I was in the heart of the Cordilleras, weary, footsore and alone. I
was descending a rocky cliff a few hundred feet from a plateau, while
the thunders roared with terrific crash. The rain fell in sheets,
plunging in wild fury in cataracts down the mountain side. There was
desolation and terror unutterable. I leaned close to a shelving rock,
and as I thought of once happy days in Aberdeen, of the love bestowed
upon me by my dear mother--gone forever from this world--my own
condition, now a homeless wanderer in a foreign land, perhaps to soon
meet death and my body be devoured by condors, I laid my head on my
arms and wept bitterly.
I am not superstitious, neither do I believe that my condition at that
time caused my mind to wander; a peaceful calm came over me; it
seemed as if some loving one was near, fear vanished, and I looked up
but beheld nothing. The storm raged with even greater fury. I walked
and even began to sing the "Garb of Old Gaul." I ignored the elements
in their war and had almost reached the plateau when the storm ceased
and the sun suddenly appeared. Calm and warmth came from what a few
minutes before had seemed death and destruction.
A sudden turn in the trail and I beheld a child seated beneath the
thick, spreading branches of a tree, her white apron filled with
alpine flowers. "How came she here," I wondered. Her dark bright eyes
gazed questioningly into mine, eyes through which one could see the
childish spirit and feel the witchery of her magic look; her raven
locks fell in clusters over her fair temples and ended in ringlets
about her shoulders; on her cheeks were the glowing tints of youth and
health. As I spoke she rose and handed me a flower of delicate tint. I
gallantly pinned it on the lapel of my coat, which won from her a
pleasing look and smile. I could speak a little Spanish and she seemed
to understand that I was going her way. Together we walked along the
trail. Her childish grace appealed to me. A spirit of infinite
goodness seemed to radiate from within and stirred my noblest
impulses. A feeling of content settled upon me.
Near by, I saw some Indian huts and the tambo or tavern where Frank
Dunn and I had stopped on our way to Puno. The child ran ahead,
leaving me to follow.
* * * * *
The first sight of Puno had satisfied me that we had come to the most
desolate spot in the world, Nature's remains seemed to have been
brought there and left without burial. The ground was thickly covered
with a short, wild grass and appeared to be the natural dwelling place
of the alpacas and wild vicunas.
I had been in Puno but a few days when I was offered work on board one
of the steamers, but I longed again for Arequipa and friends. Dunn
had secured work on one of the steamers and refused to return. I
thought this was hard, as it was my money that had helped him from the
time he left Arequipa until he secured employment. My money was almost
gone, but I had gone to the Amaras market and bought what edibles I
needed, and without hesitation had started alone to return to
Arequipa, over those fearful heights and dread solitudes of the
Cordilleras, when I found her.
When we were entering the tambo an elderly gentleman and the Indian
host were speaking in Spanish, and even from my limited knowledge of
the language I knew they were talking about me.
No doubt but my appearance in the heart of the Cordilleras wet,
forlorn looking and alone aroused his sympathy. After a difficult
attempt at opening a conversation, the beautiful child I had met
looking on all the time, I was given to understand that he desired me
to eat with them. Of course I consented, but I did not do justice to
the meal as the dark eyes of the young girl were constantly upon me.
The gentleman gave me his name, Julian Maldonado, and that of his
daughter, Felicita Maldonado. He was a well-to-do merchant of elderly
years. I learned that his wife was dead and that their home was in
Lima. The servants made me a bed in the room adjacent to my host. The
next morning I was aroused by one of them who said his master wanted
to see me. I went to him and after telling him I was on my way to
Arequipa, and when there I would be among my friends, he offered to
purchase a mule for me, but the only one to be had was lame. However,
I told him I was young and would soon reach my destination. Felicita
then came in and announced breakfast, after which the mules were
packed and, everything being in readiness, we bade each other
good-bye. Felicita came toward me, and as she extended her hand in her
childish fashion, she placed in my own a Peruvian twenty-dollar gold
piece, saying: "Adios mi amigo."
I was almost speechless. I started forward to return the money, but I
had to retain it, as they quickly mounted and were gone before I could
master my feelings.
Roll on, relentless Time. Felicita, fairest flower of the Cordilleras,
we shall meet again, when love's young dream shall awaken amid the
clash of arms and tragedies!
Nine days later I arrived in Arequipa, sick, footsore and weary. My
friends had sent out searching parties believing that I had been
murdered. Their astonishment was great when they found where I had
been and that I had spent many nights alone amid the dangers of the
mountains. Many were the admonitions I received from older heads.
I laughed at their words, and when I thought of the beautiful
Felicita, I dreamed of love and felt an indescribable content with my
surroundings and all the world.