unconscious victim knows nothing of the enemy who has been draining his
blood until he awakens, faint and exhausted, in the morning.

Moreover, the hermit told them that these vampire-bats have very sharp,
carnivorous teeth, besides a tongue, which is furnished with the curious
organs, by which they suck the lifeblood of their fellow-creatures; that
they have a peculiar, leaf-like, overhanging lip; and that he had a
stuffed specimen of a bat that measured no less than two feet across the
expanded wings, from tip to tip.

"Och, the blood-thirsty spalpeen!" exclaimed Barney, as he rose and
crossed the room to examine the bat in question, which was nailed
against the wall. "Bad luck to them, they've ruined Martin intirely."

"O no," remarked the hermit with a smile. "It will do the boy much
good, the loss of the blood; much good, and he will not be sick at all
to-morrow."

"I'm glad to hear you say so," said Martin, "for it would be a great
bore to be obliged to lie here when I've so many things to see. In fact
I feel better already, and if you will be so kind as to give me a little
breakfast I shall be quite well."

While Martin was speaking, the obliging hermit--who, by the way, was now
habited in a loose short hunting-coat of brown cotton,--spread a
plentiful repast upon his table; to which, having assisted Martin to get
out of his hammock, they all proceeded to do ample justice: for the
travellers were very hungry after the fatigue of the previous day; and
as for the hermit, he looked like a man whose appetite was always sharp
set, and whose food agreed with him.

They had cold meat of several kinds, and a hot steak of venison just
killed that morning, which the hermit cooked while his guests were
engaged with the other viands. There was also excellent coffee, and
superb cream, besides cakes made of a species of coarse flour or meal,
fruits of various kinds, and very fine honey.

"Arrah! ye've the hoith o' livin' here!" cried Barney, smacking his lips
as he held out his plate for another supply of a species of meat which
resembled chicken in tenderness and flavour. "What sort o' bird or
baste may that be, now, av' I may ask ye, Mister--what's yer name?"

"My name is Carlos," replied the hermit, gravely; "and this is the flesh
of the armadillo."

"Arms-what-o?" inquired Barney.

"_Armadillo_," repeated the hermit. "He is very good to eat but very
difficult to catch. He digs down so fast we cannot cat