ADVENTURING DOWN THE WEST COAST OF MEXICO 



483 



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DYKWOOD CARTS FORDING THE} RIVER AT CUL1ACAN 



The dyewood industry is a persistent one, although the unsettled condition of the past few 

 years has held it in check. In the distance may be seen the twin towers of the cathedral of 

 Culiacan. 



and passed on — the secret-service agents 

 of Flores have attended to that. 



Juan is as good as dead when the sol- 

 diers put their hands on him. He makes 

 a few farewells, parcels out his fighting 

 cocks among his friends, kisses his wife 

 and babies, and walks to the wall. They 

 always die bravely, said the dry-river 

 prospector. 



In one village Flores had shot seven- 

 teen bandits and in another thirty-two. 



One might ride through Sinaloa or 

 Nayarit with gold pieces hung all over 

 him nowadays. Banditry had practically 

 disappeared. Up in one corner of Du- 

 rango they still steal and kill, but that is 

 outside of Flores's jurisdiction. 



"But the cuidado'rs?" I asked. "Are 

 they always honest and fair?" 



"They had better be," said Dry River, 

 grimly, "with Flores !" 



One thinks of Kipling in the Fuerte 

 River country. Perhaps the resemblances 

 are only superficial, but they are at least 

 striking. 



The club at Los Mochis, which is a 

 part of the Kipling analogy, is maintained 

 for the employees of a great American 

 ranch. Elsewhere in this delightful, but 

 somewhat backward, land one may be 

 compelled to subsist on frijoles and tor- 

 tillas. 



A tortilla is a thin flapjack, made of 

 the paste of corn which has been boiled 

 first in limewater and then in a rinsing 

 water, and which has then been ham- 

 mered and rolled out on the nictate, the 

 grinding-stone, which has not been al- 

 tered in the knowledge of history. 



Toasted tortillas are delicious, but the 

 casual roadside tortilla has been merely 

 dried to a sogginess on a tin plate, or on 

 a stone propped in front of the fire. It 

 tastes unpleasantly of lime. 



The beans, of course, are always good; 

 but one cannot live by beans alone. Pork 

 can be had if desired, but after having 

 watched the Mexican pig in his daily pur- 

 suits, I set my face against pork in Mex- 

 ico. He is the companion and competitor 



