part of our host and hostess; a bit of cheese was promptly found and
added to the waiting coffee and _tortillas_, and when we called for our
own reckoning, we received the hearty response--"_Nada, señor, nada_;"
(nothing, sir, nothing) "and when you come this way again, come straight
to us, our door is always open to you."

[Illustration: SANTIAGO GUEVEA]

We were now ready and found that the three boys, Luca, Pedrito, and
Castolo, were waiting to accompany us as far as our roads were the same.
They were to go on foot, five leagues, into the mountains to bring back
some mules from a camp; they expected to reach their destination that
day, to sleep on the mountain, and to bring in the animals the next day.
The little fellows, from thirteen to nine or ten years old, seemed to
find nothing extraordinary in their undertaking; each carried his little
carrying-net, with food, drinking-gourd, and an extra garment for the
chilly night, upon his back; Pedrito buckled to his belt the great
_machete_, which men here regularly carry for clearing the path, cutting
firewood, or protection against animals. They were very happy at
accompanying us for a distance. We soon rose from the low, malarial,
coffee _fincas_ onto a fine mountain, which was the last of its kind
that we saw for many days; it was like the mountains of the Mixes,
with its abundant vegetation of ferns, begonias, and trees loaded with
bromelias and orchids. Our bodyguard kept up with us bravely until we
had made one-half of the ascent, where they fell behind and we saw them
no more. Reaching the summit, we saw before us a distant line of blue,
interrupted here and there by some hill or mountain,--the great Pacific.
From here on, the beauty of the road disappeared. We descended and then
mounted along dry slopes to Santiago Guevea, then hot and dusty. Our
friends of San Miguel really live in Guevea and are at San Miguel only