224 
EXPLORING FOR CAST1LL0A RUBBER 
he was the only energetic native that I saw on the peninsula. Donna 
Mafia, his spouse, short, fat, and comely, in calico dress and blouse, 
barefooted, with a man’s hat on her head, her own pipe in her mouth, 
surrounded by hens and dogs, cooked in a placid way that was most 
picturesque and restful. We slept at their house one night, but on the 
second visit signalled the schooner and went aboard to sleep, away from 
the various insects that always infest a cattle ranch. 
It was during a visit to the llanos that we nearly lost the Prospector. 
It came about this way: From the time of the Spaniards the country 
has been known as a gold producer. Indeed, every brook and river 
showed traces of "color,” while traditions of lost mines and their fabu- 
lous riches were everywhere rife. As we were not after gold, but 
rubber, the lost mines, or the sunken treasure ship at the mouth of the 
COAGULATING RUBBER IN BALSA LOG. 
Mariato, troubled 11 s not at all. That is, not until the Miner came across 
the mountains, and rode into our camp with a true Western yell. He 
was a raw boned, good humored, shrewd Irish-American, who had 
been in every mining camp in North America, and who was now devel- 
oping the Gallo (Golden Cock) mine. He and the Prospector got 
together at once and the air was full of “andesite,” “quartz.” and “por- 
phory.” Then they got to whispering and later parted. It was at the 
llanos that it all came to a head, for it was there that the Prospector 
began furtively to study a small diagram, and later stole away accom- 
