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AN INDIAN VILLAGE.
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the bulls in the savannas. The fire-flies sparkled in the high grass, and the watch-fires of the shepherds shone here and there in the fields.



CHAPTER III.

An Indian Village.

We had now been for some time on the road, and the night was getting darker and darker. The moon, which up to this time had lighted our way, was now becoming gradually encircled with a halo a bad omen. At last it finally disappeared in a dense bank of clouds on the verge of the horizon. From time to time a yellowish sheet of lightning shot through the dark mass, and brought out, in strong relief, the dense blackness which enveloped the country around. The instinct of our horses alone kept us right in the thick darkness. The barking of dogs announced our approach to some solitary cabin by the wayside; sometimes we charged unwillingly among a herd of pigs which were lying wallowing in the ruts of the road, and which trotted off grunting in the darkness. In the midst of this savage scene, surrounded with the lurid light produced by the flashes, which were following each other in quick succession, we looked more like some country smugglers out on an expedition than peaceful travelers on an excursion of pleasure.

We had already passed through the village of Tacubaya, and were struggling onward in the mountain road which leads to Toluca. I knew nothing of the road they were leading me. That was of little importance, provided we reached our place of destination be-