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Frederick Starr
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 409 pages of information about In Indian Mexico (1908).
we called at the house.  The woman immediately recognized me, and asked after Don Ernesto.  The boys were sleeping, bedded on piles of coffee, but were routed from their slumber to greet us.  At first, none of them remembered me, but the little girl did, and soon Castolo also.  Their house was comfortable, and piles of corn, coffee, and bananas were stacked up in the place.  They invited us to stop with them, but we were already well housed by the authorities.  As we left, the woman went to the corner, and, from a pile of similar objects, took two things neatly wrapped in corn-husks.  On opening them, we found that they were eggs, which are frequently wrapped in this way for storage, in all the indian towns.  Although we had ordered food for the horses, at seven o’clock it had not appeared.  We called at the town-house several times, but still no zacate.  Our dinner came, and the afternoon passed, but still no fodder for the horses was produced, and the poor animals had eaten nothing, practically, for two whole days, although subjected to hard work and the pelting storm.  We anxiously watched for the coming of the mozos with our equipment.  The storm, though still raging, was abating, and we could see well down the road.  When, at half past three in the afternoon, there was no sign of either men or fodder, we called the town authorities to account.  We told them that we would wait no longer in a town where our animals could only starve; that they must forward our boxes, plaster and busts promptly to Tehuantepec; that we should hold them responsible for loss or delay, and that all should be delivered at the office of the jefe.  Paying no attention to their entreaties that we should wait a little longer for the fodder, which they promised, as they had so many times before, would come soon, we saddled our animals, and at 4:20 left the town.  Just as we started, little Castolo appeared with two bunches of zacate sent by his mother, as a present to Don Federico.

Certainly, there must be a new and better road from Guevea to Santa Maria than the one we traversed in our other journey, and which again, following from memory, we used.  It was a fearful trail, neglected and ruined, over slippery rock and rough, sharp-splintered stone.  Still we pressed on rapidly, making even better time than we had been assured at the town that we might expect to make.  Never were we more happy than in reaching Santa Maria, lovely in the moonlight, with its great church, fine municipal-house, cocoa-nut trees and thatched huts.  Here was no sign either of the norther or the rain.  The next day’s journey was over the hot dusty road with glimpses now and then of the distant Pacific and Tlacotepec for destination.  The following morning we pressed on toward Tehuantepec, through the dust and heat, reaching the city at noonday.  To our great surprise, we found the mozos, with the plaster, the busts, and the boxes of plates, waiting for us since four o’clock in the morning.

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