"Well, my friends, we had arrived on the banks of a rivulet, and were
thanking God for bringing us safely there. We soon satisfied our
thirst, as you may believe, and began to look around us. The stream we
had reached was not that which runs into the valley here, but altogether
on the other side of the mountain. It was but a mere rill, and I saw
that several similar ones issued from the ravines, and after running a
short distance into the plain, fell off toward the south-east, and
united with others running from that side. I found afterwards that they
all joined into the same channel, forming a considerable river, which
runs from this elevated plain in an easterly direction; and which I take
to be a head-water of the Great Red River of Louisiana, or perhaps of
the Brazos, or Colorado, of Texas. I have called it a considerable
river. That is not quite correct; for although, where they all unite,
they form a good-sized body of water, yet twenty miles farther down, for
three-fourths of the year the channel is perfectly dry; and that is the
case I know not how far beyond. The water, which passes from the
mountain at all times, is either evaporated by the hot sun, or sinks
into the sands of its own bed, during a run of twenty miles. It is only
in times of great rain--a rare occurrence here--or when very hot weather
melts an unusual quantity of the snow, that there is water enough to
carry the stream over a flat sandy tract which stretches away to the
eastward. All these things I found out afterwards, and as you, my
friends, know them to be common phenomena of the Desert, I shall not now
dwell upon them.
"I saw that, where we were, there was but little chance of getting
anything to eat. The sides of the mountain were rugged and grim, with
here and there a stunted cedar hanging from the rocks. The small
patches of grass and willows that lined the banks of the little rills--
although cheering to the eye, when compared with the brown barrenness of
the Desert--offered but little prospect that we should get any thing to
eat there. If the Desert stretched away to the south of the mountain,
as we saw that it did to the north, east, and west, then we had only
reached a temporary resting-place, and we might still perish, if not
from thirst, from what was equally bad--hunger.
"This was uppermost in our thoughts at the time,--for we had not eaten a
morsel during that day; so we turned our attention to the piece of dried
meat.
"`Let us cook it, and make a soup,' said Mary; `that will be better for
the children.' My poor wife! I saw that the extreme fatigue she had
undergone had exhausted her strength, yet still she endeavoured to be
cheerful.
"`Yes, papa, let us make soup; soup is very nice,' added Frank, trying
to cheer his mother by showing that he was not dismayed.
"`Very well, then,' I replied. `Come, Cudjo, shoulder your axe, and let
us to the mountain for wood. Yonder are some pine-trees near the
foot,--they will make an excellent fire.'
"So Cudjo and I started for the wood, which was growing about three
hundred yards distant, and close in to the rocks where the stream came
down.
"As we drew nearer to the trees, I saw that they were not pine-trees,
but very different indeed. Both trunks and branches had long thorny
spikes upon them like porcupine's quills, and the leaves were of a
bright shining green, pinnate with small oval leaflets. But what was
most singular was the long bean-shaped pods that hung down thickly from
the branches. These were about an inch and a half in breadth, and some
of them not less than twelve inches in length. They were of a
reddish-brown, nearly a claret colour. Except in the colour, they
looked exactly like large bean-pods filled with beans.
"I was not ignorant of what species of tree was before us. I had seen
it before. I knew it was the honey-locust, or thorny acacia,--the
carob-tree of the East, and the famed `algarobo' of the Spaniards.
"I was not ignorant of its uses neither,--for I knew this to be the tree
upon which (as many suppose) Saint John the Baptist sustained himself in
the Desert, where it is said, `his meat was locusts and wild honey.'
Hence it is sometimes called, `Saint John's bread.' Neither was Cudjo
ignorant of its value. The moment his eyes rested upon the long brown
legumes, he cried out, with gestures of delight:--
"`Massa--Massa Roff, lookee yonder!--beans and honey for supper!'
"We were soon under the branches: and while I proceeded to knock down
and collect a quantity of the ripe fruit. Cudjo went farther up among
the rocks, to procure his firewood from the pines that grew there.
"I soon filled my handkerchief, and was waiting for Cudjo, when I heard
him shout,--
"`Massa Roff! come dis away, and see de varmint--what him be.'
"I immediately ran up among the rocks. On reaching the spot where Cudjo
was, I found him bending over a crevice or hole in the ground, from
which protruded an object very much like the tail of a pig.
"`What is it, Cudjo?' I asked.
"`Don't know, Massa. Varmint I never see in Vaginny--looks someting
like de ole 'possum.'
"`Catch hold of the tail, and pull him out,' said I.
"`Lor! Massa Roff, I've tried ma best, but can't fetch 'im no how.
Look yar!' And so saying, my companion seized the tail, and pulled--
seemingly with all his might--but to no purpose.
"`Did you see the animal when it was outside?' I inquired.
"`Yes, Massa; see 'im and chase 'im 'till I tree him yar in dis cave.'
"`What was it like?'
"`Berry like a pig--maybe more belike ole 'possum, but cubberd all ober
wi' shell like a Vaginny turtle.'
"`Oh! then--it is an armadillo.'
"`An amadiller! Cudjo niver hear o' dat varmint afore.'
"I saw that the animal which had so astonished my companion was one of
those curious living things--which Nature, in giving variety to her
creatures, has thought proper to form--and which are known throughout
Mexico and South America by the name of `armadilloes.' They are so
called from the Spanish word `armado,' which signifies armed--because
all over their body there is a hard, shell-like covering divided into
bands and regular figures, exactly like the coats-of-mail worn by the
warriors of ancient times. There is even a helmet covering the head,
connected with the other parts of the armour by a joint, which renders
this resemblance still more complete and singular. There are many
species of these animals; some of them as large as a full-sized sheep,
but the generality of them are much smaller. The curious figuring of
the shell that covers them differs in the different species. In some
the segments are squares, in others hexagons, and in others, again, they
are of a pentagonal shape. In all of them, however, the figures have a
mathematical form and precision, that is both strange and beautiful.
They look as though they were artificial,--that is, carved by the hand
of man. They are harmless creatures, and most of the species feed upon
herbs and grass. They do not run very nimbly, though they can go much
faster than one would suppose, considering the heavy armour which they
carry. This, however, is not all in one shell, but in many pieces
connected together by a tough, pliable skin. Hence they can use their
limbs with sufficient ease. They are not such slow travellers as the
turtles and tortoises. When they are pursued and overtaken, they
sometimes gather themselves into a round ball, as hedgehogs do; and if
they should happen to be near the edge of a precipice they will roll
themselves over to escape from their enemy. More often when pursued
they betake themselves to their holes, or to any crevice among rocks
that may be near; and this was evidently the case with that which Cudjo
had surprised. When they can hide their heads, like the ostrich they
fancy themselves safe; and so, no doubt, thought this one, until he felt
the sinewy fingers of Cudjo grasping him by the tail. It was evident
the animal had run into a shallow crack where he could get no farther,
else we would soon have lost sight of his tail; but it was equally
evident, that pulling by that appendage was not the method to get him
out. I could see that he had pushed the scaly armour outward and
upward, so that it held fast against the rocks on every side. Moreover,
his claws, which are remarkable both for length and tenacity, were
clutched firmly against the bottom of the crevice. It would have taken
a team of oxen to have pulled him out, as Cudjo remarked with a grin.
"I had heard of a plan used by the Indians who hunt the armadillo, and
are very fond of his flesh; and as I was determined to try it, I told my
companion to let go the tail, and stand to one side.
"I now knelt down in front of the cave, and, taking a small branch of
cedar, commenced tickling the hind-quarters of the animal with the sharp
needles. In a moment I saw that his muscles began to relax, as the
shell to separate from the rocks, and close in toward his body. After
continuing the operation for some minutes, I observed that he had
reduced himself to his natural size, and had no doubt forgotten to keep
a look-out with his claws. Seeing this, I seized the tail firmly; and,
giving it a sudden jerk, swung the armadillo out between the feet of my
companion. Cudjo aimed a blow with the axe which nearly severed its
head from its body, and killed the animal outright. It was about the
size of a rabbit, and proved to be of the eight-banded species--reckoned
more delicious eating than any other.
"We now returned to camp with our firewood, our locust-beans, and our
armadillo--the last of which horrified my wife, when I told her I was
going to eat it. It proved a great curiosity to the boys, however, who
amused themselves by running their fingers all over its mottled armour.
But I had something that amused the little Mary and Luisa still more--
the delicious, honey-like pulp from the pods of the locust-tree, which
they greedily ate. The seeds we extracted from the pulp, intending to
roast them as soon as we had kindled our fire.
"And now, my friends," continued Rolfe, rising to his feet, "since we
have got to talking about this same locust-tree, I hope you will not
refuse to try a mug of my home-brewed beer, which I made out of its
beans this very day, while you were wandering about my grounds and
through the valley. It is, perhaps, not equal to Barclay and Perkins';
but I flatter myself that, under the circumstances, you will not find it
unpalatable."
Saying this, our host brought forward a large flagon, and pouring into
our cups a brown-coloured liquid, set them before us. We all drank of
the "locust beer," which was not unlike mead or new cider; and to prove
that we liked it, we drank again and again.
This ceremony over Rolfe once more resumed his narrative.