This fellow’s appearance, especially his unsteady, lurking eyes, suggested the bandit.  No doubt, like most of his class, he was in hiding from the government authorities.  He was something of a hypochondriac, and among other ailments he thought he had an animal in his stomach, which he got in there by way of a knife-stab he had received some time ago.  When he came to me to get some remedy, he carried a rather fine rifle, and in spite of all his suffering, real or imaginary, the bandit nature asserted itself, when I made some complimentary remark regarding his weapon.  His half-closed eyes slurred in a crafty, guileful manner from side to side as he drawled:  “Despues de Dios, mi rifle!" ("Next to God, my rifle!”)

After considerable looking about, I at last found an Indian willing to act as guide for the next stage of our journey.  He was an elderly man, and at dusk he was quietly sitting near the camp fire, eating his supper, when the tall figure of Mr. Hartman appeared on the scene, wrapped in a military overcoat.  He probably looked to the Indian very martial and threatening as he approached through the twilight.  At any rate, his appearance had a most unexpected effect on our guide.  I suddenly heard a noise behind me, and on looking around, I saw him running as fast as his legs would carry him, leaving his supper, dropping his blanket, splashing through the creek and disappearing in the night, never to be seen again by us.  He imagined that a soldier was coming to seize and kill him; that the meat-pot in which he was to be cooked was already on the fire, while the skulls of other unfortunates that had been eaten were lying in a heap near one of the tents.  He alluded apparently to four skulls which I had taken out of an ancient burial cave.  In explanation I will say that some time ago he had been arrested for some crime and had broken away from jail; soldiers, or rather, the police, were after him, and he mistook Mr. Hartman for one of his pursuers and ran for safety.

The incident proved somewhat unfortunate for us.  In consequence of the wild stories he told about us, the Indians, of a suspicious nature anyway, sent messengers all over the sierra, warning the people against the man-eaters that were coming.  Our strange proceedings in Cusarare, namely, the photographing, had already been reported and made the Indians uneasy.  The terrible experience of our runaway guide seemed to confirm their wildest apprehensions, and the alarm spread like wildfire, growing in terror, like an avalanche, the farther it went.  We found the ranches deserted on every hand, women and children hiding and screaming whenever they caught a glimpse of us.  At every turn our progress was impeded.  Wherever I came I was abhorred as the man who subsisted on babies and green corn, and the prospect of my ever gaining the confidence of the Indians was exceedingly discouraging for the next four or five months.