318 



THE INDIA RUBBER WORLD 



April 1, 1912. 



have Jose follow ■yvith the pack horse and ,our provisions and 

 extra clothing, when he got ready. We, therefore, Don Angel 

 and I, rode out of town, forded a river and were soon on a 

 mountain trail that followed the erratic course of another and 

 larger river. When I s.iv followed. 1 mean that in its fullest 



TVPIC..\L CUB.\N L.\NDSC.\rK. 



sense, for when the banks grew too precipitous on one side we 

 forded the stream and rode along the other. By mid-afternoon 

 we had crossed and recrossed so many times that I had lost 

 count and was wondering what "five miles" Cuban meant in 

 English. The scenery however was grand, the day not too hot, 

 and the little horses sure-footed and easy to ride, so I was con- 

 tented. At last, about five o'clock, we crossed the river for the 

 last time, scrambled up a steep bank, passed through a thicket of 

 giant bamboo, and found ourselves in front of a huge thatched 

 house surrounded by dilapidated outbuildings. We were wel- 

 comed by a big, athletic negro, who was in charge of the place, 

 his greetings being seconded by half a dozen thin hounds, many 

 naked pickaninnies and the lady of the house, who, suckling an 

 infant at her breast, and a big black cigar in her mouth, gave us 

 a tiny yellow hand and warm greeting in Spanish. 



The big house had evidently been a planters' mansion at one 

 time, but its negro tenants had allowed it to go to ruin as fast 



Baraco.\, with Yunque in the Background. 



as it pleased. The narrow veranda in front had sagged to an 

 angle of about 45 degrees, and polished smooth by many bare feet 

 it made a slippery ascent; but we negotiated it safely and vvere 

 soon in the great living room, seated in wrecks of massive chairs, 

 covered with stretched cowhide. We at once formed the center 



of an interested circle of .negroes* big and. little, dogs, hens, pigs, 

 goats and turkeys, all of whom seemed to have the run of the 

 house, while Don Angel like a patriarch of old, patiently explained 

 the cause of his visit, asked after the health of each individual 

 and listened to voluble descriptions of plantation and domestic 

 haijpcnings, garnished with gusts of rollicking laughter. Night 

 fell and the big room was lighted by half a dozen of the most 

 primitive of all lamps, tin cups filled with cocoanut oil, on the 

 top of wliich floated cotton wicks. 



Apparently Jose and the pack horse were not expected that 

 night, for suddenly the lady of the house seized a chicken, wrung 

 its neck, without disturbing the feeding infant or losing the ash 

 from her cigar and still chattering made her way to the open 

 shed in the rear of the house, to get supper. This she prepared 

 very quickly over the usual fire of sticks built between three 

 stones. We were very hungry and the coffee, chicken and sweet 

 potatoes were exceedingly good. She also gave us white bread, 

 of wliich she was very proud and the vicious jab she made at 

 an eight-inch centipede that ran across my piece as it lay by my 

 plate, showed she knew it was too good for the natives. 



Tlie nights are cool in these mountain valleys and I had 

 begun to wonder about our sleeping arrangements. Don Angel 

 however was equal to the occasion and showed me to a cot in an 



San Juan Hill. 



adjoining room where I stretched out with my rubber coat over 

 me for warmth and was soon fast asleep. In reply to my queries 

 he had assured me that he had a comfortable bed in another 

 room, and I had supposed that he was at least as well off as I. 

 But I discovered later that he had placed three of the dilapidated 

 chairs in a row and slept upon them while I had the only cot. 

 My heart warmed toward him for this bit of modest courtesy. 

 Indeed during the whole of the trip he unobtrusively saw to it 

 that I had the best of everything — horses, food and service — and 

 was the true Spanish host ever thoughtful of guest and forgetful 

 of self. 



The night passed without events of importance. Towards 

 morning I wondered why I could hear the crowing of the cocks 

 so near and I found out at daybreak that three bold-eyed fight- 

 ing cocks were tethered close to my bed. I also awoke once in 

 the night when a heavy shower drove a score or more of the 

 big black hogs to cover under the house, where they squealed, 

 grunted and crowded one another for half an hour before settling 

 down to sleep. 



The morning broke clear, cool and delightful, and after coffee 

 we went out to view the plantation. The valley broadened out 

 and consisted of a, fertile alluvial plain some ten feet above the 

 river. Here were thousands of cocoanut trees in full 'beafflpg. 

 There was also coffee, many acres of cocoa and a forest of 

 huge bananas. The plantation needed only a little care to make 



