OVER THE EASTERN ANDES INTO THE AMAZON VALLEY.--AN EXCITING
JOURNEY.--ADVENTURES BY THE WAY.--TROUBLES OF TRAVELLING WITH A TIGER.
[Illustration: MANUEL.]
The lodgings of the travellers on their night at Huancané were an
improvement upon their quarters at Vilquechico. They had a stone floor
to sleep upon in place of the bare ground, and the room was large enough
to accommodate all three of them without crowding. They rose early, and
managed to get out of the place in good season, in spite of the desire
of their drivers to linger in the town, and the evident willingness of
Manuel to accommodate them.
It was deemed prudent to see the baggage-train on its way before
venturing outside the limits of the town, and consequently our friends
waited until the last of the burden-animals had received his load before
they ordered the saddles placed on their mules. Under the eye of his
employers Manuel worked vigorously, when he made up his mind that
further delay was impossible.
Immediately on leaving town the road began to ascend, and in a little
while they were winding among the mountains in a way that recalled the
journey from Guayaquil to Quito. The western shore of Lake Titicaca is
comparatively low, but on the east the mountains come pretty close to
the water, and in places fall off into precipices. In the region of
Huancané the snowy peaks rise in full view, and seem but a few miles
distant; Sorata, the Crown of the Andes, fills the horizon in the
south, and there are other peaks that continue the chain far as the eye
can reach.
Up and down the hills wound the path, but, until the summit of the pass
was reached, the ups were far more numerous than the downs. Four or five
miles from Huancané the train halted at a hacienda where a train from
the eastward had just arrived. The animals became a good deal mixed up,
and as each of the trains was composed of mules and llamas in about
equal proportions there was a prospect of trouble in sorting them out.
The Doctor suggested to Manuel the possibility of a trade, whereby they
could send back all the llamas, and have the train consist entirely of
mules. Somewhat to his surprise it was quickly arranged, through the
offer of a small premium to the owners on each side. The loss of time in
the transaction, and the changing of the loads, was more than made up by
the superior speed of the mules. The llama cannot travel as far in a day
as a mule can; he carries less weight, and consequently a train of
llamas is longer than a train of mules with the same amount of baggage,
and more difficult to manage.
[Illustration: LOADING THE MULES.]
Occasionally a load slipped or there was a kicking-match among the
beasts of the train, but on the whole they got along very well. The mule
of South America is much like his fellow in the North, but Frank was of
the opinion that he is not so active with his heels. High altitudes may
possibly render him more docile, and he may have the good sense to
understand the folly of expending his energy against the air. The mules
on these mountain paths follow their leaders with great fidelity; the
foremost of the train wears a bell, and its tinkling is the magic sound
which draws them on. If the bell is silenced the drivers have far more
difficulty in managing their charges than when it is audible.
[Illustration: THE START.]
But all is not smooth travelling with the hybrid beast of burden. The
saddle mules were the best and strongest of the entire collection
engaged by our friends, and on several occasions they manifested their
sportiveness in a way that was far from reassuring. The second morning
of the journey one of them began to dance just as his rider was putting
a foot in the stirrup; the others caught the contagion, and in a very
few seconds all the saddles were empty, and the travellers were
scattered on the ground or surveying the scene with feelings the reverse
of amiable. Fortunately, the incident took place in the corral, and the
unruly beasts were not able to escape. One after another they were
secured and held until the mount could be successfully accomplished. In
the evening Frank made a sketch of the scene, which contained a good
deal of action to the square foot of paper.
[Illustration: A MOUNTAIN TRAIL.]
The road increased in roughness as they ascended to the crest of the
pass, and the descent down the eastern slope of the mountains was
equally steep. As they crossed the pass, 14,750 feet above the level of
the sea, the air was thin and cold, and the glittering crests of the
snow-covered mountains seemed to be close at hand. Far in the east the
Cordilleras filled the horizon; the party halted a few minutes, and
Manuel indicated the route they were to follow among the mountains while
descending into the valley of the Beni. It was too cold to stay long,
and they were soon winding down the slippery path.
[Illustration: HACIENDA AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.]
Before nightfall they reached a hacienda, which was kept by an Indian
for the accommodation of travellers. It was a sorry establishment, but
as it was far better than no accommodation at all they passed the night
there. The sleeping-quarters were open to the winds almost as much as
the corral where the animals were secured; a cold blast blew from the
mountains, and the temperature hovered in the neighborhood of zero.
There was no fire, or even a fire-place, but by a judicious use of all
their wraps and coverings the travellers managed to sleep fairly. By the
next night they were considerably farther down the slope, and
experienced no more trouble with the cold.
As they descended the mountains they entered the region of moisture,
much like that encountered on going down to Napo from the crest of the
Andes, near Quito. Clouds swept over them, the rains fell, vegetation
was everywhere about them, and the indications of a change of climatic
conditions were plainly to be seen. By and by the wooded district was
reached, and with each mile of advance the density of the growth
increased.
It is interesting to watch the changes as one descends eastward from
high elevations in the Andes. At the crest all is sterile--nothing but
bare rocks, with possibly a few mosses clinging to their sides. No water
is visible, but by and by we find a tiny thread formed by the melting
snows, or the condensed vapor from the eastern winds. The thread
enlarges; after a time it grows to a brook, with little pools here and
there in which a cup can be dipped, or our tired animals can drink. Most
of the mountain trails follow the valleys and ravines which form the
natural channels of the water, and so hour by hour the brook increases
in width and volume. The mosses on the rocks grow more dense, they give
place to shrubs, and the shrubs in turn give place to bushes. Then come
stunted trees, only a few inches in height, but having the form and
appearance of perfect trees, gnarled and twisted by the wintry blasts.
The stunted trees are less and less dwarfed, and from inches they
increase in height to feet. The ground is covered with grass, at first,
in stray bunches, as though life was a struggle under the low
temperature constantly surrounding them. The bunches increase in number
till they become a carpet, and the rich verdure covers the open ground
where the trees are absent. Bogs and swamps take the place of arid
wastes. Pines and larches are larger and larger; after a time they
disappear to make way for foliferous trees. The way of the traveller is
devious and full of toil; it is blocked by fallen trunks mingled in
perplexing confusion, and unless he is where a road has been opened the
progress of an hour is counted by feet or yards, in place of the miles
left behind in the open country.
Especially in the mountain ravines, where the trees have been swept down
by the torrents, is the way thus obstructed. Trees and great stones are
piled closely together, and sometimes they form an arch beneath which
the stream meanders during the dry season.
The first part of the downward journey is generally along the valley of
a river flowing from the mountain, but after some thousands of feet of
descent it is necessary to follow a larger stream, and cross one by one
its numerous tributaries. There are fresh and great difficulties in this
part of the route. After crossing a stream its bank must be ascended,
sometimes almost precipitously, then a dividing ridge is traversed, and
then comes the descent into the next valley. In this way the main valley
is descended until the lower country is reached, where the river becomes
tranquil, and suited to navigation by canoes or other craft.
Dr. Bronson and his young companions travelled thus down the eastern
slope of the Andes into the valley of the Beni. Ten days after their
departure from Huancané they reached the point where it was necessary to
leave the mules; the drivers were paid off and discharged, and were
ready to start back to the shore of Lake Titicaca. Fortunately, they
found an engagement with a merchant who had some goods to transport over
the mountains, and was glad to secure their services.
For the next thirty miles the way was so steep and rough as to be
impracticable for even the sure-footed mule. Travellers have the choice
of the _silla_ or to go on foot, while their baggage is carried on the
backs of men.
Frank and Fred looked doubtingly at the silla, and so did the Doctor.
They preferred to walk, but at the suggestion of Dr. Bronson each of the
party engaged a silla, to be used whenever he was inclined to it.
Perhaps you are wondering what the silla is. It is thus described by
Fred:
[Illustration: TRAVELLING BY SILLA.]
"A bamboo chair is strapped to the back of the _sillero_, or porter, by
means of belts going around his chest and another which crosses his
forehead. The traveller sits in this chair, with his feet supported on a
step which forms part of the conveyance. He must sit perfectly still
while the sillero is in motion, as the least change of position might
cause the porter to stumble and fall, and a fall among the rocks is
liable to be a very serious affair for both parties.
"Mr. Horton, in his 'Twenty Months in the Andes,' tells of a Spanish
officer who was travelling in this way, and wore a pair of spurs with
which he occasionally prodded the porter, to urge him to greater speed.
The latter took a fearful revenge.
"Maddened with the pain produced by the cruel spurs, he pitched his
rider headlong over a precipice, where there was a sheer fall of two or
three hundred feet. The officer was killed instantly, and before his
companions could secure the sillero the latter fled into the forest and
escaped. The scene of this occurrence is pointed out, and there is
little doubt of the truth of the story. It is easy to see that the
traveller is entirely at the mercy of his carrier; knowing this, we were
careful to secure the good-will of our silleros by promising an extra
payment if they went through without accident.
"We walked the greater part of the distance; it may surprise you to know
that we walked over the easiest part of the route, and rode where the
way was dangerous, except in a few places. Manuel told us that these men
were accustomed to this work from the time they were able to carry
burdens, and they knew every inch of the way. It was really safer for us
to ride on their backs, in the dangerous places, than to attempt to
walk; they knew exactly where to put their feet at every step, while we
did not. We followed his advice and found it correct, and we were very
careful, you may be sure, not to move a muscle when ascending or
descending the steep slopes of the ravines."
Three days were consumed in this journey of thirty miles. The porters
with the baggage led the caravan, and sometimes they were an hour or
more in advance of the travellers. At night they spread a small tent,
which formed a part of their equipment, and were thus sheltered from the
weather. It was necessary to wear rubber clothing, as the rains were
frequent, and even with this precaution the evening generally found them
wet through to the skin. But a change to dry clothing and several cups
of steaming hot tea with their supper drove away all suggestions of
rheumatism and kindred ills resulting from the dampness, and they
finished the novel ride without a mishap.
Fred took note of the changes in the animal life as they descended from
the crest of the great Andean chain. In the mountains they frequently
saw the condor, the giant bird of South America, whose range extends
from the Isthmus of Darien to the Strait of Magellan. Both the youths
were disappointed in the size of the condor, which had been grossly
exaggerated in the tales of travellers and the accounts of the old
historians. He has been represented as having wings spreading fifteen or
twenty feet from tip to tip. The largest they could hear of measured
thirteen feet, and even this was not entirely authentic; the largest
they _saw_ was nine feet across the wings; Humboldt never found one of
more than nine feet, and the largest specimen seen by Darwin measured
eight and a half feet. The body from the tip of the beak to the end of
the tail is from three to three and a half feet in extreme length.
[Illustration: DEAD WHALE ON SHORE.]
Equally exaggerated were the stories about the condors attacking men or
carrying away children; they belong to the vulture family, and though
they sometimes carry off small animals, they greatly prefer to feed upon
carcasses of horses, cattle, or similar beasts. They live usually in the
mountains, but on the west coast they come down to the sea to feed upon
dead whales, and they serve as scavengers on some of the cattle estates
of Peru and other South American countries.
[Illustration: SHOT AT A CONDOR.]
Frank tried a shot at a condor one day, but the bird flew away unharmed.
After his excitement was over the youth wondered what he would have done
with his prize if the shot had been successful. An Indian offered to
capture one alive for a couple of dollars; Frank declined the proposal,
but gave the man a small present to tell how it was done.
"Easy enough," was the reply, "I should watch near a cattle estate for
the first dead ox, and immediately build a pen around him. The condor
cannot rise from the ground without running a short distance to get a
headway, and this is the reason why I make the pen.
"When my pen is done I go away. The condors come down to eat the flesh
of the ox, and when they have gorged themselves full I come around
again. They cannot fly because they are so filled with food, and,
besides, they cannot get the short run they want to rise in the air,
because they are in the pen. I throw a lasso around one of them; he
fights; I throw another lasso and another; he tires himself out
fighting; then I tie more ropes around him, put him in a cage, cut the
ropes, and you have him safe for two dollars."
Frank thought he would like a condor's egg, and would pay a good price
for it. He was told that few persons had ever seen an egg of the condor,
partly for the reason that the nests of this bird are built on high
cliffs, almost if not quite inaccessible, and partly because the Indians
have a superstitious fear of going in search of them. And besides their
superstition there is the dread of the bird itself, which will fight in
defence of its nest, and is a match for a full-grown man, unless his
assailant is armed with a gun. It is no easy matter to shoot a condor,
as the skin is very tough and protected by a dense mass of feathers.
[Illustration: PUMA, COUGAR, OR AMERICAN LION.]
They looked for wild vicunas among the mountains, but saw none. Manuel
said there were lions farther down, and when they descended below the
timber line he pointed out some tracks which he declared were made by
that beast. The lion is better described as the puma, or cougar, and it
has a range from the lowlands up to an elevation of ten or twelve
thousand feet. It is not a courageous animal, and will flee from danger
if it has the opportunity.
[Illustration: CAPYBARA.]
A more dangerous beast than the puma is the jaguar, or _onca_, which is
not infrequently called tiger. He is the most savage and the strongest
animal in the South American continent, and in some regions is very
destructive to cattle, though he rarely attacks man unless pursued and
assailed. He is spotted like the leopard, but his spots are angular
instead of rounded, and there are dots in the centre of the spots.
Humboldt says he saw a jaguar "whose length surpassed that of any of the
tigers of India which he had seen in the collections of Europe." He
haunts the borders of rivers and lagoons, and his favorite food is the
capybara; the latter is the largest of living rodents, and resembles a
greatly overgrown guinea-pig. The capybara is amphibious and gregarious,
and is found all through the valley of the Amazon and its tributaries;
he is sometimes called the water-hog, from his general resemblance to
the animal which supplies us with pork. His length often exceeds three
feet, and the naturalists say he is a connecting link between the
rodents and the pachyderms.
The first game secured by our friends was a capybara. It was resting
comfortably on the bank of a river, where it was seen by the sharp eyes
of Manuel. The guide made the motion of bringing a gun to his shoulder,
and then beckoned for Frank to advance; the latter took his rifle from
its sling, and cautiously crept forward in the direction indicated.
Considerable manoeuvring was required to get a good position for a
shot, as Manuel had previously explained that it was necessary to kill
the animal instantly, or it would dart into the water and be lost.
The rest of the party remained quietly in the rear until Frank had
gained the place he wanted. Then a well-directed bullet crashed through
the capybara's brain; Manuel ran forward and secured the prize, which
furnished fresh meat for the next meal. It was a welcome addition to
their stores, as the flesh proved excellent eating; the good taste of
the jaguar was commended, and Fred said he wondered that the beast of
prey should condescend to kill cattle as long as capybara meat was
obtainable.
Elated with his success in the hunting-field, Frank desired to try his
skill upon a jaguar, but was advised to be careful. Manuel said there
was very little probability of his having the chance to shoot at one, as
the jaguar rarely shows himself. He prefers seeing to being seen, and
unless you catch him swimming in the rivers or lagoons there is not much
likelihood of ever setting eyes on him.
[Illustration: JAGUAR.]
"It sometimes happens," said the Doctor, "that the jaguar is seen in the
water from a steamer on the river. A friend of mine was ascending the
Amazon some years ago on one of the Brazilian boats. Just as they
rounded a bend in the river the pilot saw a jaguar swimming from one
bank to the other and nearly in mid-stream. The boat was turned in his
direction; the jaguar increased his speed, but could not escape. The
odds of steam against muscle proved too much for the muscle; the animal
turned for the side whence he started, but the boat turned too and
pressed him closely. Then he was forced out into the middle of the river
again; a small boat was lowered, as it could follow his turnings much
more readily than the unwieldy steamer. A few vigorous strokes of the
oars brought the boat near him; a lasso was thrown over his head, and
then he wheeled about and attacked his pursuers.
"They had him at an advantage, as he could not sustain himself in the
water and maintain a vigorous fight at the same time. Just as his paws
touched the side of the boat he was killed by a bullet from a revolver;
his body was towed to the steamer and taken on board, where the skin was
removed and carefully preserved. He was one of the largest of his race,
and estimated to be only an inch or two less than three feet high at the
shoulder when standing erect. He could have slaughtered and dragged off
an ox easily. The jaguar's method of killing horses or oxen is to spring
on the back, and break the animal's neck by a single blow of his
powerful paw."
[Illustration: GAME FOR THE JAGUAR.]
"The jaguar will dig in the sand for turtle's eggs," said Manuel, "and
he will also kill and devour turtles of good size; he can scoop out
their shells as easily as though he had all the implements of a skilful
cook, and he will stand in the water, where he seizes fish with his paws
and tosses them on shore. If captured when very young he can be made as
docile as a kitten, but when he gets his growth and strength he is a
dangerous pet. I had one once," continued the guide, "and didn't realize
what he was until he one day came near eating up one of my friends while
playing with him. I concluded he was not good to have about a family,
and sold him to a collector of curiosities."
Fred asked what the collector did with him.
"I heard that he had a hard time with the beast," said Manuel. "He went
down the Amazon, and was several months on the voyage. By the time he
reached Para the animal was nearly full-grown, and though perfectly
submissive was averse to familiarity on the part of strangers. He bit
the hand of a passenger on one of the steamers, and it was necessary to
shut him in a cage; this made him ill-natured, and he refused to be
quiet except in the presence of his owner.
"When the collector reached Para he received letters that called him
down the coast, and compelled him to part with his pet. He tried to sell
the beast, but nobody in Para wanted to buy a tiger; then he tried to
give him away, but nobody would accept a tiger as a gift; next he
offered him to the city to start a menagerie with, but the city didn't
propose starting one; he tried to hire somebody to kill the beast, but
nobody would take the contract; then he caged him for shipment to
England, but the agent of the steamer refused the freight; the
hotel-keeper wouldn't accept the tiger as security for the gentleman's
board, and altogether he was in an awkward predicament.
[Illustration: STEAMER LEAVING PARA.]
"When the southward-bound steamer arrived he took the tiger and cage
along as part of his personal baggage, having placed a large stone in
the bottom of the cage for the animal to 'scratch his claws upon.' The
captain of the steamer demanded extra payment for such a package, the
passenger refused it, and during the altercation the cage and contents
were thrown overboard. The stone carried the whole thing to the bottom,
and there it rested."
"That was the end of the jaguar, I suppose?" queried Fred.
"The end of the animal," was the reply, "but not of the owner's
troubles. When the steamer returned to Para the authorities presented
the captain with a bill for violating an ordinance relative to
obstructing the harbor by throwing things overboard. He escaped
responsibility on the ground that the animal was the personal luggage
of the passenger; when the latter came again to Para he was presented
with the account, and had to pay it."
"He was glad to get out of the scrape," remarked Frank, "and didn't
hesitate to pay the final bill."
"Quite likely," answered Manuel. "But somebody had fished up the drowned
beast, and stuffed the skin. When the traveller had settled with the
authorities the skin was brought to him. He paid for the work of
preservation, and then sent the specimen to a friend in England, in care
of a taxidermist. It arrived in bad condition, at least the taxidermist
said so, as he sent a bill for repairs, and explained that he supposed
the gentleman wanted to have the skin in proper shape when presented to
his friend.
"He paid this bill, and happily it was the last. I don't believe he will
buy another jaguar in a hurry."
Manuel's story was voted a good one, and worthy of preservation--like
the hide of the animal whose adventures it recorded. Frank agreed to be
the taxidermist of the story, without charge; he rendered Manuel's
fluent Spanish into the vernacular of the United States, wherein it is
here presented.
[Illustration: HEAD OF NAVIGATION.]