ing "Ah! there the nights are always
cold." Certainly, if it is colder there than at Nehuatzen, we would
prefer the frigid zone outright. Nehuatzen is famous as the town where
the canoes for Lake Patzcuaro are made. We had difficulty in securing
food and a place to sleep. The room in which we were expected to slumber
was hung with an extensive wardrobe of female garments. These we added
to the blankets we carried with us, but suffered all night long from the
penetrating cold. The two indian boys, who accompanied us as guides and
carriers, slept in the corridor outside our door and when day broke
they were so cramped and numbed and stiff with cold, that they lighted
matches and thrust their cold hands into the flames, before they could
move their finger-joints. We had planned to leave at five, but it was
too cold to ride until the sun should be an hour high, so finally
we left at seven. There was heavy frost on everything; curved frost
crystals protruded from the soil, and we broke ice a half inch thick in
water-troughs, unfinished canoes, by the roadside.

For ten hours we rode, without even stopping for lunch, through Sabina
and Pichataro, San Juan Tumbio and Ajuno, back to comfortable Patzcuaro.

CHAPTER VIII

TLAXCALA

(1898)

We have always loved the State of Tlaxcala and its quaint little capital
city of the same name. For more than a dozen years its governor has been
Prospero Cahuantzi, a pure-blood indian, whose native language is Aztec.
He is a large, well built man, with full face and little black eyes that
are sunken deeply into the flesh. He is a man of some force and energy.
The population of his little state, the most densely populated in the
Republic, is almost entirely indian, and it at once fears, hates, and
respects him. Having made several previous visits to the city, and
having always been graciously received by Don Prospero, we thought it
hardly necessary to carry with us our usual letters of recommendation
from the Federal authorities.

Just before we were ready to visit Tlaxcala, while we were in the City
of Mexico, we learned that Governor Cahuantzi was there, on business.
We thought it best to call upon him, explaining our proposed work and
asking his interest. So to the Hotel Sanz, where he always stops when in
the Capital, we went. We called twice without finding him and our third
call appeared to be as unsuccessful, but just as we were leaving,
resolved not to try again, we met