Passengers were strung along the road
for miles, going and coming. We would occasionally sit down awhile and
let the sweat run off while a party of them passed us. Some were mounted
on horses, some on mules, and some on donkeys, and they had to pay
twelve dollars for the use of an animal for the trip.
Our night at this wayside deadfall was not much better than some of the
nights about Death Valley, but as I was used to low fare, I did not
complain as some did. This seemed a wonderful country to a northern
raised boy. The trail was lined on both sides with all kinds of palms
and various other kinds of trees and shrubs, and they were woven
together in a compact mass with trailing and running vines. The trees
were not tall, and the bark was as smooth as a young hickory. The roots
would start out of the tree three feet above the ground and stand out at
an angle, and looked like big planks placed edgewise.
It seemed as if there were too many plants for the ground to support,
and so they grew on the big limbs of the trees all around, the same as
the mistletoe on the oak, only there were ever so many different kinds.
The weather was very clear, and the sun so hot that many of the
travelers began to wilt and sit down by the roadside to rest. Many
walked along very slowly and wore long faces. The road from Panama to
Crucez, on the Chagres River, was eighteen miles long, and all were glad
when they were on the last end of it. The climate here seems to take all
the starch and energy out of a man's body, and in this condition he must
be very cautious or some disease will overtake him and he will be left
to die without burial for his body if he has no personal friends with
him.
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