mforts after such adventures
and such perils. I felt that I had recovered or was recovering from
that venomous bite; that I would live and not die--live to return to my
country; and the thought filled my heart to overflowing, and tears of
gratitude and happiness rose to my eyes.

At such times a man experiences benevolent feelings, and would willingly
bestow some of that overplus of happiness on his fellows to lighten
other hearts; and this old man before me, who was probably the
instrument of my salvation, began greatly to excite my interest and
compassion. For he seemed so poor in his old age and rags, so solitary
and dejected as he sat there with knees drawn up, his great, brown, bare
feet looking almost black by contrast with the white wood-ashes about
them! What could I do for him? What could I say to cheer his spirits
in that Indian language, which has few or no words to express kindly
feelings? Unable to think of anything better to say, I at length
suddenly cried aloud: "Smoke, old man! Why do you not smoke? It is good
to smoke."

He gave a mighty start and, turning, fixed his eyes on me. Then I saw
that he was not a pure Indian, for although as brown as old leather,
he wore a beard and moustache. A curious face had this old man, which
looked as if youth and age had made it a battling-ground. His forehead
was smooth except for two parallel lines in the middle running its
entire length, dividing it in zones; his arched eyebrows were black as
ink, and his small black eyes were bright and cunning, like the eyes of
some wild carnivorous animal. In this part of his face youth had held
its own, especially in the eyes, which looked young and lively.
But lower down age had conquered, scribbling his skin all over with
wrinkles, while moustache and beard were white as thistledown. "Aha, the
dead man is alive again!" he exclaimed, with a chuckling laugh. This
in the Indian tongue; then in Spanish he added: "But speak to me in the
language you know best, senor; for if you are not a Venezuelan call me
an owl."

"And you, old man?" said I.

"Ah, I was right! Why sir what I am is plainly written on my face.
Surely you do not take me for a pagan! I might be a black man from
Africa, or an Englishman, but an Indian--that, no! But a minute ago you
had the goodness to invite me to smoke. How, sir, can a poor man smoke
who is without tobacco?"

"Without tobacco--in Guayana!"

"Can you believe it? But, sir, do not blame me; if