tion: THE CELEBRATION AT MITLA]

The road up to this summit was not good, but that down the other side
was _bad_. The irregular, great blocks of limestone, covered with the
smooth, dry, slippery coating, caused constant stumbling to our poor
animals. From this valley we rose onto a yet grander range. Here we had
our first Mixe experience. At the very summit, where the road became
for a little time level, before plunging down into the profound valley
beyond, we met two Indians, plainly Mixes. Both were bareheaded, and
both wore the usual dirty garments--a cotton shirt over a pair of cotton
trousers, the legs of which were rolled up to the knees or higher. The
younger of the men bore a double load, as he had relieved his companion.
The old man's face was scratched and torn, his hands were smeared with
blood and blood stained his shirt. We cried an "_adios_" and the old man
kissed my hand, while the younger, pointing to his friend said "_Sangre,
Senor, sangre_" (Blood, sir, blood.) Vigorously they told the story of
the old man's misfortune, but in incomprehensible Spanish. While they
spoke three others like them, each bent under his burden came up onto
the ridge. These kissed my hand and then, excitedly pointing to the old
man, all talking at once, tried to tell his story. Having expressed our
sympathy, we left the five looking after us, the old man, with his torn
and bleeding face, being well in the foreground.

Down in the valley, across a little stream, we struck into a pleasant
meadow road leading to the Hacienda of San Bartolo. Suddenly, before us,
in the road, we saw a man lying. We thought he was dead. He was a young
man, an indian in the usual dress, apparently a Zapotec. His face was
bloody and his shirt was soaked in front with blood, which had trickled
down upon the ground forming a pool in which he lay. We could see no
deep wound, but, as he lay upon his side, there may have been such. Near
him in the road there lay a knife, the blade covered with blood. The man
lay perfectly still, but we fancied we could see a slight movement of
the chest. In Mexico, it is best not to investigate too closely, because
the last to touch a murdered man may be held responsible for his death.
So we hurried on toward the _hacienda_ but, before reaching it, met two
girls about nineteen years of age and a little lad all Zapotecs. We told
them what we had seen and bade them notify the authorities. One of
the girls cried, "_Si, Senor,