[Illustration: THE JEFE POLITICO AND SOLDIERS]
Inguran Mines--Five Thousand Six Hundred Feet Below Ario
From Santa Clara to Ario we had descended one thousand two hundred feet in thirty miles. Now we were again going down. Each mile the country grew more tropical. A fine, rich, rolling land it was, a soil black and fertile; guavas, bananas, coffee, and other like trees began to be common along the road; long lines of monstrous century-plants (maguey), supplying an unfailing source of _pulque_, bordered the roadway on either hand, serving as impenetrable hedges. The _camino_ (road) showed signs of having once been graded and on the slopes it had been paved from curb to curb. Now, as yesterday, all the road is gone, or nearly so. Chasm-like ruts, vast holes, diverse and many paths, give the traveler a varied choice.
Again we met hundreds of loaded horses, mules and _burros_ and scores of men also, bearing crates and heavy burdens upon their backs. They were transporting cocoanuts, and sugar, and brown ocean salt, and palm leaves, and tropical products even from the distant Pacific shores, seven or eight days’ journey across the gigantic summits of the Cordilleras far to the southwest. Also, we met trains of pack mules loaded with bags of concentrated copper ore from the mines of this great mineral belt, wherein now I am.
I took many kodaks of these travelers as well as of passing incidents. The Jefe Politico stopped his whole “army,” or would have done so, if I had not waved him to come on, for the picture had been taken while he gave his order, “_Instantemente_,” greatly to his surprise.
By 11:00 A. M., we reached the Rancho Nuevo, and entered through the big white wall into an extensive courtyard. Here, were already several pack trains, some from the mines, one going on beyond the Balsas River into Guerrero. The journey is from dawn to midday. Then a halt is made, the packs are taken off, the animals cooled,--led slowly about by boys,--then later, the saddles and _aparejos_ (Mexican substitute for pack-saddle) are taken off and, finally they are watered, and given “roughness” (the stripped dried leaves of maize) to munch, but are not fed with grain till night.
Nothing differentiates the Spanish-Indian civilization of the Mexican--mediæval and Roman as it is--from the twentieth century civilization of our own modern life, more than the attitude of the two peoples in regard to the suffering of dumb creatures. This I see everywhere and at all times. For example: The Spanish-Mexican knows no other bit to put upon his horse than a cruel combination of rough steel bars and pinching rings sufficient to break the jaw. No horse nor mule, nor _burro_, wearing this cruel device, will pretend to drink a drop of water, nor can he, until it is removed. When you would water your beast, you must dismount, take off the bridle and remove the harsh mass of iron from his mouth.