both young men, who paid us a visit soon after our arrival. When the
old man died the Indian left the body in the road, and came on to the
rancho, whence these young men went up and buried it on the spot.
Afterward they went again, dug it up, put it in a box, brought it to
the rancho, and embarked with it in a canoa for San Fernando, where
some of their kinsmen lived. On the way they were overtaken by a storm,
threw the body overboard, and, said our informant, that was the last of
poor old Molas. The elder son was said to have been implicated with his
father, and the curse seemed entailed upon him. He had lost entirely
the use of one eye, and the other rolled feebly and lustreless in a
watery orbit. Probably by this time he is perfectly blind.

Our first inquiries were upon the subject of ruins. A short path
through the woods leads to a milpa, in which are numerous remains of
ancient buildings standing on terraces, but all small and dilapidated.
These buildings once stood erect in full view from the sea, but now the
stranger sails along the coast unconscious that among the trees lie
shrouded the ruins of an aboriginal town.

In the afternoon we set out for the ruins of Tuloom, a league distant
on the coast, and with the Castillo on a high cliff in full sight. Our
road lay for a mile and a half along the shore. The beach was sandy,
and in some places so yielding that we sank above the ankles, and found
it a relief to take off our shoes and stockings, and wade in the edge
of the water. At the end of the beach was a high rocky promontory,
standing out into the sea, and cutting off all progress along the
shore. This we ascended, and continued along the cliff, which sloped
toward the sea, in some places forming a perpendicular wall, and on our
right rose great masses of rock, cutting off entirely the view of the
Castillo. In half an hour we came unexpectedly upon a low building,
apparently an adoratorio, or altar, climbing to the top of which, we
again saw the Castillo. Beyond the cliff became more rugged and barren,
reminding us of the witches' gathering-place in the Hartz Mountains, as
described in the Faust of Goethe; and, amid all its barrenness, from
the crevices of the rocks sprang a thick growth of scrubby wild palm
called tshike, covering the whole surface of the cliff. Toiling through
this, we reached another low building, from the top of which we again
saw El Castillo, but with a great chasm between, apparently cut