Having engaged a guide for the so-called Ruinas at Quirigua, at eight o’clock the next morning we said our adios (after paying our hostess nineteen reals for ourselves and mozos) and started down the river bank. Across the river were the largest bambus we had seen in the country, some joints at least six inches in diameter. Our path led through a canebrake, and often so close on the loose banks of the Motagua that I feared we should drop in. For two hours we went on in this way, stopping only to rifle a turtle’s nest of fourteen small eggs (less in size than a pullet’s). We then turned to the left and came to the Quirigua river,—which more resembled a creek; and here my heart sank, for I have a great dread of black waters and muddy bottoms. Santiago waded in first, and I followed close on the little mule; and we all crossed safely, our mozo leading his wife by the hand with great care. Once in the thick forest, our guide did his best to empty a generous bottle of aguardiente he had brought with him; so that within an hour he knew very little about the road, or anything else useful. Cohune and similar palms were on all sides, and we first saw here the _pacaya_ (_Euterpe edulis_?),—a slender palm with edible pods or buds. Enormous trees with buttresses even the goyava took this form here—were prominent among the lower palms, and ginger and wild bananas bordered the rather indefinite path, which we had constantly to clear of vejucos and fallen palm-leaves. Many round holes, as large as a flour-barrel, showed where palm-stumps had been eaten out by insects. [Illustration: Remains at Quirigua.]