over it with small pieces of wax a large sheet of the transparent paper, and standing on a projecting rock, as best I could, I proceeded to make the tracing. Scarcely had I finished this somewhat trying task when my men told me that an Indian boat was coming toward us. I told the men to quietly await its arrival. I should have preferred not to encounter the Indians at the picture rocks, but there was not time to go elsewhere, and therefore I seated myself on the projecting rock to wait for the cayuco, which was not within my circle of vision. Suddenly the cayuco came around the rocks, and our friendly calls soon brought it alongside of our own. In it were a man, his wife, an infant, and two older children. Hardly had the man noticed that I was standing directly under the picture on the rock than, exhibiting signs of extreme terror, he called out to me in broken Spanish, "No hombre — quítate de ahí — es mi santo — es el Cristo-María de nosotros — cuidado hombre — te come el tigre — vámonos hombre — por eso mucha agua por el mal corazon de mi santo — por eso muy crecidos los rios y la laguna — vámonos — vámonos."
I pacified the man as well as I could, assuring him that we too held this "saint" in great veneration, and had brought him a small offering, so that he would grant us fine weather and abundant maize. After this I stepped into my cayuco, gave my hand to the man and asked him his name. Chankin, — chichan, abbreviated chan (tšitšan, tšan) = small; kin (k'in) = sun, priest, — he answered. Then I explained to him that we had come to see the lake and to visit his countrymen who were living in its vicinity, and also that we would like to purchase a few pretty things as well as food of them, for which purpose we had brought with us useful articles: knives, fish-hooks, handkerchiefs, mirrors, and salt, of which they never have a sufficient supply. On telling him that in our search for their dwellings we had come across a large group of houses full of all kinds of utensils, but without inmates, Chankin replied that the houses were those of his brother who had died recently. And what did he die of? "Quien sabe, Señor? — Por el mal corazon de su santo," the man answered angrily.
Chankin, who had learned a little Spanish in his frequent intercourse with the neighboring monterías, was a robust man in middle life, and was dressed in a shirt-like garment of coarse cotton. Long raven-black hair surrounded his beardless face, which was of a genuine Indian cast. His wife was of smaller frame, and was also dressed in cotton; her face and arms were badly bitten by flies. A fine set of bow and arrows wrapped in bark lay on the bottom of the cayuco. I asked the Indian to sell them to me, which he did for two pesos.
We rowed now to the landing-place on the south shore, where we fastened the boats. I was firmly resolved not to lose sight of the man at any price, for otherwise we might forever miss the opportunity of coming in contact with the Indian settlements of Pethá.
