and then resettled on the same trees where they had been before. In the
evening we saw pairs of macaws flying high, and as they flew over our
heads they looked like black crosses sharp against the evening sky. At
evening we reached Guviño, a dreadful town, in the population of which
there seems to be a negro strain. We stopped with the _presidente_, in
whose veins flowed Spanish, indian, and negro blood. In his one-roomed
house besides ourselves there slept the owner, his wife, two daughters,
one with a six-weeks baby, a son, and two young men--friends of the
family.

Turning north the next day, onto the Niltepec road, we wandered from our
trail, losing five leagues of space and more than three hours of time.
The country through which we passed was terribly dry; there were
no running streams. We crossed the bed of one dried river after
another--streaks of sand and pebbles. The people in the villages near
these dried river-beds dug holes a foot or two deep into this sand and
gravel and thus got water. At the place where we camped for the night,
Suspiro Ranch, a new house was being palm-thatched. All the men and boys
of the neighborhood were helping; the labor was carefully divided; some
were bringing in great bundles of the palm leaves; others pitched these
up to the thatchers, who were skilfully fitting them under and over the
poles of the roof framework and then beating them firmly home. Many of
the helpers had come considerable distances and spent the night, so that
we shared our room with quite a dozen men and boys, while the women and
children slept in another house.

Passing through Zanatepec, we stopped for Sunday at Tanatepec. Here we
found ourselves again upon the low coast road. It was, however, our last
point of low altitude, as from there we struck inland over a higher,
cooler, and more interesting mountain road. At Zanatepec we first saw