We worked the boat about half a mile up a
little creek four or five miles south of Campeche, and worked half a
day hiding her, so that she'd be there when we got back. Then, taking
what grub was left, we struck out for the interior. It won't be any
use telling you about that journey--you couldn't imagine, and I
couldn't begin to tell you, what a miserable, slow, tortuous affair it
was. It gets hot in New Mexico, but we got a taste of hell in that
Yucatan jungle. That country wasn't built for a white man.
"So I'm not going to try to tell you about the trip. We were tough and
eager, and we stuck it out, traveling mostly by night, setting our
course by the stars, about which I knew something. But we were a week
going a hundred miles, and we were beginning to get into that frame of
mind where we were noticing one another's faults and getting not a bit
backward in talking about them, when one night at dusk we got a glimpse
of the place we were looking for.
"Queza had called the place a town, and maybe that name fits it as well
as another. It made me dizzy to look at it. We'd been climbing the
slope of a mountain all afternoon--traveling in the daytime now,
because we were getting near the end of our journey--Nebraska in the
lead, the rest trailing him. We saw Nebraska stop and duck back into
some brush.
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