THE PUNA.
By early dawn Guapo was awake, but he did not immediately awake the
others. It was still too dark to follow the mountain road. His first
care was to have his coca breakfast, and to this he applied himself at
once.
Day was fairly broke when he had ended the process of mastication, and
he bethought him of descending from the rock to arouse the sleepers. He
knew they still slept, as no voice had yet issued from the grove of
mollés. The mule and horse were heard cropping the grass, and the llamas
were now feeding upon an open spot,--the first they had eaten since
their halt, as these creatures do not browse in the night.
Guapo descended with fear in his heart. How it would have joyed him to
hear the voice of his master, or of any of them! But, no. Not a sound
proceeded from any one of the party. He stole nimbly along the ledge,
making his way through the mollé trees. At length he reached the spot.
All asleep?--yes, all! "Are they dead?" thought Guapo, and his heart
beat with anxiety. Indeed, they seemed so. The fatigue of travel had
cast a sickly paleness over the faces of all, and one might easily have
fancied they no longer lived. But they breathed. "Yes, they breathe!"
ejaculated the old Indian, half aloud. "They live!"
Guapo bent down, and seizing Don Pablo by the arm, shook him--at first
gently, uttering, at the same time, some words to awake him. But neither
the shaking nor the voice had any effect. Guapo shook more violently,
and shouted louder. Still Don Pablo slept. None of the others
moved--none of them heard him. It was strange, for the Indian knew that
Don Pablo himself, as well as the others, were easily awaked on ordinary
occasions. Guapo, becoming alarmed, now raised his voice to its loudest
pitch, at the same time dragging Don Pablo's shoulder in a still more
violent manner. This had the desired effect. The sleeper awoke but so
slowly, and evidently with such exertion, that there was something
mysterious in it.
"What is it?" he inquired, with half-opened eyes. "Is it morning
already?"
"The sun is up. Rouse, my master! It is time we were on the road,"
replied the Indian.
"I feel very drowsy--I am heavy--I can scarce keep my eyes open. What
can be the cause of this?"
"The poison-trees, master," answered Guapo.
The answer seemed to impress Don Pablo. He made a violent effort, and
rose to his feet. When up he could scarcely stand. He felt as though he
had swallowed a powerful opiate.
"It must be so, good Guapo. Perhaps there is some truth in what you have
said. O, heavens!" exclaimed he, suddenly recollecting himself,--"the
others--my wife and children!"
This thought had fully awakened Don Pablo; and Guapo and he proceeded at
once to arouse the others, which they effected after much shouting and
shaking. All were still heavy with sleep, and felt as did Don Pablo
himself.
"Surely there is some narcotic power in the aroma of these trees,"
muttered Don Pablo. "Come, wife, let us be gone! We must remain under
its influence no longer, else what Guapo has said may prove too true.
Saddle up--we must eat our breakfasts farther on. To the road!--to the
road!"
Guapo soon had the horses ready, and all hurried from the spot, and were
once more climbing up the mountain-path. Even the animals seemed to move
slowly and lazily, as though they, too, had been under the influence of
some soporific. But the pure cold air of the mountain soon produced its
effect. All gradually recovered, and after cooking some _charqui_ and
ocas in the ravine, and making their breakfast upon these, they again
felt light and fresh, and pursued their journey with renewed vigour.
The road kept on up the ravine, and in some places the banks rose almost
perpendicularly from the bed of the dry torrent, presenting on both
sides vast walls of black porphyry--for this is the principal rock
composing the giant chain of the Andes. Above their heads screamed small
parrots of rich plumage of the species _Conurus rupicola_, which make
their nestling places, and dwell upon these rocky cliffs. This is a
singular fact, as all other parrots known are dwellers among trees and
are found in the forest at all times, except when on their passage from
place to place.
But even the squirrel, which is an animal peculiarly delighting in
tree-life, has its representative in several species of
ground-squirrels, that never ascend a tree; and, among the monkeys,
there exists the troglodyte or cave-dwelling chimpanzee. No doubt
squirrels or monkeys of any kind, transported to an open or treeless
country, would soon habituate themselves to their new situation,--for
Nature affords many illustrations of this power of adaptation on the
part of her creatures.
It was near sunset when our travellers reached the highest point of
their route, nearly 14,000 feet above the level of the sea! Here they
emerged upon an open plain which stretched far before them. Above this
plain towered mountains of all shapes to a height of many thousand feet
from the level of the plain itself. Some of these mountains carried
their covering of eternal snow, which, as the evening sun glanced upon
it, exhibited the most beautiful tints of rose, and purple, and gold.
The plain looked bleak and barren, and the cold which our travellers now
felt added to the desolateness of the scene. No trees were in sight. Dry
yellow grass covered the ground, and the rocks stood out naked and
shaggy. They had reached one of those elevated tables of the Andes known
as the _Puna_.
These singular tracts elevated above the level of cultivation are almost
uninhabited. Their only inhabitants are a few poor Indians, who are
employed by the rich proprietors of the lower valleys as shepherds; for
upon these cold uplands thrive sheep, and cattle, and llamas, and flocks
of the wool-bearing alpaco. Through this wild region, however, you may
travel for days without encountering even a single one of the wretched
and isolated inhabitants who watch over these flocks and herds.
On reaching the Puna, our party had made their day's journey, and would
have halted. The llamas already showed signs of giving out by stopping
and uttering their strange booming note. But Guapo knew these
parts--for, though a descendant of the Incas, he had originally come
from the great forest beyond the eastern slope of the Andes, where many
of the Peruvian Indians had retired after the cruel massacres of
Pizarro. He now remembered, that not far from where they were, was a
shepherd's hut, and that the shepherd himself was an old friend of his.
That would be the place to stop for the night; and, by Guapo's advice,
Don Pablo resolved to continue on to the hut.
Guapo fell upon his knees before the llamas, and, after caressing and
kissing them, and using a great variety of endearing expressions, he at
last coaxed these animals to proceed. No other means would have availed,
as beating would not make either llama budge an inch. The leader, who
was a fine large animal and a great favourite with its master, at length
stepped boldly out; and the other, encouraged by the sound of the small
bells that tinkled around the head of the leader, followed after, and so
the travellers moved on.
"Come, papa!" cried Leon; "you are tired yourself--mount this horse--I
can walk a bit:" at the same instant the boy flung himself from the back
of the horse, and led him up to where his father stood. Then handing the
bridle to the latter, he struck off along the plain, following Guapo and
his llamas.
The road skirted round the rocks, where the mountain came down to meet
the plain. The walk was not a long one, for the hut of which Guapo spoke
became visible at less than a quarter of a mile's distance. An
odd-looking hut it was--more like an ill-built stack of bean-straw than
a house. It had been built in the following manner:--
First, a round ring of large stones had been laid, then a row of turf,
then another tier of stones, and so on, until the circular wall had
reached the height of about four or five feet, the diameter being not
more than eight or nine. On the top of the wall a number of poles had
been set, so as to meet above where they were tied together. These poles
were nothing else than the long flower-stalks of the _maguey_ or
American aloe, as no other wood of sufficient length grew in the
vicinity. These poles served for rafters, and across them laths had been
laid, and made fast. Over all this was placed a thatch of the long
coarse Puna grass, which was tied in its place by grass ropes that were
stretched from side to side over the top. This was the hut of Guapo's
friend, and similar to all others that may be encountered in the wild
region of the Puna. A door was left in the side, not over two feet high,
so that it was necessary to crawl upon the hands and knees before any
one could reach the interior.
As our travellers approached, they saw that the entrance was closed by
an ox-hide which covered the whole of the opening.
Whether the shepherd was at home, was the next question; but as they got
near to the house, Guapo suggested that Don Pablo should dismount and
let Leon get upon horseback. This suggestion was made on account of the
Puna dogs--of which creatures Guapo had a previous knowledge. These
dogs, known by the name of Inca dogs, are, perhaps, the fiercest animals
of their species.
They are small, with pointed muzzles, tails curling upward, and long
shaggy hair. They are half-wild, snappish, and surly, as it is possible
for dogs to be. They attack strangers with fury, and it is as much as
their masters can do to rescue even a friend from their attack. Even
when wounded, and unable any longer to keep their feet, they will crawl
along the ground and bite the legs of those who have wounded them. They
are even more hostile to white people than to Indians, and it is
sometimes dangerous to approach an Indian hut where three or four of
these fierce creatures are kept, as they will jump up against the side
of a horse, and bite the legs of the rider. Their masters often use the
stick before they can get obedience from them. In every Indian hut
several of these animals may be found, as they are extremely useful to
the shepherds in guarding their flocks and for hunting.
They are much employed throughout the Puna to hunt the "yutu," a species
of partridge which inhabits the rushy grass. This bird is traced by the
dogs, seized before it can take to flight, and killed by a single bite
of its fierce pursuer. Considering the savage nature of the Inca dogs,
Guapo showed great caution in approaching the hut of his friend. He
first called loudly, but there was no reply. He then stole forward with
his long knife, or "_macheté_," in his hand; and having lifted the skin
that covered the low doorway, peeped in. The hut was empty.