Page:Travels in Mexico and life among the Mexicans.djvu/145

Rh plants, such as the archil (Rocella tinctoria) and madder (Rubia tinctorium).

The sun was blazing hot, butterflies played about us, birds sang in the thin-foliaged trees, and a native quail, or faisan, got up at intervals. We saw one deer, venado, and one turkey, pavo del monte, but not near enough for a fair shot. There were many caves and depressions in the limestone surface, with water in them, looking cool and inviting for a bath; but numerous adders swimming across the water rendered them less attractive. Thousands of dead snails lay in windrows, but not a live one was to be found, though I searched diligently under the dead logs and leaves.

The logwood was brought into camp and stacked, whence it will be carried to the port of Ɔilam and shipped. There seem to be vast quantities of it, but it is in remote sections, where it is difficult and expensive to get it out. As we returned to camp, my friend was taken with cramp in the stomach, and howled and cried, and the man with whom he had quarrelled in the morning was the first to hasten to his aid. I suspected then it was but a ruse to bring about a change of sentiment through sympathy. In the evening Alonzo brought out a big bag of silver which he had brought to pay the men with, and proceeded to devote it to that purpose. I admired the pluck of my little friend, that would not let him be browbeaten into paying it out before he was ready, though in apparent danger from the Indian with the bad-looking eyes. We walked out in the cool of the evening toward the aguadas, or ponds; the birds were still, and a quiet brooded over the lonely place, except for the cries of the gallinules in the marsh, one of which Alonzo shot, and waded into the water waist-deep to secure it. Sometimes the simplest thing will awaken thoughts of home when in a strange country where the scenery is different; and mine were carried back to the North by the sight of a group of cat-tail flags, growing as in Northern meadows.

The industry of the Indian women of Yucatan is a matter of wonder. From long before daylight till late at night, even after we had retired to our rest, they were toiling at the metates. It