While in Guaymas and discussing a practicable route into the heart of the Sierra Madres, I was told by the general commanding the division in which Guaymas was situated, and strongly advised by others having a knowledge of the country, not to attempt an entrance into the mountains from the western side, but rather from the high plateaus, of which the city of Chihuahua was the central point. There were many excellent reasons given for this advice. The Yaqui Indians were said to be very restless at that time; the season of the year was unfavorable, because all large rivers, like the Yaqui, Fuerte, and Mayo, were at their height; again, there were no good points near the mountains for outfitting such as the city of Chihuahua afforded. All these reasons, together with the advance of exceedingly warm weather, made me conclude to retrace my steps to the eastern side of the Sierra Madre range. So we again passed over the Sonora railway, and enjoyed those charming contrasts of the sea of flower-covered plains and mountains during the two days' ride that took us to Benson. Thence we returned to Deming, and from that point to El Paso, whence the Mexican Central Railway takes one in a night's ride about two hundred and fifty miles southward, to the city of Chihuahua.

This is a place of about thirty thousand people, and is the most important city in Northern Mexico. Like all towns in Mexico, but little of it can be seen from the railway, only the tall spires of its famous cathedral being visible; but the fine church alone well repays the tourist for stopping over on his southern flight. Beside the cathedral, there are many other features of interest to the tourist having sufficient leisure, and the town should not be so universally slighted as it now is. It is the outfitting point for all parties visiting the many large and famous mines of the northern portion of the Sierra Madre range. The journey from the city to the mines is made by diligence for the first hundred miles, to the low-lying foothills of the mountains, and then by mule-back for one hundred or one hundred and fifty miles, to the heart of the great range. As this was nearly the route we wished to pursue, the first two days were passed in outfitting and making necessary arrangements. When we were informed that the diligence left Chihuahua at three o'clock in the morning, we were convinced that the Mexicans were by no means as indolent as they have been reported, especially in the matter of early rising, or they would not start out a stage at such an early hour. The conveyance must of necessity be seldom patronized by any persons except the natives; and the calling of passengers at that time for a seventy-five or eighty mile drive could only be accounted for by a morbid desire of the people to be up before the early bird. The day before leaving was passed in assorting all the baggage absolutely needed for a long trip by mule-back, and in getting together such necessary provisions as we would use.

I had been told that but little could be purchased after leaving the town, and then only at three or four times the expense of buying and transporting the same from Chihuahua. So despite all our efforts to cut down our luggage it had quite a formidable appearance, and I judged that my pack train would be an imposing affair, even if the daily bill of fare was not. Our traps were piled up in the office of the diligence, and orders were given to call us quite early, that we might be promptly on hand, for we were assured the diligence would wait for no man. Quite reluctantly I retired early, and left the pleasant crowd sitting on the piazza that surrounded the inner court of the hotel. As the noises of one of these primitive Mexican hotels cease about one o'clock in the morning, and begin about two, and as the night watchman felt it incumbent to open my door every tour he made, and hold his lantern in my face to see whether I was having a good night's rest, there was little cause for alarm lest I should be left. Nevertheless to make assurance trebly sure I was called by three different persons. It was evidently a great event to have passengers leave by the diligence. We were soon out in the streets, picking our way along in total darkness, trying to make the requisite number of twists and turns down the little side streets to the office (for this Mexican diligence was a proud affair, and would not stoop to drive to the hotel for passengers, not even for extra money). The rigid rules of the corporation had to be enforced, and were above all price; so we went floundering around in utter darkness until we were waylaid by a friendly policeman with a lantern, who doubled us back on our tracks, and assisted us to reach the dark door of the diligence office, which, at that hour, was not distinguishable from any other door. At first we were sure the policeman had made a mistake, for there was no sign of life about the place, and it was full time for departure.

Soon, however, a frowzy-headed man with a candle in his hand opened the door and bade us enter; but I preferred walking up and down outside in the cool morning air, and had a good half hour's exercise of that kind before the coach came lumbering into sight. The huge, old-fashioned affair had the queerest look imaginable; for, hitched to it in groups of four each, with two leaders, were the tiniest mules I had ever seen. With the arrival of the coach and ten the office at once burst into life. I stood and counted my luggage as piece after piece was thrown on behind, and felt as though I was monopolizing the highway, for my freight towered up and filled the boot. The office was then examined to see that nothing had been left; but, alas! that precaution was a failure, as I found to my vexation at the end of the first day's drive. It was broad daylight when we finally got away at half-past five in the morning. Walking about in the cool air had given us voracious appetites, and as we clattered by the humble huts of the peons and saw them making their simple morning meals, we regretted exceedingly having placed any faith in the punctuality of this particular diligence. As we drove onward through the broad avenue of alamos on the outskirts of the town the fields were filled with the early workmen, who rise as soon as it is light for their work, and rest in the heat of noonday. In this part of the country these laborers are always dressed in white that looks immaculate in the distance, against the dark background of the fields, but it will not bear close inspection. I was thus able to prove another virtue of the Mexican people, or at least a certain portion of them, and this too despite the fact that my discovery does not accord with the generally accepted American opinion of Mexican laborers. There was no doubt that they were unusually early risers to their work, as all that morning I found evidence of this fact. We drove twenty miles before breakfast, and passed people going into the city who had come as great a distance. As I have said, these same people take their siesta in the afternoon, and are judged accordingly by others who do not get up early enough to know what they have done.

Leaving Chihuahua and bearing west toward the Sierra Madres, one finds the road even crowded with Mexican transportation, all from the rich silver belt now being rapidly developed, chiefly by American wealth. There are great carts with solid wooden wheels of the Nazarene style, the patient donkey of the same period, and all so numerous that one would think there was an exodus from a city soon to be put under siege. Almost anything that grows about the home of a Mexican of the lower order furnishes an excuse for him to take it into town with a hope of selling it. Until we were fairly out of the suburbs our party were the only occupants of the coach, but there we were joined by a Mexican gentleman, the son of a wealthy mine owner, who lived back in the mountains. He was on his way to his fathers mining district, and, as I had met him and talked with him before leaving, I had so timed my departure as to be with him for at least a part of the journey. The country directly back of Chihuahua reminded me greatly of our own plains by the imperceptible manner in which it rises toward the foothills of the mountains, although it was far more fertile and well watered, as the numbers of rich ranches along the way testified. At nine o'clock we stopped to eat breakfast and change mules. Our morning meal consisted of a concoction dignified by the name of coffee, with tortillas (the people's bread—pancakes of coarsely ground corn and water) and some stale eggs served in battered tin dishes upon a rough wooden box. The stage station being the only house in that part of the country, we could not be choosers. I noticed, however, that the soil was of the richest kind and well watered, so that anything could have been raised. What a paradise could be made by energy and industry where nature has already done so much.

At noon we stopped at one of the numerous simple and dreary little villages with which the country is studded. They appear far more desolate than the open, bare mesa lands. All are much alike, each having one or two streets of adobe houses, and a church of forbidding aspect, which fronts on a still more uninviting looking plaza, about fifty or seventy-five feet square, and set with whitewashed adobe benches, a stripe of green about the latter being almost the only thing to remind one of the color of verdure. The plaza is the pleasure ground of the people, and a more cheerless-looking place one could not imagine.

In investigating some of the resources of this country I ran across a (to me) new and interesting way of measuring wheat, and other products of the soil. I found an old hunter on the Yukon River of Alaska who measured the length of grizzly bears by the fathom; I have had a Mexican charge me for a saddle by the pound, carefully weighing it and estimating the resulting cost; and when I tried to find how much an exceptionally fine field of wheat yielded to the acre, the reply was equally surprising. The owner, as he boasted of the field, knew nothing of so many bushels to the acre (or to the hectare, which is their usual standard of measurement), nor even of any ratio of pounds or kilograms to a known area; but he loudly bragged that he raised one hundred for one, while only a few of his neighbors could claim as high as fifty for one, forty for one being the average for the whole valley. Now one hundred for one meant that he got one hundred grains for every grain he planted, one hundred bushels for every bushel put in as seed. If he had planted a bushel on an acre of ground and got one hundred bushels in return it would be considered an enormous yield, and even a Western farmer would dance with delight at such a result; but if he had planted a bushel on ten acres of ground, and got the same hundred bushels as before, the Mexican farmer would be as happy as ever, while the American farmer would begin to wonder if the old farm could stand a third mortgage or not.

Of course the American will say that about a certain number of bushels are sown to the acre, and that one hundred for one or fifty for one really gives us a fair ratio in judging of the fertility of the land. But I would answer that in Mexico little attention is paid even to such a ratio, or to any other in agriculture, and only the most careful observation or inquiry can elicit the facts necessary for a basis of proper conjecture.

A Mexican diligence is ornamented with an assistant to the driver in the shape of a nimble young fellow, whose business it is to throw stones at the mules. He occupies the front seat alongside the driver, and whenever the mules have the appearance of commencing to walk—which occurs about every half minute—he jumps nimbly to the ground, makes a dash ahead for the leaders, with his hands and pockets full of stones, and pelts the unfortunate beasts well. Of course they make a tremendous burst of speed, and he grasps the straps on the side of the coach and swings himself on top; then the leaders look around, and, seeing him up out of the way, they slacken down their pace again, when the performance is repeated. Sometimes the mules do not wait to be pelted, but when they see their enemy stoop down to gather the missiles they gallop wildly ahead, leaving the road runner to make the best time he can to catch up; which having done, he takes his revenge on the mules from above at his leisure.

If there is one thing in which the Mexicans can outdo us more than another it is in stage or diligence driving, and this too with animals that will not compare with ours in size or strength, although, in proportion to their size, probably more enduring. They generally make up in numbers what they lack in strength, for they hitch them in troops and droves, so to speak. When we first started we had two groups of four and two leaders; then we changed to four abreast and two wheelers; then, as the country grew a little rougher, they hitched two leaders to the six, making eight altogether. Now, again, we dropped to six mules in pairs, as we see them at home. As the last stretch was a tough one, we again had ten mules in sets of fours with two wheelers. This over a very rough mountain road. Here was versatility in mule driving that I never expected to see among a people that are generally reported by most American writers to be of a decidedly non-versatile character.

When the Mexican mules are through staging they "skirmish" for a living, grazing off such grass as can be had, or in lieu thereof browsing on cottonwood and willow bush, not even disdaining a corner of a corral or a wagon tongue or two if times are going a little hard with them. Late in the afternoon we realized that we were entering the foothills of the mountains, for the road wound through many picturesque little ravines and ascended the rocky beds of the small creeks, often taking to the middle of the stream when the caÑon was very narrow or thickly strewn with bowlders. It was quite a common occurrence for the stage to be overturned on the road—if road it could be called—and the most decided talent in mule driving was necessary to guide the groups of little animals safely between the mossy rocks. Toward evening the walls of the long caÑon, with its broken craigs and fantastic turrets, almost met overhead, so narrow was it; but after a few turns and twists it widened, and after rounding the peak of a high mountain, entered another caÑon, where, strung out its whole length, was the town of Cusihuiriachic. I do not intend to throw the name of this Mexican town at my readers without giving a plan, section, and elevation of it as a key to the riddle. We were now in the land of the Tarahumari Indians of West Central Chihuahua, this long-winded name applying to them just as equivalent Indian names are found in Maine and a few other places in the Union. This large Indian tribe, probably numbering from 15,000 to 18,000 (the most authentic estimate I can get places them at 16,000, although I have heard them estimated at 30,000 in strength), was once scattered over a considerable territory, and their names are still given to most of the places in the country they occupied before the advent of Europeans.

IN CUSIHUIRIACHIC CAÑON.

Wherever there is water (so I was told by an old resident among these strange and little known people, Don Enrique Muller) the name of the camp or town alongside ended in chic, as in the example I have given above, as also in Bibichic, Carichic, Baquiriachic, and a few others I could mention—"all wool and a yard wide." The rest of the word Cusihuiriachic, still long enough for five or six more names, means, says my authority, "the place of the standing post." When they ruled their own country many years ago the principal means of punishment employed was the upright post, to which the offenders were tied and treated to a Delaware dissertation. Such is the origin of the big name of the little Mexican town of Cusihuiriachic, situated about halfway between the city of Chihuahua and the great mining belt of the Sierra Madres, west and southwest of the city, and to which it is a secondary distributing point. The diligence ride is made to it in one day, a little over seventy-five miles. The place claims five thousand people, and there is but one street up the narrow gulch, which, however, is long enough to justify its name. It is wholly a mining town, and has some important quartz mills strung out along the little stream through its principal and only street. When we reached our destination for the night we found a square adobe inclosure, with an enormous gateway, through which the stage rattled and then stopped in a small court for us to dismount. From there we passed through another large gate into a similar court, filled with a variegated assortment of mules, and after dodging among them, to cross to the opposite side, we climbed three or four steps, and entered the most primitive hotel any civilized man's eyes ever rested on.

The patio or interior plaza of the hotel was, upon our arrival, being used as a cockpit, and one or two hundred people were jammed therein. Beside the Mexicans, there was one immense, brawny Chinaman. In the middle of the pit lay two dead cocks; one belonged to the Chinaman, and the other to some member of the Mexican aristocracy of the town. An adverse decision had just been given regarding the victory of the Chinaman's cock, and he was in the act of rolling up his sleeves to pitch into the crowd and vindicate the prowess of his fowl; fortunately our timely arrival prevented any further strife by diverting attention to us, while the host was dragged from the midst of the fray to hunt up a key to unlock one of the narrow pens—called rooms—that overlooked the mule corral. Here, on a dirty brick floor, my bedding was spread, and I slept to a chorus of squealing mules, which came in through the grated, wooden-shuttered window. And right here I may say that I know of no better opening for Americans of small means than starting and keeping hotels in Mexican towns, where decent accommodations of the kind are wanting, and where a great many Americans, as well as English and other foreigners, pass through. I could mention fifty such towns beside the example given. In the town referred to we were crowded, four and six together, into those small pens—all travelers passing backward and forward on business connected with mining interests or similar industries. It seemed to be the universal custom of this portion of the country to get up at three o'clock to take the diligence, no matter how long or short the drive was to be. We were going only forty miles farther the next day to Carichic; the diligence returned nearly eighty miles to Chihuahua, and another stage line branched off for Guerrero, to the northwest; but it appeared necessary that passengers should rise at the same hour in order that all the coaches might get away at the same time.

AARRIVAL OF THE COACH

The Carichic line is quite unfrequented, and only an ordinary wagon is used as a stage for the few Mexicans who go that way; but in honor of my party the large diligence was sent that day to carry us and all our luggage. With the first streak of dawn we were threading our way backward and forward across the little stream that runs through the town, past sleeping pigs, geese, chickens, dogs, burros, and Mexicans—an almost indiscriminate mass strung along the roadside. This road led past the big quartz mill, grinding away day and night, and by it we climbed up and out of the narrow caÑon till the mesa and the hills were reached. Afterward the drive was through beautiful park-like places, with groves of oak and pine, the road winding up and down the mountain side, until, early in the afternoon, we reached Carichic. On the road between Cusihuiriachic and Carichic we came to an adobe building, that departed in a very picturesque way from the everlasting mud box style of architecture so common to this country, and for which departure we had to thank the Apaches. Not that they built it, for an Apache never built anything except under compulsion, and at that time compulsion of these Indians was about the scarcest thing in Mexico; but, rather, they compelled the Mexicans to do it, that is, to erect corner towers at the four corners of the mud box, and convert it into a building of defense. In the picturesque mountain scenery it looked at a short distance away like an old castle, and only a nearer inspection dispelled the illusion.

MEXICAN ADOBE HOUSE FORTIFIED AGAINST APACHE RAIDS.

While at Cusihuiriachic we had looked with some contempt on the primitive accommodations of its forlorn and dilapidated hotel, and had rather scouted the idea of its being possible to find a worse place or greater disregard for the common necessities of life in any habitable town. The little cell-like room, with its wooden bench, tin wash basin, and bare brick floor on which to stow one's bedding, seemed to be the extreme of simplicity; therefore we believed that Carichic could hardly do less for us. But as everything is relative in this world, I was soon to look back to the despised hotel as the last taste of civilization, and to appreciate it accordingly. On reaching Carichic, a town of six or seven hundred people, we were told there was no such thing as a lodging house for us, and that it would be necessary for us to camp in the streets or some field, unless our Mexican friend could induce the village priest to allow us the use of a large empty room in one corner of the big building he occupied. The loaning or renting of a large empty room does not seem to be an act of great hospitality, nevertheless it was so regarded. The Mexican gentleman, when passing backward and forward over the trail between his father's mines and Chihuahua, always made his headquarters with the priest or cura, who was a great friend of his family; but everything and everybody from the United States he looked upon with suspicion and distrust. Therefore, considering the circumstances, his readiness to allow us under his roof could only be considered as a marked hospitality, or as evidence of a disposition to oblige our mutual Mexican friend. Perhaps he was animated by a keen sense of duty, and found this a fitting opportunity to mortify the spirit. But, whatever his motive, we were given the use of the room. So the stage left us and our worldly possessions there, for at Carichic all roads ended, and, as soon as I could make my arrangements with a native packer for his pack train of mules, we were to take one of the narrow Indian trails leading back into the heart of the Sierra Madres.

The priest's house was by far the most important in the village, being built around a large interior court, with all the rooms facing on this court, except the one given for our use. At the entrance to this interior court was a large gate, which could be barricaded in case of danger or an Indian uprising. On one of the outside corners of the structure was a sort of storeroom, the door opening on the street, and next to this storeroom—which contained a few old bottles and pieces of leather—was the room assigned to us. At one end of our room was a small fireplace, and along the rude adobe wall was a wooden bench, and near it a table. One window, with wooden bars, and the door, were the only openings. The floor was the common one of earth. As there was not a place in the town where food could be bought, it was necessary to open our boxes before our dinner could be prepared. Wood and water were soon brought, a fire started in the fireplace, and our simple meal could have been ready in fifteen minutes—and would have been anywhere except under the auspices of our Mexican cook. We tried to secure chickens and eggs—staple articles even on the frontier of Mexico—but were told that time would be required to get them, and that the next day would be the earliest moment at which they could be procured. Tortillas, however, were forthcoming, and these, with bacon, hard bread, cheese, and tea, made an excellent meal. Dionisio, or Dionysius in English, my cook, had been highly recommended to me at Chihuahua, and had been brought with me on that account, as I had been influenced by glowing descriptions of his supposed good qualities. Since the morning of our start from Chihuahua he had been the butt and laughingstock of even the slowest of the Mexicans, who had heaped all sorts of derisive epithets on him for his general stupidity. My only hope was that he would blossom out as a good cook when he had an opportunity; but here I was doomed to receive the full shock of his utter incapacity, and to realize that he would only shine resplendently as a complete failure on the whole journey. Finally I was forced to the conclusion that he was palmed off on me simply to get him salaried and off the the hands of somebody else. Although we arrived at Carichic about noon, or shortly after, and preparations were begun at once for our simple meal, we were compelled to eat it by the light of a tallow candle. It was evident that, if more than one meal a day was to be had, Dionisio would require an assistant to do all the work.

As night approached the good padre tendered us the use of his parlor floor on which to spread our bedding. This room occupied one side of the interior court. It was a long, narrow place without windows, and lighted only through the wooden doorways, of which there were two. In one end of the room was a little old narrow iron bedstead; at the other a small, black haircloth sofa, and a couple of chairs. On the walls were a picture of the Virgin and a small crucifix, while in another part, hung up beyond reach of the tallest man, was a small, a very small mirror, evidently regarded as a profane thing and not to be used. In the center of the room was a small strip of faded green Brussels carpet. The whole place had a most depressing air, and the bare earthen room outside was beautiful by comparison, for in the latter we had the sunshine, and could see the lovely blue sky, and all around the horizon, the rolling, tree-covered hills, with the distant peaks of the Sierra Madres in the background. Nature had been very lavish with this place, and at every point of the compass it was picturesque and beautiful in the extreme. About Carichic the soil is wonderfully fertile and the grass luxuriant. A lovely little mountain river winds by on one side of the village. The people are principally the civilized Tarahumari Indians, and this is one of their largest towns. There is, however, as in all Indian towns, a slight sprinkling of Mexicans, and to that portion of the community we looked for mules to carry us back into the mountains.

Shortly after my arrival a number of Indians were started out to look up the animals; for we wished to get away the next morning if possible. When night came a part of the needed complement had not been found; for Mexican mules are always turned loose to hunt their living, and they often wander off many miles, and it sometimes takes days to find them. All night long the Indians were again out scouring the hills, but in the morning there were still not mules enough; so nothing could be done but patiently await their arrival. The next morning Francisco, a most excellent packer, by taking one horse to carry a few light bundles, had animals enough to make a start. Horses are of no service whatever in these mountains. On the steep, rough, dangerous trails the small Mexican mule is the only animal that can possibly cling, crawl, and climb up and down the dizzy heights. The motley and scraggy assortment of beasts led up for our inspection that morning gave us the uncomfortable feeling that we would never reach any place if we trusted to them. A little before ten o'clock my train of fourteen mules was started; and we were told we must ride fast, as the trail just out of the town was good, and it was necessary to make the noon camp at a certain spot. The trail we took was one seldom used, except by the Indians, and a few Mexicans who held mining property in that portion of the mountains. It was, therefore, one of the roughest and steepest in that region. Instead of seeking any sort of grade, it struck out wherever fancy had dictated to the original Indian travelers, generally over the steepest peaks or along the edge of some high and dizzy precipice, even when this course was wholly unnecessary. Although that made it somewhat laborious for us, as well as our animals, it gave us unusually fine views and picturesque effects, and despite the roughness of the trail we rode fifteen miles that morning and made our noon camp on time.

When but a very short distance out of Carichic, while crossing a high ridge, I observed, in a little valley below, a curious looking creature skulking along half hidden from view, toward the entrance to a cave in a huge bowlder. I called the attention of my Mexican companion to him, and he said he was only one of the wilder Tarahumari Indians, who lived in this manner, and that I would see enough of them before I finished my journey. This was my first introduction to a strange people hidden away in those grand old mountains, and of which the world has known comparatively nothing.