istling with pieces of straw and wood; in fact, he scarcely looked
like a dog at all. I called him towards the pond outside, but the poor
brute was quite blind and confused, and did not seem to hear. As a
matter of course, all the laborers raised shouts of laughter; but poor
Lucien, fancying that his dog was going to die, followed him in despair.
Gringalet, no doubt wishing to comfort his young master, leaped upon him
and covered him with caresses, and of course with saccharine matter, in
which he so lately had a bath. As it was too late for any other course,
I made up my mind to laugh, like every one else. While l'Encuerado was
washing the dog, our hostess cleaned the boy's clothes, soon after which
we resumed our journey.

Don Antonio, like a real Mexican, pitied us for having to travel on foot
like Indians; he especially commiserated our young companion, and
thought, indeed, that we were very cruel.

"He must learn to use his legs; that's the reason why God gave them to
him," said Sumichrast, who delighted in an argument with the steward.

"What good are horses, then?"

"To break your neck. Besides, there are plenty of infirmities in life
without making one out of the horse."

"The horse an infirmity!" cried the Mexican.

"Yes, certainly--among your caste at least; for you could no more do
without a horse than a cripple without his crutch."

Don Antonio whistled without making any reply, and, untying his horse,
took Lucien up in front, and accompanied us for more than a league. At
last, as his duties called him home, he shook us by the hand and turned
back. Even after we had lost sight of him, we could still hear him
wishing us a pleasant journey.

We had to cross a wide prairie; the heat was suffocating, and we marched
on side by side in dead silence. Lucien's walking was much hindered by
his game-pouch and gourd, which, in spite of all his efforts, would work
round in front of him. I soon noticed that he had got rid of the
troublesome gear.

"Hallo!" I cried, "what have you done with your provisions?"

"L'Encuerado wished to carry them for me."

"L'Encuerado's load is quite heavy enough now, and you must get
accustomed to your own. In a few days you won't feel it. Habit makes
many things easy which at first seem impossible."

"Senor," said l'Encuerado, "Chanito (this was the name he gave to
Lucien) is tired, and this is his first journey; I'll give him back all
his things to-morrow."

"It will be mu