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Cruz we found a branch on our left which puzzled us a little, as our map gave no indication of its existence. But we kept on almost a league, riding through a pine-forest on a nearly level road, which proved to be the right one, although the choice was guess-work. Grass grew beneath these noble trees, and herds pastured in this park-like region. It was most interesting to see the acorns inserted by the birds in the pine-bark, precisely as I had often seen them in the forests of Nevada and California; but with all my watching I could not catch the birds at work. The acorns that I dug out, although frequently dry and apparently abandoned, were free from worms. The common species of pine (Pinus macrophylla) had "needles" fifteen and a half inches long; and the Indios were gathering them to strew the floors of the churches, a more fragrant carpet than the rushes of our ancestors. We frequently came across artificial mounds, which, according to Santiago, "were where houses had been." At ten o'clock we halted at a little village which we were told was Uspantán (our wretched mozo Santiago, who pretended to be guide, but knew no more than we about the road, led us into this mistake); so we unsaddled and waited for almuerzo, with little to amuse us except two turkeycocks, one white, the other dark, inseparable companions, who followed us wherever we went, and at last were driven nearly wild by their attempts to converse with us. Not until two o'clock did we arrive at the true Uspantán, and then very unexpectedly; for seeing some women at a spring washing, in a wild place where no houses were visible, we turned a low ridge, and found ourselves in the midst of a considerable Indian town. The church, which we did not enter, had huge buttresses at the apse,

-doubtless a precaution against earthquakes. We saw a great deal of pottery, and anona-trees were on all sides; but the full-grown fruit was not ripe. We felt so provoked at our waste of time at the first village (whose true name we never learned) that we did not care to stop here, but rode out of the town through a deep artificial ravine. San Miguel Uspantán has some nine hundred inhabitants, who weave cotton from the lowlands and wool from their numerous flocks; and it is from the mines near by that all the silver was obtained for the vessels of the church, -so says tradition. Ruined walls and broken aqueducts attest the former importance of the place under the Quiché rule.

The road became a mere trail until we came to Pericon, a village of two hundred inhabitants, whose only industry is wool-dyeing; and from this we climbed the pine-clad hills to a height of over seven thousand feet, where we came suddenly upon a fine view of Cunen, directly west, but several leagues away, across a valley twelve hundred feet deep. I wanted a photograph; but the sun was in our faces, we could not spare the time, the day was almost done, and we had a difficult descent before us. Although. we did not delay, it was long after dark when we rode into Cunen and found the Plaza, where we were assigned a good room in a confiscated monastery or church building. We had a mahogany bench fifteen feet long and sixteen inches wide for our bed, and a good table and several chairs abundantly furnished our apartment. We had our own candles and coffee; but no other food was to be had except some ears of green corn which we had picked by the way for our animals, but which we were fain to eat ourselves when Santiago had scorched them by

the embers of the mozos' fires in the Plaza. Although the corridor was full of mozos who were to pass the night here, there was no noise whatever. We closed our door at six; and as soon as our notes were made, fell asleep. The poor Indios had no politics to quarrel over, and we had the satisfaction of a day well spent; so there was peace and harmony beneath our roof of tiles.

Every day the vegetation changed, and we might have constructed an itinerary of floral landmarks; to-day it was a fine pink dahlia far surpassing in vigor of growth and blossom any of the cultivated varieties. In such a climate, however, this plant did not provide for hibernation in its tuberous roots, of which it had none. Acres of fragrant Stevia perfumed the air, while Bouvardias and bright Composite brushed against us on either side of the narrow pathway.

Twelve hours of solid rest were not too much; and while in the early dawn our bestias were being saddled, I strolled into the church, which is much smaller than its ruined predecessor at its side. In Central America. the roofless walls of ancient churches usually, if not always, enclose a campo santo, and here the early Cunenans slept their last sleep among the crumbling relics of their work. In the modern church were two large mermaids of the genuine Japanese type, carved as supporters to the altar.

In the cold, misty morning we started without coffee, and at once began to climb a long ascent; for Cunen seems to be built on a platform on the mountain side. On our left was the finest waterfall we had yet seen, and on the banks were red violets. The summit of this pass was nearly seven thousand feet, and

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