When they found that we had come as friends, they invited us to accompany them to the village, or, as Jerry called it, their wigwamment, about a quarter of a mile off, in a sheltered nook among the trees. Fearing no treachery, we agreed, and we walked along in the most amicable way, they slapping us on the back, and we slapping them, while they often indulged in the most uproarious shouts of laughter.  Stopping suddenly, they asked us by signs if we were hungry, and immediately gathered a number of fungi, which grew in clusters round the roots of a tree which Mr McRitchie told us was an evergreen beech.  They handed them to Jerry and me, at the same time patting us on the stomach.