CHAPTER V.
FROM QUEZALTENANGO TO THE PACIFIC.
Our little mozo was only fifteen years old, and his load was so heavy that we had to wait for him at every turn in the road; until, after helping the poor little fellow for miles, Frank took the load himself. As we reached the high ridge where there is the last view of Quezaltenango, we noticed that all the mozos—of whom there were many on the road—looked back at the city and removed their hats, as if in salutation. We did not reach the hotel at Totonicapan until nearly eight o’clock; but we had no trouble in the clear night,—except in trying to get a drink at a way-side fountain, into which we nearly tumbled headlong.
J. Rufino Barrios.
The President arrived in the morning with a cavalcade of thirty riders and several large mule-wagons. The Plaza was deserted, and the streets almost empty. All the Indios kept within doors, and evidently were not anxious to honor the chief magistrate. The usual nuisance of soldiers, however, was there; and it was very amusing to watch them fire the guns in the Plaza for a salute. To obtain animals was our first desire, and we telegraphed to the Jefe of Sololà, who had promised to send his mules; but he answered us that he could not, as he was called away, with all his attendants. So we seemed to be imprisoned in this Indian city, and I resolved to apply at headquarters. Not expecting to meet the President out of Guatemala City, I had no letters with me, nor even any suitable attire for a visit of ceremony; but there was no alternative, and through one of his attendants I obtained an appointment for the evening. In the mean time we wandered impatiently about the town. In the church, over the main altar, we saw, what had before escaped notice, three life-sized figures representing God and Christ kneeling to and crowning the Virgin Mary, over whose head a dove hovered. God had a white beard and bald head, while Christ’s hair was black. Neither this Quaternity, nor anything else we noticed in the service of religion here, surprised me; though the shudder of disgust was stronger than when I stood on the threshold of the sanctuary of Kali, near Calcutta, and saw the hideous idol with its gory lips and necklace of bleeding human heads.
In the evening the President received me very politely in the sala where we had called on the Jefe. I stated my case, while Frank looked in at the window. Señor Barrios was much better looking than he appears in his portraits; he was not a large man, but muscular, and with a very determined and intelligent face. His little daughter, who had been educated in New York, acted as his interpreter; and never, among the scores of interpreters I have had in many countries, have I found so capital a one. Once only my Spanish failed me; and instantly the little girl repeated in idiomatic, concise English, her father’s question. I told him I had more important business with him at the capital, but that at present I wished only the privilege of hiring or purchasing bestias for our journey to Sololà. He at once summoned the stupid little Jefe and asked him why he had not furnished us as we requested. “No háy” (there are none), replied the Indio. “Then make some before to-morrow, or you shall suffer for it!” said President Barrios; and told me to let him know if they were not furnished us in the morning. Next day the Jefe offered us his own mule; but his wife, a perfect shrew, declared it should not leave town. If I had liked that Jefe better, I would have wished that the mule might run away with his wife and break her neck. At last he got us two good horses, for which he would take no pay, as we were amigos del Presidente. A mozo was included in this arrangement, and we started him at noon, we following soon after two. We shook off the dust from our feet, and were glad enough to leave Totonicapan, where we had found the Indios so impudent and disobliging that at one time I feared I should have to shoot some of them with my revolver in driving them from my door.
After the first steep ascent of twelve hundred feet, we rode rapidly over the level plateau; but with all our haste we could not get to those steep and difficult stairs before dark. Luckily we overtook two ladinos, who rode with us; and we consequently were saved by their guidance the discomfort of a camp in the cold night. At Argueta we were put into a large room in the deserted monastery, where we had some excellent coffee. In the middle of the room we made a fire of the fat-pine that we had gathered in the mountain in preparation for camping out, thus taking off the chill which is very decided in these high altitudes; and the clear burning chips of ocote did not smoke us out.
We were up at five next morning (muy temprano); and although it was still dark, got our coffee and started for Sololà. In the corridor of the monastery was a large pile of an odd-looking corn, the kernels shaped like rice-corn, but yellow, and much larger. Six grains, which I brought home, were planted in Worcester County, Massachusetts, and they all grew,—some to a height of seventeen feet, with a diameter near the ground of three inches. The season, however, was not long enough for them to ripen.
In the pale dawn we saw the distant volcano of Fuego smoking. We rode on briskly in the cool morning, getting to our hotel at eight. Certainly this was the best and fastest ride we had in Guatemala. We took no time to rest, but at once proceeded to photograph the town. After almuerzo we climbed down to the Lago de Atitlan by a path about twelve hundred feet in perpendicular descent. It was a league and a half from town to shore. We were in another climate. Oranges, sugar-cane, avocados, limes, jocotes, and other fruits that cannot bear the cold of the town above us, flourished here. Walled on every side by vast cliffs, and overshadowed by high volcanoes, there were yet fertile valleys opening on the Lago here and there. Streams of considerable volume pour into it over rocky beds, or dash foaming down the high cliffs. Ten miles across was the ancient town of Atitlan, famed in legend and history. We stood in one of those mysterious places seemingly below the rest of the world, for we could see the water fall into this valley; but no human eye sees the outlet, nor are the waters, as in the valley of the Dead Sea, chiefly evaporated. The surface is evidently of nearly the same level at all seasons. In the opinion of some observers it is not improbable that this valley was an ancient crater, in the midst of which the volcano of Atitlan has risen,—much as Vesuvius has sprung from the ancient Somma; but the more probable origin of the lake is that the rising volcanoes dammed up a valley. In the lava are many cavities, and possibly through these the surplus waters flow, to reappear in the many copious springs of the southern shore. We were minded to try the truth of that strange assertion of Juarros that the waters are so cold that all who venture in have their limbs frost-bitten and swollen. The water was clear and sweet, and we waded out some distance before there was depth enough to swim. From the sandy bottom rose abundant bubbles,—probably of carbonic acid, as they had no smell. It was a most refreshing bath,—cool, but not so cold as the old historian reported. A new experience, as we stood drying on the shore, was a shave with pumice-stones, which abound here. A little care is needed to avoid taking the cuticle away with the hair; but these stone razors are admirable substitutes for Sheffield steel, and are always sharp. Water-fowl were abundant, and very tame. A good survey of this lake would be of great geological and antiquarian interest; and we will speak of its depth and formation in a later chapter.