The two officers laughed; and the Count, giving their new acquaintance a drop of brandy from his flask in token of good will, easily persuaded him to return with them to the spot where they had left their companions. The Prince at once asked to be conducted to the village. This consisted of a very picturesque street of palm-thatched huts, whose owners looked cleaner, more robust, and more thriving than any Indians Prince Adalbert had seen. A deputation, consisting of two chiefs and a native Catholic priest, came to bid the new-comers welcome, and begged them to accept the hospitality of the village for as long as it might suit them. They confirmed what the other Indian had said: the way was safe enough and agreeable enough as far as the confluence of the Amazon and Madeira, but no farther. On learning that the white men would pass that night in the village, everyone was resolved to make the stay an entertaining one. The visitors were shown the parish church, school, stores, etc., and eventually led to the older chief's house for an elaborate meal of fish, turtle-eggs, mushrooms, venison, partridges, and stewed monkey, with fruit jellies, cakes, and native beer. The hut was neatly furnished with cane-seated benches or lounges; and--not always to the guests' greater comfort--a puma, various snakes, a couple of monkeys, and three parrots, all very tame, wandered about the place at will. Soon after supper, while Prince Adalbert smoked with the chiefs and the padre, he unconsciously committed a very serious breach of local etiquette. Attracted by the great size and artistic workmanship of two bows that stood against the wall close by him, he leant forward and took up one to examine it more closely. Immediately a heart-rending scream rose from the only woman present--the cacique's widowed mother--who, springing forward, snatched the weapon from the stranger's hand and replaced it with great care and reverence.