At intervals through the morning there came the flying maids: "He comes! don't let him in." Again and again the barricade; again and again, the vain appeal for entrance.

We left Ayutla at noon.
We had scarcely well started when we heard some one calling behind us.
Turning, we saw the _fiscal_, running unsteadily toward us.

We waited; he came up out of breath.

"_Ya se va_ ?" (Now you are leaving ?) "_Si, senor_," (Yes, sir.) With a look of despair he removed his hat, and fumbling in its depths produced two cigarettes; presenting one to each of us, he waved his hand as we rode away and cried: "_Adios! senores_." For some distance our road led up a canon.

Reaching its head, we gained the pass at two o'clock.