and to the sound of music, worshippers move the figures, causing them to dance.  Pleased with this, they give good rains to the faithful worshippers.  When there is too much rain, they go in procession to the river, playing music and dancing dolls; when arrived, they peg down many ayates and sacks, made for the purpose, into the water against the flow.  These are dams, to stay the flood.  On the other hand, when there is drought, a procession carries the idols to a cave, where a feast is given and a dance, with wands of flowers carried in the hands, indulged in.

Though the price for animals from Huehuetla to Las Tortugas was exorbitant, we had agreed to pay it—­but told the man that, if he left later than six, it should be cut two dollars.  It was long after eight before they appeared, and then it was only our own animals that were ready.  We were forced to leave the packing to be done by the man himself without direction; we ourselves hurried along the trail, hardly stopping at San Bartolo on the way, arriving at Tenango at 4:15.  Our animals were fagged, and we were soaked to the skin, having travelled through nublina most of the afternoon.  Don Pablo received us with his usual courtesy, and had arranged for us to sleep at the same house, where we had been before.  At bed-time, our man with the mules had not appeared, and we had received most contradictory and discouraging statements regarding him.  He had started at nine with two mules and left half our stuff for another day; he had been seen at the river near San Bartolo with two mules heavily loaded, unable to proceed; he had concluded to stop at San Bartolo for the night, to push on to Tenango the next day, and reach Las Tortugas on the third.  Dissatisfied and uncertain, we went to bed; still, we determined to leave at five, and so gave orders to our mozo.  We rose at 4:15 and the horses were ready before five.  Contradictory stories were again told us regarding our animals.  Some said the man had passed with them at five o’clock; others that he had not yet come; others that he had spent the night at Santa Maria.  Our foot mozo did not come, and sending the rest ahead, I waited for him.  Hardly had they started, when Ramon galloped back to announce that the man was in town, that he had three animals and was nearly ready to leave.  As he, himself, had told us that he must leave Tenango at three in order to reach Las Tortugas in time for the train, this was not reassuring.  Ramon hastened on with the party.  At six the mozo appeared and started at once.  In a few minutes we passed our arriero who was packing, but not ready to start.  I urged him to hasten, but did not wait.  Mist had settled during the night, but it was now rising, and we could see the scenery, which, in wildness and beauty, was almost the equal of anything in Mexico, though with a character quite its own.  Our trail ran along the side of a precipice; to our left rose great cliffs presenting almost vertical faces of smooth