The cordon gradually widens, and open, grass-covered places appear among the pines, which now are of the usual kinds, and throughout the Sierra del Nayarit are high, but never large.  A few Coras passed us leading mules loaded with panoche, to be exchanged in Santa Maria Ocotan for mescal.

The most conspicuous things in the Cora’s travelling outfit are his rifle and one or two home-made pouches which he slings over his shoulder.  There is an air of manliness and independence about these Indians, and this first impression is confirmed by the entire history of the tribe.

We passed a few ranches on the road, and at last reached the little llano on which Santa Teresa is situated.  It is always disagreeable to approach a strange Indian pueblo, where you have to make your camp, knowing how little the people like to see you, and here I was among a tribe who had never heard of me, and who looked upon me with much suspicion as I made my entry.

There were many people in town preparing for the Easter festival, practising their parts in certain entertainments in vogue at that season.  At last I met a man willing to show me where I could find water.  He led me outside of the village to some deep and narrow clefts in the red earth, from which a rivulet was issuing.  I selected my camping-place near by, at the foot of some low pine-covered hills, and then returned to the pueblo.

“Amigo!” shouted a man as he came running toward me from his house.  It was the alcalde, a tall, slender Indian with a slight beard and a very sympathetic voice.  I told him that we were entirely out of corn, to which he replied that we could not get any in the pueblo, only on the ranches in the neighbourhood.  I asked him if he wanted us to die from starvation, and then another man offered me half a fanega.  I inquired of the judge whether he did not want to see my papers.  “We do not understand papers,” he replied.  Still it was agreed that the Indians should meet me next morning, and that my chief man, the Tepehuane, should read my letters from the Government, because the preceptor of the village was away in the city of Tepic, and no one else was able to read.

Santa Teresa is called in Cora Quemalusi, after the principal one of the five mythical men who in ancient times lived in the Sierra del Nayarit.  Reports say an idol now hidden was once found here.  A few miles east of Santa Teresa is a deep volcanic lake, the only remnant of the large flood, the Coras say.  It is called “Mother,” or “Brother,” the last name containing a reference to their great god, the Morning Star, Chulavete.  There are no fish in it, but turtles and ducks.  The water is believed to cure the sick and strengthen the well, and there is no ceremony, in the Cora religion for which this water is not required.  It is not necessary to use it pure; it is generally mixed with ordinary spring water, and in this way sprinkled over the people with a red orchid, or a deer-tail stretched over a stick.