t have passed the turning which led to Rancho Seco. At all events,
we presently found ourselves entirely at a loss, wandering over a rocky
hill covered with brush, amid which the trail had entirely disappeared.
Retracing, as well as we could, our road, we finally found ourselves
upon another trail which we followed until 9:30, when we met a little
band of indians, the first whom we had seen for a long time. From them
we found that we were not upon the road for Cheran, but at the edge of
a slope at the bottom of which was a little indian town, Tanaco.
Descending to it, we found a house where they agreed to shelter us for
the night, and in the _tienda_ near by we bought hard bread and old
cheese. We were sheltered in a substantially built room, into which the
cold air did not penetrate. The indians with whom we were staying were
unusually intelligent; a number of books, including a large dictionary,
lay upon the table, and the men, who crowded in upon us, were anxious to
learn the English words for common things. This was an experience which
rarely happened to us in indian Mexico. The people, however, were not
quite sure of our intentions, and Nabor said that when he went to water
the horses, a committee of village folk waited upon him, asking whether
we were the party of white men who had been skinning live indians over
in the Once Pueblos.

There were four leagues between us and Cheran, and many more beyond it
to Patzcuaro, where we hoped to arrive the next night. Accordingly, we
made an early start. Our host agreed to pilot us over the indistinct and
tortuous bridle-path to the high-road. Many little mountains, almost
artificially regular, arose in the otherwise plain country. As we rode
along the trail we saw the church of Parracho far behind us in the
distance. The latter part of the road, after Cheran was once in sight,
seemed hopelessly long, but a little before ten o'clock we pulled up at
the _meson_. We at once made arangements for food for ourselves and the
horses, and determined to rest until noon. Our reputation had preceded
us. I asked a child at the _meson_ to bring me a mug of water. When he
brought it, I noticed that the mug was of the characteristic black and
green ware of the Once Pueblos, but asked the boy where it was made.
With a cunning look, he answered, "O yes, that comes from where you
people have been,--up at the Once Pueblos." And yet we had not come over
the road from the Once Pueblos, but by th