ght for them. The night before, I had inquired regarding
the acquaintances we had made at San Miguel in our previous trip. I
learned that the man had died less than a month before, but that the
widow, the four boys and the little girl, having finished their work at
the coffee _finca_ at San Miguel, were in town. Accordingly we called
at the house. The woman immediately recognized me, and asked after Don
Ernesto. The boys were sleeping, bedded on piles of coffee, but were
routed from their slumber to greet us. At first, none of them remembered
me, but the little girl did, and soon Castolo also. Their house was
comfortable, and piles of corn, coffee, and bananas were stacked up in
the place. They invited us to stop with them, but we were already well
housed by the authorities. As we left, the woman went to the corner,
and, from a pile of similar objects, took two things neatly wrapped in
corn-husks. On opening them, we found that they were eggs, which are
frequently wrapped in this way for storage, in all the indian towns.
Although we had ordered food for the horses, at seven o'clock it had
not appeared. We called at the town-house several times, but still no
_zacate_. Our dinner came, and the afternoon passed, but still no fodder
for the horses was produced, and the poor animals had eaten nothing,
practically, for two whole days, although subjected to hard work and the
pelting storm. We anxiously watched for the coming of the _mozos_ with
our equipment. The storm, though still raging, was abating, and we could
see well down the road. When, at half past three in the afternoon, there
was no sign of either men or fodder, we called the town authorities to
account. We told them that we would wait no longer in a town where our
animals could only starve; that they must forward our boxes, plaster and
busts promptly to Tehuantepec; that we should hold them responsible for
loss or delay, and that all should be delivered at the office of the
_jefe_. Paying no attention to their entreaties that we should wait a
little longer for the fodder, which they promised, as they had so many
times before, would come soon, we saddled our animals, and at 4:20 left
the town. Just as we started, little Castolo appeared with two bunches
of _zacate_ sent by his mother, as a present to Don Federico.

Certainly, there must be a new and better road from Guevea to Santa
Maria than the one we traversed in our other journey, and which again,
following from