difficulty arose--how to cross the ravine
and ford the river? L'Encuerado said that it would be necessary to go
up-stream; I, also, agreed with him. Sumichrast, on the contrary, was of
opinion that there was much more chance of the banks becoming less steep
if we went in the opposite direction; he carried the day, and led the
way, cutting a passage through the shrubs with his _machete_.

As we were determined to skirt the edge of the water, we could not get
along without great difficulty. The noise of the torrent, which seemed
to grow louder, attracted us towards the forest, where the absence of
grass and under-wood enabled us to get on faster. The trees grew farther
and farther apart, and we again came upon brush-wood, ere long coming
out on to a plain, dotted here and there with guava-trees. These trees
furnished us with a quantity of green fruit, of which we were all very
fond. L'Encuerado availed himself of this unexpected harvest by filling
up all the gaps in his basket with them. The wild guava, a sort of
myrtle, which grows naturally in the _Terre-Temperee_, reaches to a
height of several feet. Its fruit, which seldom gets ripe before it is
eaten by the birds or larvae, is luscious, highly scented, and full of
pips; they have the reputation of being antifebrile and astringent. When
the shrub is cultivated, its appearance changes considerably; its
branches grow longer, and are covered with leaves which are silvery on
the back, and the fruit they yield are as large as lemons, which they
resemble in shape and color.

We all put on our travelling gear again; but when l'Encuerado wanted to
place the basket on his back, he found he could not possibly lift it up.
I helped him, trying all the time to persuade him to throw away half his
stock; but he resolutely refused to follow my advice. When he began to
walk, he staggered like a drunken man, and at last fell down beneath his
burden, and all the guavas rolled out on to the ground.

Our laughter rather hurt the brave Indian's feelings.

"By Jose-Maria!" he cried, holding up his hands towards heaven, "I am
getting old. Oh, what a disgrace, not to be able to carry a handful of
guavas! In my youth it would have taken three such loads as those to
have made me fall down on my knees like a broken-down horse. Poor old
fellow!"

L'Encuerado was certainly exaggerating his former strength; but, at any
rate, it cut him to the heart to have to throw away so much of the fruit
he