noon
A rude sign-post at the foot of a rugged mountain path apprised me where the `` miners ' trail '' led off to Guajuaqualla ; so , dismounting from my `` mustang , '' now wearied and blown by a pretty sharp pace for above seven miles , I turned the animal loose and set off on foot . I know of no descent so great in life as from the `` saddle '' to the `` sole ! '' from the inspiriting pleasure of being carried along at will , to the plodding slowness of mere pedestrianism . In the one case you `` shoot your sorrows flying ; '' in the other , they jog alongside of you all the way , halting with you when you lie down at noon , and taking share of the spring from which your parched lips are refreshed . Like an underbred acquaintance , they will not be denied ; they are always `` going _ your _ way ; '' and in their cruel civility they insist on bearing you company . At a little cabaret of the very humblest order , I obtained some breakfast and made purchase of a stock of bread and a gourd of wine , as I learned that nothing was to be had before I reached `` Sanchez , '' the hut of an old miner , which was reckoned halfway to Guajuaqualla . This done , again I set forth on my journey .