"What on earth have you put in the saucepan?" I cried, angrily.
"Don't you think it is nice, Tatita?"
"It's perfectly filthy; you've poisoned us!" But I soon recognized the smell of a kind of coriander with which the Indians occasionally saturate their food. Sumichrast, like me, had not got beyond the first mouthful; but Lucien, who shared to some extent l'Encuerado's weakness for the culantro, was having quite a feast. Our bill of fare was thus reduced to a single dish, and I left the broiled duck to my two companions and confined myself to the roast. With an artlessness that approached the sublime, the Indian, thinking that we should prefer the fresh plant to the cooked, the odor of which had been somewhat softened down by the operation, presented us with several stalks. On the whole, however, he was not altogether to blame, for we often ate with pleasure his national style of cookery, and he had full right to be surprised at our repugnance to their favorite bon bouche.
Gringalet just tasted the rice, then retired to roll on the twigs of coriander which were lying on the ground, a proceeding which did not much improve his toilet.
The sun was setting, and hundreds of birds were assembling around us. Yellow, blue, green, or red wings were cleaving the air in all directions.
There were finches of a violet-black, with orange-colored breasts and heads, some blue or golden-throated grossbeaks, and birds adorned with a variety of coloring, which the Mexicans call "primroses," while a number of mockingbirds were warbling airs worthy of the nightingale. The sun, lost amidst the golden clouds, bathed the trees and bushes with a soft light. Gradually all became silent and nothing was heard but the murmur of the stream, while birds of prey soared over our heads on their way to the mountains. The eastern sky was now wrapped in shade and the stars twinkled in the dark heavens, while on every bush animated sparks appeared to flit about.
I had been asleep more than two hours, when I was suddenly awakened by Gringalet barking. I jumped up simultaneously with my companions, who were also alarmed by a rustling among the dry leaves. Silence was soon restored, and I fancied, although the dog continued to growl, that it was a false alarm; so I was about to lie down again, when Sumichrast's hand touched me on the shoulder. An enormous serpent was gliding over the ground beside us.
"I at once recognized the black sugar-cane snake."