224 EXPLORING FOR CASTILLOA RUBBER 



he was the only energetic native that I saw on the peninsula. Donna 

 Mafia, his spouse, short, fat, and comely, in calico dress and blouse, 

 barefooted, with a man's hat on her head, her own pipe in her mouth, 

 surrounded by hens and dogs, cooked in -a placid way that was most 

 picturesque and restful. We slept at their house one night, but on the 

 second visit signalled the schooner and went aboard to sleep, away from 

 the various insects that always infest a cattle ranch. 



It was during a visit to the llanos that we nearly lost the Prospector. 

 It came about this way: From the time of the Spaniards the country 

 has been known as a gold producer. Indeed, every brook and river 

 showed traces of "color," while traditions of lost mines and their fabu- 

 lous riches were everywhere rife. As we were not after gold, but 

 rubber, the lost mines, or the sunken treasure ship at the mouth of the 



COAGULATING RUBBER IN BALSA LOG. 



Mariato, troubled us not at all. That is, not until the Miner came across 

 the mountains, and rode into our camp with a true Western yell. He 

 was a raw boned, good humored, shrewd Irish-American, who had 

 been in every mining camp in North America, and who was now devel- 

 oping the Gallo (Golden Cock) mine. He and the Prospector got 

 together at once and the air was full of "andesite," "quartz," and "por- 

 phory." Then they got to whispering and later parted. It was at the 

 llanos that it all came to a head, for it was there that the Prospector 

 began furtively to study a small diagram, and later stole away accom- 



