Chapter Five.
Camp at night—Shoot two tapirs—The doctor’s lecture—Visit Padre Pacheco’s house—He has disappeared—A night at a hunter’s hut—Return home—Gab accused of treachery—Humming-birds—Kanimapo appears—Warns me of an intended attack on our house—We collect men, and go to Castle Concannan—Prepare for its defence—We see our house burning—Aqualonga and his banditti appear—Commence the attack—We drive them back with one of our guns—They assault the back of the house—Gab escapes—A battering-ram brought into play—Out-buildings on fire—Several of our men killed and wounded—Our ammunition runs short—A fresh assault—Enemy retreat—We follow—Regain the house—Enemy return—Driven back and disappear—The dead buried.
We were well satisfied with the success we had enjoyed during the day, having shot as many birds as we required for the pot, and several others of various species. We had half-a-dozen different sorts of animals which the doctor wished to examine or to add to his museum. There were among them three monkeys, a titi, a minas leonidas (a miniature lion—a curious little creature), a spider-monkey with white whiskers; besides a paca (a small rodent which burrows in the ground), and an opossum with a prehensile tail, which we saw with half-a-dozen little ones on its back. The doctor observed that, having no pouch, it thus carries its young, and is from this circumstance called Dorsigereas, or “back-bearing.” The young ones were clinging on to her with their hand-like feet, while their tails were turned round hers; and thus she was making her way along the branch of a tree when the doctor’s cruel rifle cut short her career. I confess that I could not have had the heart to kill the creature, nor did I much like shooting the playful little monkeys; but the doctor observed that such sentiments must yield to the necessities of Science, and that they might consider it a great honour to have their skins exhibited in the Museum of Berlin.
Having kindled a fire, we were busily employed till a late hour, by its light, in skinning the doctor’s prizes. The paca, by-the-by, was roasted, and preferred to the ducks.
With our ponchos and horse-rugs we formed luxurious couches, though the mosquitoes were somewhat troublesome. The doctor was entering into a learned disquisition as to their species.
“Faith, your honour,” cried Tim, “they all seem mighty much alike, for they bite terribly!”
I may remark that the poncho is the usual cloak worn by all ranks, from the hidalgo to the poorest civilised Indian, differing only in material and texture. It consists of a square piece of cloth with a small round hole cut through the centre, and a slit a little way in front, which enables it to be slipped over the head. It is secured round the neck by a clasp or a button, and is well adapted for a climate where rain and wind have to be guarded against rather than cold.
We agreed that one of the party should keep watch at a time, as it would not have been wise to trust even to Jumbo’s vigilance, notwithstanding all the doctor had to say in his favour. At all events, he could not put the sticks on the fire; and a stealthy jaguar might, carry him off, should he close his eyes for a moment.