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,