OX-CART EXPERIENCES
(1901)
On the following morning, at seven, we took the railroad train, and at
five at night had reached Tehuantepec, and were pleasantly located in
our old hotel, the Europa. On February 28, we visited the market, called
at the house of the _jefe politico_ for a letter to the town authorities
of Huilotepec, and visited Dr. Castle, whom we found much the same as
ever. We failed to find the _jefe_ at his office, though we went there
several times, but found him sitting in a _tienda_ much the worse for
drinking. He was charmed to see us, embraced us warmly, and told us that
his thoughts had frequently been with us since our former sojourn in
his district. New supplies of wine, and, on the appearance of certain
ladies, of champagne, were ordered in witness of his satisfaction. In
regard to our desires, he was delighted to learn that Louis was shooting
birds, declaring that we were just in time; that he had a damnable order
from Mexico to send on skins of all the birds of his district for the
National Museum, and that he had not known what to do in the matter;
we must prepare them; if we did so, willingly, we should be handsomely
paid; but if not, he would be compelled to force us. The jail was
ready, and men die easily in Southern Mexico. With this, he made some
suggestions that it was easy for a person to be officially reported as
accidentally killed, or dead from _vomito_. He insisted that we should
not go alone to Huilotepec, but that he himself would accompany us and
make sure that everything was done according to our wishes. All these
dire threats and great promises were completely forgotten on the
following day, when we sallied forth alone.
[Illustration: MANUEL AND AN IGUANA; TEHUANTEPEC]
[Illustration: MARKET WOMEN; SAN BLAS]
In the _jefe's_ office we learned that during the past year not only
Coatzacoalcos, but Tehuantepec, had suffered frightfully from yellow
fever. Of course, the disease is no rarity on the Gulf coast, though it
was never worse than in the last season; but in Tehuantepec, and on the
Pacific coast, it is a thing so rare as to be almost unknown. So true is
this, that, when it was first reported from this district, the federal
government did not believe the story, and sent a commission to
investigate. We learned that the commission arrived at evening, and,
finding two persons dead in their black vomit on the street, made no
further investigation, but started for Mexico on the following train.
The spread of the disease to the west coast is generally attributed, and
no doubt correctly, to the railroad. The disease was particularly fatal,
in both places, to Americans and Englishmen, and it was whispered that
90 per cent of the employes of the new railroad management succumbed.
The chief clerk in the _jefe's_ office told us that, while many cases
occurred here, no pure indians were taken, and that none of the
_mestizos_ who were affected died--the mortality being confined to the
foreigners.
Dr. Castle had moved, but his place was as interesting as ever. For
pets, he had three hairless dogs, a _mapachtl_, two macaws, two parrots,
and a lot of doves, one of which he had taught tricks. He was much
interested in cactuses, and had established a garden in which he planned
to have all the species of the district. We had purchased some iguanas
in the market, and Louis had been skinning them. The Doctor said that
there were three species of iguanas in the district, the largest being
green, changing to orange or gray, and its flesh not being eaten, as it
is too sweet; the second species is of medium size, and gray or black in
color; the third is rarer, smaller, and is striped lengthwise; it lives
among the rocks near the coast. The two last species are both eaten,
and are often sold in market. Here we learned, by a casual remark which
Manuel dropped on seeing the ugliest of the hairless dogs, that these
are believed, not only here, but in Puebla, and no doubt elsewhere
through the Republic, to cure rheumatism. In order to effect a cure, the
dog must sleep for three nights with the patient, and the uglier the dog
the more certain the cure. Through Dr. Castle, we also learned that the
Zapotec Indians hereabouts, have many songs, of which the _sandunga_ is
a great favorite. Questioning an indian friend of mine, we afterwards
learned that there are many of these pieces of music which are held
to be truly indian. The words are largely Zapotec; Spanish words are
scattered through the song, and the sentiment is largely borrowed.
Most of the songs are love-songs, and they abound in metaphorical
expressions. Our little trip to Huilotepec was for the purpose of
photographing the curious and interesting _mapa_ belonging to the
village. We rode out over the hot and dusty river-bed road, arriving at
noon. Sending for the _agente_ and _secretario_, we ordered breakfast
and made known our errand. Though it plainly was not to their taste, the
_mapa_ was brought out for our inspection. It is painted on a piece of
coarse cotton cloth, of native weaving, in three colors--blue, red and
black. The places around Huilotepec are indicated by their ancient
hieroglyphs. Several personages of the ancient time are represented in
the conventional manner commonly used in Zapotec writings before the
Conquest. After eating, we placed the _mapa_ against the wall, wrote out
a description of it, and photographed it. Dismay now filled the soul of
the _agente_, and the one _principal_ whom he had summoned for advice.
They talked long and earnestly with me about the _mapa_, and begged me
to assure the _jefe_ that it was no good; that it was not _autorizado_;
that it was _mudo_. To quiet their fears, I was compelled to write a
letter to that effect to be delivered to the _jefe_; if it ever came to
hand, he certainly found it incomprehensible. Mrs. Seler, in her book,
describes the trouble that they had in seeing this _mapa_, and the
interest which their examination of it aroused. Dr. Castle told us
that, several years ago, he accompanied a Mr. Werner and a priest to
Huilotepec to see the _mapa_, and, if possible, to secure a picture of
it. For a long time they were unable to secure a glimpse of the old
document, and it was only when the priest assured the indians that the
doctor was an American engineer, who had been commissioned to survey
the line in dispute between the village and the Juaves, that they were
allowed to see it. Before permission was then given, a general meeting
of the _principales_ was held, and none of the guests were permitted to
touch the document. Mr. Werner made an exposure, which he sent to the
States for development; it was lost or destroyed. It is thus possible
that ours is the only picture of it in existence.
We had been told that a coach went regularly from San Geronimo to Tuxtla
Gutierrez, making the journey in two days. This seemed too good to be
true, and no one at Tehuantepec knew anything of such an arrangement,
but we took the train the following morning for San Geronimo, hoping to
get off without delay. All that the traveller sees upon descending from
the train is the station, the place of Señor Espindola, and the little
Hotel Europa. To our surprise, we found that our baggage had not yet
come from Coatzacoalcos, although we had seen it loaded on the train
ourselves. Still worse, we were informed that frequently fifteen days
were consumed in transportation of freight from that point hither, and
that we had no right to expect it so promptly. Inquiry regarding the
coach revealed the fact that no such vehicle existed. Six hard days of
horseback riding would be necessary for the journey, and, though
Ramon admitted himself to be much better, he was too weak for such an
undertaking. This had had its influence in determining us to go by
coach in the first place. When in doubt as to what we should do, Señor
Espindola suggested that the journey could be made by ox-cart in ten or
eleven days. Though this seemed slow, it was better than to run risks
with our invalid, and we determined to journey in that fashion as soon
as our luggage should appear.
The station is situated on a somewhat elevated plain, constantly swept
by heavy winds. While we were there, this wind was hot, and loaded with
dust. In the afternoon, we walked through the indian town, which extends
over a considerable area. The houses are rectangular, with adobe walls,
mostly whitewashed, and with steep, pitched roofs. We met a funeral
procession in the road, with the usual band in front. The coffin open,
so as to show the child, was carried on the shoulders of several men.
The mother, in contortions of real or simulated grief, was supported by
two women, and the mourners brought up the rear, wailing now and then.
Among the mourners was a woman who suffered from black _pinto_, notably
developed. The principal industry of the town is pottery. The clay,
which is of a greyish-black color, is stiff and hard, and is first
broken up with a mallet. When worked into a stiff paste, it is built
by hand into great _ollas_ and plates, one and a half or two feet in
diameter. These _ollas_ we saw at many houses, and sometimes they were
lashed to carts, plainly for bringing water from the stream. A single
_olla_ thus lashed, practically filled a fair-sized cart.
[Illustration: DRYING POTTERY; SAN GERONIMO]
[Illustration: CART AND OLLA; SAN GERONIMO]
The little hotel at the station is a new venture, and deserves complete
success. At few places in Mexico have we found meals so good and cheap.
In the evening, more from curiosity than expectation, we watched the
train come from the east, and to our surprise and satisfaction, found
our luggage. We had really made up our minds that we must spend some
days in waiting; on the whole, the quiet and comfort of the little
tavern would not have been unpleasant; but we hastened at once to Señor
Espindola, and urged him to make instant arrangements for our leaving in
the morning. To this he replied that no _carretero_ would be likely to
start on Sunday, and that we would have to wait until the following
day. Matters turned out better than anticipated, and before nine, the
following morning, our arrangements had been made. Two _carretas_ were
hired, at twenty-eight pesos each, to make the journey; our driver
agreed that, without counting that day, he could get us to Tuxtla in
eight days; in order to encourage him, we promised to pay five pesos
extra for each _carreta_, in case we reached the city of Tuxtla on
Monday the 11th. His name was Eustasio; he was a good-natured little
Zapotec, from Juchitan originally, but living now at Guviño, Union
Hidalgo. He warned us that, for the first day, we would have to put up
with some discomfort, but that, upon reaching his home, he would fit us
out magnificently. He promised to start at four that afternoon, and we
were ready; of course, he was not, nor was he at five; so we went back
to the hotel for a last good supper, and finally at 5:50 started. There
were four teams and carts in the company, loaded with freight for
Hidalgo. The night was clear, with a fine moon. The road was over heavy
sand. Sometimes we walked in the moonlight, passing Ixtaltepec at 8:30,
and reaching Espinal at ten, where we lost three-quarters of an hour in
loading freight. From there all went well, until a-quarter-of-two in
the morning, when we were passing through a country covered with scrub
timber. Here we constantly met many carts heavily loaded; the road was
narrow, and several times collisions, due to the falling asleep of one
or other of the _carreteros_, were narrowly escaped. Finally, one really
did take place, between our second cart and a heavily loaded one going
in the other direction. The axle of our cart was broken, and the vehicle
totally disabled. Two hours and a quarter were consumed in making
repairs and in reloading. Here, for the first time, we were impressed
with two characteristics in our driver: first, his ability to swear,
surpassing anything that we had ever heard; second, his astonishing
skill and ingenuity in repairing any accident or break, which happened
on the road. Before our journey was over, we learned that both these
qualities are common to his profession. It was four o'clock in the
morning before we were again upon our way. All hope of reaching Union
Hidalgo at the promised hour disappeared. Before sunrise, we had turned
into the hot, dusty, broad, straight high-road, which, after my journey
of 1896, I had devoutly hoped never to see again. Just as the sun
rose, we took quite a walk, killing some parrots, _calandrias_, and
_chacalaccas_ as we walked. They said that _javali_--peccaries,--were
common there. The day was blisteringly hot, long before we reached Union
Hidalgo; hot, hungry and sleepy, we reached our carter's home, a little
before ten in the morning. The _carreta_ in which we were travelling was
here far ahead, and after we had rested half-an-hour or more, Manuel,
hot and perspiring, appeared, and reported that the disabled cart had
broken down again, and that the other two were delayed by a sick animal.
All came straggling in later. We had planned to leave here toward
evening, travelling all Monday night; but hardly had we rested a little,
and eaten dinner, when Eustasio announced that we should spend the night
here, and not leave until the following afternoon. He said the animals
were hot and tired from travelling in the daytime, and that to push on
would defeat our plans. He swore that, unless God decreed otherwise, we
should reach Tuxtla Gutierrez by the promised date. There was nothing
for it but submission, though we would gladly have chosen a more
interesting town than Union Hidalgo for a stay of almost two days. When
evening came, I took my bed of poles out into the open air, into the
space between two houses; Ramon lay down upon a loaded _carreta_, also
out of doors, while Louis and Manuel took possession of hammocks in one
of the houses. It was a cloudless night, with brilliant moon. The air
soon grew cool. After midnight, I was aroused by the most frightful
yelling, and opening my eyes, I saw a barefooted, bareheaded Indian
yelling out the most frightful imprecations and oaths. At first I
thought that he was insulting some one in the house, but both the houses
were fast closed. Ramon, completely wrapped in his blanket, could
attract no notice, and I did not believe that I had been observed, nor
that I was addressed. For quite ten minutes the crazy drunkard stood
there in the moonlight, bawling out a frightful torrent of abuse,
invective, and profanity, with an occasional "_Viva Mexico! Muere
Guatemala_!" patriotically thrown in.
[Illustration: THE DRUNKARD'S EXCHANGE; UNION HIDALGO]
[Illustration: BEFORE REACHING UNION HIDALGO]
At last he disappeared, but for a long time could be heard howling,
as he went from house to house. Believing that it might be well to be
prepared for intruders, I arose and pulled a stake from one of the
carts, and laid it at my side, upon the bed. But I was soon fast asleep
again. Awaking at five, I found myself so cold, and the dew so heavy,
that I dressed, and wrapped my blanket around me, and sat up, waiting
for daylight. At 5:30 our drunken friend passed again, somewhat less
voluble, but still vociferous. He was absolutely crazed with drink, and
through the day several times made his appearance, and always with a
torrent of abuse and profanity which made one's blood run cold. Before
the day was well begun, a second person, almost as drunk, but far more
quiet, a nice-looking old man, began making similar visits about the
village. The two drunkards, differing in age and build, differed also in
dress, but on the occasion of one of their visits, they were taken with
the crazy notion of exchanging clothes, and proceeded to undress, making
the exchange, and re-clothing themselves in garments ridiculously
non-fitting--all with the utmost gravity and unsteadiness. During
the day, our _carretas_ were being prepared. Apologizing for the
inconvenience of the preceding day, Eustasio proposed to fix our cart
"as fine as a church." He put a decent cover over it, and laid our sacks
of plaster on the floor. Upon this, he spread a layer of corn-stalks,
and over them, a new and clean _petate_. To be sure, the space left
above was low for comfort, and we were horrified when we saw him loading
up the second one, not only with the balance of our luggage, but high
with maize, fodder, and great nets of ears of corn, to feed the animals.
We had supposed that two persons and part of the luggage would go in
each of the carts, and never thought of carrying food enough to last
four oxen eight days. Crowding four people into our _carreta_ made it
impossible to lie down in comfort. Still, such is the custom of the
country, and we submitted. During the day we heard a woman crying in
a house. Upon investigating, we found that she was the wife of a
_carretero_ who had been injured on the road, and for whom a _carreta_
had been sent. Shortly afterward, they brought the poor fellow into
town, amid weeping and lamenting. When they took him from the _carreta_
in which he had been brought, he was supported by two men and helped
into the house, where he was laid upon a hammock. He groaned with pain,
and a crowd of curious villagers pressed into the room.
It was easy to locate four broken ribs behind, and he complained of
great internal bleeding. It seemed that he had started to climb up onto
his moving cart in the usual way, and the stake which he had seized
broke, letting him fall to the ground under the wheel of the
heavily-loaded cart, which passed over his body.
Finally, all was ready, and at about five in the evening we started.
Packed like sardines in a box, we were most uncomfortable. Personally, I
did not try to sleep, neither lying down, nor closing my eyes. Shortly
after leaving town, we crossed a running stream, and from the other side
went over a piece of corduroy, upon which we jounced and jolted. Soon
after, we descended into a little gully, from which our team had
difficulty in drawing us. The baggage-cart had a more serious time; the
team made several attempts to drag it up the slope, but failed, even
though our whole company, by pushing and bracing, encouraging and
howling, aided. There was a real element of danger in such help, the
slipping animals and the back-sliding cart constantly threatening to
fall upon the pushers. Finally, the cart was propped upon the slope, and
its own team removed; our team, which was heavier and stronger, was then
hitched on, but it was only with a hard tug, and with heavy pushing,
that success was gained, and the cart reached the summit of the slope.
We crossed a fine marsh of salt water, quite like the lagoon at San
Mateo del Mar, and were told that we were not far from the Juave town
of San Dionisio. From here, the country, was, for a distance, an open
plain. With the moonlight, the night was almost as bright as day; cold
winds swept sheets of sand and dust over us. At one o'clock, we happened
upon a cluster of six or eight carts, drawn up for rest, and the company
of travellers were warming themselves at little fires, or cooking a late
supper. We learned that this gypsy-like group was a _compania comica_,
a comic theatre troupe, who had been playing at Tuxtla, and were now on
their way to Juchitan. We never before realized that such travelling of
ox-carts as we were now experiencing was a regular matter, and that the
carter's trade is a real business. At two o'clock, we stopped to repack
our loads, but were shortly on the way again. After the sun rose, we
were in misery; the road was deep with dust, and we were grimy, hot, and
choking. When the cross that marks the beginning of the land belonging
to Ixhuatlan was pointed out, we were delighted, but it was still a long
ride before we crossed the little stream and rode into the village.
Ixhuatlan is like all the Zapotec towns of this district, but less
clean, on account of its lying in the midst of dust, instead of sand.
Our carts drew up in a little grove, a regular resting-place for carting
companies, where more than fifteen were already taking their daytime
rest. Having ordered breakfast, we hastened to the stream, where all
enjoyed a bath and cleansing. Coffee, bread, _tortillas_, eggs, and
brandied peaches, made a good impression, and we ordered our buxom young
Zapotec cook, who was a hustler, to have an equally good dinner ready at
2:30. We set this hour, believing that she would be late, but she was
more than prompt, and called us at two to a chicken dinner. It was
interesting to watch the _carreteros_ in the grove. The scenes of
starting and arriving, packing and unpacking, chaffing and quarreling,
were all interesting. In the lagoons of Vera Cruz, our boatmen applied
the term _jornada_ to a straight stretch across a lagoon made at one
poling; here among the _carreteros_, the word _jornada_ means the run
made from resting-place to resting-place. In neither case is strict
attention paid to the original meaning of the word, a day's journey.
Ixhuatlan is a made town; a paternal government, disturbed over the no
progress of the pure Juaves in their seaside towns, set aside the ground
on which this town now rests, and moved a village of Juaves to the
spot. High hopes were expressed for the success of the experiment; now,
however, the town is not a Juave town. It is true, that a few families
of that people still remain, but for the most part, the Juaves have
drifted back to the shore, and resumed their fishing, shrimp-catching
and salt-making, while the expansive Zapotecs have crowded in, and
practically make up the population of the place. Between dinner and
our starting, we wandered about the village, dropping into the various
houses in search of relics. As elsewhere, we were impressed with the
independent bearing and freeness of the Zapotec woman. She talks with
everyone, on any subject, shrewdly. She loves to chaff, and is willing
to take sarcasm, as freely as she gives it. In one house we had a
specially interesting time, being shown a lot of things. The woman had
some broken pottery figures of ancient times, but also produced some
interesting crude affairs of modern make from Juchitan. These were
figures of men and women--the latter generally carrying babies in indian
fashion--of horses and other animals. As works of art, they make no
pretension, but they are stained with native colors, and are used as
gifts at New Year's by the common people. Here we saw the making of
baked _tortillas_, and sampled some hot from the oven. Such _tortillas_
are called _tortillas del horno_--oven _tortillas_. Flat _tortillas_,
about the size of a fruit-plate, are fashioned in the usual way; a great
_olla_ is sunk in the ground until its mouth is level with the surface.
This is kept covered by a _comal_, or a smaller _olla_, and a good hot
fire of coals is kept burning within. When the _tortillas_ have been
shaped, they are stuck on the hot _olla_, being pressed against the
sides, to which they adhere, and are left to bake. In baking, the edges
curl up so that the cake, instead of being flat, is saucer-shaped. They
are crisp and good. Leaving at four, we continued on the hot, deep,
dusty road, but saw interesting plants and animals along the way.
There were fine displays of the parasitic fig, from examples where the
parasite was just beginning to embrace its victim, through cases where
it had surrounded the tree with a fine network of its own material, to
those where the original tree-trunk was entirely imbedded in the great
continuous gray investing trunk of the parasite, now larger than its
host. Some trees bore bunches of pale-purple flowers of tubular form,
which fell easily from the calyx, and dotted the ground along the
roadside. Other trees appeared as if covered with veils of little
purplish-red flowers hung over them. Others were a mass of golden bloom,
the flowers being about the size of cherry blossoms. A few trees, yet
leafless, showed large, brilliant white flowers at the tips of rather
slender branches. At Ixhuatlan, we saw the first monkey's comb of the
trip. This orange-yellow flower, growing in clusters so curiously shaped
as to suggest the name, is among the most characteristic, from this
point on through Chiapas into Guatemala. There were but few birds, but
among them were macaws and toucans. Eustasio said that in the season,
when certain berry-bearing trees are in full fruit, the latter may be
seen by hundreds.
When night had really fallen, I unwisely sat in front with the driver,
to prevent his sleeping, and to keep the animals moving. Both drivers
had a way of dozing off, utterly regardless of the movements of the
animals or the dangers of the road. Carts going in opposite directions
must often depend absolutely upon the oxen for their chance of escaping
collisions or being thrown over precipices. Frequently the animals
themselves stop, and the whole company is at a standstill until the
driver wakes up. In this _jornada_, we had planned to reach La Frontera,
the border of the state of Chiapas, at which place we had been promised
we should arrive at 8:30 in the morning. Everything had gone well, and
we were just about to reach the place, where it was planned to repack
for the last time; it was just daylight, and Eustasio was congratulating
us upon our prompt arrival; we drove to the brink of a dry stream, on
the other side of which was our resting-place; just at that instant,
we heard the other driver cry out; we stopped, and found that the
baggage-cart was overturned. This dashed all hopes. There was
unhitching, unloading, the making of a new axle, and reloading. It was
plain that we could not reach La Frontera. While the men were putting
things to rights, we strolled up the dry stream-bed to a shanty, where
Eustasio told us we could breakfast. There was a well there, with fresh
water, and the shanty, for the refreshment of travellers, consisted of
nothing but a little shelter of poles. Here, however, we found baked
_tortillas, atole_, and hard meat; the breakfast for four persons, cost
twenty-five centavos, equal to ten cents American money. Through the
day, birds were hunted and skinned, reading and writing carried on,
until at half-past-three in the afternoon we were again ready for
movement. The road was now sandy, and not dusty, the sand being produced
by the decomposition of crystalline rocks. Mounting to a high _llano_,
we shot a pair of curious birds, which looked like water-birds, but were
living in a dry place and were able to run with great speed. They were
of the size of a hen, and had a long beak, long legs and four flat
though not webbed toes. At the end of this high _llano_, we passed the
Hacienda of Agua Blanca, a property belonging to the _jefe_ of Juchitan.
From here, we descended rapidly over a poor road, coming out at nine
onto the straight road from Tapanatepec, at this point four leagues
behind us. From here on, the whole road was familiar to me. La Frontera
was just ahead, and, arriving there at 10 o'clock, we spent an hour.
Before us rose a massive mountain, the ascent of which seemed appalling.
We could see a white line of road zigzagging up its side, and well
remembered Governor Leon's pride in having constructed a cart-road
against great natural difficulties. Thirty or forty ox-teams had
gathered here, either ready to make the ascent, or resting, after having
come down the mountain. Having gotten breath and courage, we started at
about eleven. The road had suffered during the five years since I last
passed over it, but was still an excellent work of engineering. As we
mounted, zigzagging constantly, the magnificent view over the valley
widened; each new turn increased its beauty. My companions were asleep,
and had had so little rest recently, that I hated to disturb them for
the view. When, however, we were two-thirds up the slope, they awakened,
and were as delighted as myself. We all got out, and walked for a
considerable distance. An astonishing number of little streams and pools
of fresh water burst forth from the rocks, and cut across the road or
flowed along its sides. Finally, we reached the summit, and began the
descent. This had made no impression on me when I went over it on
horseback, but travelling in an ox-cart was a different matter, and I
shall never again forget it. It was less abrupt than the ascent--less of
vertical zigzag, and more of long steady windings. It also was excavated
in the solid rock. It was badly neglected, and the cart jolted, and
threatened every instant to upset us, or leap into the gulf. Coming
out into a more level district, we passed Paraje and Dolores, reaching
Carizal at five, where we stopped for the day. This is a regular resting
place for _carreteros_, and there were plenty of carts there for the
day.
As soon as the oxen were unyoked, I turned out my companions and lay
down in the cart, trying to get an hour's sleep before the sun should
rise, as I had not closed my eyes since leaving Union Hidalgo two days
before. I was asleep at once, but in less than an hour was awakened
by the assaults of swarms of minute black-flies, whose stings were
dreadful. The rest of the company suffered in the same way, so we all
got up and went to work. A group of _carreteros_ breakfasting, invited
me to eat with them--hard _tortillas, atole_ and salted meat, formed a
much better breakfast than we got, a little later, at the house upon the
hill where travellers eat their meals. At this house they had a little
parrot which was very tame, and also a _chacalacca_, which had been
hatched by a domestic hen from a captured egg. This bird is more slender
and graceful than a hen, but our landlord informed us that its eggs are
much larger than those of the common fowl, and much used for food. Both
this bird and the little parrot regularly fly off with flocks of their
wild fellows, but always come back afterward to the house. This was a
most interesting example of an intermediate stage between true wildness
and domestication. There was little doing throughout the day. Heat,
black-flies, and sunlight all made it impossible to sleep; but we took a
bath in the running brook, and skinned some birds, and tasted _posole_
for the first time. _Posole_ is a mixture of pounded or ground corn and
sugar, of a yellow or brownish color, much like grape-nuts. It may be
eaten dry, but is much more commonly mixed with water. The indian dips
up a _jícara_ full of clear spring water, and then, taking a handful of
_posole_ from his pouch, kneads it up until a rather thick, light-yellow
liquid results, which is drunk, and is refreshing and satisfying.
Almost all the _carreteros_ at this camp were Juchitecos. They were
great, strong fellows, and almost all of them wore the old-fashioned
indian breech-clout of red cotton under their drawers or trousers.
When they were working at their carts, greasing the wheels, or making
repairs, they were apt to lay by all their clothing but this simple
piece of cloth, and their dark-brown bodies, finely muscled, hard and
tough, presented handsome pictures. The little fellows who accompanied
them, up to the age of twelve, usually ran about with no article of
clothing save their little breech-clouts and white cotton shirts. In the
early afternoon, serious work began, and everywhere we saw these men
patching coverings, greasing wheels, readjusting cargoes, feeding and
watering their animals, harnessing, and making other preparations for
leaving. During the idle portion of the day, dice were in evidence,
and Eustasio was fascinated with the game. The stakes, of course, were
small, but he kept at it persistently until he had lost five pesos,
when, with forcible words, he gave up. I am sure the dice were loaded,
but I am equally sure, from all I know of Eustasio, that the next time
he makes that journey, he will have some loaded dice himself. Setting
out at 3:30, we were at the head of a long line of cars, and were soon
making another steady zigzag to ever greater heights than those before
climbed. According to the official _itinerario_, the distance from
Dolores to San Miguel is five leagues; we had left Dolores a league
behind in arriving at Carizal, and we naturally assumed that four
leagues would bring us to San Miguel. Eustasio, however, who never
under-estimated, claimed that it would take constant travelling until
eight in the morning to reach Los Pinos, which is still this side of San
Miguel. This is a fair example of the inaccuracy of figures published by
the government. As I looked behind at the long line of carts, some of
which were empty, and able to journey at good speed, the desire took
possession of me to hire one, at least for a short distance, in the hope
of getting a little sleep. Looking over the line, to make my choice, I
had just selected one, and was about to broach my plan, when its driver
ran the vehicle into the branches of a tree, which projected over
the road, and tore away his awning. The idea was unaffected by this
accident, however, and picking out a cart, which had a thick layer of
corn-husks piled in it, promising a comfortable bed, I arranged my
bargain with the owner, and deserted my party, betaking myself to my
private car. Having no load, we pushed ahead and, stretching myself at
full length upon the heap of corn-husks, I was soon asleep. It was my
purpose to disembark at Los Pinos, but we had passed that place long
before I awoke, and were in sight of San Miguel when I opened my
eyes. It was too early for breakfast, so I concluded to ride along to
Macuilapa, where my carter turned off into another road. It was just
eight when we arrived, and I thought of my companions as probably just
reaching Los Pinos. Starting from there at three in the afternoon, they
should overtake me at seven. So I took possession of the great country
house, sitting in the corridor all day long. The house is a long, large,
single-storied building, with heavy tiled-roof; the store-houses, sheds
and other out-houses, with the adobe huts belonging to the workmen,
surround a somewhat regular area. The view, however, in front of the
house is uninterrupted, and looks off into a narrow valley, bounded
prettily by hills. The house has a wide brick-paved corridor. Near
it was an interesting ancient stone carving. The rock was coarsely
crystalline, and gray, or olive-gray in color. It had been battered into
the bold, simple outline of a frog, crouched for leaping; the head had
an almost human face, with a single central tooth projecting from the
lower jaw. The work was in low relief, and looked as if the ancient
workman had taken a natural boulder, and beaten with his hammer-stone
only sufficiently to bring out the details. The stone measured perhaps
four feet in length, three feet in breadth, and two feet in thickness.
It was found in the mountains near, and, from the marks upon it, seems
to have been embedded in the soil half way up the legs. Probably, when
first made, it was placed so that the feet were even with the ground
surface, but the accumulation of vegetable soil since has been
considerable. The Hacienda of Macuilapa manufactures sugar and raises
indigo, quantities of the seed of which were being cleaned when I was
there. The owner of the place is a man of means, but the meals served
were of a mean and frugal kind. Everyone made dire prophecies about the
time of possible arrival of my companions, and the period necessary
for our further journey to Tuxtla Gutierrez. I had not expected my
companions before seven, and after these dismal forebodings, gave up
that expectation. To my surprise, they appeared, in good health and
spirits, at five o'clock, though with exciting tales of peril and
suffering. After a meal together, we again mounted in the old fashion,
and were on our way. The air was fresh and cool, and at 9:30 the moon
rose, giving perfect light. The road was high and sandy, with occasional
small ascents and descents. At eleven we stopped to rest, I agreeing
to wake them all at midnight; at one o'clock I was awakened by our
_carretero_ raising the tongue of the wagon! We passed La Razon at
three. As one of the oxen, which had been somewhat lame, was now in bad
condition, we all dismounted, half-a-league before we reached Zapote,
and walked the rest of the way. The Hacienda of Zapote is really almost
a town. There are two _fincas_, belonging to two brothers. Their fine
large houses, the out-buildings, and the clusters of adobe huts for the
workmen, make an imposing appearance. We stopped at the first group of
buildings, which stands a little lower than the other. Arriving at six,
we spent the whole day at this place; the meals at the great house were
excellent and cheap. In the afternoon we heard marimba-playing; the
instrument was called _la golondrina_ and cost the owner forty-three
pesos.
[Illustration: A DAY REST; THE CARIZAL]
[Illustration: MARIMBA-PLAYING; HACIENDA DE ZAPOTE]
The players were carefully trained, being four brothers. The youngest of
them was not more than fourteen years old, but he put much expression
and spirit into his playing. It was the first time that any of the
party, but myself, had heard this instrument, and all were delighted
at its brilliant, quick, and pleasing music. We left at 3:45 in the
afternoon, but our ailing animal was worse than ever, and Eustasio ran
ahead, trying to secure others at different ranches. He had had no
success when, after a rough ride of several hours, we drew up at
Jiquipilas, where we waited until the morning. We planned to secure new
animals, to leave at dawn, and to reach Tuxtla after a twenty-four hour
ride. We laid down and slept, waking at five, but finding no sign of
animals. We breakfasted at seven, and a little later the new oxen
appeared. There were two yokes of rather light animals. Leaving our sick
beast, and driving the other three along with us, the new animals were
put to the loads, and at eight o'clock we started. I failed to recognize
Rancho Disengaño, but having passed it, we found ourselves at the bottom
of the much-dreaded, last important climb of the journey. The little
team dragging the passenger cart was inefficient and unruly; tiring
of them, I dismounted and went ahead on foot. For a time I drove the
unyoked cattle, but a stubborn one wandering into the brush, I gave up
the job, and left poor Louis, who had just overtaken me, to chase him.
He had hard work, through tangled brush, here and there, up and down,
until at last the animal was once more upon the road. The boy was hot,
tired, and loaded with _pinolillos_. These insects had been in evidence
for a long time back. They are exceedingly small ticks, which fix their
claws firmly in the flesh, and cause intolerable itching. Keeping in the
road, the traveller is little likely to be troubled by them; but walking
through grass, or among leafy plants, is dangerous. Having climbed a
portion of our great ascent, we found ourselves at Agua Bendita. It was
not as beautiful as on the occasion of my other visit; the projecting
ledge of rock had little water dripping, and in the round catch-basins,
which formerly were filled with fresh, clear water, there was scarcely
any; on account of the unusual dryness, the ferns were wilted, and there
was little of that beauty and freshness which so delighted me before.
Eustasio said that he had never seen the spot so dry in all his many
journeys. Nor were there orchids blooming on the great tree near; nor
any of the little toucans which had been so attractive in 1896. As we
stood, seeking for these well-remembered things, we heard curious cries
rising from the valley. At first, I thought it was indians wailing for
the dead; then, that it was a band of pilgrims singing. But it turned
out to be a company of cowboys, bringing cattle up for shipment to
Tabasco. Some rode ahead, and, with loud but not unmusical cries,
invited and urged the animals and their drivers to follow. The beasts
were divided into three bands, thirty or forty in a band, each of which
had its mounted drivers. The animals were lively, and we were warned
that they were _muy bravo_. Manuel had taken the task of driving our
loose cattle, and was fearful that he would be overtaken, asserting that
the cowboys had said that he must keep on, as they could not pass him
with their animals. When he came up to where we were, we put a quick
end to his folly, driving our three oxen to the outer edge of the road,
where Louis and he stood guard over them, while I crept up on the cliff
to avoid scaring the animals that were coming. It took much driving,
urging, and coaxing on the part of the cowboys to get the first two or
three to pass us, but after they had led the way, the others followed
with a rush.
[Illustration: AGUA BENDITA]
[Illustration: MOVING THE GREAT STONE; AGUA BENDITA]
Presently our passenger-cart came along, with both teams of oxen hitched
to it; the new animals had proved too light to drag their proper loads,
so the freight-cart had been left behind, and the full force employed in
dragging the first cart up the hill. Just beyond this spot, we found a
gang of indians, under a superintendent, prying off an immense rock mass
that had fallen from the cliff above onto the road, with the intention
of dumping it over the wall into the abyss. It would have been a sight
to have seen it plunge, but we had no time to wait, so simply stopped
a few minutes to see the method of moving the immense mass with pole
pries. Our cart had gone ahead, so we finished the ascent on foot, and
having gained the summit, walked a short distance on the high plateau to
Petapa, where the cart and _carretero_, Manuel and Ramon, were waiting.
Before we arrived, we met our men going back with the four oxen for
the freight-cart. We had supper at the ranch, and waited, until at six
o'clock everything was ready. Here we sent back the two yokes of animals
which we had brought from Jiquipilas, and secured a fine, strong beast
to make up our number, and started. We did not stop to grease the
wheels, for lack of time. It was dark, and the first part of the journey
was uncertain and difficult; coming out on to the Llano Grande, we found
things easy, though here and there were stony places, where we jolted
fearfully. At 10:30, we had passed La Cienega, and our ungreased wheels
were not only an annoyance, but, Eustasio suggested, a source of danger,
as they might take fire. So, at 11:30, we stopped to grease them. As the
axles and wheels were then too hot for grease to be safely applied, we
lay down while they should cool. Probably in less than five minutes, we
were all asleep, and no one moved until, waking with a start and looking
at my watch, I found it two in the morning. We hastily applied grease,
without removing the wheels, and hurried onward, passing Sabino Perez,
Yerba Santa, and Sabinal. Here, the errors in our _itinerario_, and in
our driver's guessing at distances, were curiously emphasized. We had a
rather heavy descent, for some distance, over a limestone hill called
Santo Domingo. Nowhere do I know of any road which, under the best
of circumstances, seems as long as the last stretch before Tuxtla
Gutierrez. This we had noticed on our earlier journey, when we were
mounted on horseback. Present conditions were not likely to diminish the
impression. At last, at 11:30 in the morning of March 12, we reached the
capital city of the State of Chiapas, and were taken by our _carretero_
to the little old Hotel Mexico, kept by Paco, where we met a hearty
welcome and, for several days, made up for the hardships of our journey
in the way of eating.