Without further remark, they crossed the village square, which was almost deserted at this moment, for night had fallen some time previously, and most of the Indians had retired to their wigwams. Still, from the interior of the callis, songs and laughter could be heard, proving that if the inhabitants had shut themselves up, they were not the less awake for all that. We will remark in passing, that many travellers who have only seen Indians, and have not been in a position to study their character, represent them as gloomy, mournful men, speaking but little, and never laughing. This is a grave error; the Redskins, on the contrary, are generally very jovial when together, and are specially fond of telling stories. But with the strangers, whose language they do not understand, and who do not understand theirs, they maintain a reserve, and only speak when absolutely compelled, because, as they are extremely susceptible, they fear giving their listeners an opportunity of ridiculing them. Loyal Heart, after walking for some minutes through the streets, stopped before a calli of sufficiently singular appearance to surprise Tranquil, although he was not easily astonished. This calli, which anywhere else would have been quite commonplace, justly appeared strange in an Indian village. It was a rather large rancho, built in the Mexican fashion, of planks painted of a dazzling whiteness. It formed a parallelogram, the roof was flat, and in front of the door was a porch formed of six enormous trees fastened together, and covered with an azotea. On either side the door, three windows were pierced in the frontage, and these windows had glass panes, a most singular thing at a spot so remote from all towns. A man of about fifty years of age, tall and thin, and dressed in the Mexican garb, was smoking a cigarette as he sat on an equipal in the porch. This man, whose hair was turning grey, had the placid though resolute look of men who have suffered greatly. On seeing him, the rastreros, which hitherto had not left Loyal Heart a yard, rushed toward him with a joyous bark, and leaped up at him caressingly. "Ah," the man said, as he rose and bowed respectfully to the hunter, "it is you, mi amo! You return home very late." These words were uttered in that affectionate tone which is so pleasing in the mouth of an old and faithful servant. "That is true, No Eusebio," the young man answered with a smile, as he squeezed the hand of the old man, whom those of our readers who have perused the "Trappers of Arkansas" have doubtless recognised, "I bring a friend." "He is welcome," No Eusebio answered; "we will try to give him as hearty a welcome as he deserves, to the best of our ability." "Oh, oh, gossip!" Tranquil remarked, gaily; "I am no troublesome guest, I shall not put you out of your way much." "Come in, my friend," said Loyal Heart; "I should not like to keep my mother waiting any longer." "The Señora is so restless when you are out late."