The players were carefully trained, being four brothers.  The youngest of them was not more than fourteen years old, but he put much expression and spirit into his playing.  It was the first time that any of the party, but myself, had heard this instrument, and all were delighted at its brilliant, quick, and pleasing music.  We left at 3:45 in the afternoon, but our ailing animal was worse than ever, and Eustasio ran ahead, trying to secure others at different ranches.  He had had no success when, after a rough ride of several hours, we drew up at Jiquipilas, where we waited until the morning.  We planned to secure new animals, to leave at dawn, and to reach Tuxtla after a twenty-four hour ride.  We laid down and slept, waking at five, but finding no sign of animals.  We breakfasted at seven, and a little later the new oxen appeared.  There were two yokes of rather light animals.  Leaving our sick beast, and driving the other three along with us, the new animals were put to the loads, and at eight o’clock we started.  I failed to recognize Rancho Disengano, but having passed it, we found ourselves at the bottom of the much-dreaded, last important climb of the journey.  The little team dragging the passenger cart was inefficient and unruly; tiring of them, I dismounted and went ahead on foot.  For a time I drove the unyoked cattle, but a stubborn one wandering into the brush, I gave up the job, and left poor Louis, who had just overtaken me, to chase him.  He had hard work, through tangled brush, here and there, up and down, until at last the animal was once more upon the road.  The boy was hot, tired, and loaded with pinolillos.  These insects had been in evidence for a long time back.  They are exceedingly small ticks, which fix their claws firmly in the flesh, and cause intolerable itching.  Keeping in the road, the traveller is little likely to be troubled by them; but walking through grass, or among leafy plants, is dangerous.  Having climbed a portion of our great ascent, we found ourselves at Agua Bendita.  It was not as beautiful as on the occasion of my other visit; the projecting ledge of rock had little water dripping, and in the round catch-basins, which formerly were filled with fresh, clear water, there was scarcely any; on account of the unusual dryness, the ferns were wilted, and there was little of that beauty and freshness which so delighted me before.  Eustasio said that he had never seen the spot so dry in all his many journeys.  Nor were there orchids blooming on the great tree near; nor any of the little toucans which had been so attractive in 1896.  As we stood, seeking for these well-remembered things, we heard curious cries rising from the valley.  At first, I thought it was indians wailing for the dead; then, that it was a band of pilgrims singing.  But it turned out to be a company of cowboys, bringing cattle up for shipment to Tabasco.  Some rode ahead, and, with loud but not unmusical cries, invited and urged the animals and their drivers to follow.