But you will not sleep for long: a weird cry rings out through the silent night, the cry of some animal or bird, and, starting up in a frightened way, the Indian shakes his rattle to frighten away the evil spirit. The fire has to be kept up all night while the children sleep, and the dogs must be watched in case they try to reach the tasty piece of ostrich hung up in the neighbouring tree for breakfast. You will probably be disturbed, too, by the barking of wolves or the snarl of a tiger, as they prowl round the encampment. In the morning everybody is on the move, for these Lengua Indians do not stay long in one place. Pots and pans are collected, together with gourds and skins, and put into big nets which the women are expected to carry. The men go on in front with their bows and arrows, so that they may be ready for any dangers, such as tigers, or to shoot any game for food. Three children can ride astride a horse or mule, although it is exceptional for an Indian to have either; or a mother and two little ones can travel thus--one tied in front and one behind round her waist. But very often you would have to walk on and on, through swamps and over wide, hot plains, always on the look-out for something to eat. Sometimes there is no water, and the children are only too glad to stoop and scrape up the muddy dregs in the print of a horse’s hoof, or else they look for the caraguata plant, which generally has a little water at the bottom of its long, prickly leaves. On the sandy plains there are tiny insects which burrow into the feet, and make them swell until they are very, very sore. Sometimes so many of these insects get in that you can scarcely walk at all. All at once someone catches sight of a herd of wild pigs feeding; then away go our little Indian friends, snatching up sticks, to chase and if they can to capture a pig. At night-fall another halt is made, this time by a stream, for there are fish and alligators to make a splendid meal. So all the things are unpacked, and the houses of twigs and leaves are soon erected. A big fire is kindled, and after an “alligator” supper, quiet once more reigns in the camp as another night falls, wooing the Chaco children to sleep under the twinkling stars. The Lengua Indians are very fond of their children, but they seldom correct them when they are naughty. If mother should attempt to correct them, father very unwisely interferes, so I am afraid a great many Chaco children are spoilt.