Of sport, adventure, and
romantic travel we may take our fill among these semi-tropical valleys,
rivers, and mountains. Of noxious insects, malaria, wild beasts; of
flooded streams and parched deserts; of sand-storms, snow-storms, and
rain-storms; of precipitous mountains, tracts, and dangerous bogs; of
gloomy forest and appalling crags; of delay, danger, and hardship, we
shall have all that adventurous spirits may seek, and count the time
well lost. Of pleasure in nature and solitude we shall have much, and
of the study of primitive and civilised man, and of coquettish maidens
and Indian maids, we shall carry away enduring recollections.

We are in camp. The exigencies of our travel have bid us take up our
abode in that hastily-constructed _jacal_, or hut built of branches and
plastered outside with mud, such as the _peon_ knows cunningly how to
contrive. Indeed, in such habitations a large part of Mexico's fifteen
million inhabitants dwell. I inspect the well-ventilated walls, for
numerous open chinks are left. "The wind will come in," I say. "Yes,
senor," Jose, my _peon_-constructor, replies with unconscious wit, "it
will not only come in but it will go out"--and he proceeds to remedy
the defect.

Our residence in this spot may be for some weeks whilst at our leisure
we examine mines, hydrographic conditions, flora, or other matters of
scientific or commercial interest which our self-chosen exile demands.
The simple habitation is pitched when possible, of course, near to a
water supply, a clear running stream, or lake, and if the latter we can
take a morning plunge. This excites the surprise of our _mozo_, or
servant, and the other men in our employ.

"No, senor," they hasten to urge us, "it is dangerous to bathe the
body." This objection to the use of cold water in this way does not
arise from a dislike of cleanliness necessarily. The traveller in
Western America soon finds that care must be exercised in bathing in
the open, for the effect of the sun and the water is to bring on
malaria sometimes, which is more easily acquired than cured.

On the edge of our lake great white herons stand in the cool of the
early morning, and the wild ducks swimming lazily on its surface invite
a shot. If it is winter and we are upon the high regions of the great
plateau, the lake may freeze at its edges, imprisoning the unfortunate
birds in the ice. The heat of the midday sun at these high elevations
is succeeded at night by th