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Into
this
the
Indian
thrusts
his
arm
;
and
groping
about
,
discovers
the
nature
of
the
obstruction
.
The
packages
are
soon
displaced
,
and
the
door
thrown
open
.
The
savages
enter
,
preceded
by
a
broad
moonbeam
,
that
lights
them
on
their
way
,
and
enables
them
to
observe
the
condition
of
the
interior
.
A
man
lying
in
the
middle
of
the
floor
!
"
Carajo
!
"
"
Is
he
asleep
?
"
"
He
must
be
dead
not
to
have
heard
us
?
"
"
Neither
,
"
says
the
chief
,
after
stooping
to
examine
him
,
"
only
dead
drunk
--
boracho
--
embriaguado
!
He
's
the
servitor
of
the
Irlandes
.
I
've
seen
this
fellow
before
.
From
his
manner
one
may
safely
conclude
,
that
his
master
is
not
at
home
,
nor
has
been
lately
.
I
hope
the
brute
has
n't
used
up
the
cellar
in
getting
himself
into
this
comfortable
condition
.
Ah
!
a
jar
.
And
smelling
like
a
rose
!
There
's
a
rattle
among
these
rods
.
There
's
stuff
inside
.
Thank
the
Lady
Guadaloupe
for
this
!
"
A
few
seconds
suffice
for
distributing
what
remains
of
the
contents
of
the
demijohn
.
There
is
enough
to
give
each
of
the
four
a
drink
,
with
two
to
their
chief
;
who
,
notwithstanding
his
high
rank
,
has
not
the
superior
politeness
to
protest
against
this
unequal
distribution
.
In
a
trice
the
jar
is
empty
.
What
next
?
