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Arrived in the district of the trees loaded with beards of golden-yellow moss, we caught a magnificent view back over the valley. With one sweep of the eyes, we could almost follow our whole round of wandering. The ridges on which lay San Juan Zautla and San Pedro Soochiapan both were in sight, as were the valleys in which Santa Maria and Tepanapa lay.
Our pack-animals bade fair to destroy the maize and other plantings in the field. In the trail were oxen, which had to be gotten out of our way for fear of being driven to frenzy by our mere passing. They assured us that we were on the road to Tepanapa, so we completed the descent to the brooklet and started up a trail which at any time would have been steep, stony, slippery, all at once.
The animals were not bad, but we had been told that there were eight leagues of hard road between us and Tepanapa, and six more from there to San Juan Zautla, our destination; we were told that we should spend the night at Tepanapa, reaching Zautla the second day. As we left the town we overtook a funeral procession on its way to the little hill-crest cemetery which we passed soon after.
From there, it was an easy ride over a level district until we were in sight of Tepanapa, which, by sunlight, presented a most attractive appearance. The houses are spread over a gentle slope, to the very edge of a little barranca. Each had a little enclosure, with a group of banana plants. Butterflies of brilliant hues lazily flew about, and a few birds uttered their characteristic cries.
It was six o'clock when we came out upon a slope where the trail was easier and almost level, and it was after dark before we reached the first hut of the miserable ranchito of Tepanapa. Checking our horses, we called, but received no answer. Sending our mozo to the house, we asked for food and shelter, but were refused everything, as they said that they were in bed.
Along the glen-road near Tepanapa all sorts of flowers seemed to be pink or flesh-colored, while along the jungle-bank, near the coffee plantation, everything was blue or purple. When we reached Zautla, neither the presidente, the secretario nor the segundo was in town. The big topil, whose head was healing, did the honors of the place.
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