The summit of the pass was at last gained, and not a moment too soon,
for the storm which they had experienced a few days before was but the
prelude to a gale such as is rarely experienced save in the winter
months of the year, when most of the mountain passes are closed.
It began by mutterings of distant thunder, which caused the guide to
look round the horizon and up at the sky somewhat anxiously.
"Do you think we shall reach our next shelter before it breaks?" asked
Lawrence.
"I hope so," said Pedro, pausing on a ridge from which an almost
illimitable view was had of mountain range and valley in all directions.
"Far over in that direction," he continued, pointing with his hand,
"lies the land of the Incas. You have heard of the Incas, senhor?"
"Yes, I have heard of them, but cannot say that I am intimately
acquainted with their history."
"It is a strange history--a very sad one," returned Pedro. "I will tell
you something about it at another time; at present it behoves us to push
on."
There was no question as to that point, for just as he spoke a sudden
and powerful gust of wind swept Quashy's straw hat off and sent it
spinning gaily along the path. Vaulting from his mule with a wild
shout, the negro gave chase on foot, with an amount of anxiety that
seemed not justified by the occasion. But as the poet truly puts it,
"things are not what they seem," and Quashy's head-piece, which
presented much the appearance of a battered old straw hat, was in truth
an article of very considerable value.
It was one of those hats made by the people of South America, with a
delicate fibre so finely plaited that in texture it resembles fine
canvas, though in appearance it is like straw. It is exceedingly tough,
takes a very long time to manufacture, and costs many dollars--so many,
indeed, that a hat of the kind is thought worthy of being preserved and
left as an heirloom from father to son as long as it lasts.
No wonder then that the negro made frantic efforts to regain his
property--all the more frantic that he was well aware if it should pass
over one of the neighbouring precipices it would be lost to him for
ever. At last a friendly gust sent it into a snowdrift, through which
Quashy plunged and captured it.
Snow in considerable quantities lay here and there around them in the
form of old patches or drifts, and this began to be swept up by the
fierce wind in spite of its solidity. Soon new snow began to fall, and,
mingling with the old drifts, rendered the air so thick that it was
sometimes difficult to see more than a few yards in advance. Lawrence,
being unused to such scenes, began to fear they should get lost in these
awful solitudes, and felt specially anxious for Manuela, who, despite
the vigour of a frame trained, as it no doubt had been, in all the
hardihood incidental to Indian camp life, seemed to shrink from the
fierce blast and to droop before the bitter cold.
"Here, put on my poncho," said the youth, riding suddenly up to the
girl's side and unceremoniously flinging his ample garment over the
slight poncho she already wore. She drew it round her at once, and
silently accepted the offering with a smile and an inclination of her
small head which, even in these uncomfortable circumstances, were full
of grace.
"Why _was_ she born a savage?" thought the youth, with almost petulant
exasperation. "If she had only been white and civilised, I would have
wooed and won--at least," he added, modestly, "I would have _tried_ to
win and wed her in spite of all the opposing world. As it is, the--
the--gulf is impassable!"
"You have anticipated me, senhor," said the guide, who had reined in
until the rest of the party overtook him. "I had halted with the
intention of offering my poncho to Manuela. Poor girl, she is a
daughter of the warm Pampas, and unused to the cold of the mountains."
He turned to her, and said something in the Indian tongue which seemed
to comfort her greatly, for she replied with a look and tone of
satisfaction.
"I have just told her," he said to Lawrence, as they resumed the
journey, "that in half an hour we shall reach a hut of shelter. It is
at the foot of a steep descent close ahead; and as the wind is
fortunately on our backs, we shall be partially protected by the hill."
"Surely the place cannot be a farm," said Lawrence; "it must be too high
up for that."
"No, as you say, it is too high for human habitation. The hut is one of
those places of refuge which have been built at every two or three
leagues to afford protection to travellers when assailed by such
snow-storms as that which is about to break on us now."
He stopped, for the party came at the moment to a slope so steep that it
seemed impossible for man or mule to descend. Being partly sheltered
from the fitful gusts of wind, it was pretty clear of snow, and they
could see that a zigzag track led to the bottom. What made the descent
all the more difficult was a loose layer of small stones, on which they
slipped continually. Before they had quite completed the descent the
storm burst forth. Suddenly dense clouds of snow were seen rushing down
from the neighbouring peaks before a hurricane of wind, compared with
which previous gusts were trifles.
"Come on--fast--fast!" shouted the guide, looking back and waving his
hand.
The first deafening roar of the blast drowned the shout; but before the
snowdrift blinded him, Lawrence had observed the wave of the hand and
the anxious look. Dashing the cruel Spanish spurs for the first time
into the side of his no doubt astonished steed, he sprang alongside of
Manuela's mule, seized the bridle, and dragged it forward by main force.
Of course the creature objected, but the steep road and slipping gravel
favoured them, so that they reached the bottom in safety.
Here they found the first of the refuge-huts, and in a few moments were
all safe within its sheltering walls.
Having been erected for a special purpose, the hut was well adapted to
resist the wildest storm. It was built of brick and mortar, the
foundation being very solid, and about twelve feet high, with a brick
staircase outside leading to the doorway. Thus the habitable part of
the edifice was raised well above the snow. The room was about twelve
feet square, the floor of brick, and the roof arched. It was a
dungeon-like place, dimly lighted by three loop-holes about six inches
square, and without furniture of any kind. A mark in the wall indicated
the place where a small table had originally been fixed; but it had been
torn down long before, as Pedro explained, by imprisoned and starving
travellers to serve for firewood. The remains of some pieces of charred
wood lay on the floor where the fire was usually kindled, and, to
Pedro's great satisfaction, they found a small pile of firewood which
had been left there by the last travellers.
"A dismal enough place," remarked Lawrence, looking round after shaking
and stamping the snow out of his garments.
"You have reason to thank God, senhor, that we have reached it."
"True, Senhor Pedro, and I am not thankless; yet do I feel free to
repeat that it is a most dismal place."
"Mos' horriboble," said Quashy, looking up at the vaulted roof.
"Ay, and it could tell many a dismal story if it had a tongue," said the
guide, as he busied himself arranging the saddles and baggage, and
making other preparations to spend the night as comfortably as
circumstances should permit. "Luckily there's a door this time."
"Is it sometimes without a door, then?" asked Lawrence, as he assisted
in the arrangements, while Quashy set about kindling a fire.
"Ay, the poor fellows who are sometimes stormstaid and starved here have
a tendency to use all they can find about the place for firewood. Some
one has replaced the door, however, since I was here last. You'll find
two big nails in the wall, Manuela," he added in Indian; "if you tie one
of the baggage cords to them, I'll give you a rug directly, which will
make a good screen to cut off your sleeping berth from ours."
In a short time Quashy had a bright little fire burning, with the kettle
on it stuffed full of fresh snow; the saddles and their furniture made
comfortable seats and lounges around it; and soon a savoury smell of
cooked meat rendered the cold air fragrant, while the cheery blaze
dispelled the gloom and made a wonderful change in the spirits of all.
Perhaps we should except the guide, whose calm, grave, stern yet kindly
aspect rarely underwent much change, either in the way of elation or
depression, whatever the surrounding circumstances might be. His
prevailing character reminded one of a rock, whether in the midst of a
calm or raging sea--or of a strong tower, whether surrounded by warring
elements or by profound calm. Need we say that Pedro's imperturbability
was by no means the result of apathy?
"Blow away till you bust your buzzum," said Quashy, apostrophising the
gale as he sat down with a beaming display of teeth and spread out his
hands before the blaze, after having advanced supper to a point which
admitted of a pause; "I don' care a butt'n how hard you blow now."
"Ah! Quashy," said the guide, shaking his head slowly, as, seated on
his saddle, he rolled up a neat cigarette, "don't be too confident. You
little know what sights these four walls have witnessed. True, this is
not quite the season when one runs much risk of being starved to death,
but the thing is not impossible."
"Surely," said Lawrence, stretching himself on his saddle-cloths and
glancing at Manuela, who was by that time seated on the opposite side of
the fire arranging some hard biscuits on a plate, "surely people have
not been starved to death here, have they?"
"Indeed they have--only too often, senhor. I myself came once to this
hut to rescue a party, but was nearly too late, for most of them were
dead."
He paused to light his cigarette. The negro, after making the door more
secure, sat down again and gazed at the guide with the glaring aspect of
a man who fears, but delights in, the horrible. Manuela, letting her
clasped hands fall in her lap, also gazed at Pedro with the intense
earnestness that was habitual to her. She seemed to listen. Perhaps,
being unusually intelligent, she picked up some information from the
guide's expressive face. She could hardly have learned much from his
speech, as her knowledge of English seemed to be little more than "yes,"
"no," and "t'ank you!"
"It was during a change of government, senhor," said Pedro, "that I
chanced to be crossing the mountains. There is usually a considerable
row in South America when a change of government takes place. Sometimes
they cause a change of government to take place in order to get up a
considerable row, for they're a lively people--almost as fond of
fighting as the Irish, though scarcely so sound in judgment. I had some
business on hand on the western side of the Cordillera, but turned back
to give a helping hand to my friends, for of course I try never to shirk
duty, though I'm not fond of fighting. Well, when I got to the farm
nearest to this hut where we now sit, they told me that a tremendous
gale had been blowing in the mountains, that ten travellers had been
snowed up, and that they feared they must all have perished, since
travelling in such weather was impossible."
"`Have you made no effort to rescue them?' I asked of the farmer.
"`No,' says he, `I couldn't get any o' my fellows to move, because
they've been terrified about a ghost that's been seen up there.'
"`What was the ghost like?' I asked; so he told me that it was a
fearful creature--a mulish-looking sort of man, who was in the habit of
terrifying the arrieros and peons who passed that way, but he said they
were going to get a priest to put a cross up there, and so lay the
ghost.
"`Meanwhile,' I said, `the ten travellers are to be left to starve?'
"`It's my belief they're starved already,' answered the farmer."
At this point Pedro paused to relight his cigarette, and Quashy breathed
a little more freely. He was a firm believer in ghosts, and feared them
more than he would have feared an army of Redskins or jaguars. Indeed
it is a question whether Quashy could ever have been brought to realise
the sensation of fear if it had not been for the existence, in his
imagination, of ghosts! The mere mention of the word in present
circumstances had converted him into a sort of human sensitive-plant.
He gave a little start and glance over his shoulder at every gust of
unusual power that rattled the door, and had become visibly paler--
perhaps we should say less black.
Manuela was evidently troubled by no such fears, perhaps because she did
not understand the meaning of the word ghost, yet she gazed at the
speaker in apparently rapt attention.
"You may believe," continued the guide, "that I was disgusted at their
cowardice; so, to shame them, as well as to do what I could for the
travellers, I loaded a couple of my mules with meat, and said I would
set off alone. This had the desired effect, for three men volunteered
to go with me. When we reached the hut we found that six of the ten
poor fellows were dead. The bodies of two who had died just before our
arrival were lying in the corner over there behind Quashy. They were
more like skeletons covered with skin than corpses. The four who still
lived were in the corner here beside me, huddled together for warmth,
and so worn out by hunger and despair that they did not seem to care at
first that we had come to save them. We warmed and fed them, however,
brought them gradually round, and at last took them back to the farm.
They all recovered. During the time they were snowed up the poor
fellows had eaten their mules and dogs. I have no doubt that if the
ground were clear of snow you would find the bones of these animals
scattered about still."
This was not a very pleasant anecdote, Lawrence thought, on which to
retire to rest, so he changed the subject by asking Pedro if there were
many of the Incas still remaining.
Before he could reply Manuela rose, and, bidding them good-night in
Spanish, retired to her screened-off corner.
"A good many of the Incas are still left," replied the guide to his
companion's question; "and if you were to visit their capital city you
would be surprised to see the remains of temples and other evidences of
a very advanced civilisation in a people who existed long before the
conquest of Peru."
"Massa Pedro," said Quashy, who would have been glad to have the
recollection of ghosts totally banished from his mind, "I's oftin hear
ob de Incas, but I knows not'ing about dem. Who is dey? whar dey come
fro?"
"It would take a long time, Quashy, to answer these two questions fully;
nevertheless, I think I could give you a roughish outline of a notion in
about five minutes, if you'll promise not to stare so hard, and keep
your mouth shut."
The negro shut his eyes, expanded his mouth to its utmost in a silent
laugh, and nodded his head acquiescently.
"Well, then, you must know," said Pedro, "that in days of old--about the
time that William the Conqueror invaded England--a certain Manco Capac
founded the dynasty of the Incas. According to an old legend this Manco
was the son of a white man who was shipwrecked on the coast of Peru. He
married the daughter of an Indian chief, and taught the people
agriculture, architecture, and other arts. He must have been a man of
great power, from the influence he exerted over the natives, who styled
him the `blooming stranger.' His hair was of a golden colour, and this
gave rise to the story that he was a child of the sun, who had been sent
to rule over the Indians and found an empire. Another tradition says
that Manco Capac was accompanied by a wife named Mama Oello Huaco, who
taught the Indian women the mysteries of spinning and weaving, while her
husband taught the arts of civilisation to the men.
"Whatever truth there may be in these legends, certain it is that Manco
Capac did become the first of a race of Incas--or kings or chiefs--and,
it is said, laid the foundations of the city of Cuzco, the remains of
which at the present day show the power, splendour, and wealth to which
Manco Capac and his successors attained. The government of the Incas
was despotic, but of a benignant and patriarchal type, which gained the
affections of those over whom they ruled, and enabled them to extend
their sway far and wide over the land, so that, at the time of the
invasion by the Spaniards under Pizarro, the Peruvians were found to
have reached a high degree of civilisation, as was seen by their public
works--roads, bridges, terrace-gardens, fortifications, and magnificent
buildings, and so forth. It is said by those who have studied the
matter, that this civilisation existed long before the coming of the
Incas. On this point I can say nothing, but no doubt or uncertainty
rests on the later history of this race. Cuzco, on Lake Titicaca,
became the capital city of a great and flourishing monarchy, and
possessed many splendid buildings in spacious squares and streets. It
also became the Holy City and great temple of the Sun, to which pilgrims
came from all parts of the country. It was defended by a fortress and
walls built of stone, some blocks of which were above thirty feet long
by eighteen broad and six thick. Many towns sprang up in the land.
Under good government the people flourished and became rich. They had
plenty of gold and silver, which they used extensively in the adornment
of their temples and palaces. But evil followed in the train of wealth.
By degrees their simplicity departed from them. Their prosperity led
to the desire for conquest. Then two sons of one of the Incas disputed
with each other for supremacy, and fought. One was conquered and taken
prisoner by the other, who is reported to have been guilty of excessive
cruelties to his relations, and caused his brother to be put to death.
Finally, in 1532, the Spaniards came and accomplished the conquest of
Peru--from which date not much of peace or prosperity has fallen to the
lot of this unhappy land.
"Yes," said the guide in conclusion, "the Incas were, and some of their
descendants still are, a very fine race. Many of the men are what I
call nature's gentlemen, having thoughts--ay, and manners too, that
would grace any society. Some of their women, also, are worthy to--"
"Pedro!" interrupted Lawrence eagerly, laying his hand on the guide's
arm, for a sudden idea had flashed into his mind. (He was rather
subject to the flashing of sudden ideas!) "Pedro! _she_ is a daughter of
a chief of the Incas--is she not? a princess of the Incas! Have I not
guessed rightly?"
He said this in a half whisper, and pointed as he spoke to the screen
behind which Manuela lay.
Pedro smiled slightly and tipped the ash from the end of his cigarette,
but made no answer.
"Nay, I will not pry into other people's affairs," said Lawrence, in his
usual tone, "but you once told me she is the daughter of a chief, and
assuredly no lady in this land could equal her in grace or dignity of
carriage and manner, to say nothing of modesty, which is the invariable
evidence."
"Not of high rank?" interrupted the guide, with a quick and slightly
sarcastic glance.
"No, but of nobility of mind and heart," replied the youth, with much
enthusiasm. In which feeling he was earnestly backed up by Quashy, who,
with eyes that absolutely glowed, said--
"You's right, massa--sure an' sartin! Modesty am de grandest t'ing I
knows. Once I knowed a young nigger gal what libbed near your fadder's
mill--Sooz'n dey calls 'er--an' she's _so_ modest, so--oh! I not kin
'splain rightly--but I say to 'er one day, when I'd got my courage
screwed up, `Sooz'n,' ses I. `Well,' ses she. `I--I lub you,' ses I,
`more nor myself, 'cause I t'ink so well ob you. Eberybody t'inks well
ob you, Sooz'n. What--what--' (I was gitten out o' bref by dis time
from 'citement, and not knowin' what more to say, so I ses) `what--what
you t'ink ob _you'self_ Sooz'n?'
"`Nuffin',' ses she! Now, _wasn't_ dat modest?"
"It certainly was, Quashy. Couldn't have been more so," said Pedro.
"And after that we couldn't, I think, do better than turn in."
The fire had by that time burned low, and the gale was still raging
around them, driving the snowdrift wildly against the hut, and sometimes
giving the door so violent a shake as to startle poor Quashy out of
sweet memories of Sooz'n into awful thoughts of the ghost that had not
yet been laid.
Each man appropriated a vacant corner of the hut in which to spread his
simple couch, the negro taking care to secure that furthest from the
door.
Lawrence Armstrong thought much over his supposed discovery before
falling asleep that night, and the more he thought the more he felt
convinced that the Indian girl was indeed a princess, and owed her good
looks, sweet disposition, graceful form and noble carriage to her
descent from a race which had at one period been highly civilised when
all around them were savage. It was a curious subject of contemplation.
The colour of his waking thoughts naturally projected itself into the
young man's dreams. He was engaged in an interesting anthropological
study. He found himself in the ancient capital of the Incas. He beheld
a princess of great beauty surrounded by courtiers, but she was _brown_!
He thought what an overwhelming pity it was that she was not _white_!
Then he experienced a feeling of intense disappointment that he himself
had not been born brown. By degrees his thoughts became more confused
and less decided in colour--whitey-brown, in fact,--and presented a
series of complicated regrets and perplexing impossibilities, in a vain
effort to disentangle which he dropped asleep.