::::;::::*C THE VOLCANO BY MOONLIGHT m::::::::: 



horses shook from their limbs the stiffness of the long 

 stretches of walking and climbing, and now raced 

 eagerly along. 



We passed a family of Indians on mule-back, prob- 

 ably just setting out for Colima, and they told us that 

 it was after four o'clock ; a party of soldiers shouted 

 to us that it was but two hours past midnight. And so 

 we were alternately disheartened and encouraged, until 

 we rounded the last curving hill and saw the rear lights 

 of the Guadalajara train. It was four o'clock and 

 we had made the sixty miles in fourteen hours of con- 

 tinuous riding ! 



The conductor congratulated My Lady upon her 

 pluck and daring, and held the train for us as long 

 as he dared, but still our baggage did not arrive. We 

 learned later that the irate drunken keeper of the 

 demolished toll-gate delayed our baggage-mules and 

 was thus the cause of our missing the train. 



As the train rumbled away, we turned and rode 

 slowly to the Hotel Central, just as the east was bright- 

 ening with another day. The moon, which had guided 

 us so steadily through all the night, paled and sank 

 slowly behind the cone of the volcano. 



Days pass, we recross the continent, and our last 

 Mexican sunset dies out behind the mighty peak of 

 Orizaba. As our steamer leaves the harbour of Vera 

 Cruz, the first rocket of the Easter fiesta shoots up- 



«J 361 •> 



