A DISASTER IN THE COMMISSARIAT. 47 



the trees, eating their frugal meal of corn^cakes ; the 

 mules were in the river, or scattered along the bank ; 

 and we selected a large tree, which spread its branches 

 over us like a roof, and so near the stream that we 

 could dip our drinking-cups into the water. 



All the anxiety which I had been able to spare du- 

 ring the day from myself I had bestowed upon the ba- 

 rometer on the back of the guide. He carried, besides, 

 a small white pitcher, with a red rim, on the belt of his 

 machete, of which he was very proud and very care- 

 ful ; and several times, after a stumble and a narrow 

 escape, he turned round and held up the pitcher with 

 a smile, which gave me hopes of the barometer ; and, 

 in fact, he had carried it through without its being 

 broken ; but, unfortunately, the quicksilver was not well 

 secured, and the whole had escaped. It was impossi- 

 ble to repair it in Guatimala, and the loss of this ba- 

 rometer was a source of regret during our whole jour- 

 ney ; for we ascended many mountains, the heights of 

 which have never been ascertained. 



But we had another misadventure, which, at the 

 moment, touched us more nearly. We sat on the 

 ground, Turkish fashion, with a vacant space between 

 us. Augustin placed before us a well-filled napkin ; 

 and, as we dipped water from the clear stream by our 

 side, a spirit of other days came over us, and we spoke 

 in contempt of railroads, cities, and hotels ; but oh, 

 publicans, you were avenged. We unrolled the nap- 

 kin, and the scene that presented itself was too shock- 

 ing, even for the strongest nerves. We had provided 

 bread for three days, eggs boiled hard, and two roasted 

 fowls for as long as they might last. Augustin had 

 forgotten salt, but he had placed in the napkin a large 

 paper of gunpowder as an adventure of his own. The 



