A Stibtropical Pilgrimage. 



195 



At the outlet of the lake we saw fish 

 feeding in an extraordinary manner. 

 Here was a grove of hnamuchiles on 

 the very bank of the lake. The fruit 

 ■of this tree is a pod containing five or 

 six black beans surrounded by a white 

 pulp, which, when ripe, is very palata- 

 ble. The pulp is used as a bait for 

 many of the smaller fish, particularly 

 the kind called bagre, which grows to 

 the size of two or three pounds. Where 

 these trees overhang the water, the 

 bagre collect in the ripening season and 

 fight for the huamuchilei beans as they 

 drop into the water. When the trees 

 are shaken by the wind, they come from 

 all sides like chickens in a bam yard, to 

 get the fruit as it falls into the water. 

 A special exhibition was given for the 

 benefit of our visitors. The kid crept 

 quietly to the foot of a large tree which 

 overhung the water and climbed up it, 

 while the rest of us hid near the bank 

 where we could see the water. The kid 

 began to shake the tree, and at the first 

 rustle among the branches, the fish 

 came in all directions by the hundreds, 

 scrambling and fighting among them- 

 selves for the savory fruit. The judge 

 said it beat any fish story he ever 

 heard. 



From the lake our road took us 

 through a heavy forest, where vines, 

 moss and orchids hung from the trees 

 in luxurious profusion, while the inter- 

 locking branches above our heads, like 

 an arbor, kept out the sun or let it filter 

 through the leaves in rays of green and 

 gold, and sparkle on the dew drops in 

 the more sheltered places. Tracks of 

 deer and jabali were plenty, but the 

 underbrush was so dense that no large 

 game was seen. 



At last the Coy was reached. These 

 sub-tropical lowland rivers are a law 

 unto themselves. Hidden away in the 

 dim and gloomy forests, their clear 



green water rolls still and deep between 

 tree-covered banks that hide them from 

 the traveler until, suddenly, they are 

 beneath his feet. Quaint ferries, with 

 dugout canoes or rafts of palm logs, 

 carry the pilgrim across while his horse 

 swims in the rear. A yell or a pistol 

 shot calls the ferryman, who may be 

 working in a field near by, or more 

 likely asleep under a tree. In this case 

 our ferry boat was a raft of palm logs, 

 and the " ferryman " a little Indian girl, 

 who pulled the boat back and forth by 

 the aid of a rope attached to the trees 

 on either side, while the proprietor 

 stood on the further bank directing the 

 operations and collecting the toll. It 

 was a very pretty spot, and' the judge 

 said he liked the business, so he tried 

 to buy the ferry just as it stood, but 

 without success. 



The trapeche was on the other side of 

 the river, at the foot of a little hill. It 

 was very primitive ; upright wooden 

 rolls, turned by mule power, which 

 squeezed the juice out of the cane, while 

 a trough with wooden sides and sheet 

 iron bottom, served as a boiling kettle. 

 The moulds for the sugar were holes 

 bored in a mahogany log, and a split 

 bamboo pole served as a trough to carry 

 the boiling sap from the kettle to the 

 cooling vat, from which it was dipped 

 into the moulds by a gourd tied on the 

 end of a reed. The shed itself that 

 held this primitive plant was open on 

 all sides, the roof of palm leaves and 

 bamboo poles, tied together by vines 

 and bark, shaded and sheltered the 

 dusky workmen, who, in breech clout 

 and sandals, drove the mule and dipped 

 the syrup. 



A few miles below the sugar mill the 

 main branch of the Coy comes in from 

 the south, springing from the foot of a 

 hill a full grown river. Two Indians 

 and a canoe were loaned us by the mill 



