Lucien, seated on the grass, amused himself with touching all the plants within reach of his travelling staff; suddenly he noticed that the branches and leaves of a small shrub shut up when he brushed them with his stick, just like the ribs of a parasol, moved by some invisible spring—it was a sensitive-plant.

He called to us to ask for an explanation of this phenomenon, so we assembled round the shrub, which was about three feet high; its leaves finely cut and of a delicate green color, with pink flowers in tufts half hidden among them. The leaves, touched by the stick, shrank up close to the parent stem, and the oval, slender, and delicate ones, rising on their stalks, pressed against one another. In about five minutes the leaves which had been rubbed again spread out, as if they had recovered from their fright.

It was, however, only for a short time; for Lucien amused himself by rubbing his fingers over the leaves, which immediately doubled up, as if offended by the slight touch. The Indians call it the "Bashful Plant." A blow struck on the principal stem is sufficient to make all the branches close, as if animated by a kind of modest feeling. When the sun sets, the sensitive plant spontaneously shuts up its delicate foliage, which does not open again freely until the return of day.

Lucien's first idea, at waking, was to run towards the shrubs which interested him the day before. They were covered with dew, and looked as if they were asleep, until the first rays of the sun fell upon them. Before we started, the young naturalist again tested the delicate sensibility of the plant, which Sumichrast told him was allied to the tree which produces gum-arabic.

L'Encuerado's cheek was less swollen, and Sumichrast could use his hand, although it still pained him. The mountain in front of us, which was too steep to climb, caused us some perplexity.

"Let us slant off to the left, over this moist ground, carpeted with turf," said Sumichrast, plunging into the thicket.

About midday, just as l'Encuerado was declaring, in a grumbling tone, that we ought to have inclined towards the right, our little troop entered the wood. An undulating slope led us to a summit not more than twenty yards across, and in less than half an hour the opposite descent brought us into a delicious glen.

"Hallo! Master 'Sunbeam,'" cried Sumichrast, while helping me to construct our hut, "don't you recollect you are the one to provide the fire?"

"All right," replied Lucien, who seemed to be lost in the contemplation of a dead branch; "I want to get hold of an insect which appears to be making, like us, natural-history collections, for I have just found in its nest a quantity of spiders, flies, and small worms."

"It is one of the Hymenoptera," said Sumichrast; "it collects all round its eggs the food the young will eat when they are hatched; the insect is therefore full of forethought—a good example for us to imitate."

When the fire was ready, we started off in light marching order to explore the vicinity of our bivouac. Our position was commanded by mountains on all sides, and the glen was scarcely a quarter of a league in length. The pleasant coolness, and the presence of numerous birds, led us to hope that we should meet with a spring, which was all that was needed to convert this remote corner of the world into a perfect paradise. But our exploring only led to the discovery of a greenish pool, sheltered by an enormous rock, and which the dry season would soon evaporate.

Gringalet's barking attracted our attention towards the forest, and I perceived a porcupine on a tree. The animal, sitting up on its hind feet, was looking at us with astonishment. Leaving it undisturbed, it appeared to forget us, and tearing off with its claws a piece of bark, it licked the inner side, which was doubtless covered with insects. Having repeated this operation several times, the animal advanced to the end of a branch, and seizing it with its prehensile tail, let itself down to the ground. Its large black eyes, of unusual mildness, were widely opened, and its nose slit like hares and rabbits. It was just about to stretch itself, when, to our great regret, l'Encuerado shot it; the poor beast fell over on the ground, and placing its hand-shaped paws on the wound, rolled itself up into a ball at the foot of a tree. Gringalet darted forward to seize it, and then immediately retreated, howling with pain; he came back to us with his muzzle bristling with the porcupine's quills, which were about two inches long and finely pointed. The unfortunate dog rubbed his nose against the ground in order to get relief, but, of course, this only increased his pain. Lucien ran to help him, and at last succeeded in extracting them.

"Have you lost your senses?" asked l'Encuerado of the dog, while washing the poor beast's nose and mouth. "The idea of trying to bite a huitzttacuatzin! Upon my word, I thought you knew better than that. No doubt it's a good thing to be brave, but you must manage to be less stupid when you are in the forests of the Terre-Chaude, unless you want to be devoured by a tiger, or scratched to pieces by an ant-eater."

After listening to l'Encuerado's speech, Lucien scolded him for firing at the poor animal, and then joined us, close to the porcupine, which was dying. It was about the size of a fox, and its fore paws were furnished with four toes armed with claws. This animal, which is slow of pace and entirely inoffensive, spreads round it a sickening musky odor. It lives on fruit, roots, and insects, and, aided by its prehensile tail, climbs trees with great skill. It but rarely tries to make its escape at the approach of the hunter, who, moreover, utterly despises such worthless game.

L'Encuerado reminded us that we had now been travelling twelve days, and that it was the first Sunday in May. We should have devoted it to rest if our morning's hunting had been successful; but, unless we contented ourselves with a dinner composed only of rice, we were obliged to shoot some eatable bird or animal to fill our stew-pot. We heard some doves cooing, and l'Encuerado went off alone in the direction of the sound, for these birds are difficult of approach. Gringalet, notwithstanding our calls, ran after the Indian.

Lucien climbed the rock which hung over the pool, and made signs for me to come to him, saying, in a low voice,

"Papa, come and look at this strange animal."

I also climbed up, and found lying on the top a Mexican chameleon, a kind of round-shaped lizard, with a brown skin dotted over with yellow spots, which seemed to change color in the light. Lucien tried to catch the graceful reptile, which, however, glided between his fingers and disappeared behind the rock.

The Mexican chameleon lives only in the woods and among the rocks. It chiefly delights in the oak forests, where the dark color of its body blends with the hue of the dry leaves, and enables it to lie successfully in ambush for the insects on which it feeds. Sumichrast, who had succeeded in taming a chameleon, told us that the reptile's throat, which was white during the daytime, assumed during the night a dark hue; also, that it liked to be caressed, and became familiar enough to take from his hand the flies which were offered it. The Indians, who hold the animal in great dread when alive, are in the habit of wearing its dried body as an amulet against the "evil eye."

From our lofty observatory we were looking at the beautiful birds which occasionally flew across the plain, when Sumichrast suddenly fired. He had caught sight of a fine magpie, of an ashy-blue color, with its head crowned by a tuft; its throat appeared as if it were bound round with black velvet, a peculiarity which has obtained for it from the Indians the name of the "commander bird." Lucien came down from the rock to go and pick up the game, when an enormous kite darted on the magpie, seized it in its sharp claws, and immediately took flight. Sumichrast seized his gun to punish the impudent poacher, but a falcon, about the size of a man's fist, made its appearance, and describing two or three rapid circles, swooped down on the kite. The latter avoided the shock and continued to rise in the air, while its antagonist came almost to the ground, uttering a shriek of rage. Again ascending, with extreme rapidity, by an oblique flight, it a second time overtopped its antagonist, and darted upon it like a flash of lightning. Their wings beat together, and a few feathers came fluttering to the ground. The prey fell from the bird's grasp, followed in its fall by the falcon. The kite, conquered by an enemy about one-fifth of its own size, flew round and round in the air and then disappeared. The conqueror standing about thirty yards from us, eyes glittering and foot firmly planted on its prey, magnificent in anger and daring, Sumichrast abandoned the game to it as a recompense for its courage. The bird, not at all satisfied at being so close to us, buried in the body of its victim its claws—so enormous in comparison to its own size—shook its wings and rose, at first with difficulty, when, its flight becoming more easy as it ascended higher, it carried off its quarry behind the trees.

Lucien, who from the ground beneath had followed all the changes and chances of this combat, soon joined us.

"How was it that that great bird allowed itself to be conquered by such a small adversary?" he asked of Sumichrast.

"Because it was a coward."

"But both have the same plumage, and almost the same shape; I took the small bird to be the young of the other."

"The last is a falcon, and the other is a kite. They belong, in fact, to the same family; but the falcon is noble and courageous, while the kite is perhaps the most cowardly of all birds of prey. Falcons were once used for hunting; for, as you have just seen, they have no fear of attacking adversaries much larger than themselves. Added to this, they are easily tamed."

"But eagles are much stronger than falcons?"

"Eagles are birds of prey which do not at all merit the reputation which poets have endeavored to make for them; although they may be stronger, they exhibit much less bravery than falcons, and only attack animals of small size."

"Yet, surely the eagle is the king of birds; is it not able to look straight at the sun?"

"Yes, thanks to a membrane that shuts down over the pupil of its eye. Among all nations the eagle is the symbol of strength and courage: but still the falcon possesses the latter of these qualities in a much higher degree; it is the falcon which is the real king of birds among ornithologists. The Mexicans, as you know, depict upon their banners an eagle sitting upon a cactus and tearing a serpent."

"Is this intended as an emblem of strength and courage?"

"No, it has another origin. When the Aztecs, who were thought to be natives of Northern America, arrived in Mexico (which then bore the name of Anahuac), they wandered about a long time before they settled. One day, near a lake, they found a cactus growing on a stone, and on the cactus an eagle was sitting. Guided by an oracle, a city was built, which was called Tenochtitlan, and subsequently Mexico."

My historical lecture was interrupted by a distant shot. We had heard nothing of the doves for a long time, and we were expecting to see our companion reappear; but he must have made an enormous curve in pursuing them, to judge from the direction from which the report of his gun proceeded. Fortunately, from the position of the spot, there was not much likelihood of his missing his way: although we had full confidence in his instinct, we feared to what extent his ardor might carry him.

We now kept on the look-out, hoping that chance would throw us in contact with some game. All at once there was a movement to our right in the high grass, and its waving about pointed out the presence of some reptile. In a minute or two we saw a serpent making its way towards the pool; it was the species which is called by the Indians, as formerly by the Greeks, the double-headed serpent. The amphisbÆna was about a foot and a half long, and its tail was swollen at the end, which gave it a very curious appearance. Its skin, covered with large scales, had a bluish metallic glitter. It crawled slowly, and stopped every instant as if to bore into the ground, but in reality to pick up insects or ants. This singular snake quite enchanted Lucien, and Sumichrast told him to fire his gun at it, so as to be able to study it more closely. He had no need to repeat his instructions; the young sportsman, who had begun to handle his weapon very skillfully, at once placed it to his shoulder; the shot was fired, and the amphisbÆna, tumbling over, disappeared in the grass. The reptile had been hit, and we all of us clambered down the rock as fast as we could, in the hopes of finding it dead. We sought for it in vain; the snake had made its escape into some hole, from which it would be in vain to try to dislodge it.

Gringalet now showed himself, soon followed by l'Encuerado. When he caught sight of us, the Indian raised a loud "Hiou! hiou!" Waving his hat in the air, he threw upon the ground some dark object, which fell heavily on the turf, and then he began dancing. We roared with laughter at his grotesque steps, and Lucien ran towards the Mistec, who, after his dance, was acting the acrobat on the turf.

"A turkey!" he cried; and an enormous bird, with bronzed plumage, was passed from hand to hand.

"Ah! Chanito," cried the Indian, "if you had gone with me, you would have seen a whole flock of them! I had chased those miserable doves till I was tired, without even catching a glimpse of them, and was resting at the foot of a tree, when Gringalet pricked up his ears, and running up the opposite slope of the mountain, barked as loudly as if he saw another porcupine. I also made my way there, and heard 'gobbles' resounding in every direction; Master Gringalet had fallen in with a council of turkeys."

"A council of turkeys?" repeated Lucien.

"Yes, Chanito, turkeys hold councils. They generally travel in flocks and on foot, although they know perfectly well how to fly when they want to cross a stream or to make their escape; and when one of them wants to communicate his opinion to another, he raises a cry, and his companions form a circle round him."

"And what takes place then?"

"The preacher," continued l'Encuerado, without the least idea of irreverence, "lowers his neck and then lifts it up again, raises up the hair-like feathers on his crop, and spreads out his tail like a fan. He then addresses the assembled birds, who strut about with their wings half opened, and answer him with approving gobbles."

The Indian, carried away by his narrative, added gestures to words, strutted about, rounded his arms and lowered his chin upon his breast, in order to imitate the ways of the birds which he was describing.

"But what do they say?" asked Lucien, archly.

"That depends on circumstances," he replied, scratching his forehead. "The flock just now surprised must have cried out: 'What is this animal?'—'A dog,' would be the answer of the most knowing among them. 'Fly, my friends, fly!' he would cry; 'dogs are always accompanied by men, and men have guns.' 'A gun! what's that?'—'A machine that goes boum and kills turkeys.' Then I make my appearance; they bustle about, fly away, and spread in every direction; but my gun had time to go boum and to kill this beautiful bird."

I need scarcely say what mirth was excited by this account. While returning to our bivouac, Sumichrast told Lucien that the turkey is a native of America, and that it was introduced by the Jesuits into Europe, where it flourished well. In a domestic state, the color of its plumage altered to a reddish, a white, and a gray and black color. But it never lost the habit of walking about in flocks, and of laying its eggs in thickets, in a shapeless nest, which the young chicks leave the second day after they are hatched. Lastly, the Aztec name of the turkey—totole—is applied by the Indians to simpletons and cowards.

Lucien then told l'Encuerado about the magpie and the amphisbÆna.

"You killed a maquiz coatl—a two-headed serpent!" cried the Indian.

"I only wounded it, for it got away; but it had only one head."

"Then you didn't examine it thoroughly; for it would not turn round when it crawled away."

"I did not notice. I saw it leap up in the air, and that was all."

"Have you searched well under the stones? Let us go back; the skin of the maquiz coatl enables the blind to see. Why did you let it escape?"

"Oh! we shall be sure to find another."

"You can't find them whenever you like; they are very rare," replied the Indian, shaking his head.

While the turkey was roasting under our superintendence, l'Encuerado and Lucien went off to try and find the amphisbÆna's hole.