ADVENTURING DOWN THE WEST COAST OF MEXICO 



459 



UNCHANGED FROM THE DAYS OE PYRAMID-BUILDING 



This ancient plowing equipment can probably trace its lineage to the first use of the ox-yoke, 

 and it has not been changed since. The plow is but a pointed stick attached to the pole which 

 is lashed to the yoke. Sometimes it is shod with iron. The team is directed by means of the 

 long goad which the plowman holds. When the day's work is ended he reverses the plow, 

 hooks it over the yoke, and strolls home at the heels of his oxen, the end of the pole dragging 

 in the dust. 



from our berth windows to see silent 

 Indians standing alongside the cars, each 

 with a pitiful little tray of foodstuffs for 

 sale. Later we became accustomed to 

 this, but at first sight it was almost 

 shocking. 



Not one seemed to have more than a 

 handful to offer the wakeful. Some had 

 a few onions and some a half dozen soggy 

 tamales, and now and then an enchilada. 

 There were trays of the delicious Mexican 

 sugared bread and baskets of oranges and 

 apples. 



Those who rode in the day coaches 

 bought and bought and ate at each station. 

 There is nothing the traveling Mexican 

 likes to do more than to eat, apparently, 

 and he has long ago discarded the theory 

 that meals should follow a time schedule. 



His plan is very simple. He eats at 

 each station, and the more stations there 

 are the more he eats. 



Even so. it was difficult to see how the 



venders can make more than a meager 

 living, for there is but one train a day for 

 them to meet. It is doubtful if they aver- 

 age a daily turnover of twenty cents. 



The explanation is, of course, that their 

 living costs them exactly nothing. They 

 live on the corn and beans they raise in 

 their gardens, with now and then an egg 

 from the unfed hens or a slice of pork 

 from the hysterically rustling pigs. It 

 is only the surplus above the day's needs 

 that they sell. 



It was a dark morning outside our car 

 at Guaymas. The sun had not yet risen 

 and the sea fog was rolling in from the 

 great Gulf of California. We hardy 

 northerners pulled our overcoats high 

 about our ears and stepped out to a sight 

 which later became familiar through con- 

 stant repetition, but which never lost its 

 picturesque appeal. 



Candles twinkled everywhere over tiny, 

 white-clothed tables on which a few 



