have halted. The llamas already showed signs of giving out by stopping
and uttering their strange booming note. But Guapo knew these parts--
for, though a descendant of the Incas, he had originally come from the
great forest beyond the eastern slope of the Andes, where many of the
Peruvian Indians had retired after the cruel massacres of Pizarro. He
now remembered, that not far from where they were, was a shepherd's hut,
and that the shepherd himself was an old friend of his. That would be
the place to stop for the night; and, by Guapo's advice, Don Pablo
resolved to continue on to the hut. Guapo fell upon his knees before
the llamas, and, after caressing and kissing them, and using a great
variety of endearing expressions, he at last coaxed these animals to
proceed. No other means would have availed, as beating would not make
either llama budge an inch. The leader, who was a fine large animal and
a great favourite with its master, at length stepped boldly out; and the
other, encouraged by the sound of the small bells that tinkled around
the head of the leader, followed after, and so the travellers moved on.
"Come, papa!" cried Leon; "you are tired yourself--mount this horse--I
can walk a bit:" at the same instant the boy flung himself from the back
of the horse, and led him up to where his father stood. Then handing
the bridle to the latter, he struck off along the plain, following Guapo
and his llamas.
The road skirted round the rocks, where the mountain came down to meet
the plain. The walk was not a long one, for the hut of which Guapo
spoke became visible at less than a quarter of a mile's distance. An
odd-looking hut it was--more like an ill-built stack of bean-straw than
a house. It had been built in the following manner:--
First, a round ring of large stones had been laid, then a row of turf,
then another tier of stones, and so on, until the circular wall had
reached the height of about four or five feet, the diameter being not
more than eight or nine. On the top of the wall a number of poles had
been set, so as to meet above where they were tied together. These
poles were nothing else than the long flower-stalks of the _maguey_ or
American aloe (_Agave Americana_), as no other wood of sufficient length
grew in the vicinity. These poles served for rafters, and across them
laths had been laid, and made fast. Over all this was placed a thatch
of the long coarse Puna grass, which was tied in its place by grass
ropes that were stretched from side to side over the top. This was the
hut of Guapo's friend, and similar to all others that may be encountered
in the wild region of the Puna. A door was left in the side, not over
two feet high, so that it was necessary to crawl upon the hands and
knees before any one could reach the interior.
As our travellers approached, they saw that the entrance was closed by
an ox-hide which covered the whole of the opening.
Whether the shepherd was at home, was the next question; but as they got
near to the house, Guapo suggested that Don Pablo should dismount and
let Leon get upon horseback. This suggestion was made on account of the
Puna dogs--of which creatures Guapo had a previous knowledge. These
dogs, known by the name of Inca dogs (_Canis Ingae_), are, perhaps, the
fiercest animals of their species. They are small, with pointed
muzzles, tails curling upward, and long shaggy hair. They are
half-wild, snappish, and surly, as it is possible for dogs to be. They
attack strangers with fury, and it is as much as their masters can do to
rescue even a friend from their attack. Even when wounded, and unable
any longer to keep their feet, they will crawl along the ground and bite
the legs of those who have wounded them. They are even more hostile to
white people than to Indians, and it is sometimes dangerous to approach
an Indian hut where three or four of these fierce creatures are kept, as
they will jump up against the side of a horse, and bite the legs of the
rider. Their masters often use the stick before they can get obedience
from them. In every Indian hut several of these animals may be found,
as they are extremely useful to the shepherds in guarding their flocks
and for hunting. They are much employed throughout the Puna to hunt the
"yutu," a species of partridge which inhabits the rushy grass. This
bird is traced by the dogs, seized before it can take to flight, and
killed by a single bite of its fierce pursuer. Considering the savage
nature of the Inca dogs, Guapo showed great caution in approaching the
hut of his friend. He first called loudly, but there was no reply. He
then stole forward with his long knife, or "_machete_" in his hand; and
having lifted the skin that covered the low doorway, peeped in. The hut
was empty.
CHAPTER SIX.
THE WILD BULL OF THE PUNA.
Guapo was not much troubled at this. He knew he could take the liberty
of using his friend's roof for the night, even should the latter not
return to grant it. He crawled in. Of course his friend was only
temporarily absent--no doubt looking after his flocks of sheep and
alpacos; and as he was a bachelor, there was no wife at home, but there
were his furniture and utensils. Furniture! No--there was none. There
never is in the hut of a Puna shepherd. Utensils! yes--there was an
earthen "olla," or pot to cook soup in, another to boil or roast maize,
a jar to hold water, a few split gourd-shells for plates, two or three
others for cups--that was all. This was the catalogue of utensils. Two
stones set a little apart formed the fire-place, in which the shepherd,
when he makes a fire to cook with, makes it out of dry dung (_taquia_).
A couple of dirty sheepskins lay upon the ground. These were the bed.
Nothing more was to be seen. Yes, there was one thing more, and this
gladdened the eyes of Guapo. In a bag that hung against the wall, and
on which he soon laid his hands, he felt something--a collection of hard
round objects, about as big as large chestnuts. Guapo knew very well
what these were. He knew they were "macas."
What are _macas_? you will ask. Macas, then, are tuberous roots that
grow in the elevated regions of the Puna, where neither ocas, ullucas,
nor potatoes, will thrive. They are cultivated by the inhabitants, and
in many parts constitute almost the only food of these wretched people.
They have an agreeable and rather sweetish flavour, and, when boiled in
milk, taste somewhat like boiled chestnuts. They can be preserved for
more than a year, by simply drying them in the sun, and then exposing
them to the cold air, when they become hard and shrivelled. They thrive
best in this high region, for although they will grow in the lower
valleys, they are there very insipid and worthless. The Indians prepare
them for food by boiling them into a soup, or syrup, which is taken with
parched maize-corn.
Guapo knew that he had got his hands upon a bag of dried macas, and
although their owner was absent, he had already come to the
determination to appropriate them for himself and party. His joy at the
discovery had not subsided when another bag drew his attention, and this
was the signal for another delightful surprise. His hand touched the
new bag in a trice. There was a rattling sound within. Peas? No--
maize.
"Good!" ejaculated Guapo; "maize and macas! That with what is left of
the charqui--we shall not fast to-night."
Guapo now backed himself out of the hut, and joyfully announced the
discoveries he had made. The travellers dismounted. The horse and mule
were picketed on lassoes on the plain. The llamas were left to go at
will. They would not stray far from their owner.
It was piercing cold in this highland region. Dona Isidora and the
children entered the hut, while Don Pablo and Guapo remained without for
the purpose of collecting fuel. There was not a stick of wood, as no
trees of any sort grew near. Both strayed off upon the plain to gather
the _taquia_, or ordure of the cattle, though no cattle were in sight.
Their tracks, however, were visible all around.
While engaged thus, the old Indian suddenly raised himself from his
stooping position with an exclamation that betokened alarm. What had
startled him? A loud bellowing was heard--it was the bellowing of a
bull. But what was there in that sound to alarm two full-grown men?
Ah! you know not the bulls of the Puna.
Coming around a promontory of rocks a large black bull was in sight. He
was approaching them in full run, his head thrown down, his eyes glaring
fiercely. At every spring he uttered a roar, which was terrific to
hear. A more horrid object it would be difficult to conceive. You may
suppose that an adventure with an enraged bull is one of an ordinary
character, and may occur any day, even in the green meadow pastures of
Old England. So it is, if the animal were only an English bull. But it
is a far different affair with the bulls of the Puna. Throughout all
Spanish America animals of this kind are of a fiercer nature than
elsewhere. It is from them the bulls used in the celebrated fights are
obtained; and, perhaps, the race has been made fiercer by the treatment
they receive on such occasions--for many of those that exhibit in the
arena, are afterwards used to breed from. But, in general, the
Spanish-American "vaqueros," or cattle--herds, treat the cattle under
their charge with much cruelty, and this has the effect of rendering
them savage. Even in herds of cattle where there are no bulls, there
are cows so dangerous to approach, that the vaqueros never attempt
driving them unless when well mounted. A Mexican or South American
cattle-herd is, therefore, always a mounted man. There is a difference,
too, among the bulls in different parts of these countries. On the
Llanos of Venezuela they are not so fierce as those of the Puna, and
they are more and less so in different parts of Mexico and the Pampas of
Buenos Ayres.
The Puna bulls are, perhaps, the fiercest and most dangerous of all.
They are more than half wild. They scarcely ever see a human being, and
they will attack one upon sight. To a mounted man there is little
danger, unless by the stumbling or falling of his horse; but many a poor
Indian, crossing these high plains afoot, has fallen a sacrifice to
these vengeful brutes.
Both Don Pablo and Guapo knew all this, and therefore were aware of
their own danger. Neither had a weapon--not so much as a stick. They
had laid aside their knives and other arms, which had been carried
inside the hut. To reach the hut before the bull reached them would be
impossible; the brute was coming nearly from it--for he had issued from
some shelter in the rocks not far off. They were full two hundred yards
out upon the plain, and to run in the direction of the rocks would have
been to run counter to the bull, and meet him face to face! Their
danger was imminent. What was to be done?
There was not much time left them for consideration. The furious animal
was within thirty paces distance, roaring loudly, shaking his head and
brandishing his long sharp horns. At this moment a happy thought
occurred almost simultaneously to Don Pablo and the Indian. The
evening, as we have already said, was piercing cold, and both, in going
out to collect the fuel, had worn their ponchos. The trick of the
matador with his red cloak suggested itself in this moment of peril.
Both had seen it performed--Don Pablo often--and knew something of the
"way." In a moment both had stripped the ponchos from their shoulders,
and, placing themselves _a la matador_, awaited the onset of the bull.
It was agreed that as soon as the bull was "hooded" by either, that both
should run at all speed to the rocks, where they could easily climb out
of reach of the animal.
Don Pablo happened to be more in the way, and perhaps his more showy
poncho attracted the brute; but whether or not, he was the first to
receive the charge. With the adroitness of a practised matador he flung
his poncho on the horns of the animal, and then both ran in the
direction of the rocks. As they faced towards the hut, however, to the
horror of Don Pablo he saw the Dona Isidora, with Leon and the little
Leona, all outside, and even at some distance from the entrance!
Attracted by the bellowing of the bull and the shouts of the men, they
had rushed out of the hut.
Don Pablo, in wild accents, shouted to them to make for the door; but,
paralysed by terror, they were for some moments unable to move. At
length Dona Isidora, recovering herself, ran for the entrance, pushing
the children before her. But the low doorway was difficult of access;
they were slow in getting under it; and they would have been too late,
as the bull, after shaking off the poncho, had turned and made directly
for the hut.
"O God, preserve her!" cried Don Pablo, as he saw the enraged animal
within a few paces of where his wife had knelt to enter the doorway.
"She is lost! she is lost!"
In fact, the bull was making directly towards her, and it seemed as if
nothing could then have interposed to save her.
At that moment the tramp of a horse in full gallop sounded on their
ears. Don Pablo looked up. A strange horseman was near the spot--an
Indian. Over his head a singular instrument was revolving. There were
three thongs fastened at one end, while at the other end of each was a
ball. These balls were whirling and gyrating in the air. The next
moment both thongs and balls were seen to part from the hands of the
rider, and warp themselves around the legs of the bull. The latter made
an awkward spring forward, and then fell upon the plain, where he lay
kicking and helpless. The horseman uttered a yell of triumph, sprang
from his horse, and running up to the prostrate animal, thrust the blade
of his long machete into its throat. The red stream gushed forth, and
in a few seconds the black monster lay motionless upon the plain.
The new-comer quietly unwound the thongs--the _bolas_--from the legs of
the dead bull, and then addressed himself to our travellers.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
THE "VAQUERO."
Who was this deliverer? No other than the vaquero--the friend of
Guapo,--who now welcomed Guapo and his companions, telling them in the
polite phraseology of all Spanish-Americans that his _house_ (?) was at
their service. They were welcome to all it contained.
The macas, and maize, and a fresh steak from the wild bull, enabled them
to make a most excellent supper. In return for this hospitality, Don
Pablo made the vaquero a handsome present out of his purse; but what
gratified him still more was a supply of coca which his friend Guapo was
enabled to bestow upon him, for his own stock had been exhausted for
some days. Guapo, on leaving Cuzco, had spent his last _peseta_ in
buying this luxury, and therefore was well provided for weeks to come.
After they had had supper, he and his friend seated themselves on one
side, and quietly chewed for a good half-hour, when at length Guapo, who
knew he could trust the vaquero--because the latter, like himself, was
one of the "patriotas"--communicated to him the object of their journey
through that desolate region. The vaquero not only promised secrecy,
but bound himself to put any party of pursuers completely off the trail.
The vaquero, even in his remote mountain-home, had heard of Don Pablo,
knew that he was a good patriot and friend of the Indians, and he would
therefore have risked his life to serve such a man--for no people have
proved more devoted to the friends of their race than these simple and
faithful Indians of the Andes. How many instances of noble
self-sacrifice--even of life itself--occurred during the painful history
of their conquest by the cruel and sanguinary followers of Pizarro!
The vaquero, therefore, did all in his power to make his guests
comfortable for the night. His dogs--there were four of them--were not
so hospitably inclined, for they did not seem to know friends from
enemies. They had come up shortly after their master himself arrived,
and had made a desperate attack upon everybody. The vaquero, however,
assisted by Guapo--who, being an Indian, was less troubled with them--
gave them a very rough handling with a large whip which he carried; and
then, securing the whole of them, tied them together in a bunch, and
left them at the back of the hut to snap and growl at each other, which
they did throughout the live-long night. Supper over, all the
travellers would have retired to rest; but the vaquero, having announced
that he was going out to set snares for the chinchillas and viscachas,
Leon could not rest, but asked permission to accompany him. This was
granted both by Don Pablo and the vaquero himself.
The chinchilla, and its near relative the viscacha, are two little
animals of the rodent, or grass-eating kind, that inhabit the very
highest mountains of Peru and Chili. They are nearly of the same size,
and each about as big as a rabbit, which in habits they very much
resemble. They have long tails, however, which the rabbit has not,
though the latter beats them in the length of his ears. The colour of
the chinchilla is known to everybody, since its soft, velvety fur is
highly prized by ladies as an article of dress, and may be seen in every
London fur-shop. The animal is of a beautiful marbled grey, white and
black, with pure white feet. The fur of the viscacha is not so pretty,
being of a brownish and white mixture. Its cheeks are black, with long,
bristly moustaches, like those of a cat while its head resembles that of
the hare or rabbit. Both these innocent little creatures live upon the
high declivities of the Andes, in holes and crevices among the rocks,
where they remain concealed during the day, but steal out to feed twice
in the twenty-four hours,--that is, during the evening twilight and in
the early morning. The mode of capturing them is by snares made of
horse-hair, which are set in front of their caves--just as we snare
rabbits in a warren, except that for the rabbits we make use of light
elastic wire, instead of the horse-hair.
Leon was delighted with the excursion, as the vaquero showed him how to
set the snares, and told him a great many curious stories of Puna life
and habits. Some of these stories were about the great condor vulture--
which the narrator, of course, described as a much bigger bird than it
really is, for the condor, after all, is not so much bigger than the
griffon vulture, or even the vulture of California. But you, young
reader, have already had a full account of the vultures of America--the
condor among the rest--therefore we shall not repeat what was said by
the vaquero about this interesting bird.
On the way to the place where the snares were to be set, they passed a
lagoon, or marshy lake, in which were many kinds of birds peculiar to
these high regions. Out on the open water they saw a wild goose of a
very beautiful species. It is called the "Huachua" goose. Its plumage
is of a snowy whiteness, all except the wings, which are bright green
and violet, while the beak, legs, and feet, are scarlet. They also saw
two species of ibis wading about in the marsh, and a gigantic water-hen
(_Fulica gigantea_) almost as big as a turkey. This last is of a dark
grey colour, with a red beak, at the base of which is a large yellow
knob of the shape of a bean. On this account it is called by the
Indians "bean nose." Upon the plain, near the border of the marsh, they
noticed a beautiful plover (_Charadrius_), having plumage marked very
much like that of the "huachua" goose, with green wings shining in the
sun like polished metal. Another curious bird also sat upon the plain,
or flew around their heads. This was a bird of prey of the species of
jerfalcons (_Polyborus_). The vaquero called it the "Huarahua." He
told Leon it preyed only on carrion, and never killed its own food; that
it was very harmless and tame--which was evidently true, as, shortly
after, one of them seated upon a stone allowed the Indian to approach
and knock it over with a stick! Such a silly bird Leon had never seen.
The vaquero was quite a naturalist in his way--that is, he knew all the
animals of the Puna, and their habits, just as you will sometimes find a
gamekeeper in our own country, or often a shepherd or farm-servant. He
pointed out a rock-woodpecker, which he called a "pito" (_Colaptes
rupicola_), that was fluttering about and flying from rock to rock.
Like the cliff-parrots we have already mentioned, this rock-woodpecker
was a curious phenomenon, for, as their very name implies, the
woodpeckers are all tree-dwelling birds, yet here was one of the genus
living among rocks where not a tree was to be seen, and scarcely a
plant, except the thorny cactuses and magueys, with which succulent
vegetables the woodpecker has nothing to do. The "pito" is a small,
brown, speckled bird, with yellow belly, and there were great numbers of
them flying about.
But the bird which most fixed the attention of Leon was a little bird
about the size of a starling. Its plumage was rather pretty. It was
brown, with black stripes on the back, and white-breasted. But it was
not the plumage of the bird that interested Leon. It was what his
companion told him of a singular habit which it had--that of repeating,
at the end of every hour during the night, its melancholy and monotonous
note. The Indians call this bird the "cock of the Inca," and they
moreover regard it with a sort of superstitious reverence.
Having placed his snares, the vaquero set out to return with his
youthful companion. As they walked back along the mountain-foot, a fox
stole out from the rocks and skulked towards the marshy lake, no doubt
in search of prey. This fox was the _Canis Azara_, a most troublesome
species, found all through South America. He is the great pest of the
Puna shepherds, as he is a fierce hunter, and kills many of the young
lambs and alpacos. The vaquero was sorry he had not his dogs with him,
as, from the route the fox had taken, he would have been certain to have
captured him, and that would have been worth something, for the great
sheep-owners give their shepherds a sheep for every old fox that they
can kill, and for every young one a lamb. But the dogs, on this
occasion, had been left behind, lest they should have bitten Leon, and
the vaquero was compelled to let "Renard" go his way. It was night when
they returned to the hut, and then, after Leon had related the details
of their excursion, all retired to rest.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
LLAMAS, ALPACOS, VICUNAS, AND GUANACOS.
Our travellers were stirring by early break of day. As they issued from
the hut, a singular and interesting scene presented itself to their
eyes. At one view--one _coup d'oeil_--they beheld the whole four
species of the celebrated camel-sheep of the Andes; for there are four
of them,--llama, guanaco, alpaco, and vicuna! This was a rare sight,
indeed. They were all browsing upon the open plain: first, the llamas,
near the hut; then a flock of tame alpacos, out upon the plain; thirdly,
a herd of seven guanacos farther off; and still more distant, a larger
herd of the shy vicunas. The guanacos and vicunas were of uniform
colours,--that is, in each flock the colour of the individuals was the
same; while among the llamas and alpacos there were many varieties of
colour. The latter two kinds were tame,--in fact, they were under the
charge of Guapo's friend the shepherd; whereas the herds of vicunas and
guanacos consisted of wild animals.
Perhaps no animal of South America has attracted so much attention as
the llama, as it was the only beast of burden the Indians had trained to
their use on the arrival of Europeans in that country. So many strange
stories were told by the earlier Spanish travellers regarding this
"camel-sheep," that it was natural that great interest should attach to
it. These reported that the llama was used for riding. Such, however,
is not the case. It is only trained to carry burdens; although an
Indian boy may be sometimes seen on the back of a llama for mischief, or
when crossing a stream and the lad does not wish to get his feet wet.
The llama is three feet high from hoof to shoulder, though his long neck
makes him look taller. His colour is generally brown, with black and
yellow shades, sometimes speckled or spotted; and there are black and
white llamas, but these are rare. His wool is long and coarse, though
the females, which are smaller, have a finer and better wool. The
latter are never used to carry burdens, but only kept for breeding.
They are fed in flocks upon the Puna heights, and it was a flock of
these that our travellers saw near the hut.