ROADSIDE SKETCHES IN GUATEMALA 111 



the alguazils at the police-hut opposite, when first one boy, soon 

 followed by several others, comes to the door to peep at the 

 strangers feeding, the less courageous disciples remaining behind, 

 but doubling the noise in order to shield their inquisitive brethren. 

 Tied to the posts of the verandah are our mules munching their 

 dry maize stalks, before us lies the beautiful mountain-lake of 

 Atitlan (5,300 feet above the sea), blue and calm, a true mirror 

 to the high mountains, which, almost completely encircling it, 

 leave but a narrow approach to the lake, that now immediately 

 in front of us. We have a long march to do this afternoon, and 

 our arriero allows us and our mules but little time for rest : how- 

 ever gladly we would stay and enjoy a siesta, the order is 

 presently given to saddle and load, and on once more we go in 

 the hot sun, the heat of which makes us even forget our late 

 unwholesome, greasy meal. Straight up the mountain-side 

 climbs the horribly dusty and stony road, up which we scramble 

 I don't know how many hundred feet. The wonderful endurance 

 of the heavily laden mules is truly astonishing, urged on as they 

 are mercilessly by whip and spur, and by the choice but appa- 

 rently effective language of Senor Felipe Gomez. His flow of 

 words was wonderful ; he had some particular term of endear- 

 ment for each of his animals, but when one of them wandered 

 off the road and into the bushes his anger would become terrific, 

 and his tongue rattle out wonderful words, such as are not likely 

 to be found in any dictionary. It is very annoying, when toiling 

 along in a hot sun and on a dusty, stony, steep road, to have to 

 hunt up in the bush, and to drive back into the road, a perverse 

 brute from which in charity one has dismounted in order to ease 

 it a little, and which thus returns kindness by causing trouble 

 and direct annoyance. Kindness to mules is wasted, that we 

 soon found out ; the only treatment possible is that to which 

 they are accustomed a severe one. After a hot, tiring ride we 

 at last reached the crest of a mountain, and were well rewarded 

 for our exertions by the magnificent scenery all around us. No 

 less than six volcanoes were visible, rising above the sea of 

 mountains. Below us lay the lake, a beautiful sheet of water 

 in a mountain basin, the somewhat bare hills rising direct out 

 of it, with villages here and there close to the water's edge. 

 After a long march up and down hill over the slope of the 

 mountains towards the lake, we passed through the Indian 



