us were stained for a short distance from
the ground with the red of the soil, caused, as we believed, by the wild
hogs rubbing up against them. Our supper of fried boniatos and bacon was
skilfully cooked by Jeff Franklin, who used the hollow trunk of a royal
palm, which had fallen and been split, for an oven. For drink we had
cocoanut milk. By the vigorous use of Dave Murphy's machete we cleared
away the underbrush so that we could swing our hammocks among the small
trees. Franklin had no hammock, but slept under a blanket on a rubber
coat spread on the ground. The night was comfortably warm and
brilliantly clear. It was delightful to lie in our hammocks and gaze up
through the trees at the beautiful star-lit sky. There were mosquitoes,
of course, but they did not trouble us much, and we all slept well.

We were up early the next morning, a perfect day, and after eating a
substantial breakfast proceeded on our journey. We felt little
exhaustion from the long walk of the preceding day, but I was a sad
cripple from sore feet. I had on a pair of Cuban shoes which were a
little too short for me (although they were No. 40) and my toes were
fearfully blistered and bruised. There was nothing to do, however, but
go forward as best I could, so I limped painfully along behind my
companions, keenly conscious that Josh Billings was a true philosopher
when he said that "tite boots" made a man forget all his other troubles.

A fraction of a mile beyond our camping place we discovered a well-kept
shack ensconced in cosy grounds amid palms, fruit trees, and flowering
shrubs. It was one of the prettiest scenes we saw. We called for water,
politely greeted the woman who served us with our best pronunciation of
"buenos dias," and, murmuring our "gracias," went our way with some
regrets at leaving so pleasant a spot. A mile or two further on we came
to a distinct fork in the road. One way lay nearly straight ahead, the
other bore off to the right. While we were debating which trail to take,
a horseman fortunately came along, the first person we had seen on the
road that day and the second since leaving Mercedes on the preceding
forenoon. He told us to go to the right, and we were soon in the
foothills of the mountains.

It was here that we found a deserted shack behind which was a cleared
space in the woods of several acres. On this little plantation grew
bananas, cocoanuts, cassava, boniatos, and other vegetables. As it was
in the Cub