were now passing through a dark gorge full of thick brush-wood. In front of us rose a wooded mountain, which we had to climb. The shrubs were succeeded by gigantic thistles, which compelled us to advance with extreme care. These troublesome plants grew so thickly that we were obliged to use our knives to clear a passage. L'Encuerado, putting down his load, taught Lucien how to handle his; showing him that a downward cut, if the weapon slipped or met with but little resistance, might be dangerous. Enchanted with his lesson, and cutting down several stalks at a blow, our young pioneer soon opened for us an avenue rather than a path. The thistles gradually became fewer. Sumichrast walked in front, destroying the last obstacles that severed us from the under-wood.
It was now breakfast-time, and as we continued our course we looked out for a favorable spot to halt at, when the measured strokes of an axe fell upon our ears. This noise told of the presence of wood-cutters, who were certain to be provided with maize-cakes and beans; so we resolved to make our way up to them, and thus economize our own resources. After an hour's difficult ascent, just as we were despairing of reaching the Indian, whose axe had ceased to sound, Lucien cried out:
"Look, papa, there's a fire!"
At the same moment Gringalet began barking furiously, and a few paces more brought us to a burning charcoal-oven. The charcoal-burner, who was surprised at our visit, seized his long-handled axe. But the presence of the child appeared to reassure him.
"Good-morning, Don José," said I, using the common name which is applied in Mexico to all the Indians.
"God preserve you," replied he, speaking in broken Spanish.
"Are you all alone?"
"No. I have six companions."
"Well, will one of you sell us some maize-cakes, and give us some water?"
"We have neither water nor cakes."
"I'm quite sure you will be able to find some," I replied, placing a half-piastre in his hand.
The Indian took off his straw hat, scratched his forehead, and then, placing two fingers in his mouth, whistled a prolonged note. Almost immediately the foliage was pushed aside, and a boy about fifteen years old, wearing nothing but a pair of drawers, made his appearance, and halted, as if terrified at the sight of us.
"Run to the hut, and ask for cakes and some capsicums, and bring them here," said the wood-cutter, in the Aztec language.
"It's quite needless," I replied, in the same idiom; "we can breakfast much more comfortably in the hut."
The wood-cutter looked at me in artless admiration, then taking my hand, placed it on his breast. I spoke his language, and I was therefore his friend. This is a feeling common to all men, whatever may be their nationality or social position.
Following the young Indian, in five minutes we reached a very primitive dwelling; being but four stakes supporting a roof made of branches with their leaves on. The wood-men in Mexico construct such temporary places of shelter, for at the commencement of the rainy season they cease to dwell in the forests.
An Indian girl warmed us a dozen of those maize-flour fritters, which are called tortillas, and are eaten by the natives instead of bread. She also brought us a calabash full of cooked beans, which hunger rendered delicious.
"Why don't they serve the meat first?" asked Lucien.
"Because they have none," replied Sumichrast.
"Haven't these Indians any meat? Poor fellows! How will they dine, then?"
"Don't you know that the Indians never eat meat more than three or four times a year; and that their usual food is composed of nothing but black beans, rice, capsicums, and maize flour? Have you forgotten our dinner yesterday?"
"I fancied that we had arrived too late for the first course, and that all the meat had been used. But shall we live on beans the whole of our journey?"
"No; our meals will not be quite so regular as you seem to think. Yet we shall have plenty of meat when we have been lucky in shooting, a little rice when we have been unfortunate, and fried beans whenever chance throws in our way any inhabited hut."
"And we shall have to go without dessert?" said the child, making up his face into a comical pout.
"Oh no, Chanito, there will be dessert to-day," replied l'Encuerado. "Perhaps as good as the cook would provide at home; but, at any rate, it is sweet enough. Look at it!"
The Indian girl brought a calabash full of water, and a cone of black sugar, weighing about half a pound.
"What is that?" cried Lucien.
"Panela," answered the Indian girl.
"Poor man's sugar," interposed Sumichrast. "The manufacture of white sugar, which you saw yesterday, costs a good deal, for the laborers employed to make it have to work night and day, and thus it becomes expensive. Now, some sugar-makers avoid all this outlay, and they merely boil the juice, so that it will harden in cooling. This dark-colored sugar costs about one-half as much in making as the other."
"I can well believe it," said the child; "but it contains all that nasty scum which we saw."
"That makes it the nicer," said l'Encuerado; "it has a richer flavor."
And taking a morsel of the panela, he soaked it in the water in the calabash and sucked it.
When Lucien saw that we, too, imitated the Indian, he soon made up his mind to do likewise, the sweet taste overcoming his repugnance.
When we had finished, our young companion was anxious to know how charcoal was made. Sumichrast led him close to a recently-felled oak, the small branches of which an Indian was cutting into pieces two or three inches long, by means of an instrument something like an enormous pruning-knife. A little farther, on the open ground, two men were collecting these pieces of wood in circular rows. This pile was already seven feet in circumference, and about the same in height, although it was not half finished. Lucien could easily see this when he approached the Indian who was looking after the lighted furnace, in which the wood, completely covered with earth, formed a kind of dome, from the summit of which a blue flame was hovering, proving that the mass inside was in a red-hot state. The Indian kept walking round and round the furnace, plastering damp earth on any holes through which the flame started. For, as Sumichrast properly observed, a charcoal of good quality must be smothered while it is being burned.
"Suppose the fire went out?" said Lucien.
"Then all the work must be begun over again."
"But the fire might burn only one side."
"They would then have badly-burned charcoal, nearly half wood, which would cause a bad smell when it was used. The wood in the oven we are looking at will be entirely charred to-night; for the fire, which was lighted at the centre, is trying to break through all round the outside. Before long the Indians will cover up the opening at the top, over which the blue flame is hovering. The fire will then be quite deprived of air, and soon afterwards go out. In about eight days your mamma may perhaps buy this very charcoal which you have seen burned."
"Suppose the charcoal went on burning?"
"Then the Indian, to his great vexation, would find nothing left but ashes. But he will take good care not to lose the fruit of his labor. He will use as many precautions to prevent the fire burning up again as he does now to hinder it going out."
