126 SPORT AND TRAVEL PAPERS 



Chilpancingo, the capital of the province of Guerrero, at 

 7.30 P.M., tired out completely. Gladly would we, however, 

 have exchanged our inn for sufficient room in a village to 

 swing our hammocks, for nothing could we get but wooden 

 boards to sleep upon in a draughty passage the few rooms 

 were all engaged and but little to eat, and nobody to make 

 coffee for us in the morning before we left at four. 



Disgusted, we marched among bare hills covered with 

 palmetto and stunted palms and dense mimosa thickets over 

 a terribly tiring road to Zumpango, a clean, well-kept, cheerful 

 village, where a most civil landlady soon put excellent coffee, 

 milk, and corn bread before us, to which we did justice with 

 travellers' appetites. As here the horses had to be shod, we 

 enjoyed a longer rest than usual, dozing in a hammock or 

 watching the market women outside as they sold chillies, 

 oranges, beans, melons, herbs, soap, &c., all their wares neatly 

 laid out in little heaps on a piece of matting in front of them. 



At 10 a.m. we were off again, the road taking us through the 

 most dreary scenery, along the sandy bed of a river meandering 

 among mountains covered with leafless mimosa, arriving at 

 Zopilote, a single lonely house, at 1 p.m. As it was impossible 

 to reach the next place, thirty miles distant, before dark, and 

 as no water or houses exist on the road, we had to remain here 

 until 1 a.m., when we made a start for Mescala, just before 

 reaching which we had to be ferried across a broad river bearing 

 the same name. At 3 p.m. we arrived at Tonicapan, very tired 

 after a hot, fatiguing journey of fifty-one miles. 



After this we always left our hammocks at 1 a.m., lighted by 

 the moon, which then was just past full, thereby completing the 

 major part of the day's task before the sun had become very hot. 

 Yet there always remained after the halt more to be done than 

 we cared about, for the heat during the day was very great, as 

 were the distances, while the pace was very slow. 



Very nice people took care of us at Tonicapan, and under a 

 roomy shed we slung our hammocks, and loth were we to leave 

 them when the signal was given for the start at 1 a.m. We 

 crossed a plateau of rolling hills covered with dry yellow grass, 

 and then descended into a wide plain containing a large lake, 

 and the native Indian village of Iguala, buried among trees, and 

 so on to Platanilla on the opposite slope, where we recruited the 



