s, which would serve in
part, and Mr. Catherwood had a large spring-knife of admirable temper,
which Doctor Cabot said would do, but the former flatly objected to its
conversion into a surgical instrument. It had been purchased at Rome
twenty years before, and in all his journeyings had been his travelling
companion; but after such an operation he would never be able to use it
again. Strong arguments were urged on both sides, and it became
tolerably manifest that, unless amputation was necessary to save the
boy from dying, the doctor would not get the knife.

Reaching the house, we saw the Indian sitting in the sala, the hand
torn off to within about an inch of the wrist, and the stump swollen
into a great ball six inches in diameter, perfectly black, and
literally alive with vermin. At the first glance I retreated into the
yard, and thence into the kitchen, when a woman engaged in cooking ran
out, leaving her vessels boiling over the fire. I superintended her
cooking, and dried my damp clothes, determined to avoid having anything
to do with the operation; but, fortunately for me and M., Catherwood's
knife, Doctor Cabot considered that it was not advisable to amputate.
It was ten days since the accident happened, and the wound seemed to be
healing. Doctor Cabot ascribed the lad's preservation to the sound and
healthy state of the blood, arising from the simple diet of the Indian.

At this place we determined to separate; Mr. Catherwood to go on direct
to Peto, a day and a half's journey distant, and lie by a few days to
recruit, while Doctor Cabot and I made a retrograde and circuitous
movement to the village of Mani. While speaking of our intention, a
by-stander, Don Joaquin Sais, a gentleman of the village, told us of
ruins on his hacienda of Saccacal, eight leagues distant by a milpa
road, and said that if we would wait a day, he would accompany us to
visit them; but as we could not, he gave us a letter to the major domo.

Early the next morning Doctor Cabot and I set out with Albino and a
single Indian, the latter carrying a petaquilla and hammocks. We left
the village by the running stream, and rode for some time along a deep
gully made by the great body of water which rushes through it in the
rainy season. At half past nine we reached a large aguada, the banks of
which were so muddy that it was impossible to get down to it to drink.
A league beyond we reached another, surrounded by fine shade trees,
with a few d