and penetrating.  In a few minutes we met a half-breed Mexican, who, accosting us at once, urged us to go no further.  His manner was somewhat sinister and disagreeable.  He warned us that, if we attempted to make the descent in the darkness, we would at least lame our animals.  He asserted that our comrades were fully three leagues ahead when he had met them, and that we would never overtake them.  He also hinted darkly as to other dangers of the road, if we should succeed in making the descent without breaking the legs of our horses.  Refusing his invitation to stop with him for the night, we pressed onward, and as we did so, he called out derisively after us.

The descent would not have been an easy one, even in the daytime, and in the gathering darkness there was really an element of danger in the journey.  We left the following of the trail almost entirely to our animals.  We were finally down the worst of the descent before night had actually set in.  From here on, although the road varied but little from a level trail, we were obliged to go slowly, and it was with a feeling of true relief that, after floundering for a while in a brook in which our road seemed to lose itself, we heard ourselves called by name, from an indian hut situated a little way up the bank.  As usual, the house consisted of a single room, of no great size, and was lightly built of cane.  Two men, three women, a boy, and three little girls were the occupants.  Our companions were already resting; their horses were unsaddled and were eating contentedly, and we were told that supper was being prepared for us.  Entering the house, we found the women busy making tortillas, and fresh goat’s meat, hanging from the rafters, gave promise of a substantial meal.  When all was ready, we sat down to the finest of corn-cakes, beans, eggs, and tender kidmeat.  We spread our blankets under a little shelter which stood in front of one side of the house.  None of us slept well.  It was very cold; dogs barked all night long; now and then a sudden outbreak of their barking, and curious signals and whistles, which were repeated in various parts of the mountain, gave us some uneasiness.  At three o’clock in the morning, just as we were napping, Don Anselmo startled us by the statement that our mule was dead.  In a moment, all was excitement.  Mariano examined the animal and reiterated the statement.  As for us, we were in the mood to care but little whether the mule was living or dead.  Half frozen and very weary, our frame of mind was not a cheerful one.  Just before daybreak we could stand the cold no longer, and gathering some dry wood, we started a fire and crowded around it.  The report about the mule proved to be false, and when morning came, there was no sign that anything was the matter with him.