The excellent mozo Ramón Ghisli, who had come with us from Coban, was now ready to return. We would gladly have engaged this capital fellow to go with us all the way, but it was impossible; so I gave him extra pay, and with his _carcaste_[15] full of onions he started back on his long journey. Our mules were not very good, so we decided to send them back and get others here. Ramón had kept well up with the animals, had helped bravely in crossing the Chixoy, and had yielded implicit obedience to Santiago, who persisted in ordering about a man worth three of himself. Ramón got safely home, and delivered the mules all right. A little alcalde in green spectacles exerted himself to find animals for us, as we were anxious to get away, since the hotel was full of dirty children and even dirtier dogs, and the food far worse than anything we had hitherto found. We had rain that night and the next day; but our new horses were brought in fair season. When we came to settle the bill we found the wretched landlord had charged seven dollars, given the bill to his wife, and hidden himself. Finding expostulation with the señora of no effect, I despatched Frank to lay the case before the Jefe, while I tried abuse; this had the desired effect of bringing the landlord from his hiding-place. I called him a _ladron_ (robber), and, to the intense amusement of the many bystanders, described the meat he had set before us as _mula solamente_ (nothing but mule). The boys caught the phrase, and we heard it shouted at the poor man until we departed. The Jefe sent the comandante and two soldiers to bring the “robber” to reason, and mine host thereupon told us to pay what we pleased. The comandante suggested three dollars as the proper price; but we gave him four, and soon after nine o’clock we scraped the mud of this town from our feet.