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They, themselves, had by no means spent a dull afternoon.  The station agent and his lady wife had indulged in a vigorous battle.  Both were drunk, shot revolvers recklessly, bit one another, tore hair, and clubbed most vigorously.  The man finally took $6,000 in money out of the company’s safe and left the station, vowing that he would never be seen again.  Though the authorities at San Antonio had received the order to supply animals at six o’clock, it was after nine before they had the beasts ready for the travellers.

After an excellent night’s rest we started our pack-animals, and were ourselves ready for the journey at nine, when we found that no arrangements had been made for a foot mozo to carry our instruments.  This again caused delay and trouble, but at last we were upon the road, and started out through the little village towards the mountains.  My animal appeared a beast of vigor and spirit, and my hope ran high.  The moment, however, that we struck the climb, matters changed.  He then stopped every few yards, breathing as if it were his last gasp.  This he kept up for the whole ascent, and there seemed doubt whether he would ever reach the summit.  For a long distance, the road followed the side of a gorge in which a fine brook plunged and dashed.  We passed and repassed picturesque groups of Mazatec indians with their burdens.  The women wore enaguas, the lower part of which was brown, the upper white.  Their huipilis are among the most striking we have seen, being made of native cotton, decorated with elaborate embroidered patterns of large size, in pink or red.  The favorite design is the eagle.  Men wore cotones of black or dark blue wool.  We had been riding steadily for two hours before we reached San Bernardino, where the mozos and pack animals were changed, and where we rested for a few minutes.  We then rode for a long time, gently ascending through forests of pine or oak.  Here and there the air-plants on the oak trees were notable.  Finally, we mounted to a road along a narrow ridge, like a knife’s edge, and from here on had one of the most remarkable roads that I have ever travelled.  Keeping continuously upon the crest, we had upon the one side the dry slope, with the pine forest, and on the other the damp slope, densely grown with low oaks, heavily clad with orchids and bromelias and weighted with great bunches of gray moss.  The road passed up and down gentle and abrupt slopes separated by level spaces.  When we first caught sight of Huauhtla it looked so near, and the road to be traversed was so plain, that we expected to reach the town before three o’clock; but the trail proved drearily long.  True, the scenery was magnificent.  The great mass of mountains; curious ridges extending out from their flanks; the multitude of horizontal, parallel long roads following these; the little towns, San Geronimo, San Lucas—­all were attractive.  From the great slope opposite