Sumichrast and l'Encuerado also approached the horseman, who dismounted and then led the way. The latter conversed with the Indian in the Mistec tongue, an idiom which Lucien alone could understand, he having been taught it by l'Encuerado. From the way in which the old man scanned us, I imagined that l'Encuerado had represented us to him as white sorcerers of no ordinary skill.
Coyotepec—or "Stone Wolf"—might have been about seventy years of age. He was born in this ravine, to which he had given the name of the "Mountain's Mouth," though I am ignorant of the reason for the designation. He had been taken, when very young, by one of his uncles to Puebla, but he had soon left the city with the intention of rebuilding the paternal hut, and of knowing nothing of the world beyond his own domain. His six children were all married and lived near him, and the little colony numbered as many as thirty individuals. He was an Indian of the Tlascalan race, as robust and nimble as a man of forty, of middle height, with a brown skin. He wore a hat made of palm-tree straw, and was dressed in a white woollen jacket, fastened in round the waist like a blouse; cotton drawers, scarcely covering his knees, completed his costume.
"What is the nearest town to this?" asked Sumichrast.
"Puebla," was the answer.
"How far off is it?"
"About eight days' journey."
As the usual day's journey of the Indian is ten leagues a day, the distance must have been about eighty leagues.
The old man could not furnish us with any other geographical information; he had heard the names of Orizava and Tehuacan, but never having visited these towns, he knew nothing of the distance we were from them. For forty years, with the exception of the relations of his sons and daughters-in-law, who paid him a visit annually, we were the first persons who had disturbed his solitude. We availed ourselves of the trunk of a tree to cross the brook, when our guide soon stopped in front of a hut. Four naked children, the eldest of whom might have been ten years old, inspected us with comical curiosity. They had never before seen a white man, and although we were dreadfully bronzed, their surprise was very great. A young woman, whose clothing consisted of a piece of cloth folded round her hips, saluted us in broken Spanish, and bid us welcome. The old man introduced us to his eldest son, named Torribio, a man about forty years of age. His clothing was not quite so primitive as that of his father, but consisted of slashed trowsers ornamented with silver buttons, a cotton shirt, and a felt hat covered with varnished leather. The little colony employed themselves in collecting cochineal, which Torribio carried to Puebla for sale, and this fact accounted for his more civilized costume. At length the old man asked us to come into his hut, round which a large part of his family were assembling. He called his wife, who was a little old woman, dressed in a long cotton gown; then he addressed us, pointing to his children and grandchildren, and said:
"You are my guests; my house is at your disposal, and all my relatives are your servants."