seasoned old savage was affected by this time. In vino veritas,

said the ancients; and the principle holds good where there is no
vinum, but only mild casserie. Runi now informed me that he had

once known a white man, that he was a bad man, which had caused
him to say that all white men were bad; even as David, still more

sweepingly, had proclaimed that all men were liars. Now he found
that it was not so, that I was a good man. His friendliness

increased with intoxication. He presented me with a curious
little tinder-box, made from the conical tail of an armadillo,

hollowed out, and provided with a wooden stopper--this to be used
in place of the box I had deprived myself of. He also furnished

me with a grass hammock, and had it hung up there and then, so
that I could lie down when inclined. There was nothing he would

not do for me. And at last, when many more cups had been
emptied, and a third or fourth jar brought out, he began to

unburthen his heart of its dark and dangerous secrets. He shed
tears--for the "man without at ear" dwells not in the woods of

Guayana: tears for those who had been treacherously slain long
years ago; for his father, who had been killed by Tripica, the

father of Managa, who was still above ground. But let him and
all his people beware of Runi. He had spilt their blood before,

he had fed the fox and vulture with their flesh, and would never
rest while Managa lived with his people at Uritay--the five hills

of Uritay, which were two days' journey from Parahuari. While
thus talking of his old enemy he lashed himself into a kind of

frenzy, smiting his chest and gnashing his teeth; and finally
seizing a spear, he buried its point deep into the clay floor,

only to wrench it out and strike it into the earth again and
again, to show how he would serve Managa, and any one of Managa's

people he might meet with--man, woman, or child. Then he
staggered out from the door to flourish his spear; and looking to

the north-west, he shouted aloud to Managa to come and slay his
people and burn down his house, as he had so often threatened to

do.
"Let him come! Let Managa come!" I cried, staggering out after

him. "I am your friend, your brother; I have no spear and no
arrows, but I have this--this!" And here I drew out and

flourished my revolver. "Where is Managa?" I continued. "Where
are the hills of Uritay?" He pointed to a star low down in the

south-west. "Then," I shouted, "let this bullet find Managa,
sitting by the fire among his people, and let him fall and pour

out his blood on the ground!" And with that I discharged my
pistol in the direction he had pointed to. A scream of terror

burst out from the women and children, while Runi at my side, in
an access of fierce delight and admiration, turned and embraced

me. It was the first and last embrace I ever suffered from a
naked male savage, and although this did not seem a time for

fastidious feelings, to be hugged to his sweltering body was an
unpleasant experience.

More cups of casserie followed this outburst; and at last, unable
to keep it up any longer, I staggered to my hammock; but being

unable to get into it, Runi, overflowing with kindness, came to
my assistance, whereupon we fell and rolled together on the

floor. Finally I was raised by the others and tumbled into my
swinging bed, and fell at once into a deep, dreamless sleep, from

which I did not awake until after sunrise on the following
morning.

CHAPTER II
It is fortunate that casserie is manufactured by an extremely

slow, laborious process, since the women, who are the
drink-makers, in the first place have to reduce the material

(cassava bread) to a pulp by means of their own molars, after
which it is watered down and put away in troughs to ferment.

Great is the diligence of these willing slaves; but, work how
they will, they can only satisfy their lords' love of a big drink

at long intervals. Such a function as that at which I had
assisted is therefore the result of much patient mastication and

silent fermentation--the delicate flower of a plant that has been
a long time growing.

Having now established myself as one of the family, at the cost
of some disagreeable sensations and a pang or two of

self-disgust, I resolved to let nothing further trouble me at
Parahuari, but to live the easy, careless life of the idle man,

joining in hunting and fishing expeditions when in the mood; at
other times enjoying existence in my own way, apart from my

fellows, conversing with wild nature in that solitary place.
Besides Runi, there were, in our little community, two oldish

men, his cousins I believe, who had wives and grown-up children.
Another family consisted of Piake, Runi's nephew, his brother

Kua-ko--about whom there will be much to say--and a sister
Oalava. Piake had a wife and two children; Kua-ko was unmarried

and about nineteen or twenty years old; Oalava was the youngest
of the three. Last of all, who should perhaps have been first,

was Runi's mother, called Cla-cla, probably in imitation of the
cry of some bird, for in these latitudes a person is rarely,

perhaps never, called by his or her real name, which is a secret
jealously preserved, even from near relations. I believe that

Cla-cla herself was the only living being who knew the name her
parents had bestowed on her at birth. She was a very old woman,

spare in figure, brown as old sun-baked leather, her face written
over with innumerable wrinkles, and her long coarse hair

perfectly white; yet she was exceedingly active, and seemed to do
more work than any other woman in the community; more than that,

when the day's toil was over and nothing remained for the others
to do, then Cla-cla's night work would begin; and this was to

talk all the others, or at all events all the men, to sleep. She
was like a self-regulating machine, and punctually every evening,

when the door was closed, and the night fire made up, and every
man in his hammock, she would set herself going, telling the most

interminable stories, until the last listener was fast asleep;
later in the night, if any man woke with a snort or grunt, off

she would go again, taking up the thread of the tale where she
had dropped it.

Old Cla-cla amused me very much, by night and day, and I seldom
tired of watching her owlish countenance as she sat by the fire,

never allowing it to sink low for want of fuel; always studying
he pot when it was on to simmer, and at the same time attending

to the movements of the others about her, ready at a moment's
notice to give assistance or to dart out on a stray chicken or

refractory child.
So much did she amuse me, although without intending it, that I

thought it would be only fair, in my turn, to do something for
her entertainment. I was engaged one day in shaping a wooden

foil with my knife, whistling and singing snatches of old
melodies at my work, when all at once I caught sight of the

ancient dame looking greatly delighted, chuckling internally,
nodding her head, and keeping time with her hands. Evidently she

was able to appreciate a style of music superior to that of the
aboriginals, and forthwith I abandoned my foils for the time and

set about the manufacture of a guitar, which cost me much labour
and brought out more ingenuity than I had ever thought myself

capable of. To reduce the wood to the right thinness, then to
bend and fasten it with wooden pegs and with gums, to add the

arm, frets, keys, and finally the catgut strings--those of
another kind being out of the question--kept me busy for some

days. When completed it was a rude instrument, scarcely tunable;
nevertheless when I smote the strings, playing lively music, or

accompanied myself in singing, I found that it was a great
success, and so was as much pleased with my own performance as if

I had had the most perfect guitar ever made in old Spain. I also
skipped about the floor, strum-strumming at the same time,

instructing them in the most lively dances of the whites, in
which the feet must be as nimble as the player's fingers. It is