“Ten cents!” I said, holding up the coin, in an appeal which had proved successful in other regions. “Ten cents if you’ll stop for a picture.”
She gave me one indignant look. Ten cents to one who owned thirty acres of cocoanut grove, six houses, and a gin mill! She never paused for a moment. She came on, full speed ahead, along the narrow sidewalk, swinging her massive arms. Like the other mere males in Tehuantepec, I stepped hastily aside. These Tehuana women might not be so beautiful as writers had pictured them, but they undoubtedly were the reigning queens of the Tropics.
VIII
Romance was not altogether lacking in Tehuantepec, even for the casual traveler. As I was about to depart, the little hotel proprietor stopped me.
“You really should stay longer, señor. In time, I believe you could win Guadalupe, my little servant. Young men are scarce here, and she has taken quite a fancy to you. These girls do not throw themselves away upon one who flits from flower to flower, as does the tourist. If you were to wait, quien sabe, señor? She is small, of course, but eventually she will become a fine big woman, like my own wife.”
But I chose to flit. And one couldn’t take Guadalupe along. What would a Tehuana lady do if the traveler were to visit a country that grew no cocoanuts?
CHAPTER XI
THOSE CHRONIC INSURRECTIONS!
I
It was another long day’s journey to the southern border, through a warm sunny country of jungle and blue lagoon.
An air of peace and tranquillity pervaded the land. The engineer, as though infected with the lethargy of the tropics, loafed along from one tiny village to another, stopping at every high-peaked hut of thatch that arose from the low forests of wild cane.