And now every day brought a quite new experience, as not merely the flowers and vegetation, but the very physical aspect of the country changed; and, strangely enough, the night was the _entr’acte_. To-day we were crossing the immense wrinkles of the earth, while from Chichicastenango to Sololà we had travelled with them. As we went up and down, the light faded; and we still had three “wide rivers to cross,” as well as many leagues to ride. As we passed the camps of the mozos de cargo the bright light of their fires dazzled us and made the road some way beyond seem much darker. We came at last to a plain. Here the good resolves never to travel in this country after dark, made when we lost the road at Encuentros, were renewed and strengthened; for every now and then we saw in the dim gray path what looked like ink-puddles, but, to our horror, as we were about to ride through one, we found it to be the head of an immense barranca which was gradually eating its way into the plain over which the road extended. The walls of this barranca were perpendicular, and apparently thirty yards deep; and it was only one of a dozen intersecting our path. I have never since then passed a dark spot in the road at night without thinking of those awful abysses lying in wait to entrap the unwary traveller. Evidently few here travel after dark. In places were hedges of agave, and we saw here and there a house; while the barking of dogs became more frequent, and we at last, about half-past nine, rode into Patzùn. We had no little difficulty in finding where the posada was; for Santiago, who led Mabel, did not like to leave the road, and the burden, as usual, fell on Frank,—who, fortunately, was well able to bear it. The inhabitants were all in bed; but he at last aroused a man to direct us, and we found a good posada, with a comfortable room, clean beds, and hot chocolate. [Illustration: Washout in the Road.]