drumming noise. It was due to women who were beating
cotton. At the first house we visited we found
three women all busily occupied. An old woman
sitting in the doorway was spinning thread; a second,
somewhat younger woman with a baby in a blanket on
her back, sitting on the ground, was weaving cloth;
a third woman sat, with a great cushion of moss in
a bag of matting on the ground before her, over which
was spread a deer-skin on which was laid raw cotton,
which she briskly beat with beaters made of five or
six divergent sticks fastened together at one end.
Such beating sticks are called mapaho; one is
held in each hand, and the beating is briskly done,
alternately with one and the other; the beating is
intended to spread the raw cotton into a thin and even
sheet before it is spun into thread. Returning
to the town-house, we began our work, but were soon
interrupted. The town is situated on a slope over
which the houses are scattered. From the porch
of the municipal house where we sat, we could see
several huts upon the slope above. Groups of
women and children gathered on the little terraces
before the houses to look down upon us at our work.
The presidente and other officials had gone
to bring us subjects, when we heard an outcry upon
one of these terraces. A man cried out to the
officials; struggled, apparently with a woman, then
fell. The police rushed up the path. A moment
later a surging crowd of a dozen persons were struggling
together with cries and shouts. In spite of the
commands of the segundo secretario, we started
for the scene of the disturbance, but long before we
reached the spot, met a big topil with his
head cut open and blood streaming down his face, soaking
his garments. His arm was thrown around another
man’s neck, whose wrist he held, dragging him
thus a prisoner toward the jail. Two others followed,
holding a bad-looking little man between them.
The two had fought, and when the topil tried
to take them, the little man, seizing a rock, split
open his head. The two persons were thrust into
the jail and a guard set. Great effort was made
to find the stone with which the blow was dealt, in
order that it might be used as evidence. The
secretario told the topil not to staunch
nor wash the wound. With natural curiosity, the
presidente and other men were clustered around
the jail, looking in at the prisoners, when the segundo
secretario ordered them from the door.
This man is a strange one. He is a Cuicatec, who married a Chinatec wife. He is little, but important. He ever carries a queer old sword. When he first appeared before us, he impressively said, “No tengas cuidado” (Have no care.) He told us that our comfort and our orders should be cared for, even though we were in a pueblo of mere brutes, unreasoning beings; he should charge himself and the officials with our needs. There were scarce three hours of daylight in the afternoon, and