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$133

Mr. John H. Cobbs,

We staid [[stayed]] over one day in Patzcuaro and took a long to be remembered trip on the Lake. The trip up the Lake to Tzintzuntzan was a delightful one, yours truly handling a paddle with the Indians. On the way back however, a storm came up and we had to go ashore and wait for nearly an hour, then, as there seemed to be no sign of the waves decreasing in size, we decided to continue toward Hunicho. On entering the canoe, which was one of the small sized ones, we found that the three Indians had been looking upon the wine when it was red, or perhaps upon the tequila when it was ready for business. We had proceeded but a short distance when the paddlers began to feel the effects of the liquor, and insisted upon talking instead of paddling. The wind was dead against us and the waves were running higher than the sides of the canoe itself. The rower in the bow of the boat would make spasmodic spurts, stopping so suddenly that we would all have to jump to the opposite side of the canoe to keep it from upsetting. He would then relapse into a state of idiotic foolishness and beg to be allowed to drink "un poquito mas". I told him no until I was blue in the face. He finally reached for his bottle, and I at the same time reached for my gun. He got the bottle to his mouth first however, but he saw that I had the run in readiness for the next round. About this time we were nearing the point opposite Janicho, and the sun was just dipping behind the Western hills. I now had to resort