THROUGH CHIAPAS
(1896)
Tehuantepec is meanly built; it is hot and dusty, and the almost
constant winds drive the dust in clouds through the streets. But its
picturesque market is a redeeming feature. Every morning it is crowded
and presents a brilliant and lively spectacle. All the trade is in the
hands of women, and the Tehuantepec women have the reputation of being
the handsomest in the world. They are large, finely-built, and in their
movements exhibit an indescribable freedom and grace. Their natural
attractions are set off by a characteristic and becoming costume. The
_huipilili_ is a little sleeveless waist, loose at the neck and arms,
and so short that it rarely reaches to the waist-line, to which, of
course, it is supposed to extend; it is of bright cotton--red, brown,
purple, with stripes or spots of white--and is stitched at the neck with
yellow silk. The _enagua_, or skirt, is a strip of heavy cotton cloth,
less than a yard wide, which is simply wrapped around the figure and
hangs from the waist, being held in place by a brightly colored belt or
girdle. The _enagua_ is usually a rich red, but it is sometimes a fine
violet purple. It reaches but little below the knees. It generally fails
to meet the _huipilili_ above, so that a broader or narrower band of
fine, dark brown separates the two garments. Nothing is worn on the
feet, which are exposed, as are also the finely shaped and beautifully
developed arms. But the most striking article in the Tehuantepec
woman's costume is her _huipíl_, which travellers usually describe as
a head-dress, although it is nothing of the kind. It is in reality a
waist-garment with sleeves. It is made of lace or cotton, or linen, and
is bordered at the neck, the sleeves, and the lower margin with broad
ruffs of pleated lace. Only at church or on some important or ceremonial
occasion is the _huipíl_ worn as it was meant to be. Usually at church
the wearer draws the garment over her upper body, but does not put her
arms into the sleeves, nor her head through the neck-opening, simply
fitting her face into this in such a way that it appears to be framed in
a broad, oval, well-starched border of pleated lace. Usually, however,
the garment is not even worn in this manner, but is turned upside down
and carelessly hung upon the head so that the broad lower fringe of lace
falls back upon the hair, while the upper part of the garment, with the
sleeves, the collar, and cuff-ruffs, hangs down upon the back. The whole
effect is that of a fine crest rising from the head, coursing down the
back, and moving with the breeze as the woman walks. These Zapotec women
are fond of decoration, but particularly prize gold coins. In the past,
when Tehuantepec was more important than now, it was no uncommon thing
to see a woman in this market with several hundred dollars in gold coins
hanging to her neck chain. In these later days of little trade and
harder times, these once prized decorations have been spent, and it
is rare to see any woman wearing more than twenty to fifty dollars as
display.
[Illustration: READY FOR CHURCH; TEHUANTEPEC]
[Illustration: THE WIDE ROAD; TEHUANTEPEC TO JUCHITAN]
Resuming our journey, we struck out upon the highway which parallels
the coast. Almost immediately, the road changed from a fair country
cart-road to a road remarkable at once for its straightness, breadth and
levelness. It was, however, dreadfully hot and dusty, and was
bordered on both sides with a tiresome and monotonous growth of low,
thorn-bearing trees, with occasional clumps of palms. We ate dinner at
Juchitan, in a little eating-house conducted by a _Japanese_! A little
beyond that important indian centre, we saw a puma pace forth from the
thicket; with indescribably graceful and slow tread it crossed the dusty
road and disappeared in the thicket. In the morning we had startled
flocks of parrots, which rose with harsh cries, hovered while we passed,
and then resettled on the same trees where they had been before. In the
evening we saw pairs of macaws flying high, and as they flew over our
heads they looked like black crosses sharp against the evening sky. At
evening we reached Guviño, a dreadful town, in the population of which
there seems to be a negro strain. We stopped with the _presidente_, in
whose veins flowed Spanish, indian, and negro blood. In his one-roomed
house besides ourselves there slept the owner, his wife, two daughters,
one with a six-weeks baby, a son, and two young men--friends of the
family.
Turning north the next day, onto the Niltepec road, we wandered from our
trail, losing five leagues of space and more than three hours of time.
The country through which we passed was terribly dry; there were
no running streams. We crossed the bed of one dried river after
another--streaks of sand and pebbles. The people in the villages near
these dried river-beds dug holes a foot or two deep into this sand and
gravel and thus got water. At the place where we camped for the night,
Suspiro Ranch, a new house was being palm-thatched. All the men and boys
of the neighborhood were helping; the labor was carefully divided; some
were bringing in great bundles of the palm leaves; others pitched these
up to the thatchers, who were skilfully fitting them under and over the
poles of the roof framework and then beating them firmly home. Many of
the helpers had come considerable distances and spent the night, so that
we shared our room with quite a dozen men and boys, while the women and
children slept in another house.
Passing through Zanatepec, we stopped for Sunday at Tanatepec. Here we
found ourselves again upon the low coast road. It was, however, our last
point of low altitude, as from there we struck inland over a higher,
cooler, and more interesting mountain road. At Zanatepec we first saw
the _marimba_ played. This musical instrument, unquestionably African
in name and origin, is hardly found north of Chiapas, but is extremely
common through Central America. It consists of a wooden frame supporting
keys made of wood and metal, each of which gives forth its own note when
struck with small hammers. Below the keys of lowest tone are hung tubes,
pipes, or gourds, as sounding boxes to increase the sound produced by
striking the key. Usually four players perform at one time, each using
two or more little hammers. The music is rapid and brilliant, somewhat
resembling that of the piano. The instrument usually has some fanciful
name, which is painted upon it. The one at Tanatepec was _La Azteca_
(The Aztec Lady), while our next one was _La reina de las flores_ (The
queen of the flowers). At Zanatepec, _La Azteca_ was an advertising
part of a traveling circus. The troupe consisted of three men and
three women, the latter of whom seemed to be mulattos. The men were
ridiculously garbed and painted to represent wild indians. The real,
live indians, who followed these clowns in delighted crowds, enjoyed
thrills of terror at their whoops, fierce glances, and wild antics,
and assured us that these actors were, if not the real thing, at least
wonderfully accurate impersonations of the natives of the _Estados
unidos_ (United States)--the land of the "Apaches."
From Tanatepec we were in Chiapas, the southernmost state of the
republic. We struck out over a fine mountain road, _passable for carts_
all the way to Tuxtla Gutierrez, the capital of the state. Our first
ascent was over a magnificent mountain mass of syenite, which at some
places seemed to be as fine as our own Quincy stone. The road, with many
short zigzags, made a remarkably abrupt ascent, and, having reached the
crest, wound like a vast serpent along the summit. As we descended into
the following valley, we encountered a beautiful deer, which stood in
the middle of the road, eyeing us with curiosity, until we were almost
upon it, when it dashed into the thicket and then stopped to again eye
us. Upon attaining the second summit we were amid pines. All day we had
had a wind in our faces, cold and so strong as to almost blow us from
the narrow ridge, yet the sky was cloudless. Looking back from our
summit, a magnificent view to the ocean was spread before us. Below us
were the mountains over which we had come, then a valley broken with
mountains of a lesser size; beyond, was the dry, coastal plain, and yet
beyond it, the sea. The dark green pines, the blue sky, the brown hills,
the gray plain, the stretch of blue-green waters, made a wonderful color
combination.
The next two days were most uninteresting. We were often reminded of
the recent threat of war between Mexico and Guatemala, the disputed
border-line between which we were now nearing. We met marching bands of
soldiers who were returning to Juchitan. Officers were on horses,
common soldiers on foot, pack-mules were laden with luggage, the women
(accompanying their husbands) were weighed down with coffee-pots,
bundles of clothes, and babies, all strapped on their backs together.
They were a motley crew. At Jiquipilas a company was encamped in the
plaza. Our mule, Chontal, took particular delight in running into such
bands of marching soldiers as we encountered, causing no end of trouble.
On one occasion, as a group approached us, he ran forward at a
lively pace into their midst and tangled himself up with a party of
prisoners,--apparently soldiers in disgrace,--who, tied together with
ropes, were under guard. As we rode up to capture him, I felt a hand at
that coat pocket which contained our money-bag and, turning suddenly,
found one of the guard trying to draw the bag of money from my pocket. I
struck at him with my whip and he slunk away.
The last day of travel before reaching Tuxtla Gutierrez, we passed one
of the few pretty places on this dreary road, Agua Bendita. At this
point the road makes a great curve, almost like a horseshoe; at the
middle of this curve there rises to the right of the road a wall of
limestone rock the plainly defined strata of which are thrown into a
gentle anticlinal fold. The upper layers of this arch were covered with
shrubs, clinging to its face, while the lower layers were tapestried
with a curtain of delicate ferns, which hung down over the open arch
below, under which the road passed. Water trickled through this
limestone mass and dripped and collected in little basins, which had
been excavated in the ledge close by the roadside. Some grateful passer
had set up little crosses by the water pools, and they were gay that day
with purple orchids plucked from a near-by tree. In this tree, amid the
brilliant clumps of yet unplucked blossoms of the orchids, were a number
of toucans with their enormous, brightly colored bills--the _picos de
canoa_ (canoe beaks) of the people.
Tuxtla Gutierrez is a town of some thousands population, with a central
plaza where the local band plays almost every evening, and a market
place of exceptional interest. Here, as nowhere else, we saw crowds of
the purest indians in native dress. Chiapas is the home of at least
thirteen tribes, each with its own language. Among the most interesting
indians we saw in the market were the Tzotzils, from Chamula, who wore
heavy, black woolen garments. The indians of the town and its immediate
vicinity are Zoques.
Few Mexican governors possess the breadth of view and the intelligent
enterprise of Governor Leon, whom we encountered here. A man of middle
age, of fair stature though slight in build, with dark complexion,
iron-gray hair, beard and whiskers carefully trimmed after the French
fashion, his appearance creates a favorable impression. He did
everything in his power for our comfort and assistance, and supplied us
with letters to the _jefes politicos_ of the districts through which we
were to pass. We congratulated him upon the cart-road over which we
had come from Zanatepec, an important public work for this part of the
world; he told us he began it three years ago with a force of but nine
men; that it would be extended to San Cristobal and San Bartolome; that
he was no engineer, but that he could tell quite well when a road was
passable for a cart. We found him greatly interested in a congress
which he had called of persons interested in labor questions. Among the
questions which he hoped to see considered was the abolition of the
system of _peonage,_ which still exists in full development in the
state.
Less than three leagues from Tuxtla Gutierrez is Chiapa, famous for the
brightly painted gourds and calabash vessels there manufactured and
sent out to all parts of the republic. Toys, rattles, cups, and great
bowl-basins are among the forms produced. We visited a house where five
women were making pretty rattles from little crook-necked gourds. The
workers sat upon the floor, with their materials and tools before them.
The first one rubbed the body of the dry gourds over with an oil paint.
These paints are bought in bulk and mixed upon a flat slab, with a
fine-grained, smooth, hard pebble as a grinder, with _aje_ and a white
earth dug near the road between Chiapa and Tuxtla Gutierrez. The _aje_
is a yellow, putty-like mass which gives a brilliant, lacquer-like
lustre; the white earth causes the color to adhere to the surface to
which it is applied. The second woman rubbed the neck of the gourd with
green paint; the third painted the line of junction of the two colors
with white, using a brush; the fourth brought out the lustre of the
before dull object by rubbing it upon a pad of cotton cloth upon
her knee, giving a final touch by careful rubbing with a tuft of
cotton-wool; with a brush, the final worker rapidly painted on the
lustrous surface delicate floral or geometric decoration. Though
representing so much delicate and ingenious labor, these pretty toys
were sold at the price of two for a _medio_ (three cents in United
States currency).
The _aje_ which gives the brilliant lustre to this work deserves more
than a passing notice. It is made chiefly at San Bartolome and is
secured from an insect, a sort of plant-louse, which lives upon the
blackthorn and related trees. The insect is found only in the wet
season, is small, though growing rapidly, and is of a fiery-red color,
though it coats itself over with a white secretion. It lives in swarms,
which form conspicuous masses. These are gathered in vessels, washed
to remove the white secretion, boiled, crushed, and strained through a
cloth; an oily matter, mixed with blood (?) and water passes out, which
is boiled to drive off the water and to concentrate the oily mass. This
is then washed in trays, to rid it of the blood, and made up into balls,
which are sold at ten or twelve _centavos_ (five or six cents) a pound.
It is a putty-like substance, with a handsome yellow color. We have
already stated that it is ground up with dry paints to be rubbed on
the object which is to be adorned, and that the brilliant lustre is
developed by gentle and rapid friction.
[Illustration: ZAPOTEC WOMAN; SAN BLAS]
[Illustration: CASE OF WHITE PINTO; TUXITA GUTIERREZ]
_Pinto_, a spotting or discoloring of the skin, is a common disease in
many parts of Mexico. Three varieties are recognized--white, red, and
blue or purple. The disease is particularly frequent in the states
of Guerrero and Chiapas, and we had heard that it was very common
in Chiapa. Perhaps twenty per cent of the population really has the
disease; at San Bartolome perhaps seventy-five per cent are affected; in
some towns an even larger proportion is reported. The white form appears
the commonest. One subject examined at Tuxtla Gutierrez was a woman some
sixty years of age. At birth she showed no symptom of the trouble, but
spots began to appear when she was seven or eight years old. She was
naturally dark, and the white spots were in notable contrast to her
normal color; the spots increased in number and in size until her face
and arms looked as if they had been white and become brown-spotted,
instead of _vice versa_. After she was forty years of age her spots
varied but little. The cause of this disease is still obscure, although
several treatises have been written upon it. Authorities do not even
agree as to the sequence of the forms of the disease, if there be such
sequence. Some assert that the white form is the early stage and that
the disease may never progress beyond it; others assert that the white
spots are merely the permanent scars, left after the disappearance
of the disease itself. Maps of distribution seem to show a distinct
relation of the disease to altitude and character of water-supply. The
common herd attribute it to an insect sting, to drinking of certain
water, or to bathing in certain pools. Usually, there is no pain or
danger connected with the trouble, except in the red form, but if the
person affected changes residence, itching and some discomfort may
temporarily ensue. The _presidente_ at Chiapa took us to the jail, where
the prisoners were filed before us and made to hold out hands and feet
for our inspection. Such cases of _pinto_ as were found were somewhat
carefully examined. All we encountered there were of the white variety.
Later, at private houses, we saw some dreadful cases of the purple form.
Very often, those whose faces were purple-blotched had white-spotted
hands and feet.
We had not planned to stop at Acala, but after a hard ride over a dreary
road and a ferrying across a wide and deep river in a great dugout canoe
thirty feet or more in length--our animals swimming alongside--we found
our beasts too tired for further progress. And it was a sad town. How
strange, that beautifully clear and sparkling mountain water often
produces actual misery among an ignorant population! Scarcely had we
dismounted at our lodging place, when a man of forty, an idiot and
goitrous, came to the door and with sadly imperfectly co-ordinated
movements, gestured a message which he could not speak. Almost as soon
as he had gone a deaf-mute boy passed. As we sat at our doorway, we saw
a half-witted child at play before the next house. Goitre, deaf-mutism,
and imbecility, all are fearfully common, and all are relatedly due to
the drinking water.
To us, sitting at the door near dusk, a song was borne upon the evening
breeze. Nearer and nearer it came, until we saw a group of twelve or
fifteen persons, women in front, men and children behind, who sang as
they walked. Some aided themselves with long staves; all carried burdens
of clothing, food, utensils; all were wearied and footsore with the long
journey, but full of joy and enthusiasm, as they were nearing their
destination--a famous shrine. Passing us, they journeyed onward to an
open space at the end of town, where, with many others who had reached
there sooner, they camped for the night. The next day we constantly
passed such parties of pilgrims; coming or going to this shrine which
lay a little off the road between Acala and San Bartolome. In one group,
we counted ninety pilgrims.
[Illustration: RIVER BETWEEN CHIAPA AND ACALA]
[Illustration: THE INDIAN GOVERNMENT AT SAN BARTOLOME]
We had been told that San Bartolome was full of goitre, and we really
found no lack of cases. It is said that forty years ago it was far more
common than now, and that the decrease has followed the selection of a
new water source and the careful piping of the water to the town. In the
population of two thousand, it was estimated that there might be two
hundred cases, fifty of which were notable. None, however, was so
extraordinary as that of which several told us, the late _secretario_ of
the town, who had a goitre of such size that, when he sat at the table
to write, he had to lift the swelling with both hands and place it on
the table before he began work. The former prevalence of the disease is
abundantly suggested by the frequency of deaf-mutes, a score or more
of whom live here--all children of goitrous parents. Bad as was San
Bartolome, it seemed to us surpassed by San Antonio, where we found
the disease in an aggravated form, while at Nenton, our first point in
Guatemala, every one appeared affected, although we saw no dreadful
cases.
San Bartolome is an almost purely indian town, where for the first time
our attention was called to the two sets of town officials--indian and
_ladino_. The indian town government consisted of four Indians of pure
blood, who wore the native costume. This, here, is characteristic, both
for men and women. The men wore wide-legged trousers of native woven
cotton, and an upper jacket-shirt, square at the bottom, made of the
same stuff, with designs--rosettes, flowers, geometrical figures, birds,
animals, or men--wrought in them in red, green, or yellow wools; about
the waist was a handsome brilliant native belt, while a bright kerchief
was twisted about the head. The men were well-built, but the _alcalde_
was a white _pinto_. Women wore _huipilis_, waist-garments, sometimes
thick and heavy, at others thin and open, in texture, but in both cases
decorated with lines of brightly colored designs. Their _enaguas_,
skirts, were of heavy indigo-blue stuff or of plain white cotton, of two
narrow pieces sewed together and quite plain except for a line of bright
stitching along the line of juncture. As among other indian tribes, this
cloth was simply wrapped around the figure and held in place by a belt.
The town is famous for its weaving and dyeing; the loom is the simple,
primitive device used all through Mexico long before the Conquest.
We were surprised to find that the designs in colored wools are not
embroidered upon the finished fabric, but are worked in with bits of
worsted during the weaving.
From San Bartolome to Comitan, the road passes over a curious lime
deposit, apparently formed by ancient hot waters; it is a porous tufa
which gave back a hollow sound under the hoofs of our horses. It
contains moss, leaves, and branches, crusted with lime, and often forms
basin terraces, which, while beautiful to see, were peculiarly harsh and
rough for our animals. But the hard, and far more ancient, limestone,
onto which we then passed, was quite as bad. At the very summit of
one hill of this we found a cave close by the road; entering it, we
penetrated to a distance of perhaps seventy-five feet, finding the roof
hung with stalactites and the walls sheeted with stalagmite. Just after
leaving this cave, we met a tramp on foot, ragged, weary, and dusty, and
with a little bundle slung upon a stick over his shoulder. He accosted
me in Spanish, asking whence we had come; on my reply, probably catching
my foreign accent, he winked and said in plain English,--"Yes? And where
are you going, pard?"
After a hard day's ride, over a shut-in road, destitute of fine views,
we reached the crest overlooking Comitan. The descent was almost
precipitous. The town, better built and more compact than most, was
situated near the foot of the hill; near it, on a terrace, was the
cemetery. On the level road, stretching to a long distance from the
town, we saw lines of hundreds of pack-mules, dwarfed by distance. South
from the town stretched a grassy plain, bordered here and there with
pine trees. Back of this plain rose round-topped hills, and beyond
them were again the blue mountains; far in the distance, behind these,
towered the mighty crests of the Guatemalan Sierra Madre.
The town was crowded, as the annual _feria_ (fair) was in progress, and
it was with difficulty that we found a room to sleep in, going for our
meals to one of the many temporary eating-places in the plaza. Comitan
is the last town of consequence in Mexico, and has wide fame on account
of its spirits, known at _comiteco_. This drink, of enormous strength,
distilled from coarse, brown sugar (_panela,_) is a favorite in
Guatemala, and its smuggling across the border, though risky, is a
lucrative business. There are scores of little distilleries in the town,
many of them belonging to and conducted by women.
Mexican paper money is useless between Tuxtla Gutierrez and Comitan. At
the latter city it may be exchanged for silver, but with difficulty.
From here on we found no copper in circulation, and before reaching
Comitan we had begun to receive Guatemalan silver in our change. Fully
thirty leagues from the border we ceased to receive Mexican silver from
anyone. This notable displacement of Mexican currency seems curious,
because Guatemalan money is at a heavy discount in comparison with it.
At San Bartolome we sent a soldier-police to buy _zacate_, giving him
Mexican money. He brought back two Guatemalan pieces in change, and on
our objecting to receive it, assured me, not only that the money was
good, but also that here the people were Guatemalans. "Here," said he,
"not Mexico: here we are all Carrera's people." This, of course, was
sheer treason. Carrera, the pure-blood indian who in the stirring days
of 1839 seized the power in Guatemala, a strange and wild being who had
a real love for his country, has left a profound impression. At times an
exile, he had lived at Comitan, where his name was familiar to all the
indians around. His coins are much prized by the indians for necklaces
and earrings, and even at Tehuantepec we had seen women wearing his
little gold pieces in their ears.
It should have been an easy matter to go from Comitan to Nenton (in
Guatemala) in a single day. As it was, we made it with great difficulty
in two, our mule Chontal apparently being completely worn out. We
crossed the _llano_, passed through patches of pines, and then came out
upon a terrible country of limestone hills. In our last day's journey we
had to coax, threaten, beat, drag, and push that mule until our voices
were gone and our arms were tired. Immediately on passing the line into
Guatemala, we found the telegraph wires cut and poles down, a result of
the late unpleasantness with Mexico. The mountain mass before us, which
had been in view for two days past, loomed up frightfully before us.
Would our little mule be able to pass it? We remembered what an American
tramp, whom we had met at Tuxtla Gutierrez and who had walked on foot
from Guatemala City, had said: "Between Nenton and Huehuetenango you
will pass over a mountain that will make your heart sick; may God help
you." Just at dusk we looked down upon Nenton in a little valley, with a
fine stream crossed by a pretty bridge, where mountains rose steeply on
every side. Having been registered by the custom officials, we slept
that night, our first in the new republic, in the municipal house.
Next morning we started bravely, the whole town having assembled to
see us off. We safely reached the foot of the mountain, where the mule
stopped and braced himself. We spoke kindly, coaxed, dragged, but all
to no effect. Finally he started, but three times within the next few
minutes, he and we went through the same procedure. Patience had ceased
to be a virtue; we held a serious consultation. Ernst asserted that by
placing the rope over the nostrils of the animal and then leading, he
must move. We tried the experiment. The beast gave a snort, a groan,
lurched, fell over, kicked convulsively, closed his eyes, and lay to all
appearance dead. The town below, which had been watching progress, came
running up. We removed the halter; the animal lay quiet. The pity of
the by-standers was maddening; their remarks exasperating. "Poor little
mule, he dies;" they pointed to his rubbed sides,--"Ah, poor creature!
What a heavy load! How thin he is." It is certain that the best mule in
the town was in far worse condition, and as for food, Chontal had eaten
more the night before than our two horses put together. Having exhausted
their vocabulary of sympathy, our friends left us, as the "poor little
animal" showed signs of coming to. We concluded to engage a man on foot
to carry the burden across the mountains and to lead Chontal. After
some delay a man was found, who readily agreed to carry the burden and
pack-saddle, but when he found he was to lead the mule besides, he
defied the town authorities and refused to go. Unfortunately, he was a
carpenter and, by law, could not be made to go against his will. Hours
passed, while another carrier was sought. Declaring that I would not
return to town, I waited on the road with the mule, while Ernst rode
back and forth. As soon as he had left, the beast began to mend; he
coughed, raised his head, and, opening one eye, gravely winked. Taking
his halter and encouraging him to rise, I led him a few yards up
the hill, when he again braced himself and I desisted. There he ate
_zacate_. Presently we took another turn, mounted a little higher up the
hill, where he stopped again. A little later we made another journey,
and again halted. Just then I heard an indian boy of fourteen years
calling from the cliff above me in great excitement, "_Señor, un
animal_" (An animal, sir). Clambering over rocks, I came up to the boy,
with his _machete_ in his hand, standing at the foot of a tree upon the
leafless branches of which was a fine iguana (lizard) two feet or more
in length. Visions of iguana steak, which I had long desired to try,
rose in fancy. The boy was disgusted when he found I had no pistol
with which to shoot his animal, but grunted, "If we but had a cord." I
directed him where to find a cord among our luggage and on his return
he made a slip-noose, cut a long and slender pole to which he tied his
snare, then handing me his _machete_ he raised his pole and tried to
slip the noose over the lizard's head. The iguana gave a leap, and as it
shot by me I struck at it with the _machete_, which hit it and threw it
on the rocks below. However, before we could reach it, it had made good
its escape.
Returning to the mule I found it eating grass contentedly by the
roadside. It was three o'clock in the afternoon when our human beast of
burden finally arrived, took up his burden and was ready to start. Then,
suddenly, I took a new resolve. Before us rose the appalling mass of the
Sierra Madre; to get that mule across it would wear us out in mind
and body; I regretted that he had not died, and determined to have no
further trouble with him. Quickly, we sent back word to Nenton that a
mule and saddle were for sale; the crowd gathered. We demanded fifteen
dollars for the mule, ten for the saddle; and were offered ten and five
respectively. But we declared we would kill the mule and burn the saddle
before we would take less; we triumphed. Our account stood:
Cost of mule $45.00
Cost of saddle 6.00
------
51.00
Selling price of mule 15.00
Selling price of saddle 10.00
------
$25.00
------
Loss--paid for experience in mules $26.00