed to the sun for several hours. Next day, they
were lightly smeared with an oiled feather, and then wrapped in oiled
cotton of the _Bombax ceiba_, to prevent the valves from opening. When
they had remained in this state for a few days, the string was taken
out, and passed through the other ends, so that they should hang in an
inverted position. This was to permit the discharge of a viscid liquid
from the foot-stalk end; and in order to assist this discharge, the pods
were several times lightly pressed between the fingers. They now became
dry and wrinkled. They had also shrunk to less than half their original
size, and changed their colour to a reddish-brown. Another delicate
touch of the oil-feather, and the vanilla was ready for the market.
Nothing remained but to pack them in small cases, which had already been
prepared from the leaf of a species of palm-tree.
In such a way did the lady Isidora and her daughter pass their time; and
before the summer was out they had added largely to the stock of wealth
of our exiles.
Although these two always remained by the house, they were not without
_their_ adventures as well, one of which I shall describe. It occurred
while they were getting in their crop of vanilla. Leona was in the
porch in front, busy among the vanilla-beans. She had a large needle
and a thread of palm-leaf fibre, with which she was stringing the long
pods, while her mother was inside the house packing some that had been
already dried.
Leona rested for a moment, and was looking over the water, when, all at
once, she exclaimed, "Maman--Maman! come out and see! oh! what a
beautiful cat!"
The exclamation caused Dona Isidora to start, and with a feeling of
uneasiness. The cause of her uneasiness was the word "cat." She feared
that what the innocent child had taken for a "beautiful cat" might prove
to be the dreaded jaguar. She ran at once out of the door, and looked
in the direction pointed out by Leona. There, sure enough, on the other
side of the water, was a spotted creature, looking in the distance, very
much like a cat; but Dona Isidora saw at a glance that it was a far
larger animal. Was it the jaguar? It was like one, in its colour and
markings. It was of a yellowish colour, and covered all over with black
spots, which gave it the semblance of the jaguar. Still Dona Isidora
thought that it was not so large as these animals usually are; and this,
to some extent, restored her confidence. When first seen, it was close
down to the water's edge, as if it had come there to drink; and Dona
Isidora was in hopes that, after satisfying its thirst, it would go away
again. What was her consternation to see it make a forward spring, and,
plunging into the water, swim directly for the house!
Terrified, she seized Leona by the hand, and retreated inside. She shut
the door, and bolted it. If it were a jaguar, what protection would
that be? Such a creature could dash itself through the frail bamboo
wall, or tear the door to pieces with his great claws in a moment. "If
it be a jaguar," thought she, "we are lost!"
Dona Isidora was a woman of courage. She was determined to defend the
lives of herself and daughter to the last. She looked around the house
for a weapon. The pistols of Don Pablo were hanging against the wall.
She knew they were loaded. She took them down, and looked to the flints
and priming, and then stationed herself at a place where she could see
out through the interstices of the bamboos. The little Leona kept by
her side, though she knew, that in a struggle with a ferocious jaguar,
she could give no help.
By this time the animal had crossed the river, and she could see it
spring out on the bank, and come on towards the house. In a few seconds
it was close to the porch, where it halted to reconnoitre. Dona Isidora
saw it very plainly, and would now have had a very good chance to fire
at it; but she did not wish to begin the combat. Perhaps it might go
away again, without attempting to enter the house. In order not to draw
its attention, she stood perfectly quiet, having cautioned Leona to do
the same.
It was not a large animal, though its aspect was fierce enough to
terrify any one. Its tiger-like eyes, and white teeth, which it showed
at intervals, were anything but pleasant to look upon. Its size,
however, was not so formidable; and Dona Isidora had understood the
jaguar to be a large animal; but there is also a smaller species of
jaguar. This might be the one.
After halting a moment, the creature turned to one side, and then
proceeded at a skulking trot around the house. Now and then it stopped
and looked toward the building, as if searching for some aperture by
which it might get in. Dona Isidora followed it round on the inside.
The walls were so open that she could mark all its movements; and, with
a pistol in each hand, she was ready for the attack, determined to fire
the moment it might threaten to spring against the bamboos.
On one side of the house, at a few paces distance, stood the mule. The
horse had been taken to the woods, and the mule was left alone. This
animal was tied to a tree, which shaded her from the sun. As soon as
the fierce creature got well round the house, it came in full view of
the mule, which now claimed its attention. The latter, on seeing it,
had started, and sprung round upon her halter, as if badly terrified by
the apparition.
Whether the beast of prey had ever before seen a mule was a question.
Most likely it had not; for, half-innocently, and half as if with the
intention of making an attack, it went skulking up until it was close to
the heels of the latter. It could not have placed itself in a better
position to be well kicked; and well kicked it was, for, just at that
moment, the mule let fling with both her heels, and struck it upon the
ribs. A loud "thump" was heard by those within the house, and Dona
Isidora, still watching through the canes, had the satisfaction to see
the spotted creature take to its heels, and gallop off as if a kettle
had been tied to its tail! It made no stop, not even to look back; but
having reached the edge of the water, plunged in, and swam over to the
opposite shore. They could see it climb out on the other side, and
then, with a cowed and conquered look, it trotted off, and disappeared
among the palm-trees.