::::::;:as TWO BIRD- LOVERS IN MEXICO W"= 



word. When he learned that we were afraid to have 

 his half-wild cattle roaming at will about our provision 

 tent, he took great pains, by means of handfuls of 

 gravel and a torrent of " Aztec " expletives, to banish 

 them to the opposite side of the stream. His greeting 

 was always " Ping-pong racket ! " This may seem 

 absurdly trivial and irrelevant, yet these syllables 

 exactly represent his utterance. "Ping-pong racket ! " 

 I shouted to him as he appeared with his wild charges. 

 "Ping-pong racket! " he answered joyfully, and patted 

 me on the back with an outburst of incoherent gut- 

 turals, doubtless expressing his pleasure at my ready 

 grasp of his mother tongue ! 



He showed us where the purest and coldest spring- 

 was to be found, for which we were extremely grateful. 

 A bowl of frijoles drew expressions of extravagant 

 delight from him. But he seemed most pleased if only 

 we would talk to him, although the words could con- 

 vey not a particle of meaning. I would converse for 

 a while in my choicest German, then harangue him with 

 all the Latin I could recall and perhaps end with an 

 ^sop's Fable, or part of the multiplication table. 

 Whether I gravely informed him that Artemia saVuia 

 could be converted into Artemia muhlenhausU by 

 adding fresh water and stirring, or whether I chanted 

 the troubles of -(Eneas, the venerable " Aztec " coiu'te- 

 ously listened with the greatest interest ! 



His final greeting was tremulous and sincere, and, as 



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