My host consoled
me by assuring me that I would sleep the siesta all the better for
having been molested by those "little things that go about," for in
this very mild language he described the affliction. After breakfast,
at noon, acting on his hint, I took a rug to the shade of a tree and,
lying down, quickly fell into a profound sleep, which lasted till late
in the afternoon.
That evening visitors came again, and we had a repetition of the
singing, dancing, and other pastoral amusements, till near midnight;
then, thinking to cheat my bedfellows of the night before, I made my
simple bed in the kitchen. But here also the vile _vinchucas_ found me,
and there were, moreover, dozens of fleas that waged a sort of guerilla
warfare all night, and in this way exhausted my strength and distracted
my attention, while the more formidable adversary took up his position.
My sufferings were so great that before daybreak I picked up my rugs and
went out a distance from the house to lie down on the open plain, but I
carried with me a smarting body and got but little rest. When morning
came I found that my horse had not yet recovered from his lameness.
"Do not be in a hurry to leave us," said my host, when I spoke of it.
"I perceive that the little animals have again fought with and defeated
you. Do not mind it; in time you will grow accustomed to them.
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