No. 7 represents the statue of Chaacmol at the moment of its
arrival at the upper part of the plane on the surface of the earth;
the cables of the _habin_ bark which served to extract it; the
construction of the capstan; and the profundity of the excavation.

Plate No. 8 represents the capstan that served me to raise the
statue, the size of which you may know, Sr. President, comparing it
with your servant and the Indians who aided at the work. The trunk
of a tree, with two hollowed stones, were the fundamental pieces of
the machine. These rings of stone were secured to the trunk with
vines. Two forked poles, whose extremities rest at each side of the
excavation, and the forked sticks tied up to the superior ring
embracing it, served as _arc-boutant_ in the direction where the
greatest force was to be applied. A tree-trunk, with its fork,
served as a fulcrum around which was wound the cable of bark. A
pole placed in the fork served as lever. It is with the aid of this
rustic capstan that my ten men were able to raise the heavy mass to
the surface in half an hour.

But my works were not to end there. True, the statue was on the
surface of the earth, but it was surrounded by debris, by ponderous
stones, and trunks of trees. Its weight was enormous compared with
the strength of my few men. These on the other hand worked by
halves. They always had the ear attentive to catch the least sound
that was perceived in the bush. The people of Crecencio Poot might
fall upon us at any moment, and exterminate us. True, we had
sentinels, but the forest is thick and immense, and those of
Chan-Santa-Cruz make their way through it with great facility.

Open roads there were none, not even to carry the statue of
Chaacmol to civilization if I had the means of transport.

Well, then, I had resolved that, cost what it might, the world
should know my statue--my statue, that was to establish my fame
forever among the scientific circles of the civilized world. I had
to carry it, but, alas! I calculated without the prohibitive
laws.... Sr. President, to-day, with grief I write it, it is buried
in the forests, where my wife and myself have concealed it. Perhaps
the world will only know it by my photographs, for I have yet to
open three long leagues of road to conduct it to [