The language spoken by the _Cruzeños_ is very peculiar; the diminutive _ito_ is changed to _ingo_, so instead of saying _pocito_, _horita_, or _chiquito_, they say _pocingo_, _horinga_, and _chiquingo_, for instance. There are also other changes that sound either confusing or amusing at first. At any rate, they speak the language of the country, and do not copy that of the Indians. I have frequently wondered how any country, such as Paraguay or Bolivia, for example, could hope to advance when its inhabitants adopt the language and customs of its Indian population, instead of introducing their own mode of living and institutions which should, at least, be on a higher plane. The former procedure might be excusable to a limited degree in isolated cases when, for instance, a missionary goes among savages who have no reason for being interested in the white man, and who do not recognize his authority unless he can propound his doctrine in a way they can readily understand. It may be argued that a large proportion of the inhabitants of Paraguay or Bolivia are half-breeds and therefore naturally adhere to the ways of their Indian ancestry; but that only shows more conclusively than ever the weak, moral fibre of the Spanish half, that so readily succumbs to the Indian half. It is very safe to wager that if such a country were completely isolated from the remainder of the world for a few generations, savagery would again come into its own and obliterate the traces of to-day’s civilization. In the course of years of almost constant hunting one is compelled to have some very peculiar and unusual experiences. One of these occurred at Malena, Colombia, when the wounded macaw entered our room. Another took place at and near Vermejo. The evening before starting back to Samaipata, we noticed a flock of swifts soaring high above the hut. Boyle and I grabbed our shotguns and each took a quick shot before the birds disappeared; my companion scored a clean hit; apparently I had missed; but the next morning we were astonished to find a dead bird of the same species lying on a rock beside the trail, about two miles distant, and more than one thousand feet above the place we had left. I am convinced that it was the identical bird I had aimed at, and that it had continued flying until it died and fell in the spot where we chanced to find it. The natives do not shoot birds on the wing, because ammunition is too costly to take any chances with; under no circumstances would a charge be wasted on a small swift-winged bird; and also, when I prepared the bird I found a number-ten shot in its head, which is what we used; such small shot is not to be had by natives, as none is used in the country. The coincidence of finding the bird is one that is not likely ever to be repeated.