" You know, I’m beginning to like this smell, " said Stan. " I can’t smell myself any more. "
" It’s a strange, good smell, " said Dean. " I’m nor. going to change my shirt till Mexico City, I want to take it all in and remember it. " So off we roared again, creating air for hot. caked faces.
Then the mountains loomed ahead, all green. After this climb we would be on the great central plateau again and ready to roll ahead to Mexico City. In no time at all we soared to an elevation of five thousand feet among misty passes that overlooked steaming yellow rivers a mile below. It was the great River Moctezuma. The Indians along the road began to be extremely weird. They were a nation in themselves, mountain Indians, shut off from everything else but the Pan-American Highway.
They were sh
