even in the daytime, would have required careful watching.  As it was, the faces of the party were well scratched with thorns.  Sometimes, we seemed to be on a good road; at others, we had hardly found a trail.  At one place we passed a ranch—­Corral de San Diego.  A host of barking dogs announced our coming, and we cried out to the old man living there to tell us the road.  His directions were not clear, but in attempting to follow them, we retraced our trail, and then struck into another road.  Keeping to it until we really could not follow it further for the tangle, we retraced our steps until we came to a cart-road crossing that on which we were.  We started first to the right upon this; then, concluding we were wrong, turned about and went the other way.  We soon found ourselves off the road again, and travelling blindly through the brush.  Coming to a round patch of clear sand, to which the trail on which we were seemed to have led us, we could find no way out.  Convinced that we were hopelessly lost, we camped out upon the sand for the night.  Fortunately we had a little corn with us which we gave to the horses, after which we tied them to the trees.  As we lay upon the sand in the bright moonlight, we could hear the dashing of the sea waves not far away.  The heat was intolerable and the mosquitoes venomous.  We secured no rest, and, at the first signs of day, were ready for our start.  The two boys went out to hunt a rabbit, but returned with most discouraging reports.  While they were absent, Don Anselmo and myself were left in camp.  Suddenly he cried out that our horses were running away; such was really the case.  The last one was just disappearing in the brush and Anselmo started after them, leaving me to keep the camp.  When the other two returned, they, too, started in pursuit.  After a hard chase, the animals were captured and brought back.  By seven we had mounted and were on our way.  We retraced our trail of the night before, going back to the cart-road.  A little before eight we came upon a ranch, the Ranchito del Boca del Rio.  Here we asked our way, and found that we were still as far from San Mateo, as when we left Huilotepec the night before.  Eating a light breakfast, we secured a guide who took us, by the shortest way across the river, back to the main trail for San Mateo, where he left us.  The road was long and hot and sandy.  Our horses could hardly keep up a decent walk.  It seemed that we would never reach the town.  More than an hour before we arrived at the town, we encountered little ranches belonging to it.  Everywhere we saw flocks of sheep, cows and horses.  Curiously, the Juaves have always had herds, since our first records of them, but they eat no meat.  The country was more tropical than any through which we had passed.  Clumps of palm trees were to be seen here and there.  Pools of standing water, where horses and cattle stood cooling themselves, were frequent.  The people whom we met wore little clothing.  Men frequently