gland, who published a work against
smokers.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER V.

THE GREAT FOREST.--CROWS.--THE FIRST BIVOUAC.--THE SQUIRREL-HUNT.--OUR
YOUNG GUIDE.--THE CHANT IN THE DESERT.

We were now more than 5000 feet above the level of the sea, and the
coldness of the breeze quite surprised my son, who, being accustomed to
the climate of the _Terre-Temperee_, had never before felt any thing
like the atmosphere we were now in. As if by instinct, he held his
fingers in his mouth, to prevent their getting numbed. But when the sun
had reached a certain height, there was no longer any need to complain
of the cold.

As we advanced, the trees grew closer and closer together. Lucien, who
now for the first time saw these enormous trees, to whom centuries were
no more than years are to us, seemed strongly impressed at the sight of
their gigantic proportions. He almost doubted the reality of the scene
which met his eyes. Having previously seen the pigmy world of Lilliput
from the top of a mountain, he was now ready to inquire if this was not
another illusion, exhibiting to him the empire of one of those giants
whose marvellous histories his mamma had related to him. An oak-tree
which had fallen across our path gave him a good opportunity of
measuring its size, the limbs of which seemed to touch the sky. The
ancient trunk was black, wrinkled, and partly buried in the earth by the
weight of its fall; even as it lay prostrate, it was several feet higher
than ourselves, while the large branches, scattered and broken, were
equal in diameter to the biggest chestnut-trees. A flapping of wings
suddenly attracted our attention, and we saw two couples of enormous
crows take flight, saluting us as they went with a prolonged croaking.

"Be off with you, children of the evil one!" cried l'Encuerado; "you've
no chance of frightening us, we are too good Christians for that!"

"Whom are you calling to?" asked Lucien, who looked round him with
surprise.

"To the crows, of course."

"Do you believe that they can understand you?"

"Not the least doubt about it, Chanito. These scoundrels are harder in
their flesh than they are in their hearing; and just because they are
dressed up in a beautiful black coat, like that your papa wears on
festival days, they think to have every thing their own way. But if one
of them dares to come to-night and prowl round our fire, I'll kill and
roast him, as sure as my name is l'Encuerado!"

The bo