In vain we urged that arrangements should be made for fuel, for beds, and for a _mozo_, whom we had ordered should be supplied to accompany the man from Papalo back to that town with the horses.

It was now dark and late, with no sign of attention to our wishes.

Through the darkness, we picked our way over a muddy road, slippery and soaked with water, to the _secretario's_ house, where we forcibly made known our wishes, and said that attention must be paid to them.

Before we got back to the town-house our shoes were soaked with water and heavy with mud, while our clothing was soaked through with moisture from the air filled with mist and drizzling rain; and this in the midst of the dry season! During the afternoon, we had seen a curious-looking indian, dressed in a red flannel shirt, white drawers and a cap, but with the regular red Chinantec neck-cloth.

He was a Mixtec from San Francisco Huitzo, who is in charge of the well-kept little coffee _finca_ which we passed upon the road.