Sight in Savages. 177 
would be pricked and lacerated at almost every step 
of his progress, and probably get bitten by a serpent 
before the day’s end. Yet the Indian passes his life 
there, and, naked or half naked, explores the un- 
known wilderness of thorns, and has only his arrows 
to provide food for himself and his wife and children. 
He does not get pierced with thorns and bitten by 
serpents, because his eye is nicely trained to pick 
them out in time to save himself. He walks rapidly, 
but he knows every shade of green, every smooth 
and crinkled leaf, in that dense tangle, full of snares 
and deceptions, through which he is obliged to walk ; 
and much as leaf resembles leaf, he sets his foot 
where he can safely set it, or, quickly choosing be- 
tween two evils, where the prickles and thorns are 
softest, or, for some reason known to him, hurt 
least. In like manner he distinguishes the coiled-up 
venomous snake, although it les so motionless—a 
habit common to the most deadly kinds—and in its 
dull imitative colouring is so difficult to be dis- 
tinguished on the brown earth, and among grey 
sticks and sere and variegated leaves. 
A friend of mine, Fontana of Buenos Ayres; who 
has a life-long acquaintance with the Argentine 
Indians, expresses the opinion that at the age of 
twelve years the savage of the Pampas has com- 
pleted his education, and is thereafter able to take 
care of himself; but that the savage of the Gran 
Chaco—the sub-tropical Argentine territory border- 
ing on Paraguay and Bolivia—if left to shift for him- 
self at that age would speedily perish, since he is 
N 
