CHAPTER VII.
THE CATS'-EYES POMADE.—ARMADILLO.—LUCIEN AND THE CRUEL FERN.-THE FALLEN MOUNTAIN.—THE WOODPECKER.—THE BASILISK.—L'ENCUERADO'S FRESH IDEA.
Gringalet, who had been the first to give the alarm, was also the first to go to sleep again. I could not help waiting with some degree of anxiety for l'Encuerado's return. In a quarter of an hour, as the Indian did not arrive, I began to think that, confused by the darkness, he had missed finding our bivouac. After having called him two or three times, without receiving any answer, I was just going to fire off my gun, so that the noise of the report might serve as a guide to him, when I heard the sound of his guttural cry.
"What on earth has possessed you to chase useless game at this hour of the night?" I cried, as he came into sight.
"I felt bound to give these screeching animals a lesson, señor; if I hadn't done so, they would have come back to disturb us every night," answered the Indian, gravely.
"Have you killed any of them?"