The old man, for his part, was always so quiet. Very attentive to the barking and shooting, hacíame signs as they approached and we went a little further off the track of the dogs, and quite hidden among the foliage. However, once my shock was tremendous, because we consider already lost. Street trees that we had to cross was guarded at each end by a hunter who was peering. For one thing, a strapping young man with black whiskers, who sounded like a panoply old when he moved with his knife and his holster and the horn of ammunition, not to mention his knee-buckles gaiters made him look even taller; at the other end, an old, very quietly leaning on a tree, smoking his pipe, squinting as if asleep. This did not frighten me, but the big fellow down there …

I do not understand any of this pinko said my companion, laughing. And without any fear, with wings spread wide, almost flew through the legs of the pin terrible hunter. And the truth is that the poor man was so engrossed with all the accoutrements of hunting, so distracted contemplating up and down, that when the shotgun on his shoulder and we were out of reach. Ah! If when hunters believe they are alone in a corner of a forest, they knew how many little eyes fixed watch from the bushes, contain many sharp Piquitos laughing at your stupidity! …