THE CABALLO CUNCO TREASURE: FIRST ATTEMPT
While I was stopping for a week at Jura baths, on my return from
Challana, Morosini, the proprietor of the hotel, came up to me one day
and told me there was a lady staying there who wanted to have a talk
with me--Doña Corina San Roman, daughter of the late General San Roman,
a former President of Peru. Morosini presented me, and after a few
minutes’ conversation she showed me an original document left by Father
San Roman to his brother, the Prefect of Callao, and handed down to her
by her father, which gave particulars of a large treasure that had been
hidden by the Jesuits. She told me that as I had been into Challana, and
got back safely, I would be just the man to go and look for it, if I
cared to do so, and she made me two alternative offers. If I tried to
find the place with the help of the data she would give me, she would
pay me £80 per month for the six dry months of the next year, which was
as much as I was getting from Mariano Penny for training his racehorses,
and if I found it she would pay all the expenses of unearthing it, and
give me ten per cent of the full value found. The other suggestion was
that I was to take the copy of the document, and go myself, paying all
my own expenses, and give her ten per cent of the treasure if I found
it. I accepted the second proposition without hesitation.
The document gave no indications as to how to find the place, but simply
described the kind of place, and mentioned that it was near the banks of
the River Sacambaja. It ran as follows: “If you find a steep hill all
covered with dense forest, the top of which is flat, with long grass
growing, from where you can see the River Sacambaja on three sides, you
will discover on the top of it, in the middle of the long grass, a large
stone shaped like an egg, so big that it took 500 Indians to place it
there. If you dig down underneath this stone for five yards, you will
find the roof of a large cave, which it took 500 men two and a half
years to hollow out. The roof is seventy yards long, and there are two
compartments and a long narrow passage leading from the room on the east
side to the main entrance two hundred yards away. On reaching the door,
you must exercise great care in opening. The door is a large iron one,
and inside to the right near the wall you will find an image made of
pure gold three feet high, the eyes of which are two large diamonds;
this image was placed here for the good of mankind. If you proceed along
the passage, you will find in the first room thirty-seven large heaps of
gold, and many gold and silver ornaments and precious stones. On
entering the second room, you will find in the right-hand corner a large
box, clamped with three iron bars; inside this box is $90,000 in silver
money and thirty-seven big heaps of gold. Distributed in the hollows on
either side of the tunnel and the two rooms are altogether a hundred and
sixty-three heaps of gold, of which the value has been estimated at
$60,000,000. Great care must be taken on entering these rooms, as enough
strong poison to kill a regiment has been laid about. The walls of the
two rooms have been strengthened by large blocks of granite; from the
roof downwards the distance is five yards more. The top of the roof is
portioned off into three distinct esplanades, and the whole has been
well covered over for a depth of five yards with earth and stones. When
you come to a place twenty feet high, with a wall so wide that two men
can easily ride abreast, cross the river, and you will find the church,
monastery, and other buildings.” Corina San Roman told me that the
monastery spoken of in this document was built by the Jesuits in 1635
and abandoned in 1735. The treasure, accumulated from eleven years’
working of the famous gold mines of El Carmen, and the Tres Titilias,
and from the gold and diamond washings carried on near Santa Cruz by
2,000 Indians under Fathers Gregorio and San Roman and seven other
priests, who died, was all hidden under the hill indicated in this
document with the exception of £70,000 for each of the priests. Out of
the 500 Indians employed in burying the treasure 288 died of an epidemic
of fever in the last three months of the work.
Corina San Roman also told me that her father used to send £25 every
Christmas to an old Indian named José Maria Ampuera, who, he said, knew
where the hill was. He used to send Macedonia Zambrana, one of his own
men, who lived near Cochabamba, with this money and several pounds of
tea, sugar and other things. The Indian was paid this to keep the
secret, to visit the place from time to time, and to notify him if
anybody started exploring there. He used to say he had a good enough
income himself, and did not care to risk getting malarial fever in
looking for it. He kept the paper himself and gave it to his daughter
shortly before he died; she put it inside one of the books in the
library, and after his death she could not find it, but her uncle, the
brother of the General, who was a priest and lived at Cochabamba, had a
copy, which is the one I saw! Many expeditions had been fitted out to
look for this treasure. One had been sent by Malgarejo, the President of
Bolivia, another was fitted out at Valparaiso in 1895, but both were
unsuccessful. Doña Corina told me that her uncle had died in 1896, that
Zambrana had not been heard of for the last eight years, and that if the
Indian was still alive he must be over 100.
The first thing to be done was to find Zambrana, so in March, 1905, I
left La Paz on my way to Cochabamba to look for him. I went first to
Oruro by the Diligence Mail, which does the journey of 180 miles in two
days, starting at 6 a.m., and changing the five mules and galloping
horse every nine miles. The coach stops for half an hour at 9 a.m. for
breakfast, and for lunch at 1.30, reaching the rest-house at 7.30 p.m.
for dinner, leaving again next morning at 5 a.m., and reaching Oruro at
5 p.m. After La Paz Alto they go full gallop all the way; the driver has
a long whip, and a box full of stones to throw at the mules, and an
Indian boy, who sits on the step behind, gets off every now and then to
flog them. The coach carries nine passengers, eight inside, at $25 each,
and one on the box seat for $35, which I took. Luggage and mails are
strapped on the top; only 35lbs. of luggage was allowed to each
passenger, and the heavy gear leaves the day before in a big mule
waggon, and is charged for per 100lbs. Riding on the box seat beside the
driver, and driving at a hard gallop across the level high flats
12,500ft. above the sea, through the pure and exhilarating air, under a
wonderful blue sky, I found the journey most enjoyable.
The highest place registered on the road was 13,200ft. Oruro is
12,800ft. up.
At Oruro I found that Mariano Penny, the owner of the rich San José
silver mine, was away in Chili, and J. B. Minchin, who owned rich tin
mines, was also away, but Dr. Shrigley kindly lent me his place on the
outskirts of the town, where there was a big walled-in grass field.
There I engaged an Indian called José, with his wife and boy, the man to
look after my animals, the boy to fag and wife to cook, with another
Indian to help with the cargo, and bought four good mules, two donkeys
and a horse.
After a stay of two weeks, I started for Cochabamba, riding the horse on
the first day, and next day a good little white mule. The journey of 190
miles took eight days’ easy travelling. We started each morning at 9
a.m., and camped every afternoon at 3 p.m., renting an Indian hut for
the night. Each evening, after buying fodder for the animals, eggs and
mutton, and whatever else was wanted, I generally took the gun for an
hour or two, and shot some doves and other birds, which we ate cold for
lunch next day.
The first day’s journey was over the high flats, a sandy desert, with
little feed for the animals. Indians with llamas, each carrying a small
load, passed us frequently on their way to Oruro, and now and then we
met long strings of mules, led by their bell mare. The bell mare carries
nothing; her job is to lead the mules, and they follow her in single
file, stopping only when the bell stops.
The rest of the way was through a more fertile district, which bred
sheep, llamas, cattle, donkeys, mules, and even a few horses. I saw
Indians ploughing the fields with the same wooden ploughs as were used
hundreds of years ago. Occasionally we passed small wooden carts drawn
by oxen, with heavy wooden wheels made of one piece.
The crops in these parts are barley, wheat, potatoes and, further on
near Cochabamba, maize, ochres and yucas. Fresh mutton can be bought,
the usual price being about 4/-to 5/-a sheep; also home-made bread,
fowls, eggs, and guinea pigs, ochres, chuño, potatoes, onions, barley in
the straw, green barley and alfalfa. The native drink of chicha, made
from corn, can also be bought quite cheap every few miles.
The weather was fine the whole time, warm in the day-time, and cool at
nights, and the journey was a much more enjoyable one than going down by
diligence. There were several rivers to be crossed on the way; between
November and April, they are difficult to get over, and people don’t
travel much from Oruro to Cochabamba during those months.
Cochabamba stands 8,200ft. high, with a climate which is one of the best
in the world; it is never too hot in the day, and cool at night. Rents
and living are very cheap. The market master regulates the prices of all
meats, beef, mutton and pork. Vegetables are plentiful, and fruit of all
kinds may be purchased on the market. There are no hotels to speak of,
and no street cars or cabs for hire. The streets are all well paved with
stone with a gutter down the centre. All the houses have heavy iron bars
to the windows, and big, solid bolts to the doors as well. Murders are
not uncommon, and the criminal is seldom caught, which is due not so
much to the negligence of the police as to the number of hiding-places
where the criminal can easily conceal himself for a time. When a
murderer is caught he is made to undergo a public trial in the square of
the Court House, and if he is found guilty he is taken to the spot where
the crime was committed and shot there. I saw one such trial in
Cochabamba. A bad Cholo had asked and received the hospitality of a man
and his wife for the night, and while they were asleep had killed them
with an axe, and stolen a sum of money he knew was in the house. His
bloodstained clothes convicted him, and he was shot. I was told by a man
who knew that this was the first occasion for a long time that a
murderer had been caught. The cathedral, which is built of stone, faces
the big square and garden; the Hall of Justice, military barracks, and
police station are on the opposite side. Six hundred priests live in the
town. Chiquitos, where the Jesuits found a lot of gold, is twenty days’
journey by mule, and the famous Espirito Santo gold mine worked by them
is ten days by mule. There is bear shooting three days away. I rented a
nice little house on the outskirts of the town near the river, with
large garden and open air concrete bath. Only a very few houses contain
proper lavatory accommodation; otherwise they are very well built and
quite comfortable. I made this house my headquarters for three years,
while prospecting for old mines and looking for the Jesuit treasure. In
front of my place were the Municipality grown alfalfa fields for the
Government animals; they were guarded day and night by two armed
watchmen, to prevent them being cut by thieves. It costs little to keep
animals here; barley and alfalfa can be bought by the load, one mule
cargo for about 4/-, and two cargoes, one barley and one alfalfa, served
for my horse and four mules a day.
Opposite Cochabamba, on the other side of the river, a German Company
had a large brewery, and made very good beer; a dozen large bottles cost
2/-, and the bottles cost as much as the beer. Imported Bass beer cost
2/-for one big bottle, a bottle of good whisky 10/-or 12/-, and Three
Star brandy 16/-.
After a considerable amount of trouble, I located Zambrana, who lived a
day’s ride from Cochabamba. He had not seen old José Maria for many
years, and the priest, Father San Roman, who used to pay him, had died,
but he said he knew José Maria lived near a place called Cuti, which
was thirty-five miles from Palca. Zam, as I always called him, had
never been to either of these places, but knew the way as far as a
mountain village sixty miles from Palca. He agreed to join my expedition
as campman and butcher, get water and wood, and help the cook, so I took
him on; he was to find his own mule.
I had two tents made here, one for myself 16ft. by 12ft. and 9ft. high,
and the other was 10ft. by 10ft. and 9ft. high; also a strong folding-up
canvas catre 3½ft. broad and 7ft. long, which, with a horse-hair
mattress, made a most comfortable bed. I also got together provisions
for four months: sugar, rice, biscuits, jams, tea, cocoa, coffee, and
some tinned meats, salt, ship’s biscuits and other things. Zambrana told
me that round about the department of Palca both sheep and flour were
plentiful and cheap. The Indian wife of Manuel, the mule man, made
splendid bread, and at the different stopping places we often borrowed
the use of a bake-oven, and stayed a couple of days to make bread. It is
well worth the extra trouble to get good, wholesome bread made with
flour that retains all the good ingredients of the wheat, which is
always possible if it is crushed by the stone mill process. I also took
two dozen bottles of rum, one dozen of the best for myself, and a dozen
of a
[Illustration: LLAMAS OUTSIDE THE TOWN OF CANAMALCA]
stronger, but inferior, quality for the men. With the exception of the
things I brought out with me, such as Liebig’s Extract, a thing I never
travel without, everything was bought from Barber & Co., who traded
goods for rubber up the Beni, by advancing money and goods to traders
for rubber to be delivered in two years’ time. Alfred Barber was the
manager for this firm in Bolivia; in London and Hamburg the firm was
Brandt & Co. Of course all the traders who dealt with the firm on the
two years’ credit system had to show substantial guarantees in the form
of unmortgaged property, otherwise such firms would soon come to grief.
Barber himself had to put up a guarantee of several thousands of pounds
(a legacy left him by his godmother) to be made managing partner in
Bolivia.
On the 2nd May, at the beginning of the dry season, I left Cochabamba
with Zambrana, Manuel, his wife and boy; two more men, Mariano and
Ricardo, my saddle horse and white riding mule, four cargo mules and a
donkey. Zambrana rode his own mule. The first day we got to Anacoraira,
below the Turani range of mountains, where I bought a sheep and camped
for the night. The road as far as here was an easy one; the surrounding
country was flat, with little grass and a few trees, and the scenery
was very uninteresting. The next day we climbed a long steep path up the
mountain, passing a good many Indians and llamas, also several Indian
women tending their sheep, and spinning wool at the same time, with a
sling made from llama wool. From time to time they throw a stone at the
sheep to drive them on. Half-way up the mountain Ricardo gave out, and I
had to leave him with some provisions and tell him when he was rested he
had better return to Cochabamba; I was afraid he would not be able to
stand going up the heights. We crossed the Turani Pass in good weather
at 15,000ft. The height of Mt. Turani is about 17,000ft. We pitched our
two tents on the other side at 12,000ft., near some Indians and llamas,
who were halting for the night on their way to Cochabamba, with cargoes
of wheat. There was plenty of grass about and several pools of clear
water, and a running stream. It froze hard all night, and in the morning
the pools were frozen over with an inch of ice, which did not, however,
prevent me from having my morning bath. Before breakfast I got two
partridges. We let the sun warm up the blankets and packs, and we
started at 9.30 down the mountain, through a pleasant fertile valley of
long flats covered with grass. There were streams running in all
directions, and on either side low hills covered with small shrubs and
grass. Only a few habitations were to be seen, and near them cattle,
sheep, horses, mules and llamas were grazing. At a place called
Morochata I hired a mud hut for myself for 2/-, and bought some barley
in the straw for the mules and horse. As I wanted to replace Ricardo
here, we stayed the next day, and I eventually found and engaged another
boy called José. I took the opportunity here of buying flour, got the
loan of an oven, and the cook made bread, and we replenished our stock
of potatoes and onions, which seemed to do very well here. Everything
was extremely cheap. The village consisted of about twenty huts; the
land round about belongs partly to the Government, and partly to a
gentleman living at Cochabamba, who finds the land, seed, oven, ploughs,
mud bricks and thatch for the huts, and keeps a foreman who looks after
the property for a small salary, also cultivating his own small piece of
land. At harvest-time the crops are divided between the cultivators and
the proprietor, who sends in what is wanted from his store at
Cochabamba, and takes it out of their share of the crop. I have often
thought this system would answer well in other countries besides
Bolivia. Next day we continued the journey, and after a few miles came
to the foot of the Santa Rosa Mountains. The path up the mountain was a
long one, but not too steep, and the ground at the top of the pass was
covered with a thin layer of frozen snow. The height of this pass was
16,000ft. There are always large heaps of stones piled up in pyramid
shape at the top of every pass, and one or two solitary graves with
crosses where somebody has passed away. The path down to the river was
long and winding, through partial forest, with very few birds, and not
many flowers. I got off my white mule, and led her down the hill,
wearing the speedometer, or hexemeter, as some people call it, which
registered nearly nine miles from the pass to the river. None of the
land on either side appeared to be occupied at all, and we met nobody on
the road. We decided to pitch two tents just across the river where
there was plenty of grass growing on a wide bank and up the hill the
other side, plenty of wood and water near, and no dwellings to be seen
in the distance.
The country was now new to old Zam, who had never been further than
Morochata, the place we left that morning, and the boy, José, said it
was another seven leagues from here to the top of the hill this side of
Palca, with a swamp to cross over on the way. On these occasions, as we
had no bell mare, my chestnut horse, an old hurdle racer from Santiago,
was hobbled, and a bell was tied round his neck with a long rope and a
stone at the far end for further security. The mules and donkeys would
follow him like a dog, and he was always led to the best grazing ground.
The next day, after two hours and a half’s marching up and down hill, we
got to the top of another range of hills. At the bottom was a wide green
valley, with several small streams; as we came closer we could see that
it was very swampy in places, and I was told afterwards in Palca that
during the rainy season these swamps are very often impassable for days
together. There was only one place where it was possible to cross, and
fortunately the boy from Morochata knew where it was, as nobody else
did. Even at this place when one of the mules went a few yards off the
beaten track, he began to sink, and floundered back only just in time.
Palca was some five leagues further on, in the belt of forest at the
foot of a valley, and surrounded by hills. In this valley I saw many
bushes and flowers very similar to what is seen in Trinidad, which was
rather strange, considering that the height of Palca is 7,500ft. and the
highest hill in Trinidad is, I think, only 2,800ft. Near Palca are a
good many large farms where wheat, barley and maize are grown, and
sheep, cattle, mules and horses are reared. I hired a hut on the banks
of the river this side of the village, from a very obliging Indian,
whose business was tanning hides with the quebracho bark, and decided to
take on from him an Indian who knew Cuti, so remained there for the next
day. From here there was no real path between Palca and Cuti, only a few
beaten tracks leading over the hills to the different Indian
settlements. With the exception of a few large farms owned by seven or
eight men, who work them on the share system already described, all
these vast lands are quite unoccupied and unexplored: there are just a
few Indian squatters here and there living far apart.
The town of Palca consists of a few houses and has a church and a
priest. It is noted for its excellent brew of chicha, which makes a
wholesome and refreshing drink.
The tanner’s wife, a pleasant, civil Indian woman, asked her brother to
take me to the ranch of a very old Indian, who lived on a sheep and
maize farm at the foot of the Sapo mountain, and who, he said, would
know all the old men in the district. He took me there the next day, and
I put up at the old man’s house. His name was José, and he claimed to be
99 years old; he knew José Maria well, and said that he was some years
older than he was himself. He was a strong, healthy fellow, and had
lived all his life in this pure atmosphere. The scenery round here was
very fine; the lands for leagues around belonged to a man at Palca, and
were worked by several families of Indians, who grew maize, wheat and
barley on the share system, and had flocks of sheep feeding on the
extensive grass lands between the River Cori Mayo and the forest. José
sold me sheep whenever I wanted one for 4/-each, rented me two huts, one
for myself and the other for a kitchen, and lent me the oven for 2/-a
day. By his advice, I sent Zambrana down the river to José Maria Ampuera
with a present of tea, sugar, cocoa, tobacco, matches, biscuits and
cheese, and a few pounds of coca leaves, with a note, telling him I had
come to look for the treasure with the data supplied by Corina San
Roman, and wanted to visit him. Mariano was sick just then with a sort
of cholera, which had been brought on by his own greed. On the way to
Palca, I had bought half a sack of apples at a farm with an orchard, and
he had eaten too many. He wanted to return to his home in Cochabamba, so
I paid him off, gave him provisions for ten days, and took the Indian
boy from Palca in his stead.
José told me that the Sapo Mountain, as far as he knew, had never been
visited for thirty-five years, that there were several abandoned
socabons (mining tunnels) there, and that the settlers occasionally
washed gold out of the Cori Mayo, so I decided to explore this mountain
while waiting for Zambrana to come back. The next day, after breakfast,
I rode off on the white mule up a path which José showed me, which led
to a dip in the mountain where he said I should find a big socabon. I
took Juan and the Indian from Palca with me to clear the path when
necessary, leaving Manuel to look after the horse, mules and donkey, and
his wife to make bread and attend to the kitchen. It was not more than
two leagues to the hollow, but it took from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. to get
there, as we had constantly to clear the track, which was overgrown in
most places, so we went down again, intending to go and look at the
tunnel next day. I saw lots of bush chickens in the forest on the way
up, and decided to take the gun with me next day. Next morning I took
Manuel’s son, Juan, and the Indian boy with me, and rode off with the
white mule to explore the socabon. It was situated at 14,200ft. just
above the forest line, which stops at about 14,000ft. The view from here
was quite magnificent; a vast expanse of country could be seen for
miles around, entirely unoccupied except for three or four isolated
huts. The socabon was thirty-five yards long, fifteen yards wide, and
fifteen high; there was no dump to be seen, and everything had been
taken away. The rock was so hard that no timbering up was required at
all; in fact, there was not a post to be seen, although there were many
hard wood quebracho trees in the forest below, ready to hand. The roof
was ventilated in six parts. In the left-hand corner near the entrance
it appeared to be hollow on sounding. I took some samples of blue quartz
rock and lime from the lode, where the Jesuits had left off. There was
no doubt that this was one of the old Jesuit mines, which had been lost
to sight and abandoned for many years. There were several other old
workings in the vicinity on the mountain, all showing the same clear
work, and no dumping. Another big tunnel ran underneath the hill about a
quarter of a mile from the first one. This mine had no supports, or
timbering of any kind. I saw another tunnel of the same sort high up on
the top of the mountain, of the same blue rock quartz. I took samples
from the first mine; some of them gave indications only, others which I
had essayed later in London by Mix, a mining engineer, gave 2ozs. 3dwt.
of gold, and 3ozs. 6dwt. of silver to the ton. The priest at Palca told
me afterwards that the lapis lazuli sent to Rome by the Jesuits and the
famous chain worn by the Archbishops of the La Paz Province of Ayacucho,
called Upper Peru in those days, had come from a mountain called Mount
Sapo, but that nobody had ever been able to locate the place, until I
found it. On my return to Cochabamba I took up the concession and
denounced two hundred per tinencias, which was about five hundred acres.
Mr. J. O. Gentry, of Kansas City, a partner of Haggin & McEwan, and the
owner of the Cerro Pasco, Peru, told me that if I put on eighty men, got
out quartz during the six months’ dry season, and left it there, they
would then send one of their mining expert engineers to report, and if
the report was favourable they would take it over, putting on as many
stamps as the mine would carry, and giving me one-third of the profits.
There was plenty of water and wood near and good grazing ground all
around, at the foot of the mountain, but up to now I have never been
able to get any Company to take up this proposition.
Zambrana returned soon after with an answer from old José Maria, saying
that if I would come and see him in a fortnight he would take me to the
foot of the hill, where the bulk of the treasure was supposed to be
buried.
I spent most of the fortnight doing prospecting work on Mount Sapo, and
shooting bush chickens, which were so plentiful that I got them whenever
I wanted. One day I winged a big condor at long range, but failed to get
him. In the valley just outside the forest, I several times saw
beautiful golden and silver pheasants; there were never more than two at
a time, and they were always at the same place. They were far too pretty
for me to fire at, and exceedingly tame, as were the bush chickens; all
that was necessary was just to go to the roosting trees at dusk, and
take a chance shot. Two days after Zam got back, I sent him down the
valley, to get half a bag of flour crushed by a water-mill, which only
cost 3/6, 2/6 for the wheat and 1/-for the crushing. He returned in the
evening with a tall, well-made Indian, who asked me to come down and see
his boy, aged fourteen, who had a bad attack of malaria. I promised to
do so next day, and the Indian returned to his home. The following day I
took Zam to lead his mule and my chestnut horse, and the boy to carry my
gun, as there were plenty of fat pigeons on the lower ground where the
Indian lived. We walked leisurely down the valley along a good Indian
path for about nine miles, taking three hours, and got there at 11 a.m.
I saw the boy, and gave him some pills, and told his mother and father
before I left to give him hot boiled cow’s milk and stop cramming
spoonfuls of pearl barley and boiled maize down his throat, which I
found they were doing. I shot six pigeons there, and they gave me some
cabbages, young onions and a pine. On the way back, I enjoyed the lovely
scenery on both sides of the valley. Next day I went to see the boy
again, taking the white mule to ride back on, and the red roan mule to
bring back two bags of potatoes. I found the boy improved, put him on
weak tea and toast, and hot milk, and gave him a dose of quinine,
leaving another dose for his mother to give him two hours after dark. I
shot four pigeons, and the Indians gave me six fresh eggs and another
cabbage. Next day I went down again with the horse, and found the boy
much better, and sitting outside. I gave him some quinine, and made him
some hot Liebig’s Extract, giving his mother a big pot, and telling her
to make him drink three cups a day for four days, and then come up and
let me know how he was. I also left a tin of tea and some sugar for her,
and two pigeons to grill for the boy. They were very grateful, and
wanted to give me all sorts of things; I accepted a young kid, and had
it done on the spit next night for dinner.
Four days afterwards, the Indian came with a large bunch of bananas, his
wife with two bottles of milk and a fowl, and his little girl with some
pines and eggs. I remonstrated with him, but he said I had cured his
boy, and so long as I was here it was his duty to bring me supplies, a
sure proof that these people are grateful and easy to get on with if
properly treated. At the appointed time, we started off to the home of
José Maria Ampuera, getting there early in the morning on the second
day. The old man told me he would show the hill to anyone coming from a
daughter of General San Roman. He said his father had told him that this
was the place, and that his grandfather had been with the priests,
Gregorio and San Roman, when they hid the treasure. His grandfather and
father had been very well off, and owned land and cattle, and he himself
had inherited land and cattle from his father. The Bolivian Government
took away his land, and eight hundred of his cattle, leaving him only
with his present holding and fifty head; this was in Malgarejo’s time,
and for that reason, when President Malgarejo came down to the River
Sacambaja with half a regiment of soldiers to dig and hunt for the
treasure, he refused to show them the place. He showed me afterwards
where President Malgarejo prospected for it; they were not very far
off, but on the wrong side of the river. José told me how fifty years
ago he and his sons found a gold bell weighing 40lbs., which they sold,
and bought land and cattle, but in uncovering the tapada some rocks fell
and killed one of his boys; he and his other son took this as a bad omen
and never tried to find any more. He promised to show me the place where
they found it. The reason he had not sent in for his money from the
agent of Father San Roman was that after the priest died he did not know
to whom to apply, and he thought the family in Lima would be sure to
send something in to him.
José thought it advisable that we should go separately to the place
where the treasure was, as if people were to see us travelling together
they might suspect something and follow us and the law of treasure is
very stringent. So he suggested I should go a roundabout way along the
valley of the Calatranca Range, cross over the highest pass, and make
for the River Sacambaja below, and he would go by a more direct and
easier path and meet me down below on the banks of the Sacambaja. I left
the cook to go with the old man, and sent Zambrana to Cuti to get a
sheep for 4/-and follow on with the old Indian in two days’ time, while
Manuel, his boy and the two other men went the other way with the mules
and donkey and horse. We camped that night near the path over the
mountain, but soon after we had pitched the tents and let loose the
mules, with the chestnut horse as bell mare, Manuel brought me the news
that there were other travellers evidently going the same way as we
were, and that he could see their fire behind us, but he thought it did
not matter, as they would now follow us over the high pass. Where we
camped there was no forest, only a few hardy trees and bushes growing in
the gully; we were 15,200ft. up, very near the snowline. There was a
light layer of frozen snow near the camp on either side of the gully,
plenty of long tufty mule grass growing all about, and a stream of very
cold water with ice and snow on the edges. After the sun went down it
got very cold; but we had a good Irish stew for supper, and plenty of
everything, and with two big fires going, one near my tent, the other
near the men’s, we passed a comfortable night. Next morning after a bath
in the cold stream I dressed in front of a big fire, made a good
breakfast and started off at 9.30, riding my mule, but getting off at
steep places. The path was one of the Inca tracks, broad and well made,
cut out of rock, with very gradual inclines, and I was able to ride most
of the way. At 11 a.m. the aneroid registered 17,000ft., and at 1 p.m.
we got to the top of the pass; the last hour and a half going over
frozen snow. I wrote down 19,000ft. in my diary for the height of the
pass, and was probably not far off the mark, as the aneroid does not
register over 17,000ft., and Lisandro Mendizabal, the wealthy owner of
Cuti and the Alcalde of the district, afterwards told me that was very
likely the height as the top of the mountain was 21,500ft., and always
covered with snow. We were not followed any more. From the cairn of
stones on the summit we saw an immense expanse of country; nobody was to
be seen, no dwelling and no living thing, except some big white collared
condors sailing magnificently in the clear air without any apparent
movement. Down the hill we followed the broad Inca and Jesuit road,
which is cut out of the rock and in places runs along the extreme edge
of the precipice, and after ten miles, of which the last few miles were
through forest, reached the River Sacambaja.
José Maria, Zam and Manuel’s wife were waiting down below, and we
pitched camp there for the night. Next day, after nine miles of fairly
level going up the river, we got to the foot of the Caballo Cunco Hill,
where José said the treasure was buried. I pitched my two tents and
kitchen on the level river beach which is about half a mile wide, and
extends all the way up and down the Rivers Cato and Sacambaja, and
Manuel ran up a rough shed for the mules to feed in, and another for
himself. There was plenty of wood all over the beach, and the forest all
around was full of fat wild cattle. Near the camp just inside the forest
was a clear stream of water with some deep pools, and there were plenty
of guava trees in the forest. The big Rivers Cuti and Sacambaja were
only two hundred yards away, but their water is not very good to drink,
as the broad sandy beach is full of nitrate. José Maria told me that in
the rainy season, which starts down here in the middle of October, these
two rivers form one big sheet of water; the Caballo Cunco Hill becomes
an island, and the water is so deep and the current so strong that no
one can cross for weeks and months at a time.
José Maria was too old to walk up the very steep path which could be
seen leading up to the top of the hill where the big stone was. Next day
I went up with Manuel, Zambrana and the two boys, all carrying machetes
to clear the way. At the top I found the big stone shaped like an egg;
and on looking to right, left and behind we saw the Rivers Cato and
Sacambaja down below, running into one main stream. The scenery was
exactly as described by the paper in my possession. I took the exact
position of the hill, and at once sent Zam to inform Don Lisandro
Mendizabal, who lived at Cuti, twenty-seven miles off. The nearest house
was José Maria’s, eighteen miles off. Through Don Lisandro I sent my
application to the Government in La Paz, who two months later sent down
one of their officials with six soldiers to give me the documents of
formal possession. These documents still hold good, and are in my
possession, signed by the Minister of Mines, and witnessed according to
law.
It may be of interest here to give the rules issued by General José
Manuel Pardo regarding tapadas (hidden or buried treasure).
“A tapada shall be the property of the finder provided he comply with
the following conditions:
“The finder must not absent himself from the spot even for a day until
he has been given formal possession. He must notify the owner of the
soil, if it has an owner. The finder on finding buried treasure must at
once notify the authority appointed by the Government of La Paz, who
will at once inform the supreme authorities in La Paz;
[Illustration: THE CAMP AT SACAMBAJA AND THE CABALLO CUNCO HILL]
they will despatch a detachment of soldiers and one or more mining
engineers to take out the buried treasure, which will be divided up in
La Paz, 25 per cent going to the Government and 75 per cent to the
finder.
“The owner of the soil may participate in one half of the finder’s
share, provided he comply with the following conditions. Six weeks or
forty-two days after the authorities have been notified, he must present
himself at La Paz, and give information. He must then within the time
specified render assistance to the finder by providing, paying and
maintaining thirty men to uncover the tapada. If he fails to comply with
these conditions within the time allowed, namely, forty-two days, he
loses all rights.”
Keeping my saddle mule down here to use when wanted, I sent Manuel with
the horse and the other animals up the valley where the grass was good,
telling him to come down in a week’s time for more provisions. José
Maria wanted to make himself useful, so I gave the old man the job of
bringing down a 4/-sheep and 2/-worth of potatoes every Saturday. One
day I asked José how old he was, and he replied he did not exactly know,
but was certainly several years over one hundred. He said his father
told him the convent was completed in 1705, but in 1745 the Jesuits
abandoned Sacambaja, knowing they were going to be expelled from Peru.
The remains of the convent, several other buildings, some stone mounds,
and the great mud and stone wall still exist.
I started off the excavation by blowing the big, egg-shaped stone to
pieces with dynamite. The stone was exactly ten feet high above the
ground, five feet below, and fourteen feet wide round the middle. The
roof of the cave was covered over by earth and grass for eighteen inches
or two feet, except at the end where the big stone was, where it was
covered rather deeper. The roof itself was divided into three equal
squares, each twenty-five feet long, and the whole roof was, as far as
could be judged, seventy-five feet long and thirty feet broad; it was
covered all over with stone, cut and shaped like bricks, and large slabs
of big slate stone. The partitions were divided by stone bricks, six
inches high. All the work was very well and carefully done. After we had
exposed the roof, the question was, which side to tackle first.
Eventually, I decided to make a start on the south side. Mendizabal, who
always took, and still takes the greatest interest in the uncovering of
the top of this hill, had sent me a reinforcement of three Indians, or
colonias as they are called, whom I paid 1/-per day, and their food,
and I replaced Manuel’s son by Manuel himself, letting the boy tend the
animals. This made four men and a boy, and myself for the work. We
started at 7.30 every morning, and dug away for all we were worth until
six o’clock at night, knocking off only from twelve o’clock to one
o’clock for the cold lunch and water which we carried with us.
After a breakfast of Irish stew at 7 a.m., we walked at once up the
hill, which was so steep that no mule was ever made to go up with more
than 50lbs. of cargo. The distance was measured by hexemeter as 2,600
metres. Manuel and the men always got to the top before me, but not by
much.
During the whole time I did the crowbar work myself, and the others
rested while I was moving the big stones to be rolled down the cliff and
through the forest to the river below. After working on the south side
for two days, I abandoned that end, as I saw no signs of the hand of a
man, and began digging down on the north side facing the River Cato. It
was soon evident by many indications that the formation here was the
work of man, and not of nature. I found the bones of birds, guinea-pigs,
some snail shells that are generally found on trees, and stones and
pebbles from the river beach below, and when, at the depth of nine
feet, I picked up a wooden cork, and, at twelve feet, a yellow altar
slab with flowers nicely engraved on it, there was no longer any doubt
in my mind. Mendizabal, who had just arrived with the authorities from
La Paz, was of the same opinion. Don Tomas, the engineer, told me that
the journey back to La Paz would take them eight to ten days, and they
wanted meat, so, before the officials returned to La Paz, we organized a
hunt for wild cattle, and got two young bulls and a cow, which we made
into charque or dried meat, by cutting them into strips, and then
salting them out in the sun. I shot one bull and the cow, and Mendizabal
the other with my double sixteen bore Holland and Holland. All the
cattle without a brand in Bolivia are considered wild, and belong to the
Government, and anybody may catch or kill as many as they like, provided
they pay the nearest authority £2 a head on behalf of the State.
Mendizabal told me that a few years ago, some twenty days’ journey
further, he bought two thousand heads in that way down the River
Sacambaja near the Brazilian frontier. He made four trips, two each year
in the dry season, and drove down two hundred tame cattle to the vast
grassy prairies in the interior where the wild cattle were plentiful.
The Indians living there make a business of rounding up wild cattle;
they first fence in big tracts of land, and drive numbers of cattle into
these open savannas, then they round off a certain number into a corral,
and the tame cattle are then allowed to mingle with them, and they are
eventually driven off to their new home. The Indians always accompany
the herds for the first four or six days for about 10/-a head, and in
this way very few are lost. Mendizabal drove back one hundred of the
tame cattle with each batch of five hundred of the wild. Don Lisandro
also told me he bought his big estancia (ranch) at Cuti, from the
Government; it is nine leagues wide, mostly grass with plenty of water.
The boundary on the north is the River Sacambaja. There are all sorts of
climates on this estate, from tropical heat to the intense cold of the
Calatranca Range. When he bought the place, there were one hundred and
five families of Indian squatters on the land, whom he valued more
highly than the land. They all stayed and became Colonists under him,
and he has a code of rules which are just and strict. They all look up
to him very much, and call him Tata (father). There is no drunkenness
and no thieving. When any man wants to marry, he has to show a hut and a
plot of ground, ready for sowing, and enough food in the house for one
year, and seed for the next. Everything is done on the half share
system, Don Lisandro supplying the land, implements and seed. When the
harvest comes round all the grain is taken to the estancia house, and
equally divided between him and the growers. They are at liberty to go
and work outside whenever they like, provided they get his permission,
which is always given except in crop time. I had several of his men
working for me at various times, but they never stayed very long; they
used to say there was no necessity for them to work outside, except when
they wanted some money to buy something. Don Lisandro did not keep any
stock, but grew maize, barley, wheat, ochres, potatoes and onions in
large quantities; he had sheep and llamas feeding on the higher ground,
and horses, mules and cattle on the more sheltered ground. He took great
pride in his horses, and bred from a pacer and a half-bred Arab; he was
a great believer in the Arab strain. The estancia house, stables,
wool-shed, granary and other buildings form a square round a large open
yard with grass plots in the middle, and the whole is surrounded by a
broad walk twenty feet high, and entered by a gate of the same height,
opening from within.
The climate is good and the scenery grand; there is plenty of shooting,
and no neighbours nearer than thirty-six miles. There was a horse and
mule-breaker and a carpenter kept on the premises. The farm was not
fenced in at all, there were merely a few paddocks near the house for
convenience, as the Bolivian law does not, like Argentine law, oblige
the owner of an estancia to fence it in within so many years, a very
expensive item. He has a church, which he built himself, and he keeps it
in very good order; the door is kept open from daylight to dark, as the
custom is in these countries, and a priest comes from Palca twice a
year, and remains a week or ten days. All the produce is sent to Oruro
and La Paz by cargo mules.
Don Lisandro said he had often been looking for the Jesuit treasure
during the last twenty-five years. He once found a lot of skulls and
bones near the convent, and opposite on the hill called the “Negro
Muerto,” where the men were buried that died in the fever epidemic. He
never found any treasure, but the Indian owner of the Caballo Cunco
Hill, that I denounced, had found over £20,000 worth, and he had bought
large tracts of land and many cattle and sheep with the money. Just
before I left Sacambaja the owner of the soil sent his wife to say he
hoped I would be lucky enough to get something, and, as far as he was
concerned, he did not wish to participate.
The dry season was now at an end. I left Manuel at the hill, with
provisions, as caretaker, and returned in the middle of October to
Cochabamba, going on from there to Oruro by the same way by which I
came. I disposed of the mules at an advantage. I stayed a few days
there, and went on by train from Oruro, which takes two days and two
nights, travelling only by day, down to the important town of
Antofogasta, the nearest port to Bolivia--and so home.