ves of them. During
the afternoon we passed only two or three shacks, but as we approached
the Cubitas mountains the few habitations and their surroundings
improved in character. The houses continued to be palm-thatched, but
they were more commodious and surrounded by gardens in which were a few
orange and banana trees, and other fruits and vegetables. Some of the
places were quite pretty. Occasionally we would see cleared land that
had once been cultivated, but no growing crops of any amount. This part
of the country had been agriculturally dead since the Ten Years' War.
How the natives live, I know not, but it is safe to say that they do not
live well. They raise boniatos and cassava, a little fruit, and keep a
few pigs. Often their chief supply of meat is derived from the wild hogs
which they shoot. And yet these Cubans were living on some of the best
land in the world.

Late in the afternoon, after walking for a mile or more along a good
road bordered by the ornamental but worthless jack-pineapple plant, we
came to a wide gateway opening into an avenue lined with cocoanut palms
and leading up to a couple of well-made Cuban shacks. The houses stood
at the front of quite a large garden of fruit trees. We called at one of
the shacks, which proved to be well populated. An elderly man, large for
a Cuban and well-built, came forward to greet us and was inclined to be
sociable. His shirt appeared to be in the wash, but this fact did not
seem to embarrass him any; he still had his trousers. Of a younger man
we bought a few pounds of boniatos (sweet potatoes) and after some
urging persuaded him to go out and get some green cocoanuts for us from
the trees. He sent his little boy of about twelve years of age up the
tree to hack off a bunch of the nuts with his machete. We drank the
copious supply of milk with great satisfaction; there is no more
refreshing drink in all Cuba. As the boy had done all the work, we
designedly withheld our silver until he had come down the tree and we
could place it in his hands. We wondered if he would be allowed to keep
it. Climbing the smooth trunk of a cocoanut tree is no easy task.

We camped that night among the trees by the side of the road a quarter
of a mile further on. We had made twenty miles for the day, and were now
on high ground near the base of the Cubitas mountains. The rise had been
so very gradual that we had not noticed that we were ascending. The
trunks of all the trees around