y, was often
angry with l'Encuerado, who could scarcely resist the temptation of
firing at any thing alive, useful or not, which came within reach of his
gun. We had spoken often enough to the Indian on the subject, but he
always asserted that if God had allowed man to kill for the purpose of
food, He had also ordered him to destroy hurtful animals, as they were
the allies of the demon. Unfortunately, horses and dogs excepted, all
animals were hurtful in l'Encuerado's eyes.

Gun on shoulder, we made our way up the bed of the stream, often being
obliged to cut our path through a thicket of plants. I noticed a fine
tree-fern, the leaves of which, not yet developed, assumed the shape of
a bishop's crosier. Lucien remarked this.

"You are right," said I, "it is very curious. Do you know Jussieu
divided all vegetables into three great orders--_Acotyledons_,
_Monocotyledons_, and _Dicotyledons_. Ferns belong to the first;[K] they
have no visible flowers, and are allied to the sea-weed and mushroom
tribe. It is only under the tropics that ferns attain the dimensions of
the one you are looking at; in colder regions their height seldom
exceeds a few feet. Ferns formed almost the sole vegetation of the
primitive world, and we frequently find evidence of some gigantic
species which are now extinct."

Lucien, being desirous to examine the crosier-shaped stalks, allowed us
to get in front of him, then crept under the fern.

As the leaves of this shrub are furnished underneath with long prickles,
when he wanted to rejoin us he found himself caught. The more he
struggled the worse he became entangled. He cried out to me in a most
distressed voice, and not knowing what had happened, I lost no time in
going back to him. I found him fighting hard against the thorns which
were scratching his face and hands. L'Encuerado and Sumichrast also came
to his assistance.

I disentangled the boy as quickly as I could; but already he had several
scratches over his face and hands.

"How came you not to think," I said, "that by struggling in this way you
would only the more entangle yourself?"

"I saw you all leaving me; I scarcely knew what held me back, and I got
quite frightened; but I'm not crying, papa, and yet the fern-prickles
scratch terribly."

L'Encuerado turned up his sleeves, and, seizing his _machete_, rushed at
the fern.

"Are not you ashamed to attack a child?" he cried. "It's all very fine
to display your bishop's crosier a