the Indians, at
the same time apologizing for not giving me meat to eat.

"But why do you not have meat? Never have I seen animals so abundant and
tame as in this wood." Before he could reply Rima, with a jug of water
from the spring in her hand, came in; glancing at me, he lifted his
finger to signify that such a subject must not be discussed in her
presence; but as soon as she quitted the room he returned to it.

"Senor," he said, "have you forgotten your adventure with the snake?
Know, then, that my grandchild would not live with me for one day longer
if I were to lift my hand against any living creature. For us, senor,
every day is fast-day--only without the fish. We have maize, pumpkin,
cassava, potatoes, and these suffice. And even of these cultivated
fruits of the earth she eats but little in the house, preferring certain
wild berries and gums, which are more to her taste, and which she picks
here and there in her rambles in the wood. And I, sir, loving her as I
do, whatever my inclination may be, shed no blood and eat no flesh."

I looked at him with an incredulous smile.

"And your dogs, old man?"

"My dogs? Sir, they would not pause or turn aside if a coatimundi
crossed their path--an animal with a strong odour. As a man is, so is
his dog. Have you not seen dogs eating grass, sir, even in Venezuela,
where these sentiments do not prevail? And when there is no meat--when
meat is forbidden--these sagacious animals accustom themselves to a
vegetable diet."

I could not very well tell the old man that he was lying to me--that
would have been bad policy--and so I passed it off. "I have no doubt
that you are right," I said. "I have heard that there are dogs in China
that eat no meat, but are themselves eaten by their owners after being
fattened on rice. I should not care to dine on one of your animals, old
man."

He looked at them critically and replied: "Certainly they are lean."

"I was thinking less of their leanness than of their smell," I returned.
"Their odour when they approach me is not flowery, but resembles that
of other dogs which feed on flesh, and have offended my too sensitive
nostrils even in the drawing-rooms of Caracas. It is not like the
fragrance of cattle when they return from the pasture."

"Every animal," he replied, "gives out that odour which is peculiar to
its kind"; an incontrovertible fact which left me nothing to say.

When I had sufficiently recovered the suppleness of my limbs