“Come and show us ...”
He would not.
“Five—ten pesos if you will lead us....”
“No I must milk the cows.”
“The cows won’t hurt for thirty minutes....”
“It is getting night....”
“You can find your way in the dark.”
“My father is out....”
We followed the direction he pointed out—we passed the Salvasuchi, Tampuche, Temante and Isleta fields. We passed them, I did not see them, my eyes were glued to the track, picking my way, and my mind concentrated on the effort of “getting along.” A little brandy, and even Dick shouted “no” when asked if we were downhearted. In the face of a lemon and sunset sky we were ferried in a dugout across the Panuco River from the Tamaulipas to the Vera Cruz side. An Indian at this juncture consented to escort us and carried our possessions. He said it was only two kilometers more, but we seemed to walk for two more hours along the river bank, in single silent file, through maize or cotton up to our waists, or banana plantations over our heads. At least we were not thirsty, and the sun was no more. The fire-flies danced around and before us, and the moon rose up in all her glory, making shadows among the banana leaves.
We started walking at 3:30, it was 9:30 when we tottered into the Corona camp and the Superintendent gave us his house for the night. The wife of one of the staff took us to her house to give us supper. I remember vaguely the mental effort of trying to display normal appreciation of her kindness in egg frying. But before the eggs were on the table my head was in my plate and I was fast asleep.