Knocking on the door of one of these I walked in, introduced myself, and stated the purpose of my visit.

"How do you do ?" said my host; "my name is Nelson"-- as if he had been accustomed to receive strangers every day.
Mr.Nelson was quite a charming old man, more than seventy years old, but hardy.

In spite of the cold, he walked out in his shirt sleeves in the full moonlight to select a camping place for me.

The animals, he suggested, might be left in the field for the night; he would see about them in the morning, and he did not think there would be any difficulty about keeping them there.

We got a fine camp on top of a hill with a view of the valley in which the caves are.
Mr.Nelson told us of two interesting caves on this side of the river; also, that there were numerous "inscriptions" (petroglyphs), that the country was full of mounds, and that skeletons and mummies had been found but had been buried again.