upon it, when it dashed into the thicket and then stopped to again eye
us. Upon attaining the second summit we were amid pines. All day we had
had a wind in our faces, cold and so strong as to almost blow us from
the narrow ridge, yet the sky was cloudless. Looking back from our
summit, a magnificent view to the ocean was spread before us. Below us
were the mountains over which we had come, then a valley broken with
mountains of a lesser size; beyond, was the dry, coastal plain, and yet
beyond it, the sea. The dark green pines, the blue sky, the brown hills,
the gray plain, the stretch of blue-green waters, made a wonderful color
combination.

The next two days were most uninteresting. We were often reminded of
the recent threat of war between Mexico and Guatemala, the disputed
border-line between which we were now nearing. We met marching bands of
soldiers who were returning to Juchitan. Officers were on horses,
common soldiers on foot, pack-mules were laden with luggage, the women
(accompanying their husbands) were weighed down with coffee-pots,
bundles of clothes, and babies, all strapped on their backs together.
They were a motley crew. At Jiquipilas a company was encamped in the
plaza. Our mule, Chontal, took particular delight in running into such
bands of marching soldiers as we encountered, causing no end of trouble.
On one occasion, as a group approached us, he ran forward at a
lively pace into their midst and tangled himself up with a party of
prisoners,--apparently soldiers in disgrace,--who, tied together with
ropes, were under guard. As we rode up to capture him, I felt a hand at
that coat pocket which contained our money-bag and, turning suddenly,
found one of the guard trying to draw the bag of money from my pocket. I
struck at him with my whip and he slunk away.

The last day of travel before reaching Tuxtla Gutierrez, we passed one