pack-saddle, called _yergua_, woven out of coarse wool, is fastened on
the back, and upon this the goods are placed. The burden never exceeds
120 or 130 pounds. Should a heavier one be put on, the llama, like the
camel, quite understands that he is "over-weighted," and neither coaxing
nor beating will induce him to move a step. He will lie down, or, if
much vexed, spit angrily at his driver, and this spittle has a highly
acrid property, and will cause blisters on the skin where it touches.
Sometimes a llama, over vexed by ill-treatment, has been known, in
despair, to dash his brains out against a rock.
The llamas are used much in the mines of Peru, for carrying the ore.
They frequently serve better than either asses or mules, as they can
pass up and down declivities where neither ass nor mule can travel.
They are sometimes taken in long trains from the mountains down to the
coast region for salt and other goods; but on such occasions many of
them die, as they cannot bear the warm climate of the lowlands. Their
proper and native place is on the higher plains of the Andes.
A string of llamas, when on a journey, is a very interesting spectacle.
One of the largest is usually the leader. The rest follow in single
file, at a slow, measured pace, their heads ornamented tastefully with
ribands, while small bells, hanging around their necks, tinkle as they
go. They throw their high heads from side to side, gazing around them,
and when frightened at anything, will "break ranks," and scamper out of
their path, to be collected again with some trouble. When resting, they
utter a low, humming noise, which has been compared to the sound of an
Eolian harp. They crouch down on their breast--where there is a
callosity--when about to receive their burdens, and also sleep resting
in the same attitude. A halt during the day is necessary, in order that
they may be fed, as these animals will not eat by night. In consequence
of this they make but short journeys--ten to fifteen miles--although
they will travel for a long time, allowing them a day's rest out of
every five or six. Like the camels of the East, they can go days
without water, and Buffon knew one that went _eighteen months_ without
it! but Buffon is very poor authority. When one of them becomes
wearied, and does not wish to proceed, it is exceedingly difficult to
coax him onward.
These animals were at one time very valuable. On the discovery of
America a llama cost as much as eighteen or twenty dollars. But the
introduction of mules and other beasts of burden has considerably
cheapened them. At present they are sold for about four dollars in the
mining districts, but can be bought where they are bred and reared for
half that amount. In the days of the Incas their flesh was much used as
food. It is still eaten; but for this purpose the common sheep is
preferred, as the flesh of the llama is spongy and not very well
flavoured. The wool is used for many sorts of coarse manufacture. So
much for llamas. Now the "guanaco."
This animal (whose name is sometimes written "huanaca," though the
pronunciation is the same with "guanaco" or "guanaca") is larger than
the llama, and for a long time was considered merely as the wild llama,
or the llama _run wild_, in which you will perceive an essential
distinction. It is neither, but an animal of specific difference. It
exists in a wild state in the high mountains, though, with great care
and trouble, it can be domesticated and trained to carry burdens as well
as its congener the llama. In form it resembles the latter, but, as is
the case with most wild animals, the guanacos are all alike in colour.
The upper parts of the body are of a reddish brown, while underneath it
is a dirty white. The lips are white, and the face a dark grey. The
wool is shorter than that of the llama, and of the same length all over
the body. The guanaco lives in herds of five or seven individuals, and
these are very shy, fleeing to the most inaccessible cliffs when any one
approaches them. Like the chamois of Switzerland and the "bighorn" of
the Rocky Mountains, they can glide along steep ledges where neither men
nor dogs can find footing.
The "alpaco," or "paco," as it is sometimes called, is one of the most
useful of the Peruvian sheep, and is more like the common sheep than the
others. This arises from its bulkier shape, caused by its thick fleece
of long wool. The latter is soft, fine, and often five inches in
length; and, as is well known, has become an important article in the
manufacture of cloth. Its colour is usually either white or black,
though there are some of the alpacos speckled or spotted. Ponchos are
woven out of alpaco-wool by the Indians of the Andes.
The alpaco is a domesticated animal, like the llama, but it is not used
for carrying burdens. It is kept in large flocks, and regularly shorn
as sheep are. If one of the alpacos gets separated from the flock, it
will lie down and suffer itself to be beaten to death, rather than go
the way its driver wishes. You have, no doubt, sometimes seen a common
sheep exhibit similar obstinacy.
Of all the Peruvian sheep the vicuna is certainly the prettiest and most
graceful. It has more the form of the deer or antelope than of the
sheep, and its colour is so striking that it has obtained among the
Peruvians the name of the animal itself, _colour de vicuna_ (vicuna
colour). It is of a reddish yellow, not unlike that of our domestic red
cat, although the breast and under parts of the body are white. The
flesh of the vicuna is excellent eating, and its wool is of more value
than even that of the alpaco. Where a pound of the former sells for one
dollar--which is the usual price--the pound of alpaco will fetch only a
quarter of that sum. Hats and the finest fabrics can be woven from the
fleece of the vicuna, and the Incas used to clothe themselves in rich
stuffs manufactured from it. In the present day, the "ricos," or rich
proprietors of Peru, pride themselves in possessing ponchos of vicuna
wool.
The vicuna inhabits the high plains of the Andes, though, unlike the
guanaco, it rarely ventures up the rocky cliffs, as its hoofs are only
calculated for the soft turf of the plains. It roams about in larger
herds than the other--eighteen or twenty in the herd--and these are
usually females under the protection and guidance of one polygamous old
male. While feeding, the latter keeps watch over the flock, usually
posting himself at some distance, so that he may have a better
opportunity of seeing and hearing any danger that may approach. When
any is perceived, a shrill whistle from the leader and a quick stroke of
his hoof on the turf warn the flock; and all draw closely together, each
stretching out its head in the direction of the danger. They then take
to flight, at first slowly, but afterwards with the swiftness of the
roe; while the male, true to his trust, hangs in the rear, and halts at
intervals, as if to cover the retreat of the herd.
The llama, guanaco, alpaco, and vicuna, although different species, will
breed with each other; and it is certain that some of their hybrids will
again produce young. There exist, therefore, many intermediate
varieties, or "mules," throughout the countries of the Andes, some of
which have been mistaken for separate species.
CHAPTER NINE.
A VICUNA HUNT.
The vicuna being of such value, both inside and out, both in flesh and
wool, is hunted by the mountain Indians with great assiduity. It is an
animal most difficult to approach, and there is rarely any cover on
these naked plains by which to approach it.
The chief mode of capturing it is by the "chacu." This cannot be
effected by a single hunter. A great number is required. Usually the
whole population of one of the villages of the "Sierras" lower down
turns out for this sport, or rather business, for it is an annual source
of profit. Even the women go along, to cook and perform other offices,
as the hunt of the _chacu_ sometimes lasts a week or more.
A hunting party will number from fifty to one hundred persons. They
climb up to the _altos_, or high and secluded plains, where the vicuna
dwells in greatest numbers. They carry with them immense coils of
ropes, and a large quantity of coloured rags, together with bundles of
stakes three or four feet in length. When a proper part of the plain
has been chosen, they drive in the stakes four or five yards apart and
running in the circumference of a circle, sometimes nearly a mile in
diameter. A rope is then stretched from stake to stake, at the height
of between two and three feet from the ground, and over this rope are
hung the coloured rags provided for the occasion, and which keep
fluttering in the wind. A sort of scare-crow fence is thus constructed
in the form of a ring, except that on one side a space of about two
hundred yards is left open to serve as an entrance for the game. The
Indians then, most of them on horseback, make a grand detour, extending
for miles over the country; and having got behind the herds of vicunas,
drive them within the circle, and close up the entrance by completing
the ring. The hunters then go inside, and using the _bolas_, or even
seizing the animals by their hind-legs, soon capture the whole. Strange
to say, these silly creatures make no attempt to break through the sham
fence, nor even to leap over it. Not so with the guanacos, when so
enclosed. The latter spring against the fence at once, and if, by
chance, a party of guanacos be driven in along with the vicunas, they
not only break open the rope enclosure and free themselves, but also the
whole herd of their cousins, the vicunas. It is, therefore, not
considered any gain to get a flock of guanacos into the trap.
The hunt usually lasts several days, but during that time the enclosure
of ropes is flitted from place to place, until no more vicunas can be
found. Then the ropes, stakes, etcetera, are collected, and the produce
of the hunt distributed among the hunters. But the Church levies its
tax upon the "chacu," and the skins--worth a dollar each--have to be
given up to the priest of the village. A good round sum this amounts
to, as frequently four or five hundred vicunas are taken at a single
_chacu_.
A good hunter is sometimes able to "approach" the vicuna. Guapo's
friend was esteemed one of the best in all the Puna. The sight of the
herd out on the plain, with their graceful forms, and beautiful
reddish-orange bodies, was too much for him, and he resolved to try his
skill upon them. He said he had a plan of his own, which he intended to
practise on this occasion.
Don Pablo and his party--even Dona Isidora and the little Leona--were
all outside the hut, although the morning air was raw and chill. But
the domicile of the worthy vaquero was not empty, for all that. It was
peopled by a very large colony of very small animals, and a night in
their society had proved enough for the travellers. The chill air of
the Puna was even more endurable than such company.
The vaquero crawled back into the hut, and in a few minutes returned,
but so metamorphosed, that had the party not seen him come out of the
doorway they would have mistaken him for a llama! He was completely
disguised in the skin of one of these animals. His face only was partly
visible, and his eyes looked out of the breast. The head and neck of
the skin, stuffed with some light substance, stood up and forward, after
the manner of the living animal, and although the legs were a little
clumsy, yet it would have required a more intelligent creature than the
vicuna to have observed this defect.
All hands, even the saturnine Guapo, laughed loudly at the counterfeit,
and the vaquero himself was heard to chuckle through the long wool upon
the breast. He did not lose time, however, but instantly prepared to
set off. He needed no other preparation than to get hold of his
_bolas_,--that was his favourite weapon. Before going farther, I shall
tell you what sort of weapon it is.
The bolas consist of three balls--hence the name--of lead or stone, two
of them heavier than the third. Each ball is fastened to the end of a
stout thong made of twisted sinews of the vicuna itself, and the other
ends of the three thongs are joined together. In using them the hunter
holds the lightest ball in his hand, and twirls the other two in circles
around his head, until they have attained the proper velocity, when he
takes aim and launches them forth. Through the air fly the thongs and
balls, and all whirling round in circles, until they strike some object;
and if that object be the legs of an animal, the thongs become
immediately warped around them, until the animal is regularly hoppled,
and in attempting to escape comes at once to the ground. Of course
great practice is required before such an instrument can be used
skilfully; and to the novice there is some danger of one of the balls
hitting him a crack on the head, and knocking over himself instead of
the game. But there was no danger of Guapo's friend the vaquero
committing this blunder. He had been swinging the bolas around his head
for more than forty years!
Without more ado, then, he seized the weapon, and, having gathered it
with his _fore-feet_ into a portable shape, he proceeded in the
direction of the vicunas.
The travellers remained by the hut, watching him with interest, but his
movements were particularly interesting to Leon, who, like all boys, was
naturally fond of such enterprises.
The herd of vicunas was not more than three quarters of a mile off. For
the first half of this distance the vaquero shambled along right
speedily, but as he drew nearer to the animals he proceeded slower and
with more caution.
The pretty creatures were busily browsing, and had no fear. They knew
they were well guarded by their faithful sentinel, in whom they had
every confidence,--the lord and leader of the herd. Even from the hut,
this one could be seen standing some distance apart from the rest. He
was easily recognised by his greater bulk and prouder bearing.
The false llama has passed near the guanacos, and they have taken no
heed of him. This is a good omen, for the guanacos are quite as sharp
and shy as their smaller cousins, and since he has succeeded in
deceiving them, he will likely do the same for the vicunas. Already he
approaches them. He does not make for the herd, but directly for the
leader. Surely he is near enough; from the hut he seems close up to the
creature. See! the vicuna tosses his head and strikes the ground with
his hoof. Listen! it is his shrill whistle. The scattered herd
suddenly start and flock together; but, look! the _llama_ stands erect
on his hind-legs; the bolas whirl around his head--they are launched
out. Ha! the vicuna is down!
Where is the female drove? Have they scampered off and forsaken their
lord? No! faithful as a loving wife, they run up to share his danger.
With shrill cries they gather around him, moving to and fro. The llama
is in their midst. See! he is dealing blows with some weapon--it is a
knife! his victims fall around him--one at every blow; one by one they
are falling. At last, at last, they are all down,--yes, the whole herd
are stretched, dead or dying, upon the plain!
The struggle is over; no sound is heard, save the hoof-stroke of the
guanacos, llamas, and alpacos, that cover the plain in their wild
flight.
Leon could no longer restrain his curiosity; but ran off to the scene of
the slaughter. There he counted no less than nineteen vicunas lying
dead, each one stabbed in the ribs! The Indian assured him that it was
not the first _battue_ of the kind he had made. A whole herd of vicunas
is often taken in this way. When the male is wounded or killed, the
females will not leave him; but, as if out of gratitude for the
protection he has during life afforded them, they share his fate without
making an effort to escape!
CHAPTER TEN.
CAPTURING A CONDOR.
The vaquero with his horse soon dragged the vicunas to the hut. Guapo
gave him a help with the mule, and in a few minutes they were all
brought up. One of them was immediately skinned, and part of it
prepared for breakfast, and our travellers ate heartily of it, as the
cold Puna air had given an edge to their appetites.
The new-killed animals, along with the red skin of the bull, which had
been spread out on the ground at some distance from the hut, had already
attracted the condors; and four or five of these great birds were now
seen hovering in the air, evidently with the intention of alighting at
the first opportunity.
An idea seemed to enter the head of the vaquero, while his guests were
still at breakfast, and he asked Leon if he would like to see a condor
caught. Of course Leon replied in the affirmative. What boy wouldn't
like to see a condor caught?
The vaquero said he would gratify him with the sight, and without
staying to finish his breakfast--indeed he had had his "coceada," and
didn't care for any,--he started to his feet, and began to make
preparations for the capture.
How he was to catch one of these great birds, Leon had not the slightest
idea. Perhaps with the "bolas," thought he. That would have done well
enough if he could only get near them; but the condors were sufficiently
shy not to let any man within reach either with bolas or guns. It is
only when they have been feasting on carrion, and have gorged themselves
to repletion, that they can be thus approached, and then they may be
even knocked over with sticks.
At other times the condor is a shy and wary bird. No wonder either that
he is so, for, unlike most other vultures, he is hunted and killed at
all times. The vultures of most countries are respected by the people,
because they perform a valuable service in clearing away carrion; and in
many parts these birds are protected by statute. There are laws in the
Southern United States, and in several of the Spanish-American
Republics, which impose fines and penalties for killing the black
vultures (_Cathartes aura_ and _Cathartes atratus_). In some Oriental
countries, too, similar laws exist. But no statute protects the condor.
On the contrary, he is a proscribed bird, and there is a bounty on his
head, because he does great damage to the proprietors of sheep, and
llamas, and alpacos, killing and devouring the young of these animals.
His large quills, moreover, are much prized in the South American
cities, and the killing of a condor is worth something. All this will
account for the shyness of this great bird, while other vultures are
usually so tame that you may approach within a few paces of them.
As yet the half-dozen condors hovering about kept well off from the hut;
and Leon could not understand how any one of them was to be caught.
The vaquero, however, had a good many "dodges," and after the _ruse_ he
had just practised upon the vicunas, Leon suspected he would employ some
similar artifice with the condors. Leon was right. It was by a
stratagem the bird was to be taken.
The vaquero laid hold of a long rope, and lifting the bull's hide upon
his shoulders, asked Guapo to follow him with the two horses. When he
had got out some four or five hundred yards from the hut, he simply
spread himself flat upon the ground, and drew the skin over him, the
fleshy side turned upward. There was a hollow in the ground about as
big as his body--in fact, a trench he had himself made for a former
occasion--and when lying in this on his back, his breast was about on a
level with the surrounding turf. His object in asking Guapo to
accompany him with the horses was simply a _ruse_ to deceive the
condors, who from their high elevation were all the while looking down
upon the plain. But the vaquero covered himself so adroitly with his
red blanket, that even their keen eyes could scarcely have noticed him;
and as Guapo afterwards left the ground with the led horses, the
vultures supposed that nothing remained but the skin, which from its
sanguinary colour to them appeared to be flesh.
The birds had now nothing to fear from the propinquity of the hut.
There the party were all seated quietly eating their breakfast, and
apparently taking no notice of them. In a few minutes' time, therefore,
they descended lower, and lower,--and then one of the very largest
dropped upon the ground within a few feet of the hide. After surveying
it for a moment, he appeared to see nothing suspicious about it, and
hopped a little closer. Another at this moment came to the ground--
which gave courage to the first--and this at length stalked boldly on
the hide, and began to tear at it with his great beak.
A movement was now perceived on the part of the vaquero--the hide
"lumped" up, and at the same time the wings of the condor were seen to
play and flap about as if he wanted to rise into the air, but could not.
He was evidently held by the legs!
The other bird had flown off at the first alarm, and the whole band were
soon soaring far upward into the blue heavens.
Leon now expected to see the vaquero uncover himself. Not so, however,
as yet. That wily hunter had no such intention, and although he was now
in a sitting posture, grasping the legs of the condor, yet his head and
shoulders were still enveloped in the bull's hide. He knew better than
to show his naked face to the giant vulture, that at a single "peck" of
his powerful beak would have deprived him of an eye, or otherwise
injured him severely. The vaquero was aware of all this, and therefore
did not leave his hiding-place until he had firmly knotted one end of
the long cord around the shank of the bird--then slipping out at one
side, he ran off to some distance before stopping. The condor,
apparently relieved of his disagreeable company, made a sudden effort,
and rose into the air, carrying the hide after him. Leon shouted out,
for he thought the vulture had escaped; but the vaquero knew better, as
he held the other end of the cord in his hand; and the bird, partly from
the weight of the skin, and partly from a slight tug given by the
hunter, soon came heavily to the ground again. The vaquero was now
joined by Guapo; and, after some sharp manoeuvring, they succeeded
between them in passing the string through the nostrils of the condor,
by which means it was quietly conducted to the hut, and staked on the
ground in the rear--to be disposed of whenever its captor should think
fit.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
THE PERILS OF A PERUVIAN ROAD.
It was as yet only an hour or so after daybreak--for the vicuna hunt had
occupied but a very short time and the capture of the condor a still
shorter. Don Pablo was anxious to be gone, as he knew he was not beyond
the reach of pursuit. A pair of the vicunas were hastily prepared, and
packed upon a llama for use upon their journey. Thus furnished, the
party resumed their route.
The vaquero did not accompany them. He had an office to perform of far
more importance to their welfare and safety. As soon as they were gone
he let loose his four snarling curs, and taking them out to where the
pile of dead vicunas lay upon the plain, he left them there with
instructions to guard the carcasses from foxes, condors, or whatever
else might wish to make a meal off them. Then mounting, he rode off to
the place where the road leading from Cuzco ascended upon the
table-land, and having tied his horse to a bush, he climbed upon a
projecting rock and sat down. From this point he commanded a view of
the winding road to the distance of miles below him. No traveller--much
less a party of soldiers--could approach without his seeing them, even
many hours before they could get up to where he sat; and it was for that
reason he had stationed himself there. Had Don Pablo been pursued, the
faithful Indian would have galloped after and given him warning, long
before his pursuers could have reached the plain.
He sat until sunset--contenting himself with a few leaves of coca. No
pursuer appeared in sight. He then mounted his horse, and rode back to
his solitary hut.
Let us follow our travellers.
They crossed the table-plain during the day, and rested that night under
the shelter of some overhanging rocks on the other side. They supped
upon part of the vicunas, and felt more cheerful, as they widened the
distance between themselves and danger. But in the morning they did not
remain longer by their camp than was necessary to get breakfast.
Half-an-hour after sunrise saw them once more on their route.