CHAPTER XXI.
BLACK SKINS AND WHITE SKINS.—WE HAVE TO TURN CARPENTERS.—L'ENCUERADO CHANTING AND PREACHING.—THE PALM-LEAVES.—VEGETABLE BUTTER TREE.
The dwelling so generously put at our disposal was a large shed, divided into three rooms by bamboo partitions; mats, spread out on the ground, formed our beds, and the remainder of the furniture consisted of nothing but two benches. L'Encuerado swept out one of the rooms, and, collecting some dry palm-leaves, made us a softer resting-place than we had slept on for the last twenty days. A troop of children—of both sexes, and perfectly naked—formed a circle round us, and watched our movements with surprise. I omitted to mention about half a dozen dogs, who were at first perfectly furious at Gringalet's appearance, but afterwards contented themselves with growling whenever the intruder came near.
When our baggage had been deposited in the shed, I went and sat down a few paces from the hut, on a mound overlooking the brook. Sumichrast soon joined me. Gradually the sun went down, while the children, previously playing about, went to dip themselves in the beautifully transparent water. I told Lucien, who was dying to imitate them, to follow their example. He had hardly taken off his shirt, when the young Indians, who had watched him undress with evident curiosity, burst out laughing, and chattered together like so many young paroquets.
"Why do they laugh so when they look at me?" asked Lucien of l'Encuerado.
"Of course, because of your white skin; what else should it be? They have never seen a human being of that color before."
"They think it so very ridiculous?" interposed Sumichrast.
"Yes, rather," replied the Indian; "but you must not mind it, Chanito; for, after all, it is not your fault."