"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.