side. We were now amongst another race of Indians, the Quiché. Guatemala city stands on Pakoman territory, whilst on the coast lands the language is usually South American Spanish. Towards evening we arrived; the streets began to close in around us, and we soon rode slowly across the noble plaza to our hotel. It was positively cold. We had risen some 6000 feet above our starting-point at Mulua. After a meal and a the hot and dusty trail which of rock out of the mountainwe had seen in miniature on the map was now before us in all its immensity. There was nothing playful here as in little Salvador: no sugar-loaf hills and toy valleys, no phantom land where gnomes could play and fairies join the elfish dance, but something aweinspiring as we climbed for hours along the precipitous edge of this upper-sided planet. The hard weather-beaten face of these giant rocks, with that black steely glint of time's rough usage, rose perpendicularly on either side, until it met a vaulted dome of deep blue sky above. Just a roughly hewn ledge, cut out of the solid rock, that was our road, between a cold sunless wall and a sheer drop, both leading to eternity. Sharp twists, hairpin bends, flirting with death at every corner, suddenly the toot of a motor's horn-we must take the outer side; you keep to the right in this countrythen a dead stop, a straggling bullock waggon had to be negotiated, and now on again. It was getting lighter; that dark gorge, cañon, ravine, call it what you will, was past, and we were emerging on to the plateau, where until 1524 stood the town of Xelahuh, the capital of the ancient Quiché kingdom, and now Guatemala's second city, known as Quetzalatenango. Quetzalatenango was destroyed by earthquake and the stupendous eruption of Santa Maria in 1902-an eruption which tore a strip of 7000 feet rest the baron took me to the German club. The Germans have dug their toes into this country. The best club in Guatemala city was also German, and in this city it was the only foreign club. Many of the largest and finest coffee estates in the republic are German, perfectly organised, and lighted by electricity. I wandered through the spacious rooms, looking at the portraits of Hindenburg and Ludendorff. What! I exclaimed. "And the Kaiser, too? Germany has no Kaiser now!" But "No," retorted the baron; "it's got a saddler, but we don't recognise him." 66 "Well," I reflected, whatever may be the merits of Socialism, there's very little of it among colonists. They seem to want a living bond which binds them to what, be it mother country or fatherland, they still call home." In the early morning we slipped quietly out of the town, dusk completed the sixty miles by bumping over the rough roads into the city of Huehuetenango, which in the local Indian dialect known as Mame means the city of the Ancients," a a town of some 15,000 inhabitants, situated in a fertile upland country at an altitude of about 4000 feet. Coffee, cocoa, European and tropical fruits, but oil—no hay and were quickly among the We rose to 9500 feet, and at lonely wastes: huge precipices, immense and deep-cut valleys, a stupendous wilderness of rock folded and contorted by earth movements in former geological eras, patches of sedimentary nestling among this tangled complex, but far too disturbed for oil structures even if otherwise suitable. And then conthe transportation of machinery over that 7000-feet scarp, or was the Suchiate River navigable, and if so, for what seasons of the year? One moment perhaps a rushing torrent, and the next a sluggish stream fit only for alligators and a few Chuj Indians to wallow in. So ran my thoughts, which, however, like the rocks, were much disturbed, for the track was atrocious and the chauffeur, of course, went much too fast. It appears to be the nature of the beast. Suddenly all brakes on-a jar which nearly lifted us out, and a dead stop. 66 Sorry, I thought the road went straight on," he apologised. Well, it didn't. It turned round at an acute angle, and had he continued thinking for a few seconds longer, we should all have gone headlong down a 3000-feet precipice. Is it worth risking human life to save an hour on a day's journey, and especially when we must presently amble along on mules for days? However, I suppose there is some virus in a chauffeur's blood which demands speed. there is none. This was as far as a car could go, and so the next morning we were jogging along on mules again over the rough track, and soon struck the neighbouring town of Chiantla, mainly inhabited by Indians. Chiantla was for a long time the headquarters of a successful Dominican mission, which thrived on the gifts of pilgrims and the revenue of silver mines owned by the monks, but it was secularised in 1873, and the mines were since abandoned. The little town of Rosario-and then we rose away up over the highest mountain pass in this part of the country, 12,000 feet, a great climb. We had to walk; the mules could not stand the fatigue in this rarefied atmosphere, and we ourselves moved with no sprightly gait. At the top, gasping and panting, we were glad to take a rest. Stimulants and a little reflection were necessary. What vastness surrounded us! Two peaks still towered above usone on either side. What a privilege to lie cradled in the lap of this immensity. But we could not tarry. Our re- to disturb a peaceful existence flections must be as short as our breath. We now started on the descent down the deep valley, which presently became rich in dense undergrowth, no doubt the woolly home of many a poisonous reptile. Here and there a rock jutted out of this luxurious matting, which Halden examined and sampled. I didn't like this great long stretching valley: it depressed me. It seemed to be at the back of the world. I felt it should abound with dinosaur and mammoth reptilia; but no, perhaps an occasional Indian, that was all. Sometimes a glimpse of smoke lazily making its way skywards: a little Indian encampment. Then suddenly a beating of drums, well staccatoed, definite, clear, precise, and silence again. A distant echo: no, it was no echo, but repetition by the Indians in the next encampment. The news of our arrival was being heralded to all and sundry. I looked at the baron. "What are these Indians like?" I asked. "Apparently servile, but in reality treacherous and cruel." "Would you call them dangerous? " "Not if we keep together, but if they caught one of us alone they would probably kill." "But why?" I persisted. "Oh, robbery," the baron replied, and because they think we are Spaniards, avowed enemies, who destroyed their ancient civilisation. In any case, we are white men come VOL. CCXXII.-NO. MCCCXLII. tance, at the bottom of the valley. We were now amongst the Chuj Indians, who spoke that language. As is the custom on arrival at Newton, we visited the Commandante to report ourselves and invite his assistance. His office was situated on the south side of a kind of large square. No, it was not a plaza. I must not dare to dignify it by that name, lest all those elegant quadrangular places in the different cities of Latin America should turn oval with indignation. The Commandante was not in, but an abode was assigned to us on the opposite side of the square to his building. At the left end of this muddy square was a church, whilst the right end was formed merely by the rough unkempt bush. About half an hour later an Indian messenger hurried over to inform us that the Commandante had arrived, and would receive us. All firearms and weapons must be left behind in our quarters. No stranger must enter the presence of the Commandante armed. we were standing at the door of our hut when a religious procession seemed to be heading straight for us. We grouped together and watched intently. The gorge began to rise in me. Were they going to attempt to force their stupid paraphernalia on us, or was it merely one of those ceremonies intended to impress and thereby subjugate the people? If the latter, why were they heading our way, for beyond ourselves the square was practically empty. Slowly they advanced, headed by an anæmic-looking priest swinging something which I felt, although perhaps quite erroneously, would have a Greek name, and followed by the lesser lights, acolytes, or whatever they were termed, walking in pairs. Clad in thick, black, unhygienic garments, with their flat chests and graveyard faces, I could easily visualise the horrors of the inquisition. Such mentalities, given the power, would, I felt, be capable of anything except humanity. A march of marionettes, puppets on parade. Surely, I mused, no god or being who claimed omniscience could possibly possess such a warped intellect as to demand this melancholy mummery for his adoration? Now I had no objection whatever to going without my automatic, but a very strong objection to leaving it behind, so I hid it in my trousers and They were getting so close proceeded to the the interview, we felt sure that they must be which passed off peacefully; heading for us, when suddenly but we still felt uneasy in they turned off sharply to the that village, for there was no right. We experienced a feeling doubt our presence was un- of relief, and, barricading the welcome. door, turned in for the night, Just before darkness set in one of our men sleeping across that gloomy portal to prevent the pack-mules." Then I saw unwelcome strangers visiting a few us unawares. That we were unpopular we knew, although there was nothing definite to show it. A restless night, sleeping, so to speak, with one ear and one eye open, a night of irritation to mind and body, for the place was verminous, and we welcomed the morning light. At an early hour we started off. We were now on the return journey. It was one of those days with a cloudless sky and a sun blazing down into the valleys, raising the temperature to over 100° in the shade. Up and down that humpbacked road, hogging over mountains and sagging through valleys, only to climb endlessly again, we had kept together religiously. Now down through steep and wooded country. Here the baron assumed charge of the muleteers, whilst Halden and I rode on some distance in front. Presently we halted. "I am going a bit farther on along the road to examine some rock which I noticed when we passed here last time," Halden announced. "It will save time if I do it now." "Good. I think I'll remain at this corner to see if I can catch any glimpse of the baron with the mules." I stood there scanning the forest track, which from that distance could just be recognised by one or two open spaces. "What on earth could have happened?" I thought. "He must be having trouble with specks flit across an open space and disappear. |