Manco, the Peruvian Chief / Or, An Englishman's Adventures in the Country of the Incas

W.H.G. Kingston

"Manco, the Peruvian Chief"

Chapter One.

My family and home—We conceal a fugitive Indian.

It was evening. The sun had just set beneath the waters of the Pacific, which could be distinguished in the far distance; and the whole western sky, undimmed by a cloud, was burning with a radiant glow of splendour such as to the eyes of the untutored Peruvians might well appear an emanation from the Deity they worshipped.

I was looking out, with others of my family, from the windows of the country house we inhabited, on the glorious spectacle. We were residing in Peru, that romantic region with which the name of the conqueror Pizarro must be for ever associated—the kingdom of the once powerful and enlightened Incas, on the western shore of South America. At the time of which I speak, however, its greatness, its prosperity and happiness, had passed away; it was a mere province of Old Spain, and governed by a viceroy sent from that country, while the race of its ancient sovereigns, though still existing, was humbled and disregarded, and almost unknown.

My parents were English, and England was my native land. My father, Mr Henry Rexton, had been a soldier in his youth; but when he married my mother, who was the daughter of an eminent British merchant, he quitted the army; and my grandfather induced him, by advantageous offers, to take a share in his house of business. The firm traded with Peru; and certain mercantile transactions of importance requiring for a time the superintendence of a partner, my father and mother went out there, taking with them me and a younger sister, their only children then born. Year after year unexpected circumstances occurred which compelled them, much against their wish, to remain in the country; and well do I remember how frequently in our family circle the subject of conversation was the happiness we expected to enjoy on returning home. On first going to Peru, we resided in Lima, the modern capital; but at length the heat of the climate affecting my mother’s health, in the hopes of it being restored by a cooler atmosphere, my father engaged a house in the country, at a considerable distance from the city. It was situated among the lower ranges of the lofty Cordilleras, one of those mighty ranges of mountains which stretches from one end to the other of the South American continent, the eastern portion of them being more properly known by the name of the Andes.

Our house stood on a level spot on the summit of a spur of the main chain. To the east behind it rose range above range of mountains, the more distant towering to the sky, and covered with eternal snows. On either side other spurs stretched out far towards the west, forming deep gorges below us; while along the side of the ridge on which the house was situated ran a narrow road, one of the few paths in that neighbourhood, penetrating among the mountains into the regions on the eastern side. From our windows westward, over a wide extent of broken ground among the mounds, many of which might in other countries be called mountains, would be seen the fertile plains of Peru stretching away to the ocean, distinguished on clear days by a silvery line in the horizon. The house was of one floor only, and built of brick and tiled. The rooms were large and numerous, and it was surrounded by a court-yard. It was of ancient construction, indeed it appeared to have been built originally for a fortification to command the pass through the mountains; but the outer walls had fallen into decay or been pulled down, though it still retained enough of its former character to enable it to be speedily prepared to resist any sudden attack by undisciplined forces destitute of artillery. Around it were plantations of olive and orange trees, on the slopes near it were vineyards, and on the level spaces fields of maize or Indian corn, and many trees and plants of a temperate clime. At the bottom of the ravine rushed a broad and powerful stream, fed by the snows of the neighbouring mountains; and on its banks, in a wider part, some little way to the west, was a large village inhabited chiefly by Indians, the descendants of the hapless race conquered by the Spaniards. In the neighbourhood, on the other side of the river, was a silver mine, in working which many of the inhabitants of the village were employed.

My father’s house had, I believe, advanced money to the owners; and this was one of the reasons which made him select the locality for his temporary residence, besides its peculiar healthiness and beauty. He was a firm friend to the Indians, for he pitied their hard fate; and he endeavoured by every means in his power to mitigate their sufferings under the cruel tyranny to which, even at that time, they were subjected. As he did not own the mine, he could not prevent their strength from being often overtaxed; but having some knowledge of medicine, he used to prescribe for them when they were sick, and he to the best of his means relieved them when overtaken by poverty, so that they all learned to love and reverence the English stranger who had come among them. His conduct was uninfluenced by any expectation of a return, but he afterwards had reason to know that the despised Indians were not ungrateful for his kindness. My father was a true Christian, who looked upon all men helpless or suffering, whatever their hue, or race, or religion, as brothers, whom it was his duty to aid and protect. He received his reward; and my belief is, that no person ever performs a good disinterested action without being rewarded for it even in this world. I, at all events, have met with numerous instances which tend to show that such is the case. The means of crossing the river to the mines was by a large hanging bridge, called by the Spaniards “Puente de Soga,” which could be seen from the windows of our house. On either side of the river, some fifty feet above the water, stout posts were driven into the steep bank, to which four ropes, formed of twisted cow-hides the thickness of a man’s arm, were fastened. These ropes were laid parallel to each other, a few feet apart; and were again fastened by thinner ropes laid transversely, and forming a sort of network. On this foundation were spread roots of the Agave tree, branches of trees, straw, and earth, so that even beasts of burden could walk across. On either side of the bridge, and about three feet above it, two other ropes were carried across to serve as a balustrade; but as it had sunk in the middle, and the ropes were very slack, it frequently swung from side to side as passengers went across, in a most terrific way. It formed a very picturesque object in the landscape.

I have now given a sufficiently full description of our house and the scenery surrounding it, to enable my readers to form a tolerably correct idea of the picture I wish to present to them.

At the time when the adventures I have resolved to narrate commenced, I had just attained my fifteenth year. I looked older, for I had grown rapidly in that warm climate; and, accustomed to exercise and athletic sports, I was of a well-knit strong frame, and had a very manly appearance, though possessed of the light hair and complexion of the Saxon race, somewhat tanned, however, by constant exposure to the sun. My brothers and sisters, for I had several, all bore the same marked characteristics of our Northern ancestors, contrasting strongly with the swarthy hue on the countenances of the people among whom we lived. They used to call us the fair-haired children of the North; and from the love and respect with which they regarded us, I believe they associated us in their minds with the revered race whom their traditions told them once ruled the country with paternal sway—the family of the fallen Incas.

I shall have to tell more fully, in the course of my narrative, the beautiful legend, for so I may call it, regarding the origin of the Incas; how they appeared suddenly among the ignorant inhabitants of Peru, claiming to be the children of the Sun, and, gathering their scattered tribes together, formed them into one people, and gave them laws and institutions, and brought peace and prosperity to the land, which continued till the Spaniards arrived, and, with unexampled treachery and cruelty, overthrew their monarchy and reduced the people to abject slavery and misery. The Indians around us were nominally Roman Catholics; but though they conformed openly to the ordinances of that Church, and partly believed in the power assumed by its priests, they pertinaciously retained many of the superstitions of their ancestors, and practised their rites in secret.

Having given a brief account of my family, and their position in the country, I must begin to unwind the thread of my Tale. We were seated, as I have said, in our sitting-room, gazing on one of the most magnificent of Nature’s spectacles—the setting sun. The younger children were playing about the room, while my sister Lilly and I, with our father and mother, were seated near the open window. We were talking, I well remember, about our distant home, when our conversation was interrupted by seeing a man leap over the wall of the court-yard, and rapidly approach the house.

“Who can he be? What brings him here?” exclaimed my mother, while my father rose to make inquiries on the subject.

Scarcely had she spoken, when the door was thrown open, and the person we had seen rushed into the room. He was a tall man, of well-knit, active frame, and though he looked travel-stained and weary, there was something in his appearance and manner which betokened that he was not an ordinary being. His complexion was dark, though scarcely darker than that of a Spaniard; but the contour of his features and the expression of his countenance showed that he belonged to the Indian race. His dress was simple, consisting of a pair of trowsers, and a shirt of the cotton cloth of the country, of a dark blue colour; a poncho of alpaca wool covered his shoulders, while a sash was fastened round his waist, and his feet were protected by sandals, fastened on by leather thongs. He threw himself on the ground before my father, who went to meet him, and taking his hand, he looked up imploringly in his face.

“Save me, Señor!” he exclaimed in Spanish, “you have the power if you will venture to do it. I am flying from what they call justice—the tyranny of our cruel task-masters. If I am captured, my death is certain. You are noble and generous, and I throw myself on your mercy.”

The appeal thus made, with all the energy of despair, was difficult to resist. My father’s feelings were enlisted on the side of the fugitive; but he looked round at my mother and us, who now stood grouped about him, and remembered the difficulties to which we might be exposed, should he yield to the promptings of his heart, from the anger of the Spanish authorities. The Indian divined his thoughts.

“You run no danger,” he continued. “Far be it from me to cause you to suffer for your charity. No one saw me approach your house; neither did your servants observe me enter it. I was on my way through the mountains to the far interior, but not daring to enter any house for food and rest, I felt that my strength was forsaking me, and that I could not hope to combat with the difficulties of the road. If you cannot shelter me, noble Señor, either I must die from fatigue, or be captured by my enemies.”

“Of what crime have you been guilty, that you thus seek to fly from justice?” asked my father.

“Of no crime, Señor, believe me,” replied the Indian in a proud tone, rising to his feet as he spoke. “Of no crime in the sight of Heaven, or even of men, if they had regard to justice. I was selected for the hated Meta, I, a descendant of the great Incas, was ordered to work as a slave—a Pongo in the house of a sub-delegado, a man noted for his crimes and cruelty. I refused to perform the disgraceful office—I was dragged there by force—with a thong he endeavoured to frighten me into performing the work he ordered. His rage surpassed all bounds; he struck me again and again. Was I tamely to submit? My dormant spirit was aroused. I at length struck him again; and when he rushed at me in his fury, I felled him to the ground. I attempted to fly, but I was captured ere I could do so, and was borne off to prison, there to await my doom, which would have been death. My name was unknown. They thought I was an humble Indian; but some of my race were at hand, and, aided by them, I effected my escape from prison. My friends could not conceal me, and my only course was instant flight into the mountains.”

“Let us shelter him, Henry,” exclaimed my mother, in English; “Heaven surely will not allow us to suffer injury from doing what is right.”

The Indian at once comprehended by her looks that she was pleading his cause.

“May the blessing of the God of my fathers light on you and yours!” he cried, kneeling at her feet.

My father thought as she did; but he had learned not to give way on a sudden to the impulse of his feelings, and he wished to ascertain that the Indian was not deceiving him before he promised his protection.

“Who are you?” he asked; “though your tale, alas! is too probable to be doubted.”

“I am one who would not be guilty of a falsehood to save my life,” answered the Indian proudly; “I am the cousin of the Cacique Tupac Amaru, the rightful heir of the last Inca of Peru. You see in me one of the children of the Sun; and though the blood of the conquerors of my country is mixed in my veins, I feel that of my fathers still burning strongly within me. I had heard of your charity and kindness to my people; and for long I have known you, hoping some day to repay you; but I see that you fear my presence might risk the safety of your family, and I will not trespass on you. Give me but some food to sustain my wearied body, and I will depart.”

My father took the stranger’s hand. “You shall not go,” he said. “I will trust you, and at all hazards I will endeavour to conceal you till your strength is recruited. David,” he continued, speaking to me, “see that the servants do not come into this part of the house till I have concealed this poor fellow; and remember, children, do none of you on any account speak of what has occurred. Now, my friend,” he added, turning to the Indian, “follow me; I trust in the truth of your story, and will endeavour to preserve you from injury.”

While I went out to the end of the passage to send any of the domestics back who might by chance have been coming to that part of the house, my father led the Indian to a large unfurnished room, which the children used as a play-room in rainy weather. At one end was a deep recess in the wall, with a door to it, and from the recess a narrow flight of steps led to a vault of considerable depth, from whence there was a passage to the side of the mountains. In the roof of the chamber there was a small trap-door, through which a thin ladder conducted to the roof of the house. It had evidently been constructed when the building was used as a fortification, and was probably intended to enable the garrison to make a sudden sortie on the enemy at an unexpected point. The outside entrance was blocked up by rubbish overgrown with vegetation; and my father had caused a strong door to be placed to the vault, to prevent any intruder, who might by chance have found his way through it, from entering the house. He always kept the keys himself; and as no one ever thought of wishing to enter the recess, a securer place for the concealment of the fugitive could not have been found. Our evening meal was, fortunately, spread in the parlour, so that we were able to supply our guest with the refreshment he so much required, without exciting the suspicion of the servants. I must remark that several of them, of the higher class, were Spanish, though the rest were Indians; and though we believed them to be honest and faithful, my father did not consider it right to trust them with a secret which might compromise them as well as himself and all his family.

He was very sensible, even as it was, of the risk that he was running; but he had resolved, at all hazards, to preserve the unfortunate man who had thrown himself on his protection. While I kept watch, my mother collected some bedding, and took it into the closet; so that in a few minutes our guest was made as comfortable as circumstances could allow. He ate sparingly of the food placed before him, and then, expressing his deep gratitude for the protection afforded him, he threw himself on his couch, and sought the repose he so much needed. My father having secured the door, called me to him, and we all again assembled in the sitting-room as if nothing had occurred, till summoned by the servant to our evening meal. The arrival of the stranger had, however, an influence on my future fortunes.

While our servant José, who was a Spanish Creole, was waiting at table, I could not help looking into his face to try and discover if he suspected anything; but the look of perfect unconsciousness which his countenance bore reassured me. I was afraid also that the children might betray it to their nurses; but our mother had kept them carefully shut up in the sitting-room while our father was concealing the stranger, so that they were under the impression that he had gone away. Lilly and I were therefore the only ones in the secret.

Chapter Two.

Unwelcome visitors.

When we retired to rest, all night long I dreamed of the unhappy descendant of the Inca who was beneath our roof. Some of the incidents of which I had read in Peruvian history were strongly mixed up in my mind with the reality, with the indistinctness which generally occurs in dreams.

I thought our guest was the mild and unfortunate Huascar, the rightful Inca of Peru, who was a prisoner in the hands of his fierce brother Atahualpa when the Spaniards attacked Peru with their small but determined band of robber-warriors. I thought I was aiding Huascar to escape from among his brother’s army. We had passed the guards, who were fast asleep, when we came to a broad river. We attempted to swim across, when I felt my strength failing me. Huascar was bravely buffeting the stream by my side. Suddenly the bank was lined with troops. They shouted to us, and let fly a cloud of arrows at the Inca. He stopped swimming. I endeavoured to drag him on; but as I grasped at him he sank below the water. The shouts grew louder. I awoke. The noise was real, for I heard the voices of some men calling in Spanish at the court-yard gate, and desiring to be let in.

I trembled with alarm; for I at once suspected that the strangers must be the emissaries of government come in search of our guest. I jumped up and began to dress myself, intending to go out to inquire who they were; but before I had left my room I heard José, the servant, hold a parley with them at the gate.

“Who are you,” he asked, “who come at this unreasonable hour to disturb a quiet family?”

“Open in the king’s name, and we will let you know,” was the answer he received.

“I must get my master’s leave first, and he is fast asleep,” he replied.

“We are government officers in search of a fugitive malefactor, and are benighted on our road; so you must awake your master whoever he is, and he will not refuse to give us shelter,” they exclaimed.

I now went out to join José. He was afraid they were robbers; and I suspected that they by some means knew that the fugitive was harboured in the house, and only made this a pretext to gain an entrance. Fortunately my father was not awakened by the noise, or he might have had more difficulty than had the servant in answering the questions put by the officers of justice. Opening a slide in the gate through which he could look out, José let the light of the lantern fall on the strangers, and the inspection convinced him that they were what they represented themselves to be.

“Be quick there,” said the strangers, “for we have but a short time to rest, and we must speedily be again on our road.”

“What shall I do, Master David?” said José. “If we do not let them in they will batter down the door; but still I do not like to disturb the Señor Rexton. They do not look like robbers, so it is all right.” With the knowledge that the Indian concealed in the house was in all probability the fugitive the officers were seeking, I felt that it was all wrong, and would have given much to have kept them out; but still I saw that it would be equally dangerous to attempt to do so. My heart all the time was beating audibly with agitation; and I was afraid that even José would suspect the secret. However, I replied, “Let them in, José, by all means, and do you attend to what they require.”

He accordingly withdrew the bolts and bars of the gate, and two chief officers—alguazils they are called—and four subordinates made their appearance.

Two of them remained without to take care of their horses. They were all fierce, rough-looking fellows, armed with muskets, pistols in their belts, and swords by their sides. The officers of justice (though I do not think the name is a proper one) were often pardoned banditti, cut-throats and robbers of the blackest dye, who were glad to accept the office as an alternative for the garotte; and I believe our visitors were of that description. The inferiors were Mestizos, half Indian and half Spaniards by descent, with dark brown complexions and savage countenances—altogether gentlemen of a very unprepossessing appearance. They were accompanied by a dog, a huge, savage-looking hound, whom they called by the very ugly name of Demonio. If he was a bloodhound, as at first I thought he was, I felt that the detection of the Indian would be certain.

“You were a long time opening the gate, friend,” observed, one of them as they strode into the house. “You took us for robbers, I suppose?”

“O no, Señor, not at all,” said José; “but a servant should not let strangers into the house without his master’s leave.”

“Is that young señor your master then?” inquired the alguazil.

“He is my master’s son; my master is Señor Rexton, an Englishman, and he is fast asleep,” said José.

“Well, you need not disturb him then; all we want is food and shelter for the night,” replied the alguazil. “Be quick with the former, some straw and blankets will serve us for beds. While, hark you, do you send some one to show the way to the stables, that our beasts may be looked after; they require food as much as we do.”

“All shall be done you request, Señores; in the mean time, follow me,” said José; and what was my dismay to see him lead the way to the large empty room I have spoken of, close to which the Indian was concealed! I dared not interfere, lest I might excite their suspicions; so I thought it best to let José follow his own course. Having dragged in a table from one of the other rooms, he placed a lighted candle on it, and then hurried off to call up some of the other servants to help him, leaving me alone with the officers. I was afraid of speaking to them, lest they should ask me questions; so I made signs that the servant would quickly return with what they required. I dared not even look towards the door of the secret passage, to which every instant I expected to see some of them go for the purpose of examining it. However, somewhat to my relief, they seemed not to notice the door, but throwing themselves on the ground, stretched out their limbs to rest themselves, while their hound Demonio crouched down at their feet with his head between his fore-paws, ready to spring up in a moment. I saw by the glare of his half-closed eyes that he was all the time wide awake, and eager to spring upon any one who might molest him or his masters.

My anxiety made me fancy that José was a long time absent, but he had really been away only a few minutes, when he returned with another servant, bringing a supply of bread and meat, and wine. Some chairs were carried into the room; and the officers being joined by their companions, they attacked the viands with a good will. Had José been in the secret, he might have betrayed it, but his perfectly collected manner gave no cause for suspicion.

“You do not chance to have seen or heard anything of an Indian, an atrocious villain who has escaped from justice, and is supposed to have taken the path by this up the mountains?” asked one of the officers.

O how my heart did beat as I heard this! José assured them with an air of perfect disembarrassment that he knew nothing of any Indian fugitive. His answers seemed to satisfy them. He next brought in some bundles of straw and blankets to serve as bedding.

“There, Señores, I hope that you will make yourselves at home, and sleep soundly after your supper,” he observed, as he deposited them in different parts of the room.

“No fear of it, friend; we will not forget your hospitality,” said the chief alguazil, as he helped himself to a large tumbler of wine.

I was glad to see them apparently so well satisfied; but at the same time I thought I detected a sinister expression in the eye of the speaker, with which I was not altogether satisfied. The hound Demonio, too, gave me some uneasiness; for though he came back to catch the pieces of meat thrown to him by the officers, he employed himself meanwhile in snuffing round the room in a very suspicious manner. José stood quietly by to attend to their wants.

“Can I do anything more for you, Señores!” he asked.

“Another flask of this wine will not be objectionable, and a bundle of cigars would be welcome,” answered the chief alguazil, laughing at the thought of the comfortable quarters into which he had fallen, and determined to make the most of them.

“Certainly, Señores; I am sure my master would not object to afford all you require,” said José, going out to fetch what was asked for.

While he was absent, what was my horror to see the dog, who had now finished his meal, begin to snuff vehemently under the door of the secret passage, and then to work away with his paws, as if to try and open it! I turned pale with alarm, for I knew that all must be discovered; but still I thought it best to take no notice of the circumstance.

“What does the dog want there?” said one of the men.

“Rats are there, I suppose,” remarked another, whose wits the wine had somewhat dulled.

“Demonio has a strange fancy for rats,” said a third.

“Rats or not, I should like to have a look behind the door,” observed the chief alguazil, as the dog’s excitement increased.

I said nothing, and the officers seemed to fancy that I could not understand Spanish, so they did not trouble me with questions. Just then José returned.

“What is inside that door?” asked the chief alguazil abruptly.

“Nothing that I know of but an empty cupboard,” he answered quietly. “The room is little used, so that I never saw it opened.”

“Bring the key, and let us see,” said the alguazil.

“I have not the key; and if there is one, my master must have it, and I cannot disturb him for such a fancy,” replied José. “The dog smells a rat; there are many in the house, and he will soon be quiet.”

But the dog would not be quiet, neither was the alguazil satisfied; and at last José was obliged to say that he would go and ask my father for the key. I followed him out of the room.

“José, I will go to my father and get the key, while you stay with the strangers,” I said to him. “Give them plenty of wine, and amuse them as long as you can.”

I hurried to my father’s room to consult what was to be done; though I intended not to mention that the key had been asked for till he had come into the passage, as of course my mother would be very much alarmed at hearing of it.

I had got him out into the passage, and was mentioning the unwelcome arrival of the Spaniards in as calm a tone as I could command, when it struck me that I might prevent his being implicated in the secretion of the fugitive if I took the whole blame upon myself. I at last told him of the suspicions the behaviour of the horrid dog had aroused in the minds of the officers; and entreated him, by every argument I could think of, to let me manage the affair as best I could.

“They can scarcely inflict any severe punishment on me,” I observed, “while they might drag you off to prison, and leave my mother and brother and sisters without a protector.”

“I must take the consequences of what I have done,” he returned. “At the same time I do not repent having endeavoured to save the poor fellow. The act was right, and that must be my consolation.”

But I was not so easily to be turned aside from my purpose; and at last he consented to let me take the key, and to use it if driven so to do, while he remained in his room. I returned, as may be supposed, in no great hurry to the hall; and as I got close to it I heard, amid the loud talking of the Spaniards and José, who was doing his best to amuse them, the scratching and snarling of the savage brute at the door.

“My master is incapable of breaking the laws; that I can assure your Excellencies,” I heard José say. “If the man you seek is inside there, he did not put him in, you may depend on it. If you find anything, it will be a rat or a little mouse, perhaps, for which all this fuss is to be made.”

“What you say may be true, friend; but if the key is not brought we must break open the door,” observed one of the Spaniards. “The dog is not a pure bloodhound; but he has enough of the race in him to know the difference between an Indian and a rat.”

At last I thought it better to go in with the key. When I reached the door of the passage, the brute snarled at me savagely, and I fully believe would have sprung upon me and torn me limb from limb, had not his masters called him off. I trembled so with agitation that I could scarcely apply the key to the keyhole. Luckily the light did not fall on me, or it would have been perceived.

“Come, young Señor, be quick about it; somebody is in there—of that I can be sworn,” exclaimed the alguazil.

“There, take the key yourself, and try and open it,” I answered, hoping that as he did so the Indian would rush out and make his escape, though his chance was a forlorn one. The officer took the key; some of his men approached with lights, while others held their swords and pistols ready for use. José looked very much astonished, though in no way alarmed at the proceedings; but I knew too well what was about to be revealed. The door flew open, and the men and their hateful dog rushed in. The fate of the poor Indian was sealed, I thought. I followed, expecting to see them tearing him to pieces. What, then, was my astonishment and satisfaction to find not a trace of him remaining! The bedding, and even the dishes in which his food had been carried to him, were nowhere to be seen.

“There, I told you so,” exclaimed José triumphantly, “there were nothing but rats.”

But the dog was not so easily satisfied; and to my horror he rushed down the narrow flight of steps leading to the secret outlet. The door at the bottom I knew was locked, and I too justly feared that the Indian would be found there. The officers hesitated about descending; for as only one could go at a time, they saw that a determined man might kill them in detail, if so inclined; so they sent their inferiors forward to make the experiment. I stood by, waiting the result with increased anxiety; for I felt that if the Indian should kill some of the officers, the difficulties of our position would be still more increased. The dog led the way, and I hoped would be the only victim; the others followed very reluctantly. Some time passed; but still there was no sign of their having discovered the fugitive.

“Have you found the rat?” shouted José, laughingly, from above.

“Bring the key of the other door,” thundered the alguazil in return from below. I had got it, but I did not say so.

“Of what door do you speak?” asked José, in real ignorance of the fact that there was a door. I was anxious to gain all the time possible, believing that the Indian must have made his escape through the passage; so I let them talk on till the alguazil peremptorily ordered me to open the door, threatening me with all sorts of pains and penalties if I refused to obey.

“I have heard that there is a long passage leading no one knows where,” exclaimed José; “so, Señores, if you are going to explore it, you had better take some torches, or you may chance lose your way.”

“Bring them here instantly,” shouted the alguazil.

“If you are wise men you will amuse yourselves with the wine flasks while I go to prepare them,” said José. The advice was too agreeable to be neglected, and I was very glad to see the men return and again seat themselves at the table. While they were drinking and José was absent, the dog however continued running up and down the steps, and smelling in every direction.

The officers seemed to enjoy their wine so much that I was in hopes that their suspicions were lulled, and at all events I rejoiced that the Indian would have more time afforded him for making his escape. José at last returned with the torches, which were composed of twisted straw dipped in pitch; and the chief officer descending with less caution than before, led the way, the rest following. At the bottom of the steps was a tolerably broad space, which enabled me to pass the men so as to reach the door, where the hound, snarling at me as I approached, stood ready to rush through at his prey as I supposed. How the Indian could have escaped, still, however, remained a mystery to me. After several attempts I succeeded in turning the rusty lock, and a dark passage cut through the solid rock opened before us. The wet dropped from the roof as we proceeded, and, combined with the noxious exhalations which proceeded from the farther end, almost extinguished the torches.

“It is folly in me accompanying these men,” I thought to myself; and just then a recess appearing in the rock, I stepped into it and let the rest pass me. José was the last; I touched him as he reached me, and whispered to him to return.

He either did not hear me, or wished to watch the proceedings of the alguazil and his subordinates. As I had no torch, I groped my way with no little difficulty to the foot of the stairs, thinking José was following me. To my horror, just as I was about to ascend, I heard the low-muttered growl of the savage hound, and the next instant I found my leg seized in his jaws.

“Help, José, help!” I cried out, but not loud, lest the officers should hear me; “the brute will kill me else.”

But José was not, as I supposed, at hand. I felt the dog moving his jaws higher up my leg, as if he evidently was about to pull me to the ground, while the pain he inflicted almost paralysed me. I certainly was no coward, but I shrieked in my agony. In another moment he would have mastered me, when, by the faint light which came through the door of the room above, I saw a dark figure spring down the steps. The dog let go his hold of me to fly at the new-comer but was met by the point of a sharp dagger, which pierced his breast, and uttering a low yell of pain and rage, the brute fell dead at my feet. The Indian—for my preserver was the fugitive—without speaking, assisted me in dragging the dog out of sight under the steps, and then whispering, “Say not a word about the dog, he will not be discovered,” again sprung up the steps.

I followed him, fearing that the men in the room above would discover him. I caught sight of him as he ascended to the roof of the alcove, by means of a single rope which hung to the ground. In the roof was a trap-door, through which he disappeared, and closed it silently after him, having first drawn up the rope. Again going below, I met José, and told him that the dog was dead, charging him to ask no questions, and to say nothing about it.

I was much afraid lest the men should discover the dog; for the fact of his remaining near the stairs might make them suspect that the Indian was concealed near at hand. My trousers were fortunately only a little torn, though, as the brute’s teeth had met in the calf of my leg, I felt a considerable amount of pain; but I did my best to conceal it, lest the men should accuse me of killing the dog. I might with truth have replied that I had not killed him, but they would then have asked who did, to which question I could not have replied. As the life of a fellow-being was at stake, I felt the importance of being very circumspect in everything I did.

When we returned to the room, the two men who had been left there inquired what had become of their comrades.

“Hunting rats or spirits, for they will find nothing else down there I am sure,” answered José, unconcernedly. “They will be back soon, I warrant, after their fool’s chase, begging your pardon, Señores.”

His words were verified more speedily than he expected, for at that moment cries and shouts were heard, and the officers came tumbling up the steps as fast as their legs could carry them, with their hair almost standing on end, and their eye-balls starting from their heads. One had lost his cap, another his sword, and all their torches; they were also wet and dirty from scraping against the sides of the cavern. They declared that they had been set upon by a whole legion of demons, who had blown out their torches and attacked them with teeth and claws, so that they were glad to escape with their lives.

“For the love of heaven shut the door, or they will be up here after us!” shouted the last of the men, as he rushed into the room.

I, as may be supposed, hurried down with joyful alacrity to obey the order, and coming back without encountering any of the demons, closed the upper door after me.

“I said you were going on a fool’s errand,” said José; “your pardon for the remark, Señores. But let me fill up your glasses, the wine will soon make you forget your mishaps.” The men were easily induced to apply the proposed remedy.

“But what has become of the dog?” asked the chief.

“Carried off by the demons,” observed José.

“Let him go,” growled one who was the most bruised and dirty. “He led us into the scrape, and deserves his fate; if it had not been for him, we should not have known of that horrid vault.”

The chief, notwithstanding these remarks, ordered his men to go and look for the dog; but as he showed no readiness to set the example, none of the others would obey him, declaring that they would rather be shot at once than venture again among such horrors. I felt very much relieved at the turn events had taken. The Indian had escaped, the means of the bloodhound’s death was not suspected, and the officers would probably at early dawn continue their search after the fugitive.

“Ask them if they wish to return to the vault; for if not, I will take the keys up to my father,” I whispered to José.

“No, no,” answered the men. “We have had enough of the vault, and demons, and monsters, and spirits it contains. Tell your master all we want is plenty of this good wine to keep them away.”

Telling José to give them as much as they required and to keep a careful watch over them, I hurried back to my father to inform him that the danger was over.

“I never fear the consequence of having performed a good action, my boy,” he replied; “yet we should be grateful to Providence for having preserved us from much suffering, both of mind and body. The poor Indian is for the present safe. I can guess the way he escaped; but we will talk on the matter more to-morrow. Now, David, go to your room and rest, for you look pale and fatigued.”

I did not tell my father that the dog had bit me, though I should have been wiser had I done so, as he would have had proper remedies applied, had the wounds required them. José, however, soon after came into my room and fomented my leg with a mixture which he said was very efficacious in preventing inflammation from the bite of an animal. It at all events relieved me from the pain I was suffering; and when José left me to keep watch with the other servants on the officers, I threw myself on my bed in the hopes of obtaining some sleep. Whenever I dropped off, my mind recurred to the unfortunate descendant of the Incas, and the scenes I had just witnessed; and every instant I was jumping up, fancying I heard the shout of the officers as they discovered his place of concealment.

Chapter Three.

A journey and the adventures we met with.

I awoke to perfect consciousness (for I could scarcely be said to have been asleep all night) just as the first faint streaks of dawn were appearing in the sky; and hearing the voices of men, and the stamping of horses in the court-yard, I looked out of the window to learn what was occurring. At first my mind misgave me that the alguazil and his myrmidons had by some means seized the Indian; but as I scrutinised the dark forms which appeared in the cold grey light of the morning, I could not distinguish his among them.

The men mounted one after the other apparently in good humour, for José was there among the other servants with a huge flagon of wine to serve out to them the stirrup-cup at parting, a custom observed in most countries. It was a great relief to my mind when the gates were opened and I saw them fairly outside the walls. As the light increased, I watched them slowly winding along the steep path which led up the mountain, till they disappeared in a dark gorge which opened before them.

“You will have a long ride if you do not intend to halt till you have caught the fugitive in that direction,” said I to myself, just as José entered.

“I have sent the rogues off in good humour,” he observed. “Wine is a fine thing to raise the spirits, though to my mind last night they took enough to raise more than they expected—ha, ha, ha! They thought they were attacked by ghosts and goblins, when in reality only a number of bats flew out against them after the foul air had already damped their ardour. The place swarms with the vermin. By the by, if the Señor, my master, will give me the key of the vault, I will get up that beast of a dog, and bury him or hang him up to feed the condors.”

I thought José suspected something, and said this to learn the truth. I was inclined to confide the secret to him, but I felt that I ought not to do so without my father’s permission; so I answered that my father would give him the keys when he required them. When I met my father, he told me that I was right in not telling José, both for our sake as well as his own, though he was doubtless trustworthy.

I then asked him what had become of the Indian.

“He is safe on the roof,” he replied. “I have just seen him; he tells me that he heard the alguazils arrive, and that at first he thought he was betrayed, especially when the dog began to snuff under the door. He soon, however, learned from their conversation that his presence was not suspected; but still, to make sure, he descended the stairs in the hopes of discovering a means of escape,—finding none, he ascended the ladder, and forcing open the trap-door, he got through to the roof. He then returned, when hearing the key asked for, he knew that his bedding would betray his having been there, so he carried everything up to the roof, lifting the ladder up after him. His doing so puzzled the dog, and saved him his life probably, and us from very considerable annoyance.”

We afterwards met at breakfast, when José gave my father and mother a full account of all that occurred. My father having given the Indian notice to retire to the roof, the body of the hound was removed and buried, and the family resumed their usual routine of life. Either I or Lilly twice a day, when no one was observing us, carried food to the Indian. Upwards of a week had passed since his arrival, when he expressed a strong desire to resume his journey, saying that he thought by this time the search for him must be over. My father was very unwilling to let him go; but he assured us, that now his health and strength were completely restored, he had not the slightest fear of again falling into the hands of the Spaniards. All the provision he would accept was a little maize, and sufficient cacao to replenish his pouch. The cacao has been in use among the Peruvians from the earliest times. Its peculiar qualities enable those who take it to undergo great and continuous exertion, without any other food. It is a plant somewhat like the vine, and grows to about seven or eight feet in height. The leaves have a bitter flavour, and are aromatic. Among other qualities, they act as a sudorific, preserve the teeth, and prevent sleep. On first awaking in the morning, an Indian will put a quid of his favourite leaf into his mouth, and he performs the same operation three or four times in the day. To give it a relish he mixes a little pulverised unslacked lime, which he carries in a gourd for that purpose. He takes the lime out the gourd with a thin slip of damped wood, and conveys what adheres to it to his mouth. The operation of chewing is called chakchar. Many even of the whites indulge in it in secret, though it would be considered derogatory to chew in public, because the despised Indian does so.

The Peruvians, in their love and admiration for this plant, used to pay it a religious respect, and considered it the most grateful offering to the spirits they might wish to propitiate. It has certainly a most wonderful effect in sustaining nature; and I have known people undergoing great fatigue, exist four or five days, without tasting any other food, or suffering the slightest inconvenience. The ignorant conquerors, from observing the reverence paid by the Indians to cacao, fancied that it must possess some demoniacal properties, and not only refused to use it themselves, but endeavoured to prevent it being used by the natives; and a royal decree was actually issued, declaring that the idea entertained by the Indians that cacao gave them strength, is an “illusion of the devil.” The mine-owners, however, perceived its importance in enabling the slaves to undergo fatigue; and its use, therefore, rather increased than diminished. It, however, excites the brain, somewhat as does opium, and thus its intemperate use for any length of time would probably wear out mental vigour and activity. Having procured a supply of this valuable leaf for the Indian, he filled his pouch with it, while the maize he fastened up in a corner of his poncho.

“I am ready to depart,” he said, “though my heart yet lingers with you; and believe, O children of a Northern land, that, though fallen and despised his race, Manco Tupac Amaru is truly grateful for your generous hospitality, and more for preserving his life. The time may come, and shortly too, when he may have the opportunity of proving his gratitude—till then, farewell!”

Taking my father’s hand and mine, he pressed his lips to them, and burst into tears. His words made an impression on me, though at the time I did not comprehend their meaning. I afterwards had good reason to do so. It was again evening, the hour at which he had arrived; and when it was perfectly dark, I went out to see that none of the servants were near. He then let himself drop from the window, and crossing the court-yard, scaled the wall, and took his way up the mountain. I had reason to believe that none of the servants suspected that he had been with us. This was the first of the many adventures in which, at that period of my life, I was engaged. We often talked of the Indian Manco, and were anxious to know his fate; but for long heard no more of him.

Some time after this, my father invited me to attend him on a journey, which business required him to perform, to Cuzco, Lima, and other parts of the country; and, as may be supposed, with no little alacrity I set to work to make the necessary preparations. We are fond of boasting of the civilisation of Europeans of the present day; but, however humiliating to our pride, it must be owned that in many important respects Peru has retrograded since the time that the Christian Spaniard took possession of the country, and superseded the mild though despotic sway of the glorious Incas. Under her ancient sovereigns, magnificent roads traversed the kingdom from north to south, and from the sea-coast into the distant interior, across the mighty Andes. Inns for the accommodation of travellers were built at convenient distances on the roads, and stored abundantly with provisions, while at each relays of couriers were stationed, who with wonderful celerity could carry messages or small parcels through the country. It is said that the tables of the Incas, when at Cuzco, or still farther in the interior, were supplied regularly with fish fresh caught from the sea, and other quickly perishable luxuries, in a mode which has only been accomplished in England since the introduction of railroads, or perhaps in the latter days of quick coach travelling. I mention this to show the contrast to the means we possessed for performing our journey.

At last the day arrived for our departure. My father rode a steady mule, but I preferred a horse, though not so safe an animal for the narrow tracks, up and down steep mountains, on the summit of terrific precipices, and across rickety bridges which we were about to traverse.

They were caparisoned much in the same way. Our saddles were huge and deep, covered with red woolly rugs; our stirrups were of Moorish shape, large wooden boxes strapped with iron; the girths were broad; and belts fastened to the saddle, passed round the breast and haunches of the animals, prevented it from slipping off when going up or down the almost precipitous declivities in our way. Our luggage was carried in huge trunks, made of untanned bullocks’ hides, fastened with thongs of the same material, each mule carrying two slung on either side of his back. In some our clothes were packed, in others our mattresses and bedding, and in others our mess utensils and provisions; for as there were no inns, it was necessary to take everything which would be required. We rode ahead, our peons or muleteers following the beasts of burden. Before the introduction of horses and mules, the Indians employed the delicate llama to carry goods through the country. We had heavy spurs, and sharp bits to our bridles, and wore broad-brimmed hats and ponchos. The last named garment may be described as a large piece of cloth of wool or cotton, of a round form, with a hole in the centre. Through this hole the head is put, while the cloth falls over the shoulders, and forms a very effectual protection from the weather. It was used by the Indians before the conquest.

My mother and Lilly assisted in preparing and packing our provisions and clothes; and with prayers for our safety, at an early hour one morning they saw us mount and commence our journey. “Good-bye, mother; good-bye, Lilly,” I exclaimed, as I seated myself in my saddle. “I will bring you back, like the princes in the Arabian Nights, all the most wonderful things I can collect.” Their hearts were too full to answer, and their eyes were moist with tears; for they could not conceal from themselves that there were many very considerable dangers which we must encounter on the road. They stood watching us while we wound our way down the steep path, and crossed the bridge which spanned the river at the bottom of the ravine. I propose giving a very brief sketch of our journey, and shall dwell only on the more interesting incidents; or I might otherwise fill my book with an account of what we saw in the course of a few weeks.

We arrived one evening at a tambo, or post-house, which, from its appearance and position on a portion of the great high road of the Incas, we judged had been erected before the conquest. The walls were very thick, and composed of large blocks of stone. It was divided into two compartments; one had formerly been the storehouse and granary, the other the common hall and kitchen. The roof was thatched, as it had been originally.

At a little distance off was a village of Indian huts, mostly small; but some were of larger size, in which the cacique and some of the chief men resided. The tambo stood in a beautiful valley, through which ran a clear and rapid stream among meadows of ever verdant tints. The mountains which rose on either side were to their very summit cut into terraces. These terraces, or hanging gardens, as they are sometimes called, were of no great width, but the walls which faced them were built of large blocks of stone; and though in some places they were crumbling into decay, in general they were in a perfect state, bearing witness to the industry and intelligence of the ancient inhabitants of the soil. These terraces are called Andenes, and from thence the conquerors derived the name Andes, which they bestowed on the whole vast range of mountains.

Our peons having taken charge of our mules and horses, and led them to a shed adjoining the grey and moss-grown tambo, we entered the building. The interior was sombre in the extreme; everybody and everything wore a subdued look; and even the dogs slunk about as if their spirits were depressed. The smoke of ages was on the walls and roof, and the tables and benches at one side had a sadly dilapidated appearance. The master was an Indian of lightish hue, his long, lank hair already turning grey with age, and perhaps with care. Several Indian women were moving about round a fire at the farther end of the room, preparing a meal for a somewhat numerous company assembled there. The women about the house were all dressed in loose garments of dark coarse woollen cloth, which extended from the neck to the ankles, and were secured round the waist by a broad belt of some gay colour. They wore, folded up on the crown of the head, a small cloth mantle, a part of which drooped down to the shoulders behind. Each woman wore over her right shoulder a black scarf, which I understood was a sign of mourning, not for any relation lately dead, but for their Inca, long ago murdered by their conquerors. The dress of most of the men was a dark woollen jacket, with breeches open at the knees, a gaily embroidered woollen cap, a broad cotton belt, woollen stockings without feet, and sandals of goatskin. A broad-brimmed hat, and a small poncho thrown over the shoulders, completed their attire. Our host soon placed before us a large deep silver dish, containing some delicious mountain mutton, and a fat fowl, cooked in the ashes, and garnished with small but very good potatoes. There were neither knives nor forks in the dish, but one large wooden spoon, with which it was intended all guests should help themselves. We had chicha, the beverage of the country, offered us in silver goblets; but for a good reason neither my father nor I felt inclined to partake of it, though our servants did most willingly. To the taste of Englishmen nothing can be more disagreeable than the mode in which chicha is prepared. A quantity of Indian corn is pounded into a fine powder, round which a number of old men and women sit and masticate it into a paste. They then roll it into balls, which are dried; and afterwards water being thrown on them, they are allowed to ferment.

A number of Indians were sitting apart in a corner of the room. One of them was a tall, thin, emaciated man, of a yellowish copper hue. His only garment was a pair of dark trousers; and his long, lank, black hair hung down over his bare shoulders, giving him a very wild and haggard appearance. I saw him swallow a large cupful of a mixture which I thought was chicha; but soon afterwards he seemed to fall into a deep stupor, and I fancied he was going into a fit. His eyes were fixed on the ground, his mouth closed convulsively, and his nostrils dilated. As I watched him, his eyes began to roll most horribly, foam issued from his half-opened lips, and every limb and his whole body became distorted in the most frightful manner.

“The man will die!” I exclaimed, springing forward to assist him, and disgusted with the apathy of his companions.

“No fear, my son,” answered an old Indian, making a sign which checked me; “our brother has but drunk the tonga; his spirit has departed for a season to hold communication with the spirits of our ancestors, and when it returns he will be able to tell us things of wonder, and perchance they may show him the treasures which lie hid in their huacas—their graves.”

I afterwards found that the Indian had been drinking a powerful narcotic, prepared from the thorn-apple, and which is called huacacachu, or grave-plant, from the power it is supposed to possess of enabling those who drink it to see the inhabitants of the graves. After the Indian had been some time convulsed he fell into a profound slumber, when his friends covered him up carefully with their mantles and left him.

Our meal was scarcely over when the clattering of horses’ feet was heard on the road, and by the sound I judged that a band of horsemen had ridden up to the tambo. Our Indian host rushed out with dismay on his countenance. I followed him to learn what was the matter; and by the light of the moon, just then risen over the mountains, I saw about as ugly a set of fellows as I ever encountered. Their countenances were of every hue—black, yellow, and olive, disfigured by scars and savage passions. Their garments, I cannot call them uniforms, of many a shape and colour, were in rags and tatters. The horses were weary, ill-conditioned and ill-groomed, and as miserably accoutred as their riders, with a look in the eye full of vicious meaning. They were armed with short carbines and long swords, and some had pistols and daggers in their belts.

“Los Montoneros, los Montoneros!” exclaimed several of the people behind me, and rushed back into the tambo, the women trying to hide themselves from the new-comers.

The horsemen threw themselves from their jaded hacks, and calling to the Indians to take charge of them, with scant ceremony entered the building. They regarded, as they did so, my father and me, and our servants, with no favourable eye; but after a moment’s hesitation, they threw themselves on the benches before the table at which we were seated, crying loudly for food and liquor. It was speedily placed before them by the trembling hands of the host; and in silence they addressed themselves to the tearing the meat with their fingers, as if they had not eaten anything for a week. After imbibing quantities of chicha, they lighted their cigars; and then their tongues broke loose in a style which made us anxious to escape their neighbourhood. Some were Spaniards, or Spanish Creoles, and others were negroes; but most of them were of a variety of mixed races. The Montoneros are notoriously robbers in time of peace, and soldiers in war; but from the expressions they let fall, we judged that these fellows were employed exclusively in plundering all they met not likely to offer resistance. My father told the servant to keep a sharp look-out on our horses and mules, which the gentlemen would with little ceremony have appropriated.

To avoid them we walked over to where the group of Indians were collected round the tonga-drinker, who was now awaking from his sleep, and sitting up, though apparently very much exhausted. His companions were listening attentively to the mysterious revelations which fell from his mouth, the result of his spiritual communications with his ancestors. He spoke of a day of regeneration for the Indians; of liberty and happiness not far distant, when the yoke of the Spaniard would be thrown off their necks, and the race of their Inca should again wear the crimson borla of their monarchy. There was an air of earnestness and sincerity in his manner which convinced me that he at all events was deceiving himself as well as his hearers. In his dreams he had truly seen what he hoped would come to pass. I afterwards had good reason to know that he had strong foundation for his prophecies. He was still uttering his awful communications to his wondering and credulous hearers; the Montoneros were still drinking, smoking, and feasting; and some other travellers (Spanish, negro, and native, among whom was a Spanish priest, a landowner near Cuzco, and a shopkeeper) were either taking their suppers or seeking repose, when we retired to the deserted granary.

We were actually provided with bedsteads of a rude construction, on which we spread our bedding. The noise made by the Montoneros prevented me from sleeping for some time; till they themselves sought for rest, on and under the table and benches where they had been sitting. I was awakened in the middle of the night by a scratching and hissing and struggling noise under my bed, as if two animals were fighting. I sprung to my feet, and by the light of the full moon, which streamed in through a hole in the wall, I saw a large tabby cat engaged in a fierce combat with a glittering snake. At first I thought it would prove a hopeless one for poor pussy; but I soon saw by her manoeuvres, that she had at all events an equal chance of victory. Now the venomous monster would dart out its forked tongue and try to spring at her; when she, with equal agility, would leap aside and would sit watching her antagonist with careful eye, endeavouring to find an opportunity of catching it by the neck, while she avoided its deadly fangs. The snake seemed aware of its danger, and was not the less cautious. Indeed puss had already given it an ugly bite on the neck, which had somewhat crippled its movements—probably catching it asleep. The snake kept turning round and round its baneful head, the cat always keeping beyond the distance she knew it could spring. At last she saw her opportunity, and rushing in upon it, she seized it by the neck, so that it could not bite her. The snake wriggled violently, but all in vain; after a few convulsive struggles even the tail ceased to move, and I left the eat crunching the bones of her defeated antagonist.

I was glad to find that I had so good a guardian as puss had proved. I turned into bed again and went to sleep. In the morning I discovered that the snake was a very venomous adder, but that the cat was not a bit the worse for eating it. I afterwards learned that there are certain sorts of poison which may be swallowed without danger, yet if it should touch the slightest scratch or excoriation of the skin, would prove fatal.

At daybreak the Montoneros were on foot; and to the satisfaction of all the occupants of the tambo, they took their departure up the valley. It was the direction in which we were going, but we hoped not again to fall in with them. As we were mounting to proceed on our journey, the Indian soothsayer (for so I may call him) approached my father, and whispered earnestly in his ear for some minutes. My father looked surprised and somewhat anxious, and told him he thanked him for his advice. The Indian retired into the tambo apparently satisfied. We had begun to move on, when we were called back; and, turning our heads, we saw the padre and the other Spaniards mounting their mules.

“Stay, Señors, for the love of charity,” cried the padre; “we are going your way, and if we go alone and meet with those villains, the Montoneros, we shall all be robbed and murdered to a certainty. Now you Englishmen are known to fight bravely, so the rogues may not think it worth while to attack us.”

“We shall be happy to have your company, Señor Padre,” said my father, smiling; “but I hope our valour may not be put to the proof.”

“I am sure I hope not either,” ejaculated the padre, crossing himself. “May the holy saints protect us; for those fellows care not for the anathemas of the church, the laws of the realm, or the bullets of the soldiers.”

The other Spaniards seemed to partake of the alarm of the padre; and as we rode along, I saw them casting anxious glances around, as if they expected every moment to see the robbers start out from behind the rocks which skirted the road. After we had proceeded some distance, my father called a halt, and summoning the guides, he inquired whether they were acquainted with a road to the right, which he described. They replied that they were, but that it was longer and more difficult.

“Never mind,” he replied; “it is the road I intend to pursue. I shall be glad of the company of those who wish to journey with me.”

Though he did not give his reasons, the Spaniards saw that he had good cause for his change of route, and agreed to accompany us. They probably, however, attributed it to the Montoneros; as I observed that the expression of apprehension on their countenances gradually wore off, and they no longer cast the same furtive glances at every bush and rock as before.

We travelled along the valley for many miles, sometimes passing over a high ridge, and then again descending to follow up the course of some stream which had its birth among the snowy ranges above us. My father had formed the party into military order. Four armed men took the lead, then came the baggage mules, while the main body of those on horseback brought up the rear.

For three or four days we travelled on, each night sleeping at one of the wretched tambos kept by Indians, similar to that I have before described. Every day we mounted higher and higher, the scenery becoming more wild, barren, and desolate. We were now traversing that part of the Cordilleras called the Puna, a region of level heights, some fourteen thousand feet above the sea; nearly the only vegetation being a short, dark yellow grass, scarcely a tree or a shrub to be seen, except cacti, gentiana, and a few other flowering plants. There were animals, however, in abundance—vicuñas, huanacus, stags, and rock-rabbits; while condors and other birds of prey hovered aloft, ready to pounce down on any carcase they might scent from afar. We next entered the region of the Sierra, the name given to the extensive valleys which either intersect the Puna, or lie between the Cordilleras and the Andes. These valleys are generally some thousand feet below the Puna, and the climate is very pure and healthy. The soil is also very fertile, so that they were in the days of the Incas, and still are, more densely inhabited by Indians than any other portion of Peru. These valleys contain many towns, villages, and hamlets; but as they are surrounded on all sides by mountains, only to be crossed by dangerous and circuitous routes, their trade is but limited, and they are seldom visited by the inhabitants of other parts of Peru. Among them are a few white people, but a considerable number of mestizos live in the towns. There is very little money in circulation among them, and in some parts hens’ eggs are used instead of small coin, about fifty being counted for a dollar. The Indians are the sole cultivators of the soil, which produces wheat, maize, and barley in abundance, as well as potatoes and other tuberous plants, and most of the vegetables and fruits of Europe.

It must be understood that many of the scenes I have to describe took place in this favoured region; while others, again, were among the mountains and valleys to the east of the vast range of the Andes. People when reading of mountains are so apt to picture to themselves the molehills of Europe, which can mostly be crossed on foot in a day or so, that I must remind them that the Cordilleras and Andes which I am describing are an extensive region, the passage over which requires not only days, but in some places even weeks to accomplish. We had traversed several of these valleys, and were now about to cross over the highest ridge of the Andes. Having travelled so far without encountering the Montoneros, even the most timid of our party had lost all apprehension on that score.

One afternoon we found ourselves ascending through a narrow and wild gorge in the mountains. For three hours we had been mounting higher and higher, till our beasts began to show great signs of weariness. At last we saw before us a huge rock which, projecting from the side of the mountain, completely overhung the road, and looked as if it would overwhelm all who attempted to pass under it; while on the other side was a precipice three or four hundred feet in perpendicular height, at the bottom of which appeared a dark chasm with a wild roaring torrent running through it. The road, if so the mountain track could be called, was barely wide enough to allow a loaded mule to proceed along it; and it was next to impossible for two animals to pass one another, or for a person to dismount without great risk of falling over the precipice. We had been scrambling up for a long way over places which it appeared scarcely possible even goats would surmount, when one of the baggage mules stopped short and refused to proceed. Several others followed his example, and the whole cavalcade in the rear was brought to a stand-still. Blows could not be administered, for the muleteers could not get up to the beasts; and entreaties, coaxings, and persuasions were all in vain. I could not help laughing at the variety of expressions the men made use of to induce the animals to move. First they addressed them by every endearing epithet they could think of, then they appealed to their courage, their magnanimity, their perseverance—the deeds of their ancestors.

“Have not I always treated you well?” exclaimed our muleteer Juan to his beast. “Have not I always seen you housed and fed before I thought of caring for myself? Have not I slept by your side and watched over you as a father his son? Ungrateful as you are thus to behave at this pinch! If we meet another party, we shall be all hurled headlong over the rocks, or we shall have to fight desperately and have to hurl them over, and all for your obstinacy, sons of donkeys that you are!”—and he broke forth in a torrent of vituperation and abuse which it is not necessary for me here to repeat.

“If the Montoneros should meet us now, what will become of us?” cried the padre.

“It is the last place they would think of attacking us in,” observed my father. “Their object is to get possession of our purses and our beasts; now if they attacked us here, the greater number of us would be tumbled over into the torrent below, so they would lose their booty.”

“That’s a satisfaction truly,” observed the padre; “but I wish the beasts would move.”

The beasts, however, seemed not a bit inclined to stir, and we had no remedy for it but to wait patiently, or throw them and our luggage over the precipice. As I looked up and saw the huge boulders of rock which hung above our heads, appearing as if the touch of a vicuña’s hoof would send them rushing down to overwhelm us in their fall, I certainly did feel anxious to get out of their way. At last the leading mule, somewhat rested, began to move, the others followed him for a few minutes, and they all stopped again. The same process of entreating, coaxing, and abusing was gone over again; when the refractory cavalcade moved on once more for a few paces, but only in like manner to try our patience and our nerves by stopping at a worse spot than before. After resting a few minutes, the leading mule, which kept the others back, appeared to gain strength, and his stoppages each time being of shorter duration, he at length began to climb up the steep ascent before him, the rest readily following.

The cold, at this great height we had now attained, was excessive to our feelings, accustomed to the warmth of the lower country. Great, however, as was the elevation, the peaks which rose above us on every side appeared not to have lessened in the least in height. Snow of brilliant whiteness was around us, some of which in the more lofty spots had perhaps not melted since the days of the flood. Mists were floating about, and below our feet was collected a dense mass, which obscured the view beyond. A few flakes of snow began to fall, which every instant increased in number.

“Forward, forward, Señores!” shouted our chief peon, who acted as guide. “If a Cordillera storm catches us before we get under shelter, the days of some of us may be numbered.”

We did not neglect the warning. The animals even seemed to perceive the necessity of pushing on; and away we all went, tumbling, sliding, and leaping over the rough track which led down the mountain. The snow increased in density, so that we could scarcely see the person immediately preceding us; and the chilling wind blew stronger and stronger from off the icy peaks above. Not a moment was to be lost—the guides shouted, “On, on, on!” and we whipped and spurred, and urged on our weary beasts by word and bridle. Still the ground was far too rough to enable us to get them into a trot, far less to gallop; and besides, a tumble would in many places have proved fatal both to horse and rider. The descent was very rapid, for we were scarcely ever on a level.

“I’ll will it fare with any unfortunate fellow in the rear who falls,” said my father. “Remain close to me, David; I am afraid of your horse stumbling.”

“No fear,” I answered, “I keep a tight rein on him, and he knows well that he must not be careless.”

There was little time to contemplate the scene as we rode along, but still I could not help being struck by the solemn stillness, and the wildness of the desolation around. The voices of the men, as they shouted out, appeared strange and unnatural from their very distinctness, as did the tramp of the animals; while not another sound was heard from any direction.

“On, on, Señores!” were the only words we could hear. The snow had ceased; but dark clouds seemed gathering around us, when, without warning, a flash of forked lightning darted across our path, ploughing up the ground before us, and followed by a peal of thunder which seemed to rend the mountain tops. Flash succeeded flash in every direction, the very atmosphere quivering with the uninterrupted peals repeated a thousand-fold by the mountain echoes; while cataracts of fire appeared to be rushing down the rocks on either side. Our trembling animals refused to move; the Spaniards crossed themselves, and shrieking, as they slid off the backs of the animals they rode, they called on their saints for protection.

We dismounted and endeavoured to lead our horses under an overhanging rock. At last we succeeded in obtaining some shelter; and there we stood, every instant expecting to be struck by the electric fluid, which rushed zigzagging before us. Feelings such I had never before experienced came over me. I was at the same time inspired rather with awe than with terror. It was as if the heavens were pouring out their full wrath on man—as if the foundations of the world were about to be uprooted, and the mighty mountains hurled over on the plains below.

Rocks and earth came hurtling down from the lofty peaks above us; crash succeeded crash, and flashes of the most intensely vivid lightning dashed before us without intermission, till the air itself seemed on fire, and the faculties of sight and hearing both failed from over-exhaustion of their energies. It appeared as if the dreadful strife of the elements would never end; but as we were despairing of reaching a resting-place before night should set in, the thunder rolled away, the lightning ceased, and our party emerging from the caves and crevices where they had taken shelter, we found that providentially all had escaped injury. We mounted once more. As we proceeded, the rays of the setting sun came streaming along a beautiful valley which opened on our right. Descending rapidly, in little more than an hour we found ourselves before a tambo. It was wretched enough in appearance, and neither food nor beds did it afford. As, however, we had with us a supply of provisions, and our cloaks and saddle-cloths spread on the floor, with our saddles for pillows, served us for couches, we were not worse off than we frequently had been; and I know that I slept soundly till morning.

Chapter Four.

Attacked by robbers—A merciful deed returned with interest.

The scenery we passed the next day was very similar to what I have already described; but the valley, which, on being contrasted with the snowy region we had just left, appeared so attractive, was, I found, when seen by the morning light, owing to its high elevation, a very barren and desolate place.

We rode on for some hours through scenery such as I have before described, when in the afternoon, as we were beginning to fancy that we were near the termination of our day’s journey, we entered a deep gorge, with the dark rocks towering up, wild and rugged, on either side of us. It was just such a place as one might have expected an ambush to have been placed in; as a few resolute men might have held the road, aided by others sheltered by the rocks, against a whole army attempting to pass. An oppressive gloom invaded the spot, and the air seemed damp and heavy, as if the warming rays of the sun had never penetrated below the tops of the cliffs.

I was riding on in advance of the main body, when, on reaching the spot where the gorge opened somewhat, I saw at a considerable distance before me what I took to be a mark on the cliff in the shape of a horse with a rider. As I advanced, however, I perceived that it was a lonely man on horseback. He was too far off, standing as he was in shade, for me to distinguish his dress or appearance. He seemed to be stationary, as if watching our approach. A sharp turn in the road shut out the view beyond him. Had I been an old soldier, I should have fallen back on my companions and reported what I had seen; but I fancied that the horseman was a traveller like ourselves, and so I continued to ride carelessly on. I was very nearly falling a victim to my neglect. I had advanced some two hundred yards farther, when my friends reached the spot from which I had first caught sight of the horseman. He was still there, but no sooner did he see them than he wheeled round his horse and disappeared behind the cliffs. This I thought suspicious. My first impulse was to gallop on to overtake the man; but fortunately the chief guide had just then come up with me, and urged me not to go on. I therefore shouted out to my friends to let them know what I had seen, and reined in my steed till they came up. The information did not hasten the advance of any of the party; indeed some of them were evidently anxious to cede the post of honour in the van to their friends. The cry of “The Montoneros, the Montoneros!” arose from every mouth. Some tumbled off their horses, as if to shelter themselves behind them from the expected volleys of the dreaded banditti; others sat still and began to count their beads; and not a few turned their horses’ heads preparatory to running away. I must do the padre the justice to say that he looked as brave as any of them, except a few who advanced to the front.

“Where are the enemy, David?” asked my father, who led them on.

“I only saw one man, whom our friends here have multiplied into a band of Montoneros,” I replied.

“Come on, my friends, then!” exclaimed my father. “If the man my boy saw is a robber, he and his companions are more likely to run away than to attack us, if we show a bold front.”

His words and tone of confidence restored the fast evaporating courage of the party; and having halted to get them into something like order, with the armed men in front and the baggage mules and their drivers in the rear, we again moved forward. We had not, however, advanced far, when the man I had before seen again appeared; and directly afterwards a troop of horsemen wheeled round the sharp angle of the rock, and with loud cries galloped rapidly towards us.

“Steady, steady, for your lives!” shouted my father, as he saw in many of our companions strong evidence of a disposition to turn round and fly. “If we break our ranks, we are lost.”

That the horsemen now approaching were banditti, I had no doubt, from their varied and fantastic dresses, the different hues of their faces, and their wild appearance. We could not escape them, even had we been better mounted than they were, as the baggage mules in the rear would have prevented us. This they probably calculated on, or perhaps they would rather we had escaped and left them our baggage, which was what they most wanted, with the exception, perhaps, of our horses. They invariably appropriate the best horses they can find, as it is important for them to be well mounted. My father and I, two Spaniards, a mestizo, and our chief Indian guide, formed the first rank. When we saw the Montoneros, and could no longer doubt their intentions, we halted and presented our firearms. These were of various lengths and calibres, and some were better fitted to frighten an enemy than to do harm. When the Montoneros saw the determined front we presented, they checked their speed, but it was only for an instant.

“Do not fire until they get close to us,” cried my father.

On came the banditti, their horses’ hoofs clattering over the hard road, while uttering loud and discordant yells, they waved their swords above their heads. They made their intentions very manifest of cutting us to pieces if they could; so we felt perfectly justified in trying to knock them out of their saddles.

Many of our party gave themselves up for lost; and certainly the appearance of the banditti was enough to make a stout heart uncomfortable, to say the least of it. Their untrimmed moustaches and long hair escaping from under their broad-brimmed hats, their fierce countenances and dark flashing eyes, the many hues of their skins, and their motley costume, gave them altogether a very savage look, which was increased by the fiery bloodshot eyes of their horses, whose shaggy manes and the fringe of their housing streamed in the wind, while their riders shook their weapons, and shrieked out threats of destruction on our heads.

“Steady, my men, and fire when I do,” cried my father, levelling his rifle; in which I, José, and the rest, followed his example. The Montoneros had got within a dozen paces of us, when we gave the word. We fired together, our friends behind handing us their still loaded weapons. Two of the robbers rolled in the dust, and the horse of a third was shot dead, and fell across the road, so as somewhat to impede the progress of those behind. On they came, however, and were up to us as we fired our second round, and received a discharge of their carbines in return. Some of the shot took effect on our companions in the rear, who, instead of reloading the firearms, threw them down and endeavoured to escape. In an instant the banditti were upon us. My father’s horse was shot under him. I saw José knocked over; and then I recollect nothing that happened for some minutes, except a confusion of sounds, shouts, and shrieks and groans. When I returned to consciousness, my first thought was for my father. He was not near me, but I saw José at no great distance, leaning on his arm, as if unable to move, and looking along the road the way we had come. I turned my eyes in the same direction, towards which the tide of the fight had gone. A few of our companions were still contending against a greatly superior number of the banditti, most of whom, however, were engaged in a work more congenial to their taste, that of plundering our baggage. I could not doubt that my father was among the combatants; for without his example I did not think the others would have fought, and I trembled for his fate. I tried to rise, to rush to his assistance, or to die with him; but I found I was too weak to stand, much less to use a weapon. I gave up all for lost, for I perceived that the resistance of the gallant little band of my friends was every instant growing weaker; while the robbers were quitting their plunder to join their assailants. Meantime some of the baggage mules were trotting off in the direction where José and I lay; seeing which, some of the banditti came in pursuit of them. On seeing that I was alive, a savage-looking fellow lifted his carbine, and was about to give me a quietus on my head with the butt of it, while another threatened to perform the same office for José, when a shout, different from any I had before heard, reached my ears.

“Los Indios, los Indios!—the Indians, the Indians!” cried the brigands; “fly, fly, or we are lost!”

I looked up; for when I thought my brains were about to be dashed out, I had instinctively shut my eyes. What was my surprise to see the cliffs on either side of the road, and which I had thought inaccessible, swarming with Indians, mostly dressed in their ancient costume, and armed with bows and slings, with which they sent a shower of arrows and stones among our enemies! Several of them were wounded; and the suddenness of the attack threw them into confusion. Before they could recover from it, the Indians came leaping down the cliffs, and threw themselves between the three parties of the robbers, while others advanced along either end of the road, so as completely to hem them in. With the wildest fury, animated apparently by the most deadly hatred, the Indians rushed on our assailants, who, though they fought for their lives, could not withstand the onset.

I mentioned that at some distance from me I had observed a few of my friends, among whom I had no doubt was my father, hard pressed by a number of the robbers, who seemed intent on their destruction. The latter had now to defend themselves from the Indians; and my father and his party attacking them in return, they were either cut down at once, or attempted to escape by flight. A few of the more determined had fought their way back to where I lay, and I fully expected to receive my death-wound from some of them, as the fight passed over me, when I felt myself lifted in the arms of an Indian who I saw was dressed in the costume of a Peruvian chief; and just as the combatants reached me, he carried me out of the mêlée, and bore me up the cliff to a spot which none were likely to reach. As he placed me on the ground, I caught a sight of his countenance, and recognised the fugitive whom we had protected, the Indian, Manco Tupac Amaru. Before I had time to utter a word of thanks, he had again leaped down the cliff and joined in the combat. Some ten or a dozen of the robbers, who were still on horseback, and had kept together, were attempting to cut their way along the road among the mass of Indians who opposed them. Being well mounted, and with superior weapons, they had a great advantage; but the Indians were inspired with a courage I little expected to witness. They rushed in upon them, cut their bridles, and dashed their spears in their faces; and seizing them by their clothes, hung on them, in spite of the cuts and thrusts of their swords, till they dragged them from their saddles. No quarter was given; the instant a robber was unhorsed he was speared; and before the tide of the fight had rolled on many yards, not one was left alive. Many of our party had fallen. Indeed I was surprised to observe, nor could I account for it, that the Indians took no pains to preserve the lives of the Spanish travellers, though they did their utmost to protect the Indian guides. The padre and two or three others alone escaped. The road below me indeed presented a sad spectacle; for, as far as I could see, it appeared strewed with the corpses of my late companions—of robbers and Indians, many of whom had fallen in the last desperate struggle. I looked anxiously for my father, and my heart beat with joy as I saw him coming along the road, and evidently looking for me. My preserver, Manco, had observed him; the recognition was mutual, and they soon approached the spot where I lay. I need not describe my father’s feelings at finding that I was alive. I endeavoured at first to conceal the pain I suffered, and which made me fancy that my thigh must have been broken. At length, however, I could not help giving expression to the anguish I experienced.

“Wait a few minutes,” said the Indian chief, “and when I have performed some duties which are urgently required, I will cause my people to form a litter to transport you to a place of safety. What has occurred must remain secret for a time. I can trust you; but some of the people in your company who have escaped, might betray our proceedings to the authorities. Their lives are safe, but we must keep them prisoners till they can no longer injure us by being at liberty.”

Neither my father nor I could understand what he meant, and before we could ask an explanation, he had left us. We watched his movements, and saw him place each of the survivors of our party between a guard of four armed Indians. Some of his followers took charge of the baggage mules; others lifted up the dead bodies of their friends; while the rest were busily employed in collecting the arrows and the other Indian missiles and weapons; and they then again formed in marching order. A few had constructed a litter, and brought it to the foot of the cliff, down which Manco, with my father’s aid, now conveyed me.

“I wish to have no sign of our having taken share in the fray,” observed the Indian. “The lions and condors will take good care that none shall discover how those men died.”

As he spoke, I looked up, and observed several of those mighty monsters of the air hovering above our heads, ready to pounce down on their prey as soon as we should have left them to enjoy their banquet undisturbed.

At a sign from Manco, whom the Indians seemed to obey with the greatest zeal and respect, they lifted up my litter, and bore it along at a rapid rate. My father mounted a horse which was brought him, Manco rode another, and the priest was accommodated with a mule; but the rest of the Spaniards were compelled to walk, except poor José, who was carried, as was I, on the shoulders of some Indians; but they did not seem at all to like the office, nor to regard the rest of their prisoners with any feeling of good-will. Every arrangement was made with great promptitude; and as I watched from my litter the Indian warriors filing before me, I could scarcely help thinking that I saw a portion of the very army which the great Incas were accustomed to lead to victory.

We proceeded along what might be called the high road for some miles, when we struck off across the mountains to the left, the latter part of the time being guided by torches, for it had become too dark otherwise to see our way. At last we arrived at a small hut, built on the side of a rugged mountain. It afforded shelter from the cold night-wind; and as many as it could hold took up their quarters within it, while the remainder bivouacked without.

Fortunately for me, the padre was something of a surgeon, and on examining my leg, he assured me that my leg was not broken, but only severely bruised, and that perfect rest with fomentations would recover it. It was impossible, however, to obtain that rest, as we journeyed on without stopping, except for our meals and a few hours’ rest at night, for several days; and though I was carried all the time, the jolting of my litter, as we ascended or descended the steep hills, was very inconvenient. But the Indians collected a variety of herbs, and making a decoction of them, fomented my leg whenever we stopped, so that the swelling gradually subsided, and the pain diminished.

At length we reached a collection of deserted huts, among rugged and inaccessible crags, with the snowy peaks of the Andes towering high above us. The lower parts of the mountains were clothed with pine trees; and long grass grew on the borders of several streams which run through the neighbouring valley. With the pine trees the Indians formed rafters to the cottages, and thatches with the long grass and reeds. In a short time they thus rendered them in some degree habitable. I observed that though my father was allowed to go where he liked, the rest of the party were narrowly watched, so that they could not attempt to make their escape. When he spoke to Manco on the subject, and expostulated with him on detaining the rest of the travellers, the Indian chiefs reply was short but firm.

“It is necessary for the sake of Peru that they should be kept prisoners,” he observed; “had it not been for you and the padre, they would probably have lost their lives. I can trust you if you will give me your oath not to betray what has occurred or what you suspect, but I cannot trust them. When your son is able to move, you shall proceed on your journey; but they must remain here till it is safe to set them at liberty.”

“I do not seek to pry into your secrets, and should be guilty of the greatest ingratitude by saying a word even to injure you or your people,” said my father. “I am doubly anxious to reach Cuzco, lest my family not hearing of me from thence, should become alarmed.”

“Write a few lines to assure your family of your safety, and it shall reach them long before they could hear from you were you to write from our ancient capital. Trust that to me,” answered Manco, and he was afterwards found as good as his word.

The observations which the Indian chief let fall made me suspect that some plan was forming among the Indians to emancipate themselves from the Spanish yoke; and when I mentioned my surmises to my father, I found that he was of the same opinion, but he warned me not to mention my thoughts to any one.

“The less we know on the subject the better for us,” he observed. “Living under the protection of the Spanish government, it might be our duty to warn them of danger, while it is equally our duty not to betray those who have trusted us.”

“A curious sort of protection they afford us, when they allow bands of robbers, who were near cutting our throats, to scour the country unmolested,” I answered. “For my part, I think the Indians would be perfectly right to emancipate themselves from the galling chains which enthral them.”

“But were they to make the attempt, they could not do so,” said my father. “The discipline and gold of a civilised people will always in the end prevail over a half savage one, in spite of their bravery and resolution.”

Our conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Manco. No longer a hunted fugitive, he now walked with the air of a chieftain, his costume also being that of an Inca noble of old. Although the dress had long been disused, except on festive occasions, he had now assumed it to give him greater authority among his countrymen.

We found at the huts a considerable number of women and children, some of them belonging to the Indians who were with us, and some, I concluded, related to others who were absent. They were evidently collected here to be beyond the reach of the Spaniards, and to avoid the flagitious Repartimiento and Meta, the more rigid imposition of which was about that time, I knew, causing great discontent among the people. The Spaniards, long accustomed to treat the Peruvians as inferior beings, destitute alike of feeling and courage, forgot that even a worm will at times turn and attempt to bite the foot that presses it.

I had observed at times a larger number of persons than had accompanied us to the village; and I remarked several strangers, dressed in skins and feathers, who came and went, and again speedily returned, as if they had gone only to a short distance. I told our host that I had observed this, and inquired where the people came from.

“From a place where the foot of a white man has never trod,” he replied. “If you were strong and well. I might take you to it, and might show you wonders you little expect to behold, so fully do I trust; but the time may come when, free of danger, I may gratify your curiosity.”

I expected that he alluded to one of those ancient villages which I had heard of as existing in the heart of the mountains, and never discovered by the Spaniards; where the inhabitants had continued in the enjoyment of liberty, and the laws and customs of their ancestors. I had often wished to visit one of those remnants of antiquity, and I became doubly eager to do so, on finding myself in the proximity of one of them; but Manco assured me that it would be utterly impossible to conduct me there for a long time to come.

We had now spent a week at the huts, and I was so far recovered as to be able to mount a horse and move about on foot with the aid of a stick; and as my father was very anxious to proceed on his journey, we agreed to start the following day. On hearing that we were about to depart, the other travellers wished to accompany us; but the Indians would not hear of it, and, I observed, kept a stricter watch than usual over them. Manco showed great unwillingness to part with us.

“Go as you desire it, my friends,” he said. “You are at liberty to do as you judge best; but for your own sake, as well as mine, I would have had you remain. However, as go you must, I will send some of my people to escort you on your way; and one of them shall follow you as your servant till you return home. He will obey you in all things, but you must not blame him if he is absent during a few hours at times from you. You must pay him no wages, but you must not send him from you; and if you are asked where you found him, say in a mountain village, and that he wished to come with you to see the world.”

The next morning our new attendant made his appearance. He was a small, active-looking man, of a lightish rusty-red colour. His dress was much as is usually worn at the present day, consisting of loose trousers of coarse brown cloth, fastened round the waist by a girdle, and a woollen shirt of a dark blue colour. His poncho, which served as his outer garment, was of alpaca wool of the same hue as his shirt; and on his head he wore a broad-brimmed hat, while his sandals were of untanned leather, just covering his toes, and secured by a thong round the ankle. He took charge of a mule laden with our clothes and a supply of provisions.

Manco took an affectionate farewell of us as we were mounting our horses at the door of the hut. He pressed our hands as he said—

“We may meet again, dear friends, at some future time, when the children of the sun may dare to lift up their heads in the land where their fathers ruled. Till then, farewell.”

We found, a little farther on, a band of a hundred men, well armed with muskets and rifles, ready to escort us; and a young man of the Inca family, their leader, told us that they were to accompany us to help us to cross the difficult barriers which surrounded the spot we were in, and to watch us till we reached the neighbourhood of Cuzco.

Accustomed as I was to mountain scenery, I should not before have thought it possible for any four-footed animals to climb up the rugged precipices, over which the Indians led and pushed our horses and mules. In some places they were literally hauled up with ropes, and let down again on the other side. My kind guides assisted me up and down also, though I had nearly recovered my usual strength. A number of streams crossed our path, adding not a little to its difficulties.

Our animals were generally driven into the water and compelled to swim across, being then hauled up on the other side. We passed by means of a curious kind of bridge called a Huano. It was formed of a thick rope, which is carried by means of a lighter line across the chasm. The lighter line was carried across by some powerful swimmer, or by a man holding on to the mane of one of the horses or mules. On the rope ran a roller, to which was fastened a piece of wood, and to the wood the passenger was secured; the transit was made more easy by two light lines, by which the piece of wood was drawn from side to side. Several of the Indians went first across. I watched them in their dizzy transit, and I thought, if the rope breaks, what will become of them? When it came to my turn to cross, I held my head as high as I could, and crossed my legs over the thick rope, which I grasped with my hands. I did not dare to turn to look into the deep gulf below; for strong as my nerves were, I felt that if I did, I should have let go my hold. I was not sorry to find my head knocking against the shrubs and rocks on the opposite side. My father followed me; and then the whole body, one by one, passed over. Having got into rather less intricate country, the captain of our escort told us that from this place forward we must no longer remain in company, though he had orders from his chief to watch us till all probability of danger was past.

Accordingly, my father and I, and our new Indian servant, prepared to proceed alone. We were still several days’ journey from Cuzco. We slept as before at those most wretched of all inns the Indian tambos, though wherever we stopped we could not help remarking that we were treated with more than usual kindness and respect, which we suspected was owing to our being under the special protection of their chief. That also we were not deserted by our guardians, we had reason to know. On more than one occasion I had observed one or two figures hovering on the brow of some hill, or appearing from behind trees, bushes, or rocks. I perceived once one of them started up close to us. I pointed him out to our attendant, who had likewise seen him. With a significant look he answered, “Fear not them—they will not injure us.”

We encountered but few travellers, and I do not recollect any other occurrence worthy of being narrated daring our journey.

Chapter Five.

Cuzco described—We are made prisoners—Anxiety for those at home.

“Behold Cuzco!” exclaimed our Indian guide, as, throwing himself from his horse, he knelt in adoration of the glorious luminary, whose rays were just then throwing a mantle of gold over the crumbling walls of a mighty fortress, which protected the holy city of his ancestors, the capital of the Incas.

We had just reached the brow of an elevated ridge which forms one side of the fertile and extensive valley in which Cuzco stands, built, like ancient Rome, on a number of hills or slight rises. To the north of the city, on the summit of a lofty eminence, appeared the still dark and frowning fortress of Cyclopean architecture, composed of stones of vast magnitude. When I afterwards visited it, I was surprised to find the extraordinary nicety with which, without any cement, they were joined together; and I cannot tell with what machinery the Peruvians could have raised blocks so enormous to such heights, or how they could have fitted them, shaped as they are in so many various forms, with exactness so remarkable. Had I believed in the existence of giants, I should have supposed that they alone could have lifted such vast masses into the positions they hold. Many of the modern residences of the conquerors stand on the foundations of the ancient buildings of the Peruvians, and from among them we saw towering upwards the spires and towers of the magnificent cathedral, of the convents of Saint Augustine and La Merced, and of a number of other fine churches. We had not long to contemplate this scene of the ruins of the past and of modern splendour, as it was necessary to reach the city before dark; and the setting sun warned us that we had not much time to lose. We were questioned, when we entered, whence we had come; but before we could speak, our Indian attendant stepped forward and gave an answer that satisfied the guard, and we passed on.

The inn we went to was the best in the city, but it could boast of affording us little comfort, though, as we were accustomed to rough fare, that mattered little. At daybreak I was on foot, as I was anxious to see the city; and with our Indian attendant as my guide, I wandered through the larger portion of it before breakfast. We reached a collection of ruined walls, composed of huge masses of rock.

“On this spot,” said the Indian, bending reverentially towards the sun, just then rising over the walls of the city, “stood the great temple where our fathers worshipped the God in whom they trusted; away to the right, where now those convent walls appear, were the residences of the beautiful virgins of the sun; and in these fields of corn and lucerne which surround us were once laid out the magnificent gardens of the temple, filled with menageries of all the animals of our country, with aviaries of birds of many-coloured plumage, with fountains, and trees, and flowers, and ornaments of vast size, of gold and silver and precious stones, many in the form of the shrubs and plants among which they stood, and of workmanship so admirable that they seemed to vie with them in elegance and beauty. But the greedy spoiler came, and behold, stranger, what he made it! Alas! this garden is but an example of the condition to which our unhappy country has been reduced.”

The Indian was silent, and seemed lost in gloomy reflection. I, too, thought of the past; and as I did so, the magnificent Temple of the Sun appeared before me, with its walls resplendent with the golden ornaments which surrounded them, and its wide courts crowded with votaries in their many-coloured costumes and head-dresses and robes of feathers, eagerly watching for the rising of the luminary they worshipped. I fancied I could hear their voices, and could see the mighty mass below me, their plumes waving in the breeze as they joined the joyous shout raised by their friends above them.

“Yes, a day of bitter retribution will ere long arrive,” exclaimed my companion. The deep, low, and concentrated tone of his voice roused me from my reveries, he appeared unconscious that he had spoken. “Come, sir,” he said, “we will proceed.”

As I walked through the streets of Cuzco. I was struck with the air of antiquity which many of the buildings wore; and I could not help regretting the worse than Gothic cruelty and ignorance of the Spaniards, which had destroyed the numberless magnificent edifices of its former inhabitants. We spent three days in the city, and on the fourth took our departure, accompanied by Ithulpo. I learned that twenty leagues only from the city commence the territories of the unsubdued Indians, who will allow no stranger to enter their country. As I looked towards the distant mountains which form their bulwarks, I fancied that it must be a land full of romance and interest, and I longed to penetrate into it. I was before long to have my wish gratified, through means I little contemplated.

Our course was, however, now in a contrary direction, north and west, towards the sea. We had proceeded two days’ journey, when, at the urgent request of Ithulpo, we turned aside to rest at a town among the mountains.

“It is inhabited chiefly by my people,” he observed. “To-morrow they perform a ceremony, at which I wish to assist, and which you will like to behold.”

We ascended by a narrow and winding path among the mountains to the town, where we were lodged in the best house it possessed, and where the inhabitants vied with each other in paying us attention. The next morning, when I went out, I was surprised to see the place crowded with Indians dressed in the ancient costume of the country, of which certainly the pictures I have since seen in England and France do not give at all a correct idea. They wore feather head-dresses, and their cloaks and trains were likewise trimmed with feathers; and if not quite so picturesque, were more suited to their convenience than the scanty feather kilts in which they are made to appear. Having breakfasted, my father and I followed the crowd at a little distance to see what was going to occur. Among them we observed, raised above their heads, a gaily ornamented litter or covered palanquin, in which sat a person richly dressed with the regal border or red fringe of the Incas on his head. We learnt that he was intended to represent Atahualpa. On pressed the crowd with shouts and songs towards a large square before us; there they halted, when from some buildings in which they had been concealed, appeared another party dressed in armour with guns in their hands, and one or two small pieces of cannon following them. They all wore masks, and were intended to represent Spaniards. One more hideous than the rest was evidently Pizarro, and by his side stood the priest Vicente de Yalverde. They approached the litter, and the monk addressed the Inca in a long harangue. Atahualpa replied, when a terrific shriek was heard; the litter was overthrown, and the Inca was dragged among the Spaniards. A mock combat took place, but the Indians were driven back; and then arose the most melancholy cries and groans ever heard. It was no imitated grief, for to such a pitch had they worked up their imaginations, that they really fancied that their Inca was again torn from them. At last they retired, and a new scene in the drama commenced.

A number of Spaniards came forth from the building to which they had carried off the Inca, and seated themselves as if holding a council. Atahualpa was next brought out. He stood, with downcast looks and hands bound, before his judges, waiting his doom. One man only pleaded his cause, the others brought forth numberless arguments for his condemnation—a good satire on those by which the real Inca was judged to be worthy of death. At length one standing up, pronounced the representative Atahualpa guilty, ordering him to immediate execution. No sooner were the words uttered, than there arose from the crowd such shrieks and cries, that I could scarcely believe them to be feigned. Amid them the Inca was led to the place of execution, already prepared, where stood a man with ferocious aspect with an axe uplifted in his hands. The axe fell, and while the cries and groans increased, as I saw a bloody head lifted up before me, I thought for an instant that the man had really been killed. I soon, however, saw that the bloody head was merely a block of wood, while a piece of cloth was thrown over the person who had represented the Inca to conceal him from view. The Indians, however, appeared to be as deeply affected with grief as if they had really just seen their beloved monarch slaughtered before their eyes, to such a pitch were their imaginations worked up by the scene which had been acted. Had I not witnessed what I describe, I could scarcely have believed it possible; and as the Cholas sang their songs of mourning, the tears streamed down their cheeks, the groans seemed to come from the hearts of the men, and every countenance wore an expression of the most profound sorrow. Just at that moment I saw a man hurrying up the path which led into the village from the valley below. Almost breathless with exertion, he uttered a few words to the first he met. His communication flew like lightning among the crowd. They scattered in every direction, as if a thunderbolt had fallen among them. Masks were torn off and hastily concealed, dresses were changed, and the block and axe, and all the things connected with the representation, were carried away, while the people ran along the streets, and shut themselves up in their houses in evident fright.

We were not long in ascertaining the cause of the commotion. As I watched the approach to the town, I caught sight of the bayonet and shako of a soldier rising above the brow of a hill. Another and another followed, till about twenty men and two Spanish officers formed in the square of the town. That they had come for no good purpose, was soon made manifest by their charging a small party of the Indians who had neglected to escape from the square. So unexpected was the attack, that some were captured, while others were cruelly wounded before they could conceal themselves. The soldiers having thus whetted their thirst for blood, hurried from cottage to cottage, breaking open the doors and dragging out the terrified inmates. Those who were found with a mask, or any portion of the ancient Indian costume about them, proving that they had taken part in the forbidden representation, were without mercy shot, in spite of the entreaties and cries of their wives and children. A considerable number were also dragged from their huts and bound together with ropes, preparatory to being carried off as prisoners.

We had hitherto remained concealed in the house where we had rested for the night, and which had been unvisited by the soldiers. Had we been able to leave the village unobserved, we would gladly have done so to avoid contact with the troops, though we had no reason to apprehend ill-treatment from them. My father had desired Ithulpo to have our horses and baggage ready to start at a moment’s notice. While we remained shut up in the house, we could only judge of what was going on by the sounds we heard. The shots and cries had grown fainter, and thinking that the soldiers must have got to a distance, we considered this a good opportunity to set out. Ithulpo had been watching them through a hole in the wall of an enclosure, at a little distance from the cottage within which our animals were to be kept ready. I looked cautiously out of the door of the cottage, and seeing no one near, I ran round to where Ithulpo was posted. I told him that we were ready to start.

“I was coming to tell you that now is our time to start,” he replied. “I wish that I was certain that all the soldiers are together, for I am afraid that some may be left to guard the outlet to the village; but we must run the risk.”

We accordingly brought the horses round. Our baggage was soon strapped on, and mounting immediately, we set off at a brisk pace, followed by the well-wishes of our host, towards the only outlet to the village. Several houses were in flames, and more than one apparently dead Indian met our view. A short hour had made a sad change in the peaceful village, which now looked as if it had been stormed and sacked by a cruel enemy. We had no time to stop to examine whether any of the prostrate forms we saw were still alive, so we pushed on. Just, however, as we reached the top of the pathway down the mountain, a party of soldiers, with an officer at their head, appeared suddenly before us. It was impossible to escape notice, so we attempted to pass them.

“Stop!” cried the officer, presenting a pistol. “Who are you?”

“English travellers, on the road to Lima,” answered my father.

“Say rather English abettors of rebels,” exclaimed the officer fiercely. “We find you in a village encouraging the ignorant people by your presence to break the law. You are our prisoners.”

My father pleaded in vain that we had no intention of breaking the law, or encouraging others to do so.

“You may make your excuse to the government of Lima,” answered the officer; and he ordered us to remain where we were on pain of being shot.

A number of prisoners were collected together, and we had no doubt that he had heard from one of them of our being present at the forbidden ceremony we had witnessed. The bugle now sounded the recall, and soon afterwards the rest of the soldiers returned, dragging after them a number more of wretched prisoners. They appeared to be the principal people in the village; and whether guilty or not of the crimes charged against them, they were dragged away from their homes, to undergo more suffering on their road to their place of trial than they would deserve even if proved guilty.

The unhappy men were lashed together by the wrists two and two, all being likewise joined by a single stout rope; while blows and curses urged them on if they did not move fast enough to please their tyrants. Had the inhabitants of the village united bravely, they might have overpowered the soldiers and rescued their friends; but terror-stricken, they were afraid to show themselves.

Neither my father nor I were in any way molested, but a soldier was placed on each side of us and our Indian attendant, with orders to shoot us if we attempted to escape, a command they seemed very ready to obey. The word was then given to move on, and we commenced our descent of the mountain, a body of eight soldiers bringing up the rear. We addressed the officers several times to learn why we were thus treated, but the only answer the one in command deigned to make was—

“You are found in communication with rebel Indians, and there are suspicions against you.”

I thought of our having aided the escape of the Indian chief Manco, and feared that by some means the circumstance might have become known. If such were the case, I trembled for the safety of my dear mother and brothers and sisters. I thought of all the insults and annoyance to which they must have been subjected while our house was being searched, and my father’s papers and books being examined, which I knew they would be, by the officers of justice. I did not, however, communicate my thoughts to my father, as I felt that if it suggested the same idea to him, it would cause him much pain and anxiety.

I endeavoured therefore, as we rode on, to amuse him by conversation; but I am afraid I succeeded very ill. Ithulpo was very gloomy and silent, evidently brooding over the wrongs his countrymen had so long endured, and were still receiving, from their oppressors. At the foot of the mountain we found another party of soldiers concealed in a wood, and guarding the horses of our escort. The whole then mounted; and as we proceeded at a more rapid rate, the captive Indians were goaded on more cruelly to keep up with us. Ithulpo still said not a word; but as his eyes were now and then turned towards his countrymen, I observed that looks of intelligence were exchanged between them. Some shrieked with pain; others returned glances of rage at their tormentors; a few almost fainted, till stirred up again to proceed; and two, who had been wounded, actually dropped down, and as they were left in the rear, the report of musketry told what had been their fate. The fear of a similar catastrophe deterred others from giving in while they had any strength remaining to drag onwards their weary limbs.

My father’s kind heart was bursting with indignation and grief; but from the surly answers he received, he saw that it would be hopeless to plead for the unhappy beings.

“A day of bitter retribution will come, ere long, for this tyranny,” he observed. “Such conduct must arouse even the most long-enduring from their apathy. Even as it is, how entirely has Spain failed to reap any benefit from her apparently glorious conquest of this new world! or rather, I may say, from the mode in which that conquest was conducted, it has brought on her a heavy curse instead of a blessing. Since she gained America, she has gradually declined in wealth, intelligence, and power; and if I mistake not the signs of the times, these beautiful provinces will soon be wrested from her, though, alas, the seeds of misgovernment and bigotry which she planted, will take ages more to eradicate.”

Subsequent events, as my readers know, proved the correctness of my father’s observations. Spain no longer holds sway over any part of the American continent; and the colonies she has planted, ever since constantly plunged in civil war and anarchy, have been far outstripped in civilisation by those peopled by the Anglo-Saxon race.

Chapter Six.

Attempt to cross a desert—The disasters we encountered.

Our journey was irksome and disagreeable in the extreme. We marched on each day as long as the horses and men could move; and we rested at night, sometimes in farm-houses, or in the public tambos; but frequently we took shelter within the ruins of forts or other buildings, and often we were obliged to sleep on the hard ground, with our saddles for our pillows and the starlit sky above our heads. As it was the height of summer, this mattered little. We suffered, however, much from the heat in the day-time, and we were compelled frequently to dismount to lead our horses over the rugged places we had to pass. Day after day the poor captives dropped through fatigue, till their numbers were much thinned; but still we pushed on. We passed through a number of Indian villages, the inhabitants of which looked out from their mat doors with sad eyes on their unhappy countrymen; and we now discovered that the object of the Spaniards in carrying them on was to strike terror into the hearts of the people. When governors cannot manage a people so as to gain their love, they attempt to rule them through their fears; but such a government is never of long duration, and must ultimately bring destruction on itself. We had marched for three days without finding any habitations, when I saw the officers holding consultation together, and evidently much perplexed. A halt was ordered, and inquiries made if anybody knew the road. We had lost our way. The Indians had no knowledge of that part of the country, nor had any of the soldiers. I detected a gleam of intelligence in the countenance of Ithulpo, which made me suspect that he could give the desired information if he chose; but when asked, he denied all knowledge of the way. We took shelter that night within the walls of a ruined village, which, from its appearance, I judged had not been inhabited since the time of the conquest, except as a temporary abode in the same manner as we used it. It must have been a place of some extent, but the greater part was concealed by trees and shrubs, and creeping plants, which had grown up among the walls. Most of the buildings were of sun-dried bricks; but others, within one of which we were placed, were of masses of stone, like the fortress of Cuzco. It had probably been the residence of a chief or noble. It seemed strange that the Spaniards should not have known so remarkable a spot; but though they did not, I was certain that the Indians were well acquainted with it.

The prisoners were all driven together like a flock of sheep within one of the enclosures, and a sentry was placed over them, with orders to shoot any who might attempt to escape. After the horses had been picketed in a grassy spot close to the ruins, the soldiers lighted their fires to dress their evening meal, while the two officers sat themselves down on a fragment of stone and smoked their cigars, taking no notice of us. Our horses and luggage mule had been placed with the others under a guard; so they thought, I suppose, that we should not attempt to escape. Meantime my father and I sat at a little distance, watching the proceedings of our very unwelcome companions, while Ithulpo stood near, casting every now and then towards them glances expressive of the most intense hatred, and a desire of vengeance. The sun was still low, but his rays yet tinged the topmost branches of the trees and the lofty ranges of mountains in the distance. The soldiers had brought skins of wine and plenty of good cheer with them; and when they had eaten, they passed the wine-skins round right merrily, the officers joining in the carouse. Instead of pouring the wine into cups, they lifted the skins high above their heads, and without touching the vessel to their lips, allowed the wine to run down their throat in a gentle stream. As we were close enough to them to be easily watched, the officers, I suppose, thought that we should not attempt to move away. Ithulpo had stowed a sort of knapsack he carried with some dried meat and bread, which he now produced, and it served to satisfy our appetites; but we had no wine, and our surly guards did not deign to offer us any.

“Do not repine, sirs, at the want,” he observed. “I will show you a pure stream, the water of which, ere to-morrow’s sun has set, those soldiers will value more than the finest wine their country can produce.”

The sun went down, and the shades of night came rapidly on, but still the Spaniards continued their debauch. They had apparently forgotten us and their other prisoners; for though by the light of their fires we could clearly see them, sitting as we were under the shadow of a wall, we were no longer visible to them. Ithulpo came and sat himself down beside me.

“Could we not manage to get away from these people?” I asked in a whisper.

“Not now,” he answered. “The sentries would give the alarm if we attempted to take the horses, and without them we cannot move. To-morrow we shall have a better opportunity, and we may help some of my poor countrymen to escape at the same time.”

“Why do you expect that a good opportunity to escape will occur?” I inquired.

“I cannot at present reply to your question,” he said. “Those who now guard us will no longer be able to do so. Trust to me. You will enter Lima as free men, and no one will appear as a witness against you, to support the false accusation these people have made.”

I forbore to question him further, but there was something very mysterious in his look and manner; and at first the horrid idea occurred to me that he had by some means contrived to poison the Spaniards, for otherwise I could not account for the confidence with which he pronounced his prediction. However, I endeavoured to banish the suspicion as too dreadful to be entertained. At length the commanding officer seemed to recollect that he had duties to attend to. Fresh guards were set over the prisoners and the horses, wood was collected and the fires were made up, and a sentinel was posted near the spot, under shelter of a wall, which we had selected for our place of rest. Ithulpo got leave to bring us our saddles and horse-trappings to serve us for beds, and he likewise brought us our portmanteaus and saddle-bags, which he placed near us. The soldiers threw themselves on the ground, and were very soon fast asleep. Our sentry also, from the manner his head every now and then gave a sharp nod, was evidently very drowsy. The heat of the weather, the exertion he had undergone, and the wine he had drunk, were quite enough to account for this. I also at last fell asleep. My eyes had been closed for about a couple of hours, when I was awakened by Ithulpo touching my shoulder. I sat up, and observed that he had the wine-skins emptied by the soldiers hanging on his arm.

“Follow me,” he whispered. “We are not going to escape; but you are thirsty, and I will show you a pure spring, where you may drink your fill, and you will be better able to endure the heat of to-morrow’s sun.”

Silently following him, as he led the way among the ruins, I found that we had reached a thick and apparently impenetrable wood. Without stopping, however, he went direct to a spot where the branches yielded easily to his hand. A winding path appeared before us, proceeding along which, we arrived in an open forest glade. On one side rose a high rock, which seemed part of a range of cliffs forming the side of a mountain. The murmuring sound of water met my ear, and by the faint starlight I discovered a stream gushing forth from the rock, and finding its way in a narrow rivulet through the glade.

“The white man thinks that the discovery of a gold mine will bring him all the wealth he can desire; but the time has come when he would gladly exchange all the gold and silver hidden within yon mountains for one draught of that pure stream,” muttered Ithulpo, as I stooped my head to drink at the fountain. “Drink—drink while you can,” he continued in the same low tone. “It is more than wealth, it is life itself; it fertilises, it invigorates, it cleanses, it blesses. Without it the world would be but a sterile desert, unfit for the habitation of man; while gold, which the white men value so much, has ever proved the curse of our country. They value it because they think it scarce, while we, who know the deep mines where in vast heaps it lies hid from their sight, place it at its true worth, below iron and copper, or even silver or tin.”

While Ithulpo was thus speaking, he was employed in washing out and filling the skins he had brought with water. I also filled a couple of flasks with the pure fluid. We then retraced our steps by the way we had come, I assisting him in carrying the somewhat heavy burden. We reached the camp unobserved by the drowsy sentries. I was wondering what the Indian intended doing with the skins, when, begging me to lie down and rest, he took up two of the skins, and crept cautiously away towards the enclosure where his countrymen were confined. After a little time he returned, and again took the path to the fountain to replenish the skins. I was afraid he would have been discovered, but he went about the work so cautiously and silently, that he altogether escaped the observation of the sentries. After he had given the prisoners all the water they required, he came back to where we were lying, and threw himself on the ground near us. The rest of the night passed quietly away; and notwithstanding the painful position in which we were placed, I slept soundly. I was aroused by the sound of a bugle, and found the soldiers getting under arms and preparing to march. Our baggage was replaced by Ithulpo, who I saw watched it carefully. The men mounted, the prisoners were dragged out from their resting-place, and we commenced our day’s journey.

An extensive plain was before us, with a few rugged and barren heights scattered over it. As we proceeded vegetation grew more and more scanty, till after we had marched scarcely half a mile, it ceased altogether. We had slept, we found, on the borders of a desert. The ground was at first composed of a mixture of rock and clay, over which the sea had evidently rolled in former ages; but as we proceeded it became more loose and broken, till it changed into a soft shifting sand, into which our horses’ feet sank deep at every step they made.

The poor prisoners, already worn out with their long journey, appeared scarcely able to drag on their weary limbs through it. Of its extent we were unable to judge, but the commander seemed to fancy that in a short time we should reach firmer and more fertile ground, where we should find water and halt to breakfast. The sun, which rose in a cloudless sky on our right, showed that we were proceeding in the direction we wished to follow—towards the north.

“Forward, my men,” shouted the officer. “In an hour or two we shall be out of this ill-conditioned spot, and find rest and refreshment.”

The soldiers lighted their cigars and urged on their horses, while they dealt their blows freely on the backs of the Indians to quicken their speed.

I observed a peculiar smile on the countenance of Ithulpo, as the officer spoke of soon reaching a place of rest. Our attendant had, I found, managed to distribute a supply of the highly prized cacao among his countrymen; and while their features wore a look of sullen indifference as they received the ill-merited blows, I remarked that they seemed to bear up against the fatigue better than they had before done. As the sun rose higher the heat increased, till it became almost insupportable. The officers spoke earnestly together for some time, and were evidently growing anxious as to the road we were taking. At length their voices grew louder and louder, as if disputing on the point, for there was very little semblance of discipline among them. Then they called up several of their men one after the other, but could not gain the information they required. Some of the prisoners were next brought up, but they either could not or would not say whether we were pursuing the proper course, their countenances assuming an expression of the most perfect ignorance and apathy. Still we pushed on, the Spaniards trying to urge their horses still faster through the heavy sand. Before us rose a bright glittering haze, through which objects every now and then appeared seemingly in the far distance—hills, and trees, and rocks, and lakes, and streams of pure water; but as we advanced they vanished, and a few barren mounds and loose stones alone were found, while the supposed water was altogether a mocking deception. To the right hand and to the left, the same inhospitable desert seemed to stretch out far away; and we had already advanced so deeply into it, that the officers probably supposed that there would be as much risk in returning as in going on. On therefore we went, the soldiers having no mercy on the prisoners, whom they urged forward, whenever they attempted to slacken their pace, with the points of their swords, till the blood trickled in streams down the backs of these miserable beings. We were riding just behind the main body of the soldiers, followed by Ithulpo and the baggage mules. The generous, kind heart of my father was almost bursting with indignation, as he saw this piece of cruelty.

At last, as an Indian more weary than the rest sunk to the ground, and a soldier was about to plunge his sword into his body, he could restrain himself no longer.

“Hold, wretch!” he exclaimed. “Add not murder to your cruelty.”

The soldier, taken by surprise, did not strike the fatal blow till his horse had carried him past the fainting Indian; but, balked of his prey, his anger was kindled against my father, and turning round, he made a cut at him with his sword. Fortunately I carried a heavy riding-whip, with which I was able to parry the blow. The man did not attempt to repeat it, for the junior officer turning round, observed the act, and called him to order; but it showed us what we were to expect if we excited the anger of our captors. I could not withstand the despairing look the poor wretch cast on us as he thought we were about to pass him and to leave him to his fate; so throwing myself from my horse, I lifted his head from the ground. My father stopped also, and so did Ithulpo.

“On, on!” shouted the rear-guard of the Spaniards. “On, or we will fire at you.”

“We will follow immediately,” replied my father. “On my word of honour—on the word of an Englishman.”

The Spaniards had never known that word broken, so they allowed us to stop to help the Indian. One of our baggage mules was lightly laden, and in spite of the threats of the soldiers we lifted him upon it. I had, as I mentioned, filled a small spirit-flask with water, and unseen I poured a few drops down his parched throat. This much revived him, and by urging on our animals, we were soon able to overtake the already weary horses of the Spaniards.

The time for breakfast had long since passed, but still no signs of a resting-place appeared. On the contrary, the sand became finer and deeper, and the dreary expanse before us seemed to lengthen out to the horizon. As the sun also rose higher in the sky, his unobstructed rays darted down with greater force upon our heads. There had been a slight breeze in the morning, blowing fresh from over the snowy summits of the Cordilleras; but that had now died entirely away, and not a breath of air stirred the stagnant atmosphere. The heat at length became almost insupportable, while our eyes could scarcely bear the glare of the sun on the white glittering sand.

To do the Spaniards credit, they bore up bravely for a long time against the heat and thirst and fatigue which assailed them. The horses, however, which had only been scantily supplied with water the night before, began to knock up—their ears dropped, their heads hung down, and their respiration became thick and fast. Ithulpo had supplied my father and me with cacao, by chewing a piece of which occasionally, we avoided any feeling of hunger; and as we also wetted our lips, when they became parched, with the water from our flasks, we did not suffer much from thirst. Still the sensation of oppression and fatigue was very painful. We received too, ere long, a warning of what might be our fate, in the spectacle which met our sight. The sun had reached his meridian height, and was descending towards the waters of the Pacific, and still it appeared that we had made no more progress than in the morning, when we came upon the bleached bones of several mules and horses, and by their side appeared, just rising above the sand, the skeletons of three human beings. It appeared as if they had all been struck down together by the same fiery blast. The soldiers, as we passed, turned their looks aside, without uttering a word, each one feeling that he might shortly become like those ghastly remnants of mortality. I observed that the heads of the animals were all turned towards the south, by which I judged that thus they had probably travelled over a greater distance of the burning desert than we had yet passed, so that we were yet not half over our difficulties.

“Those skeletons show that we are on the high road across the desert,” I remarked to my father.

“I am afraid not, David,” he answered. “They may have lost their way, and we have stumbled on them by chance.”

Such, I at once saw, was too likely to be the case.

The gauze-like mist of which I had before spoken, now appeared to grow more dense, and to lose its transparent appearance; at the same time that the rays of the sun struck down with fiercer heat, and the atmosphere grew more stagnant and oppressive. Some of the soldiers had lighted their cigars, in the hope that the fumes of tobacco would alleviate their thirst; and as the tiny jets of smoke left their mouths, they went straight up towards the sky, not a breath existing to blow them aside. Suddenly, as I turned my head to the left, I saw what appeared to be a dark cloud rising from the earth. I pointed it out to my father. Ithulpo had at the same time observed it.

“Muffle up your heads in your ponchos, and push on for the love of life,” he exclaimed. “It is the sand-drift swept before a whirlwind. On! on! or it will overwhelm us!”

It was indeed an object to appal the stoutest heart. On it came, like a black wall, rising higher and higher, and curling over our heads, till the sky and the sun himself were obscured. The soldiers saw it and trembled, for they knew its deadly power; whole regiments had before been buried beneath that heavy canopy. Their only chance of safety, they fancied, was to gallop through it. With frantic energy they dug their spurs into the sides of their panting steeds. They no longer thought of their miserable prisoners. Without a sensation of commiseration, they left them to the dreadful fate they themselves strove to escape. Neither could we do anything for them: if we stopped, we also should lose our lives. As we followed the soldiers, we found the Indians all huddled together, with looks of despair on their countenances, watching the approach of the sand-drift. They had no prospect of extricating themselves either; for the Spaniards had not even cut the cords which bound them all together. I glanced at the black wall of sand; it was still some way off. Could I leave my fellow-creatures thus to perish horribly, without an attempt to save them? No burning thirst, thanks to Ithulpo’s precautions, had yet dried up the sympathies of my heart.

“What are you going to do, David?” asked my father, as he saw me throw myself from my horse.

“To give these poor fellows a chance of life,” I answered, drawing out my knife, and cutting away at their cords.

“Your mother and sisters, my lad, must not be forgotten,” he muttered; “but stay, I will help you.”

As he said this he set to work to release the Indians, in which we were directly joined by Ithulpo; the rear-guard, as they passed by, bestowing many curses and threats of vengeance on our heads for our interference; but they were too anxious to save their own lives to prevent us. Scarcely a minute was lost.

“Mount! mount! and ride on!” cried Ithulpo.

Throwing our knives to the Indians, we leaped on our horses, and again followed the direction we supposed the soldiers had taken. We had not proceeded many yards when the wall of sand seemed to wheel round like an extended line of infantry, and then to advance at double speed. To escape it by galloping from it was now hopeless; so we turned our horses’ heads to face it. As we did so, a clear break appeared in one part.

“Let us make for yonder lighter spot,” shouted my father.

We did so. On came the dark wall; the sand swept by us, whirling round and round our heads, blinding our eyes, and filling our ears and nostrils. It was with difficulty even that we could breathe, as with each respiration our mouths became choked with the sand. I endeavoured, as well as I was able, to keep close to my father, though for a time it was only by our voices, as we shouted to each other, that we were aware of each other’s position. We did our utmost to keep our horses’ heads in the direction the sand-storm came from, that