148 Mr. O.Salvin's Quesal-shooting in Vera Paz. 



more about the road or where he is than one of us. During 

 the day I had not paid much attention to the course we were 

 taking, except to know that we were going nearly in the right 

 direction. My pocket compass now conies into requisition, and 

 starting on the principle that a path must lead somewhere, we 

 strike the most likely-looking route, which in time brings us to 

 an uninhabited rancho in a clearing of Indian corn. In this 

 we establish ourselves for the night. 



March 20. — As no one seems to have a very clear idea of the 

 road, I, compass in hand, undertake the direction of aflfairs. 

 Three hours' walk brings us into a part of the country known 

 to Cipriano, and we presently strike a road which takes us over 

 a high range of hills which we were skirting all yesterday. 

 While ascending, I observe several Swallow-tailed Kites [Ela- 

 noides furcatus) soaring above me. This bird has wonderful 

 powers of flight : no eagle or vulture could sail more easily or 

 gracefully in the air. Like Ictinia plumbea, I believe that this 

 species breeds in the patches of pine trees which are found here 

 and there throughout the forest. I gather this belief from 

 common report. A little Indian village, by name Kohak, is our 

 resting-place to-night. Here we are all billeted upon some 

 Indians inhabiting a large long rancho with a family at each 

 end. The inmates seem to have a decided turn for music, and 

 we have not long established ourselves when Cipriano pitches 

 upon a guitar and Filipe on a harp. They are now hard at 

 work, accompanied by an Indian playing on a kind of drum, 

 knocking out Indian tunes as fast as they can remember them. 

 I have made myself comfortable for the night in my hammock, 

 and am endeavouring to fancy myself in the act of being soothed 

 to sleep by the dulcet strains that assail my ears. A long day's 

 work is likely to be more effectual. 



March 31. — Nine leagues yet to walk before we reach Coban. 

 I give out that I mean to finish our journey to-day ; the rest say 

 no. Mountain fare has left me in capital training, and I feel 

 confident of doing it if I can only get the Indians along. To 

 lighten their loads I hire another Indian, so that they have no 

 excuse for lagging. Four leagues brings us to the Lanquin 

 road, and we eat the last of our 'toppoxti' at a place called 



