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Before we got back to the town-house our shoes were soaked with water and heavy with mud, while our clothing was soaked through with moisture from the air filled with mist and drizzling rain; and this in the midst of the dry season! During the afternoon, we had seen a curious-looking indian, dressed in a red flannel shirt, white drawers and a cap, but with the regular red Chinantec neck-cloth.
Often the men had to cut the way with their machetes; sometimes we slid for yards over the wet mud; frequently our heads were caught by hanging vines, and faces and hands were scratched with brambles. When at last we came out upon a cleared space, we found ourselves at the Chinantec village of Santa Maria. Perhaps there were four houses in the village. Our appearance caused great excitement.
Arriving at the crest, we saw a long plain stretching before us, presenting a mingled growth of palms and pines. At the very border of the ridge stood a hut of poles, where we stopped to drink tepache and to eat broiled chicken which we had brought with us. We found the old woman, an indian neither Cuicatec, Chinantec, Mixtec, nor Zapotec, as we might expect but a full Aztec from Cordoba.
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