We have with us heavy clothing and flannels for our journey along the highlands of the Tierra Fria and also the thinnest of linen and wool garments to save us from the scorching sun, when we descend into the hot levels of the Tierra Caliente. I have purchased a pair of immense Mexican spurs and my mule’s mouth is choked with a mass of wicked iron, calculated to break the jaw with little effort, should I pull hard enough on my rawhide bridle rein. A rawhide goad hangs upon one side of my saddle-pommel and my long barreled Colt’s revolver, loaded and ready for instant use, hangs on the other. We are all armed and our mozo has a formidable and ancient sword strapped along the left saddle-side beneath his leg.
We dined in the low-ceilinged eating hall of the Colonia, upon a well-served dinner of boiled rice, boiled chicken, yams and peppers, and cups of strong black coffee, drunk with sugar, but no milk. Our city clothes are left behind in a room, the rent of which we have paid a fortnight in advance, and the large iron key of which we take along.
Our foreign looks and ways attracted much attention in the town. A crowd gathered in the courtyard of the fonda to see us off. Our coming and our going were events. Nor was it altogether a simple matter to pack our equipment safely and balance it properly upon the beasts. But Izus was an expert, and with many yards of palmetto rope finally cinched fast the loads. At a word from him the pack animals trotted forth from the fonda’s court, he following behind, while we brought up the rear. “Adios, adios, señores,” shouted the crowd. “Adios, adios,” we replied.
Our animals knew the road perfectly. They had traveled it many a time before. We wound and twisted through narrow streets, we passed several wide plazas, and then turning up a street wider than the rest, began the ascent toward the hills which lie back of the city.
IX
A Journey Over Lofty Tablelands
Ario, Michoacan, Mexico,
November 26th.
As we wound higher and higher toward the summit of the hills, the town nestled below us half-hidden among umbrageous trees, and groves of orange and apricot and fig, while stretching beyond it, toward the northeast, lay the light green expanse of lovely Lake Patzcuaro. The panorama before me as I turned in my saddle to gaze upon it, presented a vista of wood and water, of fertile, cultivated, well populated country, delighting the eye on every hand. We were traversing a land enjoying one of the most salubrious climates of the world.