TWO NIGHTS IN SOUTHERN MEXICO. 69 



great bustle in the encampment, and saw everybody 

 crowding to meet a number of persons who just then 

 emerged from the high fern, and amongst whom I 

 recognised our arrieros and servants. The new- 

 comers were grouped around something which they 

 seemed to be dragging along the ground ; several 

 women for the most part young and graceful 

 creatures, their slender supple forms muffled in the 

 flowing picturesque reboxos and fmzadas preceded 

 the party, looking back occasionally with an expression 

 of mingled horror and triumph ; all with rosaries in 

 their hands, the beads of which ran rapidly through 

 their fingers, while they occasionally kissed the cross, 

 or made the sign on their breasts or in the air. 



" Un Zambo muerto ! Un Zambo muerto ! " 

 shouted they as they drew near. 



" Han matado un Zambo ! They have killed a 

 Zambo ! " repeated my attendant in a tone of exul- 

 tation. 



The party came close up to where Rowley and I 

 were lying ; the women stood aside, jumping and 

 laughing, and crossing themselves, and crying out 

 " Un Zambo ! Un Zairibo muerto ! " the group 

 opened, and we saw, lying dead upon the ground, 

 one of our horrible antagonists of the preceding 

 night. 



" Good God, what is that ? " cried Rowley and I, 

 with one breath. " Un demonio ! a devil ! " 



" Perdonen vos, Senores Un Zambo mono muy 



