The men of our escort, whom we met just out of the city, were a
ruffianly-looking set. The chief had received an ugly saber-cut across
his face, which added to the forbidding expression of a naturally
repulsive physiognomy. They were well mounted, however, and seemed
inclined to be civil. We were allowed only an arrota (twenty-five
pounds) of luggage, and were supposed to have no money with us; but on
the night before we left we sewed a few ounces of gold (sixteen-dollar
pieces) in unlikely places of our underwear. Thus we left Vera Cruz a la
grace de Dieu.

Well it was that we had made terms with this little guerrilla company,
and we had ample opportunity of testing the truth of the saying, "There
is honor among thieves." All along the road we met armed bands, varying
in strength, until, at a village near Jalapa, we fell in with the
well-known chief Antonio Perez and his famous plateados, two hundred
strong, who had won their name and a somewhat doubtful distinction by
their successful raids upon convoys of silver. Our escort fraternized
with all, and they let us pass unmolested.

I was told that at this period scarcely a stage reached the capital
without having been robbed. The passengers were often even despoiled of
their clothing, so that newspapers were brought into requisition to
serve as garments for the unfortunate victims. When such was the case
the doors of the hotel were closed upon the arrival of the coach in the
courtyard, and blankets or other coverings were brought down before the
travelers could alight with any show of propriety.

To say nothing of our emotions, many and varied were our experiences on
that never-to-be-forgotten nine days' journey. Generally we slept in