and it was after dark when I reached the rancho, and
for the last time had the benefit of its well in the shape of a warm
bath. Throughout Yucatan, every Indian, however poor, has, as part of
the furniture of his hut, a bano, or sort of bathing-tub; and, next to
making tortillas, the great use of a wife is to have warm water ready
for him when he returns from his work. We had not the latter
convenience, but at this place, for a medio, we had the alcalde's bano
every evening. It was a wooden dug-out, flat bottomed, about three feet
long, eighteen inches wide, three or four inches deep, and bathing in
it was somewhat like bathing in the salver of a tea-table, but, covered
as we were constantly with garrapata bites, mere ablution was as
grateful as a Turkish or Egyptian bath.

CHAPTER IV.

Search for Ruined Cities continued.--Journey to the Rancho of
Kewick.--Ruined Building.--Lose the Road.--Set right by an
Indian.--Arrival at Kewick.--The Casa Real.--Visit from the Proprietor
of the Rancho, a full-blooded Indian.--His Character.--Visit to
the Ruins.--Garrapatas.--Old Walls.--Facades.--Imposing Scene of
Ruins.--Principal Doorway.--Apartments.--Curious Painting.--Excavating
a Stone.--A long Building.--Other Ruins.--Continued Scarcity of
Water.--Visit to a Cave, called by the Indians Actum.--A wild
Scene.--An Aguada.--Return to the Casa Real.--A Crisis in Money
Matters.--Journey to Xul.--Entry into the Village.--The
Convent.--Reception.--The Cura of Xul.--His Character.--Mingling of Old
Things with New.--The Church.--A Levee.--A Welcome Arrival.

The next morning we resumed our journey in search of ruined cities. Our
next point of destination was the rancho of Kewick, three leagues
distant. Mr. Catherwood set out with the servants and luggage, Dr.
Cabot and myself following in about an hour. The Indians told us there
was no difficulty in finding the road, and we set out alone. About a
mile from the rancho we passed a ruined building on the left,
surmounted by a high wall, with oblong apertures, like that mentioned
at Zayi as resembling a New-England factory. The face of the country
was rolling, and more open than any we had seen. We passed through two
Indian ranchos, and a league beyond came to a dividing point, where we
found ourselves at a loss. Both were mere Indian footpaths, seldom or
never traversed by horsemen, and, having but one chance against us, we
selected that most dire