We crossed over the stream by means of a tree which stretched from one bank to the other. Ere the sun ceased to gild the ravine with its rays we found ourselves opposite to the dwelling of the Indian patriarch, which overlooked a hut similar to that of our guide. The sky was a pale blue, and we had a glimpse of the monotonous plain dotted over with the sombre cactus-plant; while just below us figured the fresh oasis, rendered all the more charming by the contrast. The birds warbled in the shrubs, and one by one flew away in order to return to the trees, among the branches of which they had perhaps first crept out of the paternal nest. A warm breeze was blowing when we got up to return to the village.
"I have some powder!" exclaimed the Indian, abruptly.
"Yes, very likely, but I also know that you don't wish to sell any."
"No, I don't."
The powder is surely mine, I thought to myself; and, after walking about twenty paces, I again took up the subject.
"Even if your powder was very good, I wouldn't buy it of you; I know men like you mean what they say; nevertheless, if you like, I will make an exchange."
"What could you give me?" replied Torribio, with affected indifference; "I don't want any of your birds, and my gun is quite as good as yours, if not better."
"That's true enough, therefore say no more about it."
And I continued to follow my guide, who walked slowly on. He soon turned round again.
"The magic glass," said he, with a great effort.