ance we ascended a wooded elevation,
which seemed an artificial causeway leading to the senote. The senote
was the largest and wildest we had seen; in the midst of a thick
forest, an immense circular hole, with cragged, perpendicular sides,
trees growing out of them and overhanging the brink, and still as if
the genius of silence reigned within. A hawk was sailing around it,
looking down into the water, but without once flapping its wings. The
water was of a greenish hue. A mysterious influence seemed to pervade
it, in unison with the historical account that the well of Chichen was
a place of pilgrimage, and that human victims were thrown into it in
sacrifice. In one place, on the very brink, were the remains of a stone
structure, probably connected with ancient superstitious rites; perhaps
the place from which the victims were thrown into the dark well
beneath.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Departure from Chichen.--Village of Cawa.--Cuncunul.--Arrival at
Valladolid.--An Accident.--Appearance of the City.--Don Pedro
Baranda's Cotton Factory.--A Countryman.--Mexican Revolution.--The
Indians as Soldiers.--Adventures of a Demonio.--Character of the
People.--Gamecocks.--Difficulty of obtaining Information in regard to
the Route.--Departure for the Coast.--Party of Indians.--Village of
Chemax.--Fate of Molas the Pirate.--Discouraging Accounts.--Plans
deranged.--The Convent.--The Cura.--Population of the Village.--Its
early History.--Ruins of Coba.--Indian Sepulchre.--Relics.--A Penknife
found in the Sepulchre.

On Tuesday, the twenty-ninth of March, we left Chichen. It was still in
the gray of the morning when we caught our last view of the great
buildings, and as we turned away we felt that the few short months of
our journey had been a time of interest and wonder, such as rarely
occurs in life. At nine o'clock we reached the village of Kaua, six
leagues distant, and at half past eleven the small village of Cuncunul,
within an hour's ride of Valladolid, and there we determined to dine,
and wait for the servants and carriers.

We remained till four o'clock, and then set out for Valladolid. As far
as the suburbs the road was broken and stony. We entered by the great
Church of Sisal, with convent and cloisters by its side, and a square
in front, which, as we rode across it, sounded hollow under our horses'
feet, and underneath was an immense senote. We passed up the Calle de
Sisal, a long street