ctly in line with the one by which we had come.
In about an hour the direction changed so much that we turned back,
and, after a toilsome ride, reached again the dividing point, and
turned into the other path. This led us into a wild savanna surrounded
by hills, and very soon we found tracks leading off in different
directions, among which, in a short time, we became perfectly
bewildered. The whole distance to Kewick was but three leagues; we had
been riding hard six hours, and began to fear that we had made a
mistake in turning back, and at every step were going more astray. In
the midst of our perplexities we came upon an Indian leading a wild
colt, who, without asking any questions, or waiting for any from us,
waved us back, and tying his colt to a bush, led us across the plain
into another path, following which some distance, he again struck
across, and put us into still another, where he left us, and started to
return to his colt. We were loth to lose him, and urged him to continue
as our guide; but he was impenetrable until we held up a medio, when he
again moved on before us. The whole region was so wild that even yet we
had doubts, and hardly believed that such a path could lead to a
village or rancho; but, withal, there was one interesting circumstance.
In our desolate and wandering path we had seen in different places, at
a distance, and inaccessible, five high mounds, holding aloft the ruins
of ancient buildings; and doubtless there were more buried in the
woods. At three o'clock we entered a dense forest, and came suddenly
upon the casa real of Kewick, standing alone, almost buried among
trees, the only habitation of any kind in sight; and, to increase the
wondering interest which attended every step of our journey in that
country, it stood on the platform of an ancient terrace, strewed with
the relics of a ruined edifice. The steps of the terrace had fallen and
been newly laid, but the walls were entire, with all the stones in
place. Conspicuous in view was Mr. Catherwood with our servants and
luggage, and, as we rode up, it seemed a strange confusion of things
past and present, of scenes consecrated by time and those of every-day
life, though Mr. Catherwood dispelled the floating visions by his first
greeting, which was an assurance that the casa real was full of fleas.
We tied our horses at the foot of the terrace, and ascended the steps.
The casa real had mud walls and a thatched roof, and in front was an