five o'clock I crawled in. My carriers were loth to start, but, once
under way, they took it in good part, and set off on a trot. Changing
shoulders frequently, they never stopped till they carried me into
Ticul, three leagues or nine miles distant, and laid me down on the
floor of the convent. The cura was waiting to receive me. Albino had
arrived with my catre, which was already set up, and in a few minutes I
was in bed. The bells were ringing for a village fiesta, rockets and
fireworks were whizzing and exploding, and from a distance the shrill
voice of a boy screeching out the numbers of the loteria pierced my
ears. The sounds were murderous, but the kindness of the cura, and the
satisfaction of being away from an infected atmosphere, were so
grateful that I fell asleep.

For three days I did not leave my bed; but on the fourth I breathed the
air from the balcony of the convent. It was fresh, pure, balmy, and
invigorating.

In the afternoon of the next day I set out with the cura for a stroll.
We had gone but a short distance, when an Indian came running after us
to inform us that another of the caballeros had arrived sick from the
ruins. We hurried back, and found Doctor Cabot lying in a coche on the
floor of the corridor at the door of the convent. He crawled out
labouring under a violent fever, increased by the motion and fatigue of
his ride, and I was startled by the extraordinary change a few days had
made in his appearance. His face was flushed, his eyes were wild, his
figure lank; and he had not strength to support himself, but pitched
against me, who could barely keep myself up, and both nearly came down
together. He had been attacked the day after I left, and the fever had
been upon him, with but little intermission, ever since. All night, and
all the two ensuing days, it continued rising and decreasing, but never
leaving him. It was attended with constant restlessness and delirium,
so that he was hardly in bed before he was up again, pitching about the
room.

The next day Mr. Catherwood forwarded Albino, who, with two attacks,
was shaken and sweated into a dingy-looking white man. Mr. Catherwood
wrote that he was entirely alone at the ruins, and should hold out as
long as he could against fever and ghosts, but with the first attack
should come up and join us.

Our situation and prospects were now gloomy. If Mr. Catherwood was
taken ill, work was at an end, and perhaps the whole object of our
expediti