The Once Pueblos—eleven towns—are famous through this portion of the Republic. Several of them are purely indian; Chilchota is largely mestizo. The towns lie in a long line on the side of the little valley, at the foot of the bordering hills. Between some, spaces of considerable extent intervene; others are so close together that, in riding through them, one sees no line of separation. All consist of adobe houses, of a rich brown color, roofed with tiles. Some of the churches are of considerable size, but are also built of brown adobe. The Once Pueblos are famous for their pottery, and in some of them almost every house has its little kiln or oven. Fruit is cultivated, and the houses are frequently embowered in trees; in many yards are bee-hives. The valley is abundantly watered with little streams of perfect clearness.
The presidente had insisted that the school teacher at Huancito would prove invaluable. He gave us a letter of introduction to him, and an order upon the authorities. We were at once given possession of the schoolhouse for our work, and I started out to find a subject. Almost the first person encountered was a young man of twenty-three years, who presented the pure Tarascan type. I at once told him that he was the very man we wanted; that we planned to make a picture of him in plaster; at the same time, I described the method of work, and while talking, holding him by the arm, drew him over toward the schoolhouse. Almost before he realized it, we were ready for the task. As he removed his shirt and prepared for the operation of oiling and the application of the plaster, he looked somewhat sombre. After seeing the work well begun, I stepped outside and sat in the portico until it should be done. The first piece of plaster had been applied, the subject had been turned, and was lying ready for the second application. At this moment, an indian maiden, with dishevelled hair, came rapidly running across the plaza toward the schoolhouse. Rushing past me, she entered the school-room, and seeing the subject lying on the floor clasped her hands and cried, "Florencito! My Florencito, why wait here? Stay not with these cruel men; flee with me!" Seizing him by the hand, they dislodged the plaster from his shoulders and started for the door, but catching sight of me, cast a glance around, saw the open window, and leaping through it, dashed off home. Up to this time the local authorities had shown an interest in our work and a willingness to aid. Calling the chief of police, I bade him and the teacher seek our subject and bring him back for the completion of the operation. "But, sir," said the chief of police, "suppose he does not wish to come? " "Why are you chief of police?" was my reply. The teacher, who is himself a mestizo and despises the poor indians in his charge, was loud in his complaints. He vigorously declared that what these people needed was a second Cortez, that they had never been properly conquered, and, with the chief of police, he started out for the new conquest. After an hour or more of waiting, we saw them reappear with Florencito. But humanity is ever loath to admit defeat. As he passed us, he grumbled that he saw no good reason for such a fuss, as he had simply gone to eat his breakfast.
Having completed the work with this subject, we suggested that others should be brought, but met with a prompt refusal. The judge and the chief of police both declared that the people did not wish to have busts made, and that they would bring no more. In vain I suggested that a meeting of the townspeople should be called together in order that we might address them and explain the purpose of our visit. It was impossible to move the officials. Finally I told the judge that I should send a mounted messenger, who had accompanied us from the presidente, to Chilchota to report the failure of the town officials to do their duty. He promptly declared that he was going to Chilchota himself to see the presidente in the matter. Sure enough, when my messenger was ready, he had made his preparations, and the two departed together to present the different sides of the question. Neither returned until we were through for the day. During the afternoon we secured two more subjects, and by nightfall had three good busts as the result of the day's labor. Then we faced new difficulties. Carriers could not be had for love nor money. What was wanted were three men, one to carry each bust back to Chilchota, where we planned to spend the night. Finally, after loss of time and temper, each of us shouldered a bust and rode back on horseback with our trophies.
We soon discovered that the eleven towns were in a ferment of excitement. Most dreadful tales were rife with regard to us and our work. Some asserted that we cut off heads and hung them up to dry; that in drying, they turned white. Others reported that with knives, made for the purpose, we sliced off the ears of unfortunate indians, close to their heads. Still others reported that we had a frightful instrument which was fitted into the nose, and by means of which we tore strips of flesh and skin from the face of the subject. It was said, and quite likely truly, that they were arming in all the houses; that machetes, guns, pistols, and clubs were laid convenient to hand.
The next day was Sunday, and we made no attempt to continue work. It was market-day, and indians from all the pueblos had gathered in the plaza to buy and sell. All were pure in blood and spoke Tarascan. Fruits, sugar-cane, corn, tortillas, atole, coffee, were the chief staples. Stocks of pottery were attractively displayed. Two characteristic wares are both pretty. Most typical, perhaps, is the black and green ware which is made into bowls, plates, mugs, and pitchers. The clay of which it is baked is local and dark brown in color; a white earth applied to this, on baking, gives rise to a rich metallic green glaze. Designs are painted upon this in black. This black and green ware goes far and wide, and everywhere is recognized as coming from the Once Pueblos. At Huancito and some other pueblos, they make little canteras with a red ground and decorative designs in black and white. One thing, offered in the market, was new to us, dishes full of ucuares—long, irregular, swollen, dry, brown objects that looked like stewed worms with thick and fleshy skins. One centavo bought far more than any person would be likely to eat; even after having been stewed in sugar, they were bitter, and had a foul smell that was most unpleasant; they appeared to be roots or tubers of some plant.
Naturally, our work had attracted much attention in Chilchota. No one of the many dozen visitors who came to see us at the meson was so profoundly impressed as a boy of fourteen, named Ignacio. Appearing early in the morning, he remained with us almost all the hours of the twenty-four. Thinking that the effect on the villagers might be good, I decided to ride in the afternoon through the pueblos. When the presidente discovered my intention, he insisted upon supplying a mounted and armed escort, and at the same time gave me a general letter to the eleven towns, in which strict orders were given that my wishes should be respected, and dire threats made in case any one should show me aught but the greatest consideration. Ignacio accompanied me. Riding through the towns, we passed far enough beyond Huancito to see the most remote of the eleven pueblos. They are separated somewhat from the rest, and lie rather higher up in a bend of the valley. Everywhere I took some pains to talk with the people, to visit their houses, to examine their pottery, their bees and their growing crops, as I felt that such an interest would help us in our work. On our return, Ignacio told me that he should stay to dinner with us, as he much preferred to do so to going home. He also told me that it would be a great pity to lose the theatre, which was to take place that evening. Accordingly, after dinner was over, we went to see the play. I expected that at that season of the year it would be a pastorela—and in fact it had been so announced. It was, however, a true drama, and one of the funniest—unintentionally—imaginable. The stage was set in the middle of the patio of a large house. The boy insisted that we would be late, and so we went at 7:15, although the bill announced the hour as 8. The spectators brought their own chairs with them. Except a few youngsters, no one arrived before 9, and the curtain at last rose at a quarter before eleven. Among the last to arrive was the presidente and his party. He was resplendent in a cape of crimson velvet with brilliant yellow facings. Hardly was his party seated, when we were politely invited to sit with them. Three acts were rendered, and while waiting for the fourth, one of the party declared that there would be eleven more. This gave the presidente an opportunity to relate an experience of his own. On one occasion, after watching a play from seven in the evening until four in the morning, the stage broke down; the management appeared and apologized regarding the accident, particularly, since some twenty acts were still to have been rendered. Our play, however, turned out to have had but eight acts, and one of these was omitted. When it should have been given, the whole troupe appeared upon the platform; the manager announced the reason why the act would not be given, but promised that on the following Sunday, in another play, an extra act should be inserted, in order that all might receive the full value of their money. Our play ended at one, when the audience dispersed.
Needing but two more subjects, we looked about Chilchota the next day, hoping to find indians from the more remote villages, who might permit their busts to be made. Two excellent cases were found. The last was a man from Carapan, the most remote of the eleven towns. He was a man of forty years, whose father accompanied him, and both were for a long time dubious about the operation. Finally, however, consent was given and the bust was made. As he arose and dressed to go, I said, "Did I tell you the truth? Did the operation hurt you, or did it not? Was there a reason why you should not have your bust made?" He promptly answered, "Sir, you told me truth; the operation did not hurt me and there surely is no harm in it; but, sir, you can hardly believe what an excitement this work has caused in our town. Yesterday, in the market-place at Chilchota, there were more than twenty men from Carapan who carried weapons in their clothing. We had selected leaders and arranged signals, and at the first sign of an attack from your party, we were prepared to sell our lives dearly."
It was a work of time to fill the moulds and pack the busts. Before we were ready to start upon our journey, it was half-past four in the afternoon. True wisdom would have suggested waiting until morning. Time, however, was precious, and I hoped to make Cheran that night; consequently, though against the advice of many, we started out, with eight leagues to go, over a road with a bad reputation, and at some points difficult to traverse. For a little distance, we followed the familiar trail down through the pueblos, but at Tanaquillo we turned up into the mountain. The ascent was steady until we reached the pass, through which an icy wind drove down upon us. We could hope to make the distance in six hours. At first we met many persons, all of whom warned us that we would be late in arriving, and recommended that we should stop at Rancho Seco. We had no intention of so doing, but knew that we must turn at that point into a new road. Between sunset and bright moonlight, there was an interval of darkness, and in that interval we must have passed the turning which led to Rancho Seco. At all events, we presently found ourselves entirely at a loss, wandering over a rocky hill covered with brush, amid which the trail had entirely disappeared. Retracing, as well as we could, our road, we finally found ourselves upon another trail which we followed until 9:30, when we met a little band of indians, the first whom we had seen for a long time. From them we found that we were not upon the road for Cheran, but at the edge of a slope at the bottom of which was a little indian town, Tanaco. Descending to it, we found a house where they agreed to shelter us for the night, and in the tienda near by we bought hard bread and old cheese. We were sheltered in a substantially built room, into which the cold air did not penetrate. The indians with whom we were staying were unusually intelligent; a number of books, including a large dictionary, lay upon the table, and the men, who crowded in upon us, were anxious to learn the English words for common things. This was an experience which rarely happened to us in indian Mexico. The people, however, were not quite sure of our intentions, and Nabor said that when he went to water the horses, a committee of village folk waited upon him, asking whether we were the party of white men who had been skinning live indians over in the Once Pueblos.
There were four leagues between us and Cheran, and many more beyond it to Patzcuaro, where we hoped to arrive the next night. Accordingly, we made an early start. Our host agreed to pilot us over the indistinct and tortuous bridle-path to the high-road. Many little mountains, almost artificially regular, arose in the otherwise plain country. As we rode along the trail we saw the church of Parracho far behind us in the distance. The latter part of the road, after Cheran was once in sight, seemed hopelessly long, but a little before ten o'clock we pulled up at the meson. We at once made arangements for food for ourselves and the horses, and determined to rest until noon. Our reputation had preceded us. I asked a child at the meson to bring me a mug of water. When he brought it, I noticed that the mug was of the characteristic black and green ware of the Once Pueblos, but asked the boy where it was made. With a cunning look, he answered, "O yes, that comes from where you people have been,—up at the Once Pueblos." And yet we had not come over the road from the Once Pueblos, but by the main highway from Parracho.
Rested and refreshed, we started at 12:30 for the long fourteen leagues of journey. We passed Pichataro, where the round paddles for Patzcuaro canoes are made, and where the applewood, so prized as material for spear-throwers, is procured. We passed Sabina, where the canoes themselves are hollowed out, miles from their launching place, to which they must be carried over mountains. Each town we passed made me more and more uneasy, as I knew that Nabor contemplated revolt. He did not like the idea of too long a journey for his horses. He wished to stop long before the goal that I had fixed. When we left the last of the important towns behind us, I felt for the first time secure. It was now dark, and we found the roads far worse than we remembered them. They were worn into deep gullies, into which our horses fell and over which they stumbled. Long before reaching Ajuno I felt convinced that we had missed the road, but we floundered on, and never was sight more welcome than the light of fires shining through the cane walls of the wretched huts of that miserable town. Here there was a final council regarding resting for the night. The whole party, except myself, considered Ajuno as a capital resting-place. All yielded, however, and we continued on our way. It was almost midnight when we rode up to the hotel, upon the plaza in quaint old Patzcuaro. All were cross and tired; neither crossness nor weariness were helped when we were told that there was no room for us at the inn. We made such vigorous representations, however, that the doors were finally thrown open. An old store-house was cleaned out and supplied with decent beds, and a good supper was served.