Adventures of a Young Naturalist. Lucien Biart

hare; so our little mess-mate ate it with evident enjoyment. Dried maize-cakes, called totopo, took the place of bread, and each one had his allowance of it.

      We couldn't help feeling uneasy about Gringalet: we had given him about half a squirrel, but instead of eating it, he thought fit to roll himself upon it frantically. The poor beast had consequently only some scraps of totopo. It was, however, highly necessary to accustom him to feed on game, as our maize-cakes were far too valuable to be doled out thus. Each of us poured a little water from his gourd into a calabash, which served for a drinking-vessel. The poor dog, thus allowanced, must have been sorry that he ever joined us.

      The sun was perceptibly sinking.

      "Well, Lucien," asked Sumichrast, "what do you think now of rat's flesh?"

      "I'll tell you when I have eaten some of it."

      "What! don't you know that the squirrel and the rat are very near relations, and that they both belong to the Rodent family?"

      "They certainly are a little alike," said the child, making a comical face.

      "Especially the species which we had for our dinner; which, by-the-by, is not yet classed by naturalists. Look! its coat is black on the back, gray on the flanks, and white under the belly. The ears, too, are bare, instead of having those long points of hair which give such a knowing look to the European squirrels."

      "Do squirrels feed on flesh?"

      "No; acorns, buds, nuts, grain, and sometimes grasses, constitute their principal food."

      "Then," replied Lucien, triumphantly, "the flesh of the squirrel can not resemble that of the rat, for I know that the rat will eat flesh."

      The assured and self-satisfied tone of the little savant made us smile; but I almost immediately desired him to be silent, for a noise of branches rustling, which had excited our attention, became every moment more distinct. Gringalet was about to bark, but l'Encuerado caught him by the muzzle, and covered him with his sarapé. A whole troop of squirrels, no doubt those we had hunted two hours before, made their appearance, uttering sharp cries. They sprang from branch to branch with the most extraordinary disregard to distance. We noticed them running after one another, sometimes along the top, and sometimes along the bottom of the most flexible boughs. They moved forward as if in jerks, sometimes stopping suddenly and climbing a tree, only to descend it again. When on the ground, they sat up on their hind legs, using their front paws like hands, and rubbed their noses with such a comical air that Lucien could not help speaking loud to express his admiration of them.

      Hearing so strange a sound as the human voice, the graceful animals took flight, but not quick enough to prevent Sumichrast's gun from wounding one of them. The squirrel remained at first clinging to the tree on which it was when the shot struck it; but, after a pause, it relaxed its hold and rolled over and fell to the ground. Nevertheless, it had strength enough left to turn round and bite the sportsman, who carelessly laid hold of him. L'Encuerado skinned it immediately, keeping the meat for our breakfast next morning.