We had ridden on our way for about five miles over a fairly level plain covered with rastrojos and dried-up grass, relieved here and there by a few straggling ocote pines and mimosa shrubs, when we caught sight of some artificial mounds on the far side of a gully to the right of the track. Tying up our mules we climbed down to the banks of a small rushing rivulet, crossed the stream, and scrambling up on the other side found ourselves on a detached bare plain surrounded on all sides by barrancas. At one end of this plain the mounds were symmetrically arranged. There was a clearly defined plaza about fifty yards across with low mounds on three sides of it, and on the fourth side a mound about forty feet high, which showed some slight signs of having formerly supported a small stone-roofed temple; on its summit a few stones had been heaped together by the neighbouring Indians to form a little cave or grotto in which to burn incense. In the plaza in front of the temple mound was a small mound which may have been used as an altar. From the other end of the plaza mounds extended in fairly regular order for a considerable distance.

Two of the largest of the foundation-mounds had been dug into by a German priest, Father Heyde, who was formerly cura of Joyabaj, one of the neighbouring towns. These excavations showed us that the mounds themselves were formed of cores of earth covered over with a coating of rough stones, imbedded in mud, about 5 feet in thickness, and this again was faced with masonry of roughly squared stones and a thick coating of plaster. Patches of the outer casing of squared stones with the plaster facing still adhering to it could be seen where the surface had been left undisturbed. On the summit of one of the temple mounds we were able to trace, at the inner angle of the wall, the plaster flooring of the cue, or sanctuary, which showed us that the whole chamber measured only about five feet by seven.

Lying on the ground were two blocks of stone shaped into serpents’ heads with human faces between their open jaws, undoubtedly of the same style and marked with the same conventional curves as those found at Copan and other more ancient ruins in Central America. Both of these carved stones had tenons about two feet long, by which they could be fixed into the masonry, and they had probably fallen from the balustrade of a stairway in front of the principal temple. We found one other carved stone of much the same character, with a tenon over three feet long. Whilst walking about the mounds we picked up numerous fragments of broken pottery and some chaya or obsidian flakes.

Beyond the mounds, which probably mark the site of the public or ecclesiastical buildings, the plain extends for some distance, and here may have stood the more lightly constructed houses of a considerable population. The deep barrancas surrounding the whole site formed a natural moat and made the position easily defensible.

We spent an hour rambling amongst these ruins, and then rode on to overtake our pack-mules, which, as the country was open, we could still distinguish some miles ahead of us by the little cloud of dust that marked their progress. About four o’clock we came to the edge of the gorge of the Rio Negro and began a steep descent of twelve or thirteen hundred feet to the bridge over the river. The views which opened before us as we descended were very fine and of a peculiar character. Abrupt granite rocks jut out from the steep slopes, which are themselves curiously rounded in outline, and are covered with a coating of thick rough grass, giving them the appearance of being clothed in green velvet shot with gold. On the far side of the river and to the north of us the sierras rose to a great height, the more distant ranges covered with a dense forest. The stream at the bottom of this gorge is swift and deep, and the water is of a beautiful greenish colour. It is not more than thirty yards wide, and we crossed it on a bridge of large roughly-squared logs, laid side by side without any attempt to fasten them or bind them together, and supported by four lofty and stoutly-built stone piers.

A short distance below the bridge the river is stopped in its course by a high hill, which stands squarely across the gorge and forces the stream to take a sharp bend to the right. As we crossed the bridge a heavy rain-cloud hovered over this mountain and presently a draught of air drove it our way and it broke over us in a sharp shower, which lasted but a moment, and was followed by a rainbow of wonderful brilliancy which spanned the gorge. It was the expiring effort of the northern wind, which can carry the moisture from the Atlantic no further, and the last glittering drops of moisture seemed almost to hang in the air, and, refusing to moisten the slopes facing south, were blown across the gorge to strike on the northern face of the hills, keeping the grass green on that side only. When the rain-cloud dispersed, flocks of brilliant green parrots flew screaming over our heads, and after much chattering finally settled to roost in the neighbouring trees.

On the further side of the river we camped for the night, pitching our tent on the only level spot which we could find large enough to hold it. The mozos were tired, and no bribe would induce them to return across the bridge and climb up the slopes to cut the green grass, so we were obliged to turn our mules loose to pick up the best supper they could find on the sun-baked hills around us.

We had descended to the bridge by a track which might claim to have been made for the passage of men and animals, but the ascent next morning on the northern side of the valley could boast of no such mark of civilization. The tracks, if such they could be called, were numerous and confused, and had been formed by mules, cattle, and Indians wandering about in all directions seeking a firm foothold amongst the loose stones and slippery rocks. Our animals were suffering from want of food, and we left them to scramble up by themselves; the unshod mules, although they made many halts, easily distanced the horse, whose iron shoes clattered in uneasy jerks over the loose stones. We ourselves were not inclined to hurry, as the ascent on foot was very tedious, and we were glad of the halts, which gave us time to enjoy the beautiful views across the gorge and to watch the breeze ripple along the velvety slopes on the far side of the river, and turn the grass from green to gold and gold to green again. This ever-changing background seemed only to intensify the blue-green of the isolated pine-trees which clung to the steep slopes and helped to make up a landscape as quaint and delicate in colour as it was beautiful in outline.

We clambered up about 3000 feet, and then mounting our animals rode over the ridge and found ourselves amongst rolling hills almost bare of grass, but supporting here and there rugged-looking ocote pines, and in every sheltered nook a frangipani-tree with its bare fleshy branches tipped with glorious bunches of yellow and white blossoms. After riding for an hour or more through this desert we stopped for breakfast by the edge of a ravine where the Indians knew of a spring hidden away in a scrubby thicket. Then we continued our gradual ascent, and the oaks and pines increased in number until they formed patches of woodland. Great bunches of mistletoe of various sorts—green and orange and brown—were conspicuous amongst the oak-leaves, and the branches of the trees were laden with clusters of orchids and tillandsias. My companions gathered for me beautiful sprays of orchid blossom and gorgeous crowns of crimson leaves which surround the flowering spikes of the tillandsias, and these, added to the bunches of frangipani we had plucked on the arid hillsides and fresh green sprigs of lycopodium, overflowed the mouths of my saddle-bags and formed a decoration to my saddle that would have been the envy of Covent Garden.

As we rode on, the marked difference in colour between the north and south sides of the hills began to disappear; a green tinge was spread over the whole. Then a turn in the track showed the main range in front of us covered with dark forest to the summit and dotted here and there with bright green patches where the Indians had made their plantations. Heavy clouds hung over the mountain-tops, marking the edge of the rainfall which deluges the country to the north up to the end of February. A short descent brought us to the bank of a brilliantly clear stream, an affluent of the Rio Negro, and half an hour later we rode into the straggling village of San Miguel Uspantan, lying at the foot of the forest-clad sierra. The Alcalde allotted us a room in the convento, which had been swept and garnished with a fresh carpet of pine-needles in expectation of the arrival of the Jefe PolÍtico of the Department of QuichÉ.

At Uspantan we were on the borders of the unknown, for to the north of us the map shows nothing but uninhabited mountains and forests, and rivers whose courses have only recently been traced flowing towards the land of the untamed Lacandones. In the 16th and 17th centuries both military and missionary expeditions penetrated these forests, but the memory of them has faded away, and to learn their history one has to hunt through the monkish chronicles or dive into the mountains of manuscript stored in the archives at Seville. The recent additions to the map are due to the interminable boundary disputes with Mexico, and are the result of much hard work on the part of survey expeditions led by Professor Rockstroh and Mr. Miles Rock, which were attended by much suffering and loss of life.

Our room in the convento was only a monk’s cell, windowless, and infested with rats and mice. It opened into a long gallery, with a kitchen at one end and at the other a door leading into the church. The monks had of course long ago disappeared from the scene, and at the present time there is not even a cura resident in the village. One of the cells was used as a school for girls who were taught by a Ladino woman. There was much interest taken in us by these queer-looking scholars, clad in white huipils and blue enaguas, who fluttered about us like frightened birds, we being probably the first of our kind they had ever seen.

The little village was in no way pretty, but the climate was exceedingly pleasant, the blossoms on the orange-trees in the plaza filled the air with perfume, the green hills round us were refreshing to look at, and our tired animals fared sumptuously. Our housekeeping was of the usual primitive kind; we set up our dining-table in the gallery, and cooked our food at a fire on the ground just outside. The kitchen of the convento was closed and we were refused the use of it, but on the third day of our stay several bustling Ladino women took possession of it, kindled big fires, put on huge pots to boil, and set to work to pluck and prepare numberless fowls, all in anticipation of the Jefe’s visit. Whilst these matters were in progress down swooped an angry company of Indian “mayores,” the town councillors of the Indian Municipality, who for some minutes stood at the kitchen door and pelted the cooks with hard-sounding words, which in their monosyllabic language seemed literally to fly from their mouths like peas from a boy’s pea-shooter. It was a question of firewood: someone had clearly stolen somebody else’s firewood, but who stole whose and how the matter was settled we never knew; however, the cooks seemed to have the best of it, for, after the charge was made, all talked at once for the space of ten minutes at the top of their voices, and then the “mayores” retired, looking more important and superior than when they arrived.

The preparations for the Jefe and his party seemed to exhaust the food-supply of the village, and nothing more could be bought; but luckily we had bespoken a turkey on the day we arrived, and a magnificent bird he looked, when just as we were starting on a ramble, we met him being led home in triumph by our boys, Caralampio having hold of the extreme end of one outstretched wing, and Santos of the other, whilst the turkey paced solemnly between them. When we returned from our walk we found our household with their heads together in deep consultation; the turkey had been killed and plucked, but there was no pot big enough in which to cook him. Cooked he must be that night, so he was set up on end in the largest pot we possessed and one end of him was cooked first, then he was turned over and we cooked the other end. After that he was cut up and grilled over the embers, and very excellent he proved to be.

As soon as we had settled down in our headquarters we began to make diligent enquiry about the existence and position of ruined Indian buildings. All sorts of answers had been given to our questions. Some said that there were ruins five leagues distant, others that they were just over the hill, and others that they were to be found in all directions; and the latter were probably right. However, it was settled to look first of all for those said to be close by, so my husband and Gorgonio left me alone at the convento and started off one morning along the spur of the hill which runs out into the valley to the west. They walked about a mile and a half without seeing any trace of mounds and were nearly giving up the search in that direction, as the end of the ridge appeared to be so near, when they noticed that the shrubs in front of them covered an artificial mound, and that there was a dip in the ground between them and it. This dip proved to be a ditch, which may originally have been twenty feet deep, cut across the narrow neck of the ridge, and a long steep-sided mound barred the passage on the other side. Beyond this mound the top of the hill broadened out again into an extent of ground nearly the same as that of the site of Utatlan, and almost the whole of it was covered with foundation mounds. There was a small plaza with a temple mound at the east side of it, and an altar mound in front of the temple. In some cases the foundations retained part of their casing of well-dressed stone and cement facing. In position and arrangement the ruins differed little from those at IximchÉ and Utatlan, and the town, surrounded as it is by deep valleys with precipitous sides, must have been almost impregnable.

On another day, accompanied by Gorgonio and a Ladino guide, we went to look at some other ruins to the north-east of the village. It was a most charming ride through a well-watered park-like grass valley, the hills on either side covered with well-grown oaks and pines, and bounded to the north by the high forest-clad sierra. We passed out of this valley through a gap in the sierra in a northerly direction and rode through pretty little valleys cleared for cultivation. The timber improved the higher we mounted, until the ocote pine gave way to white pines and cypresses and the forest on the hills around us was a close growth of magnificent trees. A ride of about an hour and a half brought us to the valley where the ruins stood. The soil was covered with tuft grass sometimes shoulder high, and it was not easy to make out the plan of the foundations, but as usual we found a well-defined plaza. The mound at the end of it was long and low and did not differ from the others in the neighbourhood, and could not have supported a stone-roofed building. Inside the plaza, where the altar mounds usually stand, we could just with difficulty trace the remains of two small oratories, which did not measure more than 3-1/2 by 7 feet. A small temple mound stood apart towards the west, and there were traces of building on the edges of the valley; but the entire group of ruins was small and of no great importance and we were led to believe that similar small groups abound in the country around.

Gorgonio told us that a feeling had sprung up against us amongst the villagers owing to reports that we had come to spy out the land with a view to starting cattle ranches, and hunting for treasure amongst the ruins, and it required some powers of persuasion to convince them that we were travelling for pleasure and had no intention either of buying up their lands or digging for an imaginary treasure. The ordinances issued from time to time by the Government prohibiting excavations and the removal of sculptures and pottery have confirmed both Indians and Ladinos in the belief that the mounds contain hidden treasure, and the result may easily be disastrous, for it is as likely as not that the Indians may themselves begin rummaging amongst the ruins in search of treasure which does not exist, and will destroy in the process much that, although it is valueless to them, is of the highest importance to the archÆologist.

We had now had a good rest and were prepared to continue our journey. When I came out of my cell on the morning of the 3rd February, ready for the start, I found the villagers assembled in front of the convento, erecting triumphal arches decorated with pine-boughs and strips of blue and white paper, the colours of the State. Fresh pine-needles were being strewn on the floor of the gallery, and the kitchen department was in a very excited condition, for the Jefe PolÍtico was reported to be close at hand. It was clearly time for us to be off, as no offer of payment would buy us a chicken for luncheon; so wishing the great man a good appetite for the very substantial breakfast which was being prepared for him, we rode on our way.

Our next halting-place was to be BelehÚ, said to be about seven and a half leagues distant. The track passed through groves of pine and oak, opening now and again on beautiful grassy valleys, where cattle were peacefully grazing. There was something wonderfully exhilarating in these early morning rides. The cool freshness of the sparkling air, the brilliant blue of the skies flecked with fleecy clouds chasing one another in endless succession, the beauty of the wayside flowers, the various notes of the strange birds, all raised one’s spirits until one felt inclined to shout with delight. This may read like a fanciful exaggeration, but it is an actual fact, which repeated itself on every morning’s ride through the Altos. But to go on with our journey. We stopped for breakfast at the little village of Santa Cruz, and were there detained for two hours waiting for the cargadores who, as usual, lagged behind. However, we were fortunate in falling in with a party of Coban Indians who were returning to their homes by way of BelehÚ, and were able to engage their assistance as carriers and thus make sure of our dressing-bags and comforts for the night.

After breakfast we began an ascent through groves of oak and pine trees adorned with blossoming orchids and great bunches of green and orange-coloured mistletoe. We were now on the high ridge of hills which runs eastward into the great bend of the Rio Negro. After sweeping round this promontory the river flows almost due west to Chixoy, and then takes another sharp bend to the north, disappearing from view in a great black gorge of the mountains. The scenery was magnificent: the bold sierra to the north was wooded to its summit, and three thousand feet below us the river wound like some huge green serpent stealing through the grass. On the lofty ridge we were traversing the air reached us cleared and purified by the stormy winds of the Mexican Gulf, and was fresh and cool both in the morning and afternoon; but it had parted with its last drops of moisture on the opposite hills, so that one drawback to our journey through this enchanting country was the lack of water. The beds of the little mountain streams were all dried up, and we found only one spring at which the animals could drink throughout the whole day’s ride.

We were still riding along the ridge, uncertain how far we might be from our destination, when night came upon us. Both my mule and I were tired, and we had already exceeded the distance I expected to travel; but we had still to wander on along what seemed to me an interminable winding path. Again and again I thought we were at our journey’s end, but the lights ahead of us proved to be fireflies which flitted off at our approach. At last we caught sight of a dim flicker of light which did not elude us, and proved to be that of a solitary tallow dip burning before the altar in the Cabildo of BelehÚ. We found the village to consist of a thatched roof cabildo, an outhouse, and two or three Indian huts. The Cabildo had but one room, which served both as town hall and chapel. Some Indians, who were praying before the shrine when we rode up, received us hospitably and at once set off for the Alcalde, who came and placed the room at our disposal, and kindled a fire for us in the outhouse. The little room was clean and sweet-smelling, with a carpet of fresh pine-needles, and pine-boughs hung around the walls, again in anticipation of a visit from the Jefe. At one end stood the altar decorated with artificial flowers and coloured papers, and edged with a row of extinct candle-stumps. On a small table covered with a white cloth reposed the silver-headed stick of the Alcalde, and on the altar itself lay the wands of office of the Alguacils and Mayores.

My weariness disappeared before the hope of hot coffee and a wash; but in part I was doomed to disappointment, for just as we were making ourselves comfortable and setting up our beds, Gorgonio came in with a long face to tell us that there was no water to be got within a league and a half, and that the supply brought in the morning for the needs of the villagers was exhausted! After some hunting about we managed to secure half a kettle full of the precious liquid for the coffee; but the poor mules had to go waterless, and content themselves with the fresh green grass, of which luckily there was a good supply, and our baths had to be put off until the morning.

We were destined to receive that night yet another shock, for while preparing supper and chatting with the Indians round the fire in the outhouse, we learnt that there was no road out of the village practicable for mules except that by which we had arrived. The road we had been told of as leading south across the river to Cubulco was a myth: it was a mere track hardly passable for Indians carrying loads, and altogether impossible for animals. Here was a dilemma! We were caught in the great bend of the river with no way to get out of it without retracing our steps, which we were most unwilling to do, and the only bridge over the river down stream was at Chixoy, to reach which we should have to return at least as far as Santa Cruz before descending into the valley, and when we had crossed it we should be as far as before from Rabinal. After many questionings and much interpretation, we learnt that the track used by the Indians going to Coban followed the crest of the hill for some five or six miles to the eastward, and then made a rapid descent to the river at Agua Blanca. The track along the high ground was said to be good, but the descent impossible for loaded mules; however, so loth were we to turn back, that we determined to try it, and the Alcalde was told to engage some Indians to relieve the mules of their loads during the steep descent.

We were up early the next morning, but not early enough for the Indians, who, the day being Sunday, arrived at dawn to say their prayers before the altar; and I was obliged to barricade the door against one devout person, who tried to force his way in before I was dressed. As soon as possible I opened the door for them, and in they came, and, quite regardless of us or our doings, lighted their candles and knelt before the altar at their devotions. There was no leader and no regular service; each man said his prayers out loud, and from one who prayed in Spanish we caught now and then a few sentences recounting the story of his pilgrimages and naming the offerings he had given at various shrines. In a few minutes their prayers were over, and devoutly crossing themselves they left the room.

By the time we had finished our coffee the mozos were ready to start, and we rode for about two leagues on a fair track, now through woodland and now through milpas and bright green patches of sugar-cane, enjoying charming views of the wooded ridge we were leaving behind us and of the lofty mountains on the far side of the valley. At a distance of about five miles from the village we came to a rivulet, where the animals were at last able to quench their thirst, and two miles further on the steep descent of nearly four thousand feet began. Here we halted to unload the mules and give over their burdens to the care of the Indian carriers. We did not unsaddle the animals, but were careful to remove stirrups and stirrup-leathers, and to see that all straps and girths were secure. My husband and I led the way, keeping well ahead of the mules, lest one of them should roll over us. It was an exceedingly rough and difficult walk, and we were more than three hours accomplishing it. Two of the mules fell, and the horse rolled over; but none of them were hurt, and we all arrived safely at the river.

In answer to our shouts a man emerged from a house on the opposite bank and came over to us on a very small raft which he brought across the stream by hauling on a rope made fast to both banks. On this craft we were ferried over, two at a time. I dare say the passage was safe enough, but that was not exactly my impression whilst crossing, for the current was very swift and the raft almost entirely under water, and we had to curl ourselves up on a ricketty seat in order to keep dry. At our landing-place, called Agua Blanca, there were only two houses, and these were inhabited by Cobaneros, friends of Gorgonio, who gave us food and shelter for the night, treated our tired animals most hospitably, and refused all payment.

Alas! we had now left the beautiful climate of the Altos behind us, the air was hot and muggy and swarming with insect life, and we were glad when the dawn came and we could mount our mules to climb the steep hillside which led up to the tableland of the Alta Vera Paz. It was not a pleasant day’s journey, as our animals were very tired and a thick mist cut us off from the enjoyment of the landscape. About midday rain began to fall, the first we had felt since leaving the city of Guatemala, and the first break in our sunlit journey. About one o’clock we rode into the little town of San CristÓbal, which lies buried in fruit-trees on the edge of a pretty little lake. The coffee-plants here are not closely-clipped bushes but veritable trees laden with ripe red berries, and we found the whole Indian population busily engaged gathering in the crop and singing and chatting cheerfully over the task.

We passed through the plaza with its picturesque church, catching only a glimpse of the lake, as the mist still hung low, and the hills were veiled in clouds, and then rode on through lanes which were continuous bowers of the richest greenery and brilliant with flowers and fruit. A few miles further on we reached the village of Santa Cruz, and struck the main road to Coban; then the travelling became very bad, for the rainy season was not over and the long lines of ox-carts which carry the coffee down to the Port of Panzos had cut the soft road-bed into rough ruts and deep holes. We had still four leagues to ride, and night came on before we reached our destination. My mule floundered into the great holes full of half-dried mud, and it was all I could do to keep my seat. Outside the town we were met by Mr. Thomae, to whom we had telegraphed from San CristÓbal, and who had ridden out to meet us and escort us to his home, where his wife gave us the kindliest welcome. A clean bedroom, white sheets, and plenty of towels offered a refreshing change after camps, conventos, and cabildos, and an ever-thoughtful hospitality induced us to stay on for a whole pleasant week in our comfortable quarters.