"Are you all alone?" "No. I have six companions." "Well, will one of you sell us some maize-cakes, and give us some water?" "We have neither water nor cakes." "I'm quite sure you will be able to find some," I replied, placing a half-piastre in his hand. [Illustration: "Almost immediately the foliage was pushed aside."] The Indian took off his straw hat, scratched his forehead, and then, placing two fingers in his mouth, whistled a prolonged note. Almost immediately the foliage was pushed aside, and a boy about fifteen years old, wearing nothing but a pair of drawers, made his appearance, and halted, as if terrified at the sight of us. "Run to the hut, and ask for cakes and some capsicums, and bring them here," said the wood-cutter, in the Aztec language. "It's quite needless," I replied, in the same idiom; "we can breakfast much more comfortably in the hut." The wood-cutter looked at me in artless admiration, then taking my hand, placed it on his breast. I spoke his language, and I was therefore his friend. This is a feeling common to all men, whatever may be their nationality or social position. Following the young Indian, in five minutes we reached a very primitive dwelling; being but four stakes supporting a roof made of branches with their leaves on. The wood-men in Mexico construct such temporary places of shelter, for at the commencement of the rainy season they cease to dwell in the forests. An Indian girl warmed us a dozen of those maize-flour fritters, which are called _tortillas_, and are eaten by the natives instead of bread. She also brought us a calabash full of cooked beans, which hunger rendered delicious. "Why don't they serve the meat first?" asked Lucien. "Because they have none," replied Sumichrast. "Haven't these Indians any meat? Poor fellows! How will they dine, then?" "Don't you know that the Indians never eat meat more than three or four times a year; and that their usual food is composed of nothing but black beans, rice, capsicums, and maize flour? Have you forgotten our dinner yesterday?" "I fancied that we had arrived too late for the first course, and that all the meat had been used. But shall we live on beans the whole of our journey?" "No; our meals will not be quite so regular as you seem to think. Yet we shall have plenty of meat when we have been lucky in shooting, a little rice when we have been unfortunate, and fried beans whenever chance throws in our way any inhabited hut." "And we shall have to go without dessert?" said the child, making up his face into a comical pout. "Oh no, Chanito, there will be dessert to-day," replied l'Encuerado. "Perhaps as good as the cook would provide at home; but, at any rate, it is sweet enough. Look at it!" The Indian girl brought a calabash full of water, and a cone of black sugar, weighing about half a pound. "What is that?" cried Lucien. "_Panela_," answered the Indian girl.