"Good for you!" Cummings shouted joyfully. "We'll have a first-class supper now, with plenty to spare for breakfast. How did you manage to get both?"
"An Indian is a better hunter than the white man," Poyor said with a smile as he set about building a fire.
"Do you intend to eat those horrid looking things?" Teddy asked in surprise.
"Indeed I do, and after you get a taste of the old fellow's flesh, roasted in his own shell, you'll say it goes ahead of everything except a morsel of fat from the back of Mr. Armadillo."
A small spring bubbled out of the ground beneath a huge logwood tree, giving rise to what would probably be a large stream by the time it reached the coast, and here it was proposed to spend the night.
To protect themselves from possible visits from wild beasts Cummings set about collecting fuel for camp-fires, and in this work the others assisted while the Indian played the part of cook.
While his game was being roasted Poyor searched the forest in the immediate vicinity, and succeeded in finding a quantity of yellowish green fruit which Cummings explained to his companions were mangoes.
"I thought it was necessary to cultivate mangoes," Teddy said in surprise.
"Not here, although it was originally introduced from India; but it took so kindly to the soil that one finds the fruit even in the heart of the primitive forest. Except for the odor of turpentine, I think it the most pleasing of all that nature has bestowed."
Just at that moment the boys were more interested in what Poyor was doing than regarding the fruits of Yucatan, and instantly he pulled the first armadillo from the fire they were ready to be served.