We were now waiting with some impatience for the cayucoes, when a large canoe manned by three white men loomed in the distance; a horrible suspicion flashed across my mind, that they were men belonging to another expedition, who had forestalled me. The canoe came near, and I learnt that they had been on a foray expedition among the Lacandones, but had been unable to obtain anything except a few tomatoes, and were now returning to the ruins to join their master, Don Alvaredo, and that their provisions were running very short.
“Look here, my good fellows, take my card to your master with my compliments, together with half a wild pig, salt meat, rice, biscuits, and in return ask him to lend me his large canoe, which these men I send with you will bring.”
[Illustration: LACANDON CHIEF AND LACANDON TYPES.]
The strangers rowed away, and I began to prepare for the next day’s expedition, in which Lucian and six men would accompany me, leaving the rest behind to take care of our heavy luggage under the superintendence of Julian. But in the morning early I had a severe attack of malaria, which threatened at one time to delay our journey. A few hours’ rest, however, and a good dose of quinine, restored me sufficiently to allow of my setting out for the long-sought, long wished-for ruins, which we reached in three hours, landing near an enormous pile of stones—a kind of votive pillar—rising on the left bank of the river, which has withstood the buffeting of the waters for several centuries. This stone mound was described to me at Tenosiqué, as having formed part of an old bridge which spanned the river at this point. But what we know of the natives’ method of building makes this supposition impossible, for the river is too broad, and on the other hand, had a bridge formerly stood here, remains would be found either on the opposite side or in the bed of the river. There is very little doubt that for all the purposes of daily life, the inhabitants of this city used “canoas” just as they do now.
[Illustration: VOTIVE PILE OF LORILLARD.]
We had made but a short way among the ruins lying in every direction, when we were met by Don Alvaredo, whose fair looks and elastic step showed him to be an Englishman. We shook hands; he knew my name, he told me his: Alfred Maudslay, Esq., from London; and as my looks betrayed the inward annoyance I felt: