270 CAVE AND CLIFF DWELLERS. 
that respect a Mexican mule is about as 
certain as a mountain goat. 
From “ La Cumbra,” or the crest of the 
Sierra Madres, we could look down in the 
valley of the Urique River, as I have said, 
something over a vertical mile. As we 
stood among the pines we could see the 
plantations of oranges far below, one of 
which, called “ La Naranja”—the Spanish 
for orange—seemed almost under our 
feet; in fact it was not farther away in 
horizontal measure than it was vertical, or 
about a mile in both. The Barranca of 
the Urique was much more open at this 
point than where we had first struck it at 
Camp Diaz, but it was, nevertheless, fully 
as grand and sublime in its mighty 
scenery, although of quite another kind. 
The enormous buttresses, almost spurs of 
mountains, that stood out along the 
