o have met our death! At night, the fires on a hundred hills
around us made a magnificent display, forming all sorts of fantastic
combinations and outlines. In the evening, the son of the _agente_, who
had been to Tenango with a friend, came home in great excitement. He was
a lively young fellow of eighteen years. At the river-crossing, where
they arrived at five in the evening, a black cow, standing in the river,
scared their horses so that they could not make them cross; the boy
emptied his revolver at the animal, but with no effect; it was clearly
a _vaca bruja_--witch cow; an hour and a half was lost before they
succeeded in getting their horses past with a rush.

[Illustration: THE TOWN GOVERNMENT; CANCUC]

The morning was spent in making pictures. While still in Yucatan, we
heard about the music of Cancuc, and among our views was one of the
musicians. These are three in number, and they head processions at
fiestas; the drum, like that we saw at Tuxtla, is cylindrical, with two
heads; the _pito_ is the usual reed whistle; the _tortuga_, a large
turtle-shell, was brought from Palenque; it is hung by a belt to the
player, and is beaten on the lower side with two leg-bones of a deer.
The Cancuc dress is simple. Men wear the breech-clout, and, when they
carry burdens, little else; at other times, they wear short, cotton
trousers which hardly reach the knees. The chief garment is a _camisa_,
of native cotton, with a colored stitching at the neck and along the
seam where the two edges join; this _camisa_ is of such length that,
when girded, it hangs just to, or a little below, the lower edge of the
trouser leg. The belts are home-woven, but are made of cotton which is
bought already dyed a brilliant red or yellow. Women wear woolen belts
made by Chamulas; their _enaguas_ are plain, dull blue in color; their
_huipils_ are a dirty white, with a minimum of colored stitching. The
chief industry at Cancuc is raising pigs for market.

At 1:15 we started from the town, and rode down the crest of long,
gently-sloping ridges, which seemed interminable. The rock over which we
passed was red sandstone, mottled and streaked with green, red shale,
and occasional patches of conglomerate. Crossing a little stream by a
pretty bridge, we made an abrupt ascent, and soon saw the little town,
Cuaquitepec, at the base of the opposite hill.

We met many indians carrying great ovoidal jars which were made at
Tenango, and which are chiefly u