Brooklyn Museum Quarterly . istleduntil after dark. Next morning we passed forseveral hours alternately throughjungle-like, river-bottom vegeta-tion, and over bare, stony nine oclock we crossed thelow mountain pass, leading oursteeds by the bridles, and camepresently to the habitation ofPapa Laguna, who was standingunder the porch of his hut doingnothing, as usual. One hand was stretched to the raftersoverhead in order to support comfortably his powerful,barrel-chested body. His sons and grandsons, in cow-punchers garb, were leading horses hither and thither, orstanding around wai
Brooklyn Museum Quarterly . istleduntil after dark. Next morning we passed forseveral hours alternately throughjungle-like, river-bottom vegeta-tion, and over bare, stony nine oclock we crossed thelow mountain pass, leading oursteeds by the bridles, and camepresently to the habitation ofPapa Laguna, who was standingunder the porch of his hut doingnothing, as usual. One hand was stretched to the raftersoverhead in order to support comfortably his powerful,barrel-chested body. His sons and grandsons, in cow-punchers garb, were leading horses hither and thither, orstanding around waiting for breakfast. One of them wasamusing himself by throwing bits of caked earth at a animal, with somepigeons, chickens, andnine or ten curs of allsizes, was eating underone of the shelters, andin the midst of them arather fine-looking In-dian girl was mixingdough. A number ofchildren, mostly slight-ly cross-eyed, were alsotoddling about, whileseveral girls of tenyears or more heldyoung babies in their arms. 208. I watched one woman making griddle-cakes of a kindof fine meal. First she rolled and patted the unleaveneddough into balls, then pinched and slapped these into verythin disks, which she cooked on a dry iron plate, turningthem over a dozen times, and folding them twice at the of the Indians were either too busy or too dignified topay the slightest attention to Pancho and me, except to sayhuenos diasJ The little girl, whose picture I had takenon the southward trip, began to cry about something, andold Laguna at once left his orang-utan position under therafters, and went to comfort her. He seemed very grand-fatherly. We bought a few potatoes, and one large onion fromLaguna, and then went on, passing several little cultivatedpatches belonging to the Indians. We also met two or threemiddle-aged men out hunting cottontails with bows andarrows. At the point of the Cocopahs, where we had met therurales, the rising river had flooded the whole region, so tha
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidbrooklynmuseumqu46broouof
