Adventures of a Young Naturalist Part 39

"I'm only sorry that I am not strong enough to help you," replied the boy. "I only tease M. Sumichrast because I know it amuses him, and makes him forget his burden, then he walks more easily."

"You never were more correct!" responded my friend, "I certainly fancied you were indulging your own humor without thinking about me."

A fresh ascent quite exhausted us, and Sumichrast vowed that he must relinquish the basket until the next day. I then took it; but in a very little time I was compelled to take the same resolution as my friend, so we settled down to bivouac.

While my companions were engaged in the cooking, I walked a little way on the plateau. I had not gone above two or three hundred yards before I called to the others to join me; for the _Terre-Chaude_ was stretched out at my foot.

Departing day at last cast its mysterious veil over the tracts we were about to traverse. Just before it became quite dark, a snow-clad corner of the volcano of Orizava was seen in the distance. I lifted up Lucien, and, kissing him, pointed it out, thinking on the dear ones who were behind the mountain, counting the days till we returned. Gringalet barked, as if claiming a caress for himself, and, guided by the dog, we reached our bivouac to enjoy a well-deserved repose.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The _Terre-Chaude_ was stretched out at my feet."]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XXV.

A GROUND-SQUIRREL.--A MOUSE'S NEST.--HUMMING-BIRDS AND THEIR YOUNG ONES.--THE LOCUST-TREE.--MEXICAN WOLVES AND THEIR RETREAT.

I was suddenly awakened by the report of a gun just as the day was breaking. L'Encuerado showed me an enormous squirrel, with a gray back and white belly--a species which never climbs, and is, for this reason, called by Indians _amotli_ (ground-squirrel). This animal, which lives in a burrow, has all the grace and vivacity of its kind, but it can never be domesticated. It generally goes about in numerous bands, and, when near cultivation, will commit in a single night great destruction; the farmers, consequently, wage against it a war of extermination.

Just as we were setting out, l'Encuerado, whose arm was visibly healing up, again took charge of the basket. I allowed him to carry it, on the condition he should tell me as soon as he felt tired. I went in front, leading Lucien by the hand, and the rocky slope was descended without accident. The oaks were small and scattered, and left us an easy pa.s.sage over ground covered with dry leaves, which rustled under our feet.

"We might almost fancy we were in Europe," said Sumichrast, suddenly halting.

"Yes," I replied; "it seems as if the yellow leaves had already felt the autumnal winds."

"There's a dead tree," said my friend; "I feel sure, if we examine its bark, we shall find some insects of our own country."

My friend's hopes were not realized, and the only result of his search was to disturb the rest of two mice with slender muzzles. One of them escaped, while the other tried its best to protect a litter of five little ones, buried in some fine vegetable debris. Lucien examined the young ones with interest, and after replacing the bark, as far as possible, in its original position, rejoined us outside the wood. A descent so rapid that we could scarcely keep our balance brought us among a quant.i.ty of bushes covered with double thorns, which Lucien very justly compared to bulls' horns in miniature. At last the ground became more level, and, directing our course to the right, we turned into a plain, surrounded by woods.

"Both trees and plants seem larger here than on the mountains," said Lucien.

"You are quite right," answered Sumichrast; "the vegetation in the _Terre-Chaude_ is more vigorous than that of the _Terre-Temperee_. As you advance farther into it, you will be able to judge."

"Did you see that great insect that flew buzzing past us?"

"Yes, Master Sunbeam; but it was a humming-bird, not an insect."

"A humming-bird!" cried the boy, at once unfolding his b.u.t.terfly-net.

And off he went in pursuit of the fugitive. The agile bird made a thousand turns, and always kept out of reach of the young sportsman, who at last stopped suddenly in front of a shrub. When I joined him, he was contemplating three little nests, fixed in forked branches, and covered outside with green and yellow lichens.

"There's the bird!" said Lucien, in a low voice.

I lifted up the little naturalist; two hen-birds flew off, and at the bottom of each nest he could see a couple of eggs of a greenish color, and about the size of a pea.

"If you hold me a little closer, papa, I can take the eggs."

"What would be the good, my boy? Look at them as long as you like, but don't deprive the little birds of what is most dear to them."

"There's one bird which has not moved," observed Lucien.

"Then, no doubt, its little ones are hatched."

"The whole of its body seems to glitter; it looks as if it was blue, green, and gold color. It sees me, and is moving. Now it is perched upon the tree! Only look, papa! there are two young ones in the bottom of the nest."

I put Lucien down on the ground, so that he might go to l'Encuerado, who was calling him. The Indian had found a humming-bird's nest fixed on a branch, which he had cut off and was bringing us. The elegant little structure was a perfect marvel of architectural skill, lined inside with the silky down of some plant. Two young birds, still unfledged, and scarcely as big as nuts, opened their beaks as if to ask for food. I directed l'Encuerado to replace the branch on the tree from whence he had cut it, and to fasten it so that it could not fall down. I followed him, to make sure he did it rightly. As soon as we came near the shrub, the mother fluttered all round the Indian, and at last settled down, panting, on her young brood.

"You're a brave bird!" cried the Indian, "and I ask your pardon for having carried away your house. Don't be afraid, my name is l'Encuerado, and you may safely trust in me. Don't tremble! I would sooner be hurt myself than cause you the least harm. There, now you are all firmly fixed again, and you may live in peace. Your little ones can tell you that I have not teased them; I only wanted to show them to Chanito.

Good-bye, Senor _Huitzitzilin_! you are a brave bird, and it's I, l'Encuerado, who tells you so!"

And the Indian went away, saluting the valiant mother with so many waves of his hat that the poor bird must have thought her last hour had come.

"What do these beautiful little birds feed upon, M. Sumichrast?"

"On the juices of flowers and small insects. Look! there is one hovering, and its wings are moving too fast for us to see them. Don't stir! I see a branch so covered with blue flowers that it can hardly fail to attract the bird. Now it is settled above one of the corollas, and plunges its head into it without ceasing to beat with its wings. Its cloven tongue soon sucks out the honey concealed in the flower, and its little ones will greet it when it gets back with open beaks to receive their share of the spoil."

"They are funny birds, those," said l'Encuerado to Lucien. "In three months--that is, in October--they will go to sleep, and will not wake up till April."

"Is that true, father?"

"I rather fancy that they migrate."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "And the Indian went away, saluting."]

"Now don't teach Chanito wrongly," said l'Encuerado, repeating a common phrase of mine; "the _huitzitzilins_ do not migrate; they go to sleep."

"This fact has been so often related to me by Indians living in the woods," said my friend, "that I feel almost disposed to believe it."

"Don't they say the same of the bats and swallows? and yet we know they change their habitat."

"Yes; but with regard to humming-birds, they a.s.sert that they have seen them asleep. At all events, it is certain that they disappear in the winter."

The clucking of a bird of the gallinaceous order, called the hocco--_Crax alector_--interrupted our discussion, and my two companions carefully proceeded towards a dark-foliaged tree, a little outside the edge of the forest. The clucking suddenly ceased; we heard the report of a gun, and I saw three of them fly away into the forest. L'Encuerado was climbing a tree when I came up, for the bird he had shot had lodged among the branches.

"Do you see the long pods which hang on that tree?" cried Lucien.

"It is a locust-tree covered with fruit," said my friend; "it is a relation of the bean and the pea."

"Are the pods eatable?" asked the child, as one fell at his feet.

"You may taste the dark pulp which surrounds the seeds--it is slightly sweet; but don't eat too much, for it is used in Europe as a medicine."