In the morning the mules were in a pathetic condition; blood continued to flow from the wounds made by the bats’ sharp teeth, so that the ground was red and the animals were covered from head to foot. It was always necessary to take them to the river and wash them, then disinfect the numerous punctures; if this is not done flies attack the sore spots, infesting them with their larvæ, and the animals die of blood-poison. After three nights we were compelled to start the mules back to Cochabamba, as they were on the verge of exhaustion. [Illustration: Vampire-bat from Todos Santos.] [Illustration: Tamanduá ant-eater.] While at Todos Santos we learned of a mission among the Yuracaré Indians about twelve miles distant, and near the Rio Chimoré. We expressed a desire to visit it, but the _intendente_ told us that such a move was impossible. He said that the priest in charge of the mission was absolute monarch of the territory under his control; that he would permit no one to come near his retreat, and that this mandate had never been disobeyed. Such statements made the place seem of especial interest to us, and we were eager to go there at almost any cost; we devised many plans which we hoped would lead to an interview with the priest, but all of them failed miserably; finally, however, the opportunity came to us in an unlooked-for manner. A misfortune to one person frequently comes in the guise of a blessing to another, and so it happened in this instance. As we were pursuing our work one afternoon in the open corridor in front of our room, a long canoe drew up at the river-bank, and the priest, followed by a dozen Indians, stepped ashore and marched across the clearing to the _intendente’s_ quarters. We immediately recognized him as Padre Fulgencio, the missionary of whose despotic rule we had heard so much; but he did not even glance at us as he passed. While debating upon some diplomatic move which might serve as an excuse for an interview, for now or never was the time to obtain the coveted permission, he suddenly emerged from the house and came straight to us. A few curt remarks were exchanged, and then he began to relate his trouble. To make a long story short, he was suffering from a severe toothache; it had kept him awake many nights, and at last he was forced to come out of his retreat in search of a remedy. The _intendente_ could do nothing for him; could we? How I thanked my lucky star for a limited knowledge of medicine! After an examination, conducted with much formality, the trouble was pronounced curable. He submitted bravely to the injection of cocaine, and soon after was relieved of the aching member. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he expressed his gratitude, and then, taking note of the work upon which we were engaged, he suddenly asked: “Why don’t you come to the mission; I have four hundred Indians who spend several days each week in hunting, and they can take you anywhere, and also bring you all kinds of animals.”