A YOUNG NATURALIST. 



277 



Quite refreshed with our wash, we stretched ourselves 

 close to the camp fire, looking forward to our meal of roast 

 ducks dressed with cresses, rice, and seasoned with allspice. 

 On taking the firsj^ mouthful, I made a grimace which was 

 imitated by Sumicnrast. The rice had an unbearable aro- 

 matic taste. L'Encuerado regarded us with a triumphant 

 look. 



" What on earth have you put in the saucepan ?" I cried, 

 angrily. 



t " Don't you think it is nice, Tatita ?" 



" It's perfectly filthy; you've poisoned us !" But I soon 

 recognized the smell of a kind of coriander with which the 

 Indians occasionally saturate their food. Sumichrast, like 

 me, had not got beyond the first mouthful ; but Lucien, who 

 shared to some extent l'Encuerado's weakness for the cu- 

 lantro, was having quite a feast. Our bill of fare was thus 

 reduced to a single dish, and I left the broiled duck to my 

 two companions and confined myself to the roast. With 

 an artlessness that approached the sublime, the Indian, 

 thinking that we should prefer the fresh plant to the cooked, 

 the odor of which had been somewhat softened down by 

 the operation, presented us with several stalks. On the 

 whole, however, he was not altogether to blame, for we oft- 

 en ate with pleasure his national style of cookery, and he 

 had full right to be surprised at our repugnance to their 

 favorite bon bouche. 



Gringalet just tasted the rice, then retired to roll on the 

 twigs of coriander which were lying on the ground, a pro- 

 ceeding which did not much improve his toilet. 



The sun was setting, and hundreds of birds were assem- 

 bling around us. Yellow, blue, green, or red wings were 

 cleaving the air in all directions. 



There were finches of a violet-black, with orange-colored 

 breasts and heads, some blue or golden-throated grossbeaks, 



