When our baggage had been deposited in the shed, I went and sat down a few paces from the hut, on a mound overlooking the brook. Sumichrast soon joined me. Gradually the sun went down, while the children, previously playing about, went to dip themselves in the beautifully transparent water. I told Lucien, who was dying to imitate them, to follow their example. He had hardly taken off his shirt, when the young Indians, who had watched him undress with evident curiosity, burst out laughing, and chattered together like so many young paroquets. "Why do they laugh so when they look at me?" asked Lucien of l'Encuerado. "Of course, because of your white skin; what else should it be? They have never seen a human being of that color before." "They think it so very ridiculous?" interposed Sumichrast. "Yes, rather," replied the Indian; "but you must not mind it, Chanito; for, after all, it is not your fault." We and the young Indians now laughed in concert; and this incident led on to a long conversation between Sumichrast and me. L'Encuerado, who, we had imagined, envied us our white skins, pitied us, in fact; as no doubt he would himself have been pitied by Nubians, because he was only copper-colored. "Why," said Lucien, who came up to us just as the discussion began, "are not all men the same color? What is the reason of it, M. Sumichrast?" "It is owing to the influence of the sun, which more or less colors the pigment of the skin." "The pigment?" "Yes; a brown matter which exists under the skin, and gives to it a shade more or less dark." "Then Europeans have no pigment?" "Yes, they have, just like all other races of men; only this matter does not affect the whole of their bodies. The brown spots which cover the face and hands of some people are produced by the pigment making its way through the epidermis." "Then," replied Lucien, "negroes would become white if they lived in Europe." "No," I answered, smiling; "the sun shines in Europe as well as in America, and however weak its action may be, it is sufficient to blacken the pigment." "But if they always lived in the shade?" cried l'Encuerado. "It would have to be perfect darkness, a thing which it is quite impossible to procure." At this moment our host called us. On a rickety table, covered with a small cotton cloth, a bowl of thin soup, with _tortilla_ and tomatoes, was smoking, and we all did full justice to our fare. This dish was followed by a fowl seasoned with pimento sauce and black beans fried in fat; then some _camotes_ (_Convolvulus batatas_) displayed the bright colors of their mealy interior, in the midst of a sirup with which l'Encuerado and Lucien regaled themselves. A large bowl of coffee put the finishing stroke to our satisfaction. Instead of bread, we ate some freshly made maize-cakes. Never had any dinner appeared so delicious to us as this, for we had begun to get rather tired of game, which had formed our principal food since we left home.