Once upon a time there was a man who lived in Buenos Aires, and he was very happy because he was a healthy and hard-working man. But one day he fell ill, and the doctors told him that only by going to the fields could he be cured. He didn't want to go, because he had younger brothers whom he fed; and he was getting sicker every day. Until a friend of his, who was director of the Zoo, told him one day: 'You are a friend of mine, and you are a good, hard-working man. That's why I want him to go live in the mountains, to exercise a lot in the open air to heal himself. And since you're a good shot with a shotgun, hunt bugs from the mountains to bring me the hides, and I'll give you money up front so your little brothers can eat well. The sick man accepted, and went to live in the mountains, far away, even further than Misiones. It was very hot there, and that was good for him. He lived alone in the forest, and he cooked for himself. He ate birds and bugs from the bush, which he hunted with the shotgun, and then he ate fruit. He slept under the trees, and when the weather was bad, he would build a ramada with palm leaves in five minutes, and there he would sit and smoke, very happy in the middle of the forest, which howled with the wind and the rain. He had made a bundle of the animal hides, and carried them on his shoulder. He had also caught, alive, many poisonous vipers, and he carried them inside a large gourd, because there are gourds as big as a can of kerosene
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