Le Plongeon was making his way out of the pit. The stupid Indian did not even extend his hand to help him up, till the Cura shouted at him. The Doctor had fallen about fifteen feet upon coral rocks, and was very glad to find none of his bones broken, but a little stream of blood immediately dyed the rock on which he had fallen. He bound a handkerchief tightly around his head, saw that, in effect, the water of the senote was shimmering in the distance, illuminated from the hole into which he had fallen, then with some difficulty made his way out.
In spite of the handkerchief, blood was running down his face. Fortunately we had a gourd; I asked the Indian to go under the small house to procure water from the senote. He said it was very difficult to reach, admitting, when urged, that he was afraid of the spirit of the senote. I therefore led the way, the man following unwillingly. He was very tall, but it seemed that I must get the water myself. In hurrying down I narrowly escaped drowning, for my foot slipped and I only saved myself by catching at a projecting stone. Had I fallen I could never have been rescued without ropes. The apathetic Indian afterwards spoke of my danger with the same indifference that he would manifest
