near a thorny hedge, and, balancing ourselves on this, we
made slow progress, meanwhile tearing our clothes to shreds. Skim
had considerable difficulty with his long legs, for he could have
touched the ground on either side, but he could use them to advantage,
when it came to wading through the slosh ourselves, and dragging the
tired ponies after us. At night we "came to anchor" in a village,
where we purchased a canned dinner in a Spanish store. The natives
gathered around us as we sat, all splashed with mud, on wicker chairs
in front of the provincial _almacen_. Skim talked with the Spaniard,
alternating every word with "_estie_," while the Don kept swallowing
his eyes and gesturing appropriately. Skim was convinced that his
Castilian was fine art.

We slept in a deserted schoolhouse, lizards and mosquitoes being our
bed-fellows. Skim, the rough cowboy that he was, pillowed his head
upon the horse's flank, and kept his boots on. At the break of day,
restless as ever, he was off again. Crossing the Jimenez River in a
native ferry while the horses swam, we passed through tiny villages
that had not seen a white man for a year. Our journey now lay through
the woods, and Skim, dismounting, stalked along the narrow trail
as though he had been shod in seven-league boots. I heard a pistol
shot ring out, and, coming up, found Skim in mortal combat with an
ape. Then one more plunge into a river, and another stream spanned
by a bamboo pole, which we negotiated like funambulists, dragging
the steeds below us by their halters,--then Balingasag.

In town the big _vaquero_ was a schoolboy on a holiday. He was a
perfect panther for prowling around the streets at night, and in
the market-place, where we now missed the scattering of khaki, he
became acquainted with the natives, and drank _tuba_ with them. He
came back with reports about the resources of the town. There was an
Indian merchant stranded at Ramon's, who had a lot of watches for
sale cheap. He purchased some lace curtains at the _Chino_ store,
and yellow _pina_ cloth for a mosquito bar, and with this stuff he had
transformed his bed into a perfect bower. It was almost a contradiction
that this wild fellow, who was more accustomed to his boots and spurs
at night than to pajamas, should have taken so much pains to make his
sleeping-quarters dainty. Streamers of baby-ribbon fell in graceful
lines about the curtains, while the gauze mosquito-bar was decorated
with the medals