CHAPTER IX.
ACROSS THE ALTOS.
Our journey began again on the 25th January, along the road by the lake shore and round a bluff headland which divides the delta of Panajachél from a much smaller plain of the same formation. Then the track rose rapidly and we gained a view over the lake, and glimpses of little Indian towns nestling beneath the lofty headlands and at the foot of the distant volcanoes. The beauty of this view under a canopy of the deepest blue flecked with billowy clouds, the charm of leafy lands through which we passed, and the pleasant sound of the little mountain rivulets leaping over the rocks and then hiding themselves with a sullen murmur in impenetrable thickets, have together left on my mind an impression of grandeur and charm not easily to be effaced. As we rose higher, more mountains came in sight, and in all their magnificence our old friends Agua and Fuego stood out upon the horizon. From one point in the road I could distinctly see the peaks of five of the great volcanoes which tower over the distant coast-line. We continued to rise until we reached the town of Sololá, 2000 feet above the lake and 7000 feet above the sea, and the temperature at that altitude was delicious.
Naturally our steps turned towards the plaza, but we found it uninteresting and almost deserted. After some questioning we were directed to a small posada, or inn, in a back street, where a good breakfast was served to us in a sort of outhouse, on a dirty cloth covering a table standing on stilts. As the legs of the chairs were as short in proportion as the legs of the table were long (and I afterwards learnt from experience that the ratio was nearly constant throughout the country), the distance between the food and one's mouth was short. However, the little garden of the inn was pretty enough to compensate for all inconveniences, and I was allowed to take as many violets and roses as it pleased me to gather.
Sololá is a centre of the weaving industry, and is also famed for the fine embroidery with which the women decorate their garments. We had been fairly fortunate at Panajachél in securing samples of the fabrics woven there, as the women were willing to sell when a good price was offered them; but here we met with no success whatever. Gorgonio, who had gone out in search of "trapos" for us, returned almost blushing after having been exposed to a fire of invective from the women whom he had approached on the subject; they not only refused to sell him anything, but scorned his offers of money,
