The walls are raised until they reach within a short distance from the slope of the roof, a sufficient space being left for the escape of smoke. The size of the hut and the height of the walls are determined by the width and slope of roof. A few rough cross poles are placed across the top of the walls for the purpose of hanging up any household goods, and sometimes at one end some of these poles are placed close together so as to form a platform, where bags of maize and other farm produce are kept or dried. When the roof is wide and the overhanging eaves are low there is an agreeable and well shaded space outside the main hut, where the Indians rest during the day.[77]
As far as it was possible to judge from a passing observation the Indians at San Pedro seemed to be a contented race. They cultivated their milpas or corn fields sufficiently to get enough to supply them with maize bread and pozole, and at most of the huts there were fowls and a few pigs. The women laboured in some form of household work, and much of their time was occupied in grinding the maize to make tortillas. At this village, as in others chiefly inhabited by Indians, there was an absence of any human sounds. In the interior of the huts, as also outside them, all the occupations of life were performed in silence. In the evening, when the men returned home from their work, there was the same manner of moving about without noise. There appeared to be also an absence of all interest in what was happening around them, which gave an element of sadness to the scene. Their lives seem to be passed in a state of quiet melancholy and listlessness.
This condition of the Indians is practically the same throughout this part of Central America. The problem of existence is worked out in its lowest terms. It cannot however be said that they live in want and poverty, because they have no wants. They exist, and are apparently content to exist, in the state in which they find themselves placed. The bare ground, a thatched roof, bedstead, a few mats, some firewood, and a small store of maize suffice for the necessities of their lives. Their submissive natures assent to these conditions and they seem to accept their fate with passive resignation.
Upon my return to the shed in the evening, I found that it was enlivened by the arrival of a busy, loud-voiced Spaniard named Don Pepe Ortiz. He informed me that he was travelling from Oaxaca towards the coast of the Gulf of Campeachy with a cargo of tobacco. He had with him a band of cargadores to carry the bales. He also employed for his own personal use a man of great strength to carry him in places where he could not ride a mule. The direction of his journey over the sierras was for some distance the same as my own, and he proposed that we should, without delay, make arrangements for crossing a river which occasionally was difficult to pass over. I had not heard that there was a stream of any importance in our way, and I asked Don Pepe to do what was expedient. Accordingly he sent on an Indian to order several canoes to be in readiness for us on the following morning.
Indian Woman Grinding Chocolate, Central America.
At sunrise my new guide José arrived and we all started together. After riding about a league we reached the bank of a river, called the San Pedro, which we found to be a deep stream about three hundred yards wide. The passage was not made without difficulties, chiefly caused by the conduct of the mules, when they reached the opposite bank, which was very steep. The canoes were in attendance, and I selected one which seemed to be convenient for the moderate weights to be carried. The mule was fastened by the halter to the stem of the canoe, and swam across with ease, but she obstinately refused to go on shore at the proper landing place, and consequently, after several unavailing attempts, I allowed her to go free and choose for herself. She swam down with the current for about a hundred yards, and then with much good judgment she selected her own spot and scrambled safely up the bank.
After having successfully accomplished my crossing, I watched the movements of Don Pepe and his men in their canoes. It was a picturesque scene, but it was within two hours of midday before we were all established on the northern side of the river. We then commenced the dreaded ascent about which many warnings had been given to me. It was a steep climb for five long leagues and it was nearly sunset when we reached the summit. We stopped for the night in a small shed which sheltered us from the dew.
Don Pepe’s Indians arrived after us and insisted upon lighting a large fire just outside the hut, with the object they said of keeping away tigers, and kept it burning like a bonfire as long as it was dark. At daylight José and myself and mule began the descent of the opposite slope of the sierra. I had been told that we should find this part of the journey very arduous, but it exceeded in difficulty anything that I had imagined.
The track, or opening through the trees had almost disappeared, and we had to make our own way between detached masses of sharp, angular rocks. Frequently it was necessary to scramble over them or to slide down them, and it occasionally seemed to me that we were going at random down the side of the mountain. But what made our progress more than usually difficult was the fact that, in several places, decaying trunks of large trees had fallen across our path, and as it was not practicable to get the mule over them, we were obliged to diverge into the forest to pass round them. When it was thus necessary to quit our line of direction, José would instantly draw his machete and mark our movements by cutting down branches, so as to secure the means of retreat to our starting point, in case we failed to find the path again. I was quite aware of the importance of this action. It was astonishing to find how in a few seconds in a dense forest and amongst thick growth of underwood and creepers all knowledge of direction seems to be lost.