"Didn't I tell you its tongue is poisonous? If it ate first, the venom would be communicated to the food, and the animals that feasted on the remains would die."
This fable narrated by Hernandez, and still told by the Indians, must have originated in some as yet unobserved habit of the ocotchotli.
After dinner, when Lucien was going towards his pets to give them some fruit, he saw an unfortunate tortoise between Master Job's paws. The monkey was turning it over, smelling at it, and then depositing it on the ground, persistently poking his fingers into its shell, a proceeding which by no means tended to enliven the melancholy animal. According to l'Encuerado's advice, Lucien stuck up some branches near the water, and put the tortoise into this miniature inclosure.
Night came on, and Lucien was still teaching the birds to say "Hortense" and "Emile." To our great astonishment, Gringalet went and stretched himself close to Master Job, who, without hesitation, commenced freeing him from the vermin which were lodged among his hair; then the two friends went to sleep side by side. About nine o'clock, when I was making up the fire before going to rest myself, Janet opened one of her eyes and chattered a short sentence; but l'Encuerado was much too fast asleep to answer her.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE HUNTERS HUNTED.—ESCAPE FROM PECCARIES.—A JAGUAR-HUNT.—AN IBIS.—THE CAYMANS.—THE WILD BULLS.
After we had finished our breakfast next morning, we embarked our baggage and menagerie, and prepared to depart. I was just going on board the raft when a noise attracted our attention to the forest, and two peccaries rushed past us, pursuing one another. L'Encuerado, taken by surprise, shot at one of the animals without killing it, and we all gave chase. Hardly had we gone a hundred paces, when the Indian, who was in front of us, turned right about, shouting out, "To the raft! to the raft!"