Indigo was growing there in profusion, and, according to Harris, this leguminous plant passed with reason for the most usurping plant of the country.  If a field came to be abandoned, this parasite, as much despised as the thistle or the nettle, took possession of it immediately.

One tree seemed lacking in this forest, which ought to be very common in this part of the new continent; it was the caoutchouc-tree.  In fact, the “ficus primoides,” the “castilloa elastica,” the “cecropia peltats,” the “collophora utilis,” the “cameraria letifolia,” and above all, the “syphonia elastica,” which belong to different families, abound in the provinces of South America.  And meanwhile, a rather singular thing, there was not a single one to be seen.

Now, Dick Sand had particularly promised his friend Jack to show him some caoutchouc trees.  So a great deception for the little boy, who figured to himself that gourds, speaking babies, articulate punchinellos, and elastic balloons grew quite naturally on those trees.  He complained.

“Patience, my good little man,” replied Harris.  “We shall find some of those caoutchoucs, and by hundreds, in the neighborhood of the farm.”

“Handsome ones, very elastic?” asked little Jack.

“The most elastic there are.  Hold! while waiting, do you want a good fruit to take away your thirst?” And, while speaking, Harris went to gather from a tree some fruits, which seemed to be as pleasant to the taste as those from the peach-tree.

“Are you very sure, Mr. Harris,” asked Mrs. Weldon, “that this fruit can do no harm?”

“Mrs. Weldon, I am going to convince you,” replied the American, who took a large mouthful of one of those fruits.  “It is a mango.”

And little Jack, without any more pressing, followed Harris’s example, He declared that it was very good, “those pears,” and the tree was at once put under contribution.

Those mangos belonged to a species whose fruit is ripe in March and April, others being so only in September, and, consequently, their mangos were just in time.

“Yes, it is good, good, good!” said little Jack, with his mouth full.  “But my friend Dick has promised me caoutchoucs, if I was very good, and I want caoutchoucs!”

“You will have them, Jack,” replied Mrs. Weldon, “because Mr. Harris assures you of it.”

“But that is not all,” went on Jack.  “My friend Dick has promised me some other thing!”

“What then, has friend Dick promised?” asked Harris, smiling.

“Some humming-birds, sir.”

“And you shall have some humming-birds, my good little man, but farther on—­farther on,” replied Harris.