each measuring three feet, by twenty inches, by ten inches.
Much lower down there was a senote of limpid water that we did not try to reach, the descent being very precipitous, over smooth boulders. In that senote, fourteen years before, Cura Rejon had found a small cantaro (water-jug), about half the size of those now used by the natives. He kindly gave it to me; it is now in the Museum of Natural History, in Central Park, New York.
At some distance we saw light, reflected on the water, evidently from an opening in the rocky vault. After searching around the house among the thick bushes, we found it. Dr. Le Plongeon, to see within, leaned forward, putting his hand on what he believed was a firm tree-trunk thrown across the hole. The Indian who stood by him said not a word, though the Cura afterwards affirmed that he must have known it was the wild palma cristi, which bears no weight.
The Cura and I were on the other side of the cavity, struggling through the bushes to reach the edge of it, when we heard a sound like dry wood being splintered, followed by silence. The bushes prevented us from seeing anything, and the Indian held his tongue. When we reached the brink Dr.
