ran directly into the swamp and vanished by easily sinking out of sight.  While looking for a path that led into this marsh, they were all at once scared nearly out of their senses by seeing the devil raise himself up in the midst of the bog.  The sequel was, that the Mexicans and their Indian friends retreated as fast as possible, and never stopped until they had reached a place of safety.  My companions became vexed to think any man could perpetrate such a story on travelers, who considered they knew a thing or two, and commenced quizzing the old gentleman by asking him what the Indians knew of Satan; but the old Mexican evaded the answer by taking down the little wooden cross which hung on the wall of the room and expressed the desire to confirm the truth of his story by swearing to it; this, of course, was said to be entirely unnecessary.  From it, we had learned the lesson never to try to impress on the minds of the ignorant too weighty matters.  This is true with the Indian also; for, he is incredulous of anything beyond the grasp of his own mind; which fact is illustrated by the following incident.  An American had some business to transact with a certain band of Indians, who were celebrated as being very treacherous.  Being a bold man, he thought he would beard the lions in their den, and accordingly, traveled alone to where the band was located; but, instead of being received with open arms, as he expected, he was made a prisoner, and so held until it could be decided what was to be done with him.  At last, a council was formed, before which he was to be tried.  The first question asked by the head chief was, “How do your white people get gunpowder?” The reply was instantaneous:  “We sow it in a peculiar soil and it grows up like wheat.”  This was responded to by a grunt from the examiner.  A pause ensued, when the chief looked the captive full in the eyes, and thus addressed him:  “Know you, young man, that the Great Spirit came into our camp this morning, and after resting a short time he took yonder large hill and placed it on the top of its fellow, and after leaving it there two hours, he returned it to its former site.  He then bid his Indian children good bye.  Young man, your tongue is split:  one fork is for telling lies, and the other is for telling truths.”  This was enough to convince the white man that he had made a mistake, and, that if he had attempted to presume on too much knowledge, his scalp might soon be dangling on some lodge-pole.  The Indians admired the brave and manly course he had pursued in coming to them single-handed, and this, with the importance of the business he came on, saved his life.