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Updated: June 8, 2025
We could trace the tailing out of the fans of deposit, from their thicker, heavier part at the base of the torrent, to their margin on the plain; from heavy rock masses weighing tons, through smaller masses, into sand and gravel. The way to Cheran seemed endless, but at last we reached that interesting, great indian town, when the afternoon was nearly spent.
The old gentleman had been insistent that we should return by Capacuaro and Cheran, indian towns. As our time was short, we asked the prefecto to send a messenger to Cheran with orders to dig some skulls and have them ready against the time of our arrival.
The people, however, were not quite sure of our intentions, and Nabor said that when he went to water the horses, a committee of village folk waited upon him, asking whether we were the party of white men who had been skinning live indians over in the Once Pueblos. There were four leagues between us and Cheran, and many more beyond it to Patzcuaro, where we hoped to arrive the next night.
On the morning of New Year's day, we left for Capacuaro and Cheran. As we rode out from the city, we were more than ever impressed with its verdant beauty and picturesqueness. The road to Capacuaro was unexpectedly level and good, and we reached the town, which is purely indian, by nine o'clock. Women, almost without exception, wore the native dress.
Almost at the same time messengers flew in from the cities of Sochem and Anu with news that people were breaking into the temples, and that in Cheran they had even broken in and desecrated the most holy places.
Retracing, as well as we could, our road, we finally found ourselves upon another trail which we followed until 9:30, when we met a little band of indians, the first whom we had seen for a long time. From them we found that we were not upon the road for Cheran, but at the edge of a slope at the bottom of which was a little indian town, Tanaco.
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