AGAIN ON THE ROAD.--THE BIRD-CATCHING SPIDER.--THE MARTEN AND THE
SKUNK.--THE FLYING SQUIRREL.--THE OTTER-HUNT.--L'ENCUERADO WOUNDED.
Three days of difficult travelling brought us into the midst of the
_Terre-Temperee_. Thus we had traversed the whole breadth of the
Cordillera, at one time shivering on their summits, at another
perspiring, as we penetrated narrow and deep-sunk valleys, just as the
chances of our journey led us. Every now and then we caught a sight of
the pointed cone of the volcano of Orizava, which assisted us in taking
our bearings. At last, four days after taking leave of Coyotepec, we
established our bivouac at the foot of a mountain, close to a clear and
icy stream.
While l'Encuerado was making the fire, Lucien discovered under a stone
an enormous black and hairy spider, with feet armed with double-hooked
claws.
"Isn't this a tarantula, M. Sumichrast?"
"No, my boy, it is a bird-catching spider--so called because it is said
to attack the humming-birds' nests and destroy the young ones."
"May I catch it?"
"Not with your fingers; its bite is dangerous."
"One might easily fancy it was watching us, from the expression of those
two big eyes near its mouth."
"There is no doubt that it is looking at us; just menace it with this
little stick, and you'll soon see it assume the defensive."
The enormous spider raised its front feet, and two black and polished
horns issued from its mouth. After a moment's hesitation, it suddenly
darted at the end of the stick, which Lucien let go in fright.
Ten or twelve paces farther on, the young naturalist discovered another
spider, and plied me with numerous questions about it. I could only give
him a few general facts as to this curious class of animals.
"But, I say, papa, there must be a great many different species of
spiders, for I see some at every step--green, black, and yellow."
"There are so many species that all of them are not yet known; indeed, I
believe that the Mexican spiders have not hitherto been described. It is
necessary to study them on the spot, for their soft bodies change their
shape in drying, and the proper means of preserving them are not within
the reach of an ordinary traveller."
In passing along, I broke through some threads of a light web stretching
between two bushes. The proprietor of the web--a gray spider--immediately
made its appearance, and set hurriedly to work to repair the involuntary
damage I had committed.
"Where does the thread come from?" asked Lucien; "it is so thin that I
can scarcely see it."
"From four reservoirs situated at the lower part of the spider's
abdomen, and filled with a gummy matter which becomes solid as soon as
it is exposed to the air. These reservoirs are pierced with about a
thousand holes, from each of which proceeds a thread invisible to the
naked eye, for it takes a thousand of them to form the thread the spider
is now spinning."
"How sorry I am now that I hadn't collected more of these curious
insects! Some we have met with were very curious."
"In the first place," I replied, "spiders are not insects; they have
both heart and lungs, but insects breathe through air-pipes.[P] Added to
this, insects have antennae, and undergo metamorphoses, which is not the
case with the spider. You must recollect, too, that the spider is akin
to the scorpion."
"Yes; but scorpions don't know how to spin."
"Well, all spiders do not possess this art. One of the species you were
looking at just now lives on plants, and would be much embarrassed if it
happened to fall into the web of its spinning sister; added to which, it
would run no small risk of being devoured."
"Will spiders eat one another?"
"Without the least scruple, and scorpions do the same. It is, in fact, a
family vice."
"I am not at all astonished, then, that the whole family are so ugly."
"If they were ever so beautiful, it would make no difference in their
evil disposition. They have, however, some good qualities; such, for
instance, as patience and resolution. The poor spider, now, that we are
looking at, is working desperately to catch a prey which is constantly
escaping. Sometimes it is the wind which destroys the web so
industriously woven; sometimes a great beetle plunges heavily through
the net. Nevertheless, the spider is not the least discouraged; he again
sets his snare, and, while he is quietly watching for the game necessary
for his subsistence, it too often happens that he is himself carried off
in the beak of some bird."
Lucien and I now went among the trees in quest of something substantial
for our dinner. The first thing we met with was a kind of marten, which
looked viciously at us, and greeted us with a shrill cry. Gringalet
darted off in pursuit of the animal, and followed it until it reached
its hole. This animal, like the European marten, from which it differs
only in size, often establishes itself in barns and granaries, where at
night it amuses itself with the noisiest gambols. In the environs of the
Mexican towns, many a house, invaded by these martens, is abandoned by
its owner, because it is thought to be haunted by ghosts.
"Look out for yourselves!" cried l'Encuerado, suddenly.
A mephitic weasel or skunk, an animal which somewhat resembles a
polecat, came running by. Gringalet, tired of waiting for the marten,
crossed the trail of the beast, and set off after it, in spite of our
calls. The skunk suddenly stopped and scratched up the earth with its
sharp claws; then it voided a liquid of such a fetid odor that the dog
was compelled to beat a retreat.
L'Encuerado, with his finger on the trigger of his gun, started again,
and led us along noiselessly. He suddenly stooped down to listen.
[Illustration: "An animal came tumbling down about ten paces from us."]
"It is a _quimichpatlan_," said he to me, in a low voice.
"A flying squirrel," I repeated to Sumichrast.
Lucien was about to speak; but I pointed to the Indian, who, half-hidden
behind a dead trunk, was carefully examining the top of an ebony-tree.
At this moment l'Encuerado placed his gun to his shoulder and fired. He
had taken good aim--an animal came tumbling down about ten paces from
us, spreading out, in its convulsive movements, the membrane which
joined its legs together and covered it almost like a cloak.
Lucien took possession of the "flying squirrel," and, as they always go
in pairs, my two companions went in pursuit of the other, which they
soon succeeded in killing.
"Are we going to eat these animals?" asked Lucien.
"Why shouldn't we?" I rejoined. "They are squirrels; and, even supposing
that they were rats, as the Indians assert, their flesh should be none
the less savory."
"Can these animals fly for any length of time?" asked Lucien.
"As a matter of fact, they do not fly at all; but the membrane which
unites their limbs acts like a parachute in keeping them up in the air,
and materially assists them in some of their prodigious leaps."
"Can they run as fast as squirrels?"
"Nothing like it; they do not, indeed, often come down to the ground;
but their activity on trees renders them not unworthy of their family."
"I thought," observed Lucien, "that bats were the only mammals that
could fly."
"There is also the flying _phalanger_," observed my friend; "an animal
of the marsupial order, which is a native of Australia, and somewhat
resembles the opossum. It is said that, when it catches sight of a man,
it hangs itself up by the tail, and does not dare to move; but I think
this story will do to go along with l'Encuerado's about the
glass-spider."
The Indian started off straight to the bivouac, and I led my companions
by the side of the stream, admiring as we passed some magnificent trees.
One of these was covered with brown fruit, with whitish insides, which
had a rather nice acidulated taste. I hastened to pick half a dozen of
them, knowing what a treat they would be to my servant.
As we went on, the banks of the stream gradually became lower, and ere
long a lake, deliciously shaded by cypresses, poplars, oaks, and
ebony-trees, opened to our view.
I sat down upon a rock, with Sumichrast and Lucien by my side, and from
whence my eye could wander all over the blue and transparent water. We
kept silent, being charmed with the smiling grandeur of this retired
corner of the world. Birds came flying by, and, settling down close to
us, warbled for an instant--then again took flight, after having given
us time to admire the rich colors of their plumage. The motionless water
was covered by long-legged insects with transparent wings, which seemed
to skim over the polished surface as if impelled by some invisible
agency. Sometimes an azure and purple attired dragon-fly flitted by, and
all the insects fled at its approach, like sparrows before a hawk. A
brilliantly-colored butterfly dashed against the voracious insect, and a
furious combat took place between them; but the dragon-fly, which was
eventually the conqueror, was in turn vanquished by a bird.
We were just moving off, when the deep water seemed to be agitated, and,
although on the surface the flies and gnats continued their evolutions,
the fish in hasty flight disappeared, and communicated their terror even
to the water-snakes. A tortoise, however, seemed to deem it unnecessary
to retreat, only drawing its head and feet under its shell. Almost
immediately an animal swam vigorously up to the reptile, and, having
stopped to smell at it, continued its course.
[Illustration: "The sun was just setting."]
"Are there such things as opossum-fishes?" asked Lucien, surprised.
"It is an otter," said I, in a low voice.
And quickly descending the rock, I followed Sumichrast to the water's
edge, at a spot where the animal appeared inclined to land. We waited
for an hour without any result.
My friend proposed to go and take a hurried dinner, and then return to
our post near the rock. In a few minutes we had joined l'Encuerado, for,
unknown to us, our bivouac was established about four gunshots from the
lake. The Indian jumped with joy on hearing of the appearance of what he
called a "water-dog."
"You may set me down as a fool," said he to Gringalet, caressing him,
"if by to-morrow morning I don't give you one of your brother's legs for
breakfast."
"Are otters really relations of Gringalet?" asked Lucien of me.
"Yes; according to Cuvier, they are digitigrades. Added to this, the
otter may be tamed and trained to bring fish out of the water, which it
is very skillful in catching, for it eats scarcely any thing else."
The sun was just setting, and behind us the dark outlines of the trees
stood out against the orange-colored sky, while hundreds of birds were
warbling and twittering around. A dark shade spread over the horizon,
and all was solemn silence. Ere long the sky was glittering with stars,
and the moon rose slowly above the trees. Its pale light penetrated the
foliage, giving to the masses of leaves those fantastic shapes which
make one dream of a supernatural world. As the moon advanced higher, it
diffused more and more light over the scenery, and few spectacles could
be more splendid than such a tropical night as this.
The report of a gun suddenly cut short my reverie, and l'Encuerado's
shout of "Hiou! hiou!" summoned us to him. While I hurried Lucien along
as fast as I could, I heard some loud shouting, which almost smothered
the furious barking of the dog, and then saw my friend Sumichrast
grasping the throat of an animal which Gringalet was worrying.
Alongside, l'Encuerado was lying on the ground, pressing his right arm,
and uttering cries of pain. He had been bitten by the wounded otter
which he had attempted to catch hold of.
This was not the time to blame him, so I led l'Encuerado to the bivouac,
where I was reassured by an examination of the bite, which I had at
first feared was serious. After dressing the injured part, the Indian
seemed much relieved.
My friend--after Lucien had examined its broad muzzle and wide nostrils,
its smooth, black coat, and its feet, webbed like ducks--skinned the
game, and put it at once upon the spit. When the meat was cooked to a
nicety, I covered it over to protect it from insects, and then proposed
retiring, for I foresaw that the Indian would be unable to carry his
load the next day, and that either Sumichrast's patience or mine would
be taxed in taking his place; for we did not intend to prolong our stay
by the stream. Sleep surprised us ere this weighty question was solved.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: "L'Encuerado was pressing his arm, and uttering cries of
pain."]
FOOTNOTE:
[P] The air-pipes are two vessels, one on each side, extending the whole
length of the body, provided with branches and ramifications. They serve
for the reception and distribution of the air.
[Illustration]