The first part of our journey was as bad as a road through a level country could possibly be. The dark fat soil had been churned into an almost uniform mass of the softest mud, into which the wheels sunk up to the hub. Where the ground was firmer, the road had been worn into deep ruts and holes, which would bring the cart down upon its axis with stunning violence. It was the duty of the one in front to give us timely warning of these dangerous breakers.
"Hard a-starboard," he would suddenly cry, and instantly Texas and Ohio would brace themselves more firmly, in anticipation of the coming shock, while Si and myself drew in our pendulum legs with emulous celerity. Down goes the right wheel as suddenly as if it had rolled off the roof of a house, settling Texas' head an inch between his shoulders, and jamming Ohio's inextricably between his knees. The next moment their positions are reversed, the cart slowly recovers its balance and plunges down a precipice on the left. It is in vain that they cling like bats to the framework behind them, or brace their legs like pillars against the opposite side, the next jolt upsets all their calculations and throws them into a state of helpless bewilderment, from which they do not fully recover till the cart reaches more level ground, when a volley of "darns" and "gollies," and such like exclamations, seems to operate as a wonderful sedative.
But it must not be supposed that we remained constantly in such contracted quarters. Ohio's bustling activity was continually driving him out to stretch his legs, Si was anxious to try his new revolver, and we all felt a natural curiosity to see as much of the country as possible. It was unsafe, however, to loiter long behind. The oxen moved commonly as fast as a man could walk, and if they ever got out of sight it was no easy matter to overtake them. We each of us found ourselves at different times in this awkward predicament; and the state of exhaustion in which we at length rejoined our company, and the ill-concealed derision with which we were greeted, made us firmly resolve never again to be guilty of a similar blunder. Yet the boy of ten or twelve years who accompanied us, performed nearly the whole journey on foot, and without exhibiting any signs of fatigue. When we first left Realejo he marched before, in the middle of the road, and the cattle followed close behind as if he had been their pilot. But after we were once fairly started, he was no longer needed in that capacity, and I wondered why he continued to follow us. Presently I saw him seize a large knife, resembling a butcher's cleaver, that lay in the back of the cart, and run into the woods. In ten or fifteen minutes he reappeared, carrying a large bundle of strips of bark about a foot in length. While I was in an agony of curiosity to know what he would do next, he advanced to the side of the cart and thrust several of the mysterious strips in between the axle and the wheel, which had been for some time creaking in the most distressing manner. A few turns relieved the difficulty. The bark, ground against the heated axle, yielded a small supply of lubricating sap that furnished an indifferent substitute for grease. This lasted perhaps an hour, when another application became necessary. In spite, however, of this ingenious artifice, we wore out two axles four inches in diameter in performing a journey of one hundred and fifty miles. Several times the axle began to smoke, when the cry of "Acqui, muchacho! muchacho! rota, fuego!" brought our indefatigable satellite to our assistance. When not thus occupied, he commonly walked behind the cart, with a grave and erect demeanour that set off the hat, the only article of clothing he had on, to infinite advantage.
The wardrobe of our hombre was rather more extensive. He had, besides a hat, a shirt and pair of pantaloons; and, in that climate, nothing more was required. The children of both sexes seldom wear a rag of clothing till they are four years old, and the boys often go entirely naked ten years longer. As we were passing one day through a village, the name of which I have forgotten, my attention was attracted by a little girl not more than three years old, standing before the door of a house, with no other protection than a cigar and the cloud of smoke that she breathed from her nostrils with all the practiced nonchalance of an ancient Dutchman. A dispute, however, arose as to the sex of this young ancient, one of my companions stoutly maintaining that it was a boy; but then, as a lady to whom I related the incident ingeniously remarked, the children dress so much alike in that country that such a mistake might easily occur.
We went the first day only seven miles, and stopped for the night at Chanandaigua, a large town, and much more attractive than Realejo, though the style of building, as in all the cities of Central America, is to a stranger naturally gloomy and repulsive. The houses are mostly of one story, built of stone or brick, and plastered with cement. There are few windows looking towards the street, and these are often guarded by iron gratings or heavy shutters. The principal hotels and larger dwelling-houses somewhat resemble an Eastern caravanserai. They consist of a range of apartments surrounding an open square, and connected by a broad verandah. On this verandah the most important affairs of the family are conducted. It is often used as a kitchen, and almost always as a dining-room and bed-chamber. Hammocks slung between the posts and the walls of the house furnish a favourite lounge by day and bed by night. But little furniture is required, and that of the plainest description. A few chairs, a rough table, and a number of cot-bedsteads comprised the entire contents of the best hotel we found during our journey, and in Leon, a city of forty thousand inhabitants, we were obliged to sleep on the floor.
At Chanandaigua we fared sumptuously on boiled chicken, eggs, and wheaten bread resembling what we call French rolls. The flour used in the country is mostly imported from the United States, and the lower classes subsist almost entirely on corn and fruit. Our hombre grew fat on a diet we thought fit only for hogs. When we left Realejo, he threw into the cart a bag containing a lump of something twice as big as his hand, and of most alarming ponderosity. On stopping for dinner, he opened the bag, and displayed to our wondering eyes what seemed the half of a huge cheese, but on closer inspection proved to be a loaf of meal and water of a degree of density that argued immense pressure. With a huge wedge of this in one hand and a small wedge of rude cheese resembling curd in the other, he munched and nibbled alternately, with the most evident satisfaction. Before we reached the end of our journey, the bread had become so sour as to impregnate the whole atmosphere of our cart; yet the appetite of the hombre appeared in no wise diminished, and he and the muchacho probably finished the cake between them on their homeward route.