David had recognized the voice that had called to him. It was Miguel’s. And the word _caboclo_ meant a sort of worthless fellow and was always used derisively. But he was in no condition to resent the insult just then, so pretended not to have noticed it. When his eyes had cleared he could make out a number of men squatting near their smudges, each engaged in smoking his day’s harvest of rubber sap. There being several unused fireplaces he went to one of them and set down his pail. Then he went to one of the men--one he had taught to swim and dive, and asked questions, watching him proceed with his work the while. The process was a very simple one, so he soon returned to his place, started a fire between the stones and when the dry sticks were blazing he placed upon them several of the large palm nuts used to produce the smudge. Soon the smoke was rolling upward in a broad, white column; then he placed one of the tall, cone-shaped tins over it so that it now poured out of the opening in the pointed end in a small though dense stream. The milk was emptied into a wide, shallow pan. A pole five feet long and having a circumference of six inches was suspended by one end from the rafters with a strong cord. He took the loose end in one hand, swung the pole over the pan, dipped up some of the milk with a gourd dipper and poured it over the central part of the pole. A good deal of it adhered to the wood but the greater part of it ran down again into the pan. Then he quickly swung the pole so that the part covered with sap was directly over the tin cone; the acrid smoke pouring out of it instantly converted the milk into rubber by congealing and darkening it. In a short time he became very proficient in the operation. The pole was kept swinging back and forth constantly; when it was above the pan it received a fresh coat of milk and when it swung over the smoke a new, thin layer of rubber was formed. It took several hours to prepare his morning’s catch. The novelty of the work made it interesting, at first. After that it was nothing but a monotonous, mechanical grind and David was glad when the last drops had been scooped out of the pan and added to the slowly forming ball on the pole. All the others had finished their work long before that time and were lolling about camp. David went to his quarters for his lasso. There were still several hours before nightfall and he would use them in practice with the rope; it was absolutely necessary that he become expert in its use before returning to the ranch. Again and again the coil was swung over his head and sent speeding at a conveniently situated stump that served as a target. More often than not the loop fell wide of the mark. He was so engrossed in his occupation that he had not noticed the little group of men that had gathered to watch his efforts.