e main highway from Parracho.

Rested and refreshed, we started at 12:30 for the long fourteen leagues
of journey. We passed Pichataro, where the round paddles for Patzcuaro
canoes are made, and where the applewood, so prized as material for
spear-throwers, is procured. We passed Sabina, where the canoes
themselves are hollowed out, miles from their launching place, to which
they must be carried over mountains. Each town we passed made me more
and more uneasy, as I knew that Nabor contemplated revolt. He did not
like the idea of too long a journey for his horses. He wished to stop
long before the goal that I had fixed. When we left the last of the
important towns behind us, I felt for the first time secure. It was now
dark, and we found the roads far worse than we remembered them. They
were worn into deep gullies, into which our horses fell and over which
they stumbled. Long before reaching Ajuno I felt convinced that we had
missed the road, but we floundered on, and never was sight more welcome
than the light of fires shining through the cane walls of the wretched
huts of that miserable town. Here there was a final council regarding
resting for the night. The whole party, except myself, considered Ajuno
as a capital resting-place. All yielded, however, and we continued on
our way. It was almost midnight when we rode up to the hotel, upon the
_plaza_ in quaint old Patzcuaro. All were cross and tired; neither
crossness nor weariness were helped when we were told that there was no
room for us at the inn. We made such vigorous representations, however,
that the doors were finally thrown open. An old store-house was cleaned
out and supplied with decent beds, and a good supper was served.

CHAPTER X

THE BOY WITH THE SMILE

(1898)

It is doubtful whether the common people of any country are so rarely
surprised, or taken unaware, as those of Mexico. At a moment's notice,
the commonest indian, who may have scarcely been outside of his own
town in all his life, may start to go across the country. Astonishing
incidents appear to create no more surprise in their minds than the
ordinary affairs of every day. In January, 1898, we revisited Cholula.
As we alighted from the street-car we noticed a boy, some fourteen years
old, whose most striking characteristic was his smile. He wished to
serve as guide, to show us the pyramid, the convents, the chapel of the
natives. On assuring him that we knew far more about the lions