Part 3 (2/2)
We put up the first night at a _tambo_, or road-side inn, a bamboo hut of two stories, thatched with plantain leaves. As the lower part was occupied by four-footed animals, we had to climb into the upper story by means of a couple of stout bamboos with notches cut in them. We here hung up our hammocks, and screened off a part for Ellen and Maria. Next day we began to ascend the mountains by the most rugged of paths.
Sometimes we had to wind up the precipice on a narrow ledge, scarcely affording footing to the mules. It was trying to the nerves, for while on one side rose a perpendicular wall of rock, on the other the precipice went sheer down for several hundred feet, with a roaring torrent at the bottom. Wild rocks were before and above us, trees and shrubs, however, growing out of every crevice and on each spot where soil could rest, while behind spread out a wide extent of forest, amid which we could distinguish the river winding its way to the Pacific.
Few birds or beasts were to be seen--the monkeys and parrots we had left below us; gallinazos, or black vultures, were, however, still met with, as they are everywhere throughout the continent, performing their graceful evolutions in the air, wheeling round and round without closing their wings, in large flocks, above the watery region we had left. The black vulture (_Cathartes atratus_), which closely resembles the well-known turkey buzzard in habits and appearance, performs, like it, the duty of scavenger, and is protected therefore by the inhabitants of all parts of the country. It may be distinguished from the latter by the form of the feathers on the neck, which descend from the back of the head towards the throat in a sloping direction; whereas the turkey buzzard has a frill of them completely round the throat. The head and part of the neck of the black vulture are dest.i.tute of feathers, and are covered with a black wrinkled skin, on which a few hairs only grow.
”See, what grand fellows are these!” exclaimed Arthur. I gazed up. On a rock close above us stood a couple of large birds, which were unmistakably vultures.
”Dreadful-looking creatures,” cried Ellen. ”They make me shudder. They seem as if preparing to pounce down on some little innocent lambs to carry them off.”
”It would prefer a dead mule, I suspect,” observed John. ”Like other vultures, it is not nice as to the nature of its food. It is called the King of the Vultures (_Sarcoramphus papa_), properly so, for it is the strongest and bravest of the vulture tribe though inferior in size to the condor. Observe its head and neck, brilliantly coloured with scarlet and yellow to make amends for the want of feathers. On the crown of its head, too, is a rich scarlet patch. Close to the eye there is a silvery blue mark, and above it part of the skin is blue and part scarlet. The bill is orange and black, and those curious lumps or carbuncles on its forehead are rich orange. At the lower part of the neck it wears a black ruff. The wing feathers and tail are black, and the lower part of the body white, and the rest a fine grey satin colour.”
While John was speaking, the birds, spreading out their huge wings, glided off the rock, and then by an imperceptible movement of them soared upwards, and, hovering for a few seconds in the air, they darted downwards into the plain, and were lost to sight.
”You need not be afraid of their attacking any living creature, Senora Ellen,” observed Don Jose. ”They have no relish for meat till it has gained a higher flavour than we should like, and dead lizards and snakes are much to their taste. Even those they discover, I believe, rather by sight than by scent.”
We had been proceeding along a somewhat broader part of the road than usual, though, as it was very steep, we climbed but slowly. Now rounding a sharp point, we came to a spot which made me wonder if those ahead could possibly have got by; and I could not help gazing anxiously downwards, almost expecting to find that some one had fallen over the precipice. Ellen kept up her courage admirably, and never hesitated to follow where others led. I could not help asking once if she did not feel afraid. ”No,” she answered. ”I always look upwards when I come to a difficult place, and so pa.s.s without alarm.” Ellen's plan is the right one, metaphorically speaking, to adopt in all the difficulties and trials of life: look upwards, and we shall be carried safely through them. On we went till we found ourselves among a chaos of mountains, separated by ravines so deep that the eye could scarcely distinguish the rapid streams which found their way below. On one side rose into the clear blue sky the majestic summit of Chimborazo, while other peaked and round-topped mountains reared their heads proudly around. At length the summit of the sierra was reached, and our mules commenced a descent into the valley, drawing their legs together and sliding down with fearful velocity. I had bean anxious before, I was doubly so now; but the animals with wonderful sagacity kept the centre of the path, and in time I lost all sensation of fear, and could admire the beautiful scenery.
The tambos, or road-side inns, we stopped at were mostly huts of the rudest kind, with mud walls and floors, kept by Indians, and dirty in the extreme. The entertainment provided for us was boiled chicken and potato-soup, called in the mountains _locro_. Wooden spoons were served to enable us to ladle up the soup, but our fingers had to be used for the chicken, instead of knives and forks.
We seldom had an opportunity while on mule-back of exchanging thoughts except at the top of our voices, as in most places we were compelled to travel in Indian file, one following the other. We were once more ascending the steep side of the mountain, when, on rounding a point, we saw coming towards us a single traveller. As he caught sight of us he stopped his mule, and made signs for us to come on toward the spot where the greater width of the road would allow us to pa.s.s him. As we got up to him I saw that he was a negro, dressed in the usual poncho and broad-brimmed hat of the traveller in the Andes. Don Jose, John, and Arthur had ridden by, when the stranger's eye fell on Maria.
”It must be, after all!” I heard him exclaim in Spanish. ”Maria! yes, it is you! Si, _si_, and I rejoice greatly.”
”And you are Domingos; I am sure you are,” exclaimed Maria.
”Yes, that is true,” answered the old man. ”I have come expressly to find you. I have brought bad news; but it might be worse, so be not alarmed.”
”What is it?” I asked eagerly. ”Are my father, or mother, or sister ill?”
”No; they are all well,” said Domingos; ”but sad events have occurred at Quito. There has been a great disturbance--a revolution--no new thing unhappily; and your father's house has been burned down, and they have had to fly, and try to escape from the country. They are safe by this time, I hope. I came on to conduct you to them. I have been riding fast to try and meet you to prevent you taking the direct road to Quito.
A body of troops are marching along the road, and if you were to fall into their hands you would be ill-treated. We will descend some distance by the way you have come, and take shelter in yonder forest which clothes the side of the mountain. We shall be safe there, and I doubt not obtain shelter in one of the huts of the chinchona gatherers.”
Domingos had given me this account in a few hurried words. I instantly called to the rest of our party who were ahead, and we were all soon collected in a nook in the side of the mountain, where we held a consultation as to what should be done. We quickly agreed to follow the advice of Domingos. Don Jose was greatly agitated at hearing what had occurred.
”They would treat me with but scant ceremony, were I to fall into their hands,” he observed; ”and I am afraid that you would suffer also were I to be found in your company. However, we may easily escape in the forest should any search be made for us, and therefore let us lose no time in seeking its shelter.”
While he was speaking, I caught sight of some figures high up the mountain, at a point round which the path wound its way. I pointed them out to Domingos.
”They are the soldiers,” he exclaimed; ”I see the glitter of their arms!
We have no time to lose. Move on, my friends, move on! If we were overtaken it would fare hard with us.”
Don Jose, who had also been looking towards the point, made us a sign to follow, and rapidly led the way down the side of the mountain, our native muleteers being evidently as anxious to avoid the soldiers as we were. The Indians had, it appeared, taken an active part in the insurrection which had just broken out, and our guides knew, therefore, that, should they be caught, the party in power would very likely wreak their vengeance on their heads.
We descended for a considerable distance along the path by which we had come. Occasionally looking back, I caught sight of the troops as they wound their way in a thin column down the mountain. We, however, appeared to be keeping well ahead of them; and I hoped that our small party might have escaped observation. At length Don Jose stopped, and getting off his mule, surveyed the side of the hill which sloped away below us. Coming back, he took the bridle of his mule, and made it leap off the path on one side on to what appeared a mere ledge of rock.
”Come on,” he shouted; ”I will show you the way; but you must all dismount and follow the mules on foot.” We accordingly got off our animals, which were made to leap down to the ledge below us, and willingly followed the first mule, which Don Jose was leading. John and I took charge of Ellen, while Domingos helped Maria along. The path was very narrow and steep, but where the mules had gone we had little doubt that we could follow. In a short time we found ourselves descending by a zig-zag path among trees which grew out of the side of the mountain, here and there huge blocks of rock projecting among them. Thus we went on for a considerable distance. Once when we stopped I looked upwards, and caught sight of the head of the column of troops just as they were reaching the very place we had left. At length we reached the bottom of the valley, through which a stream went foaming and roaring downwards over a rocky bed. The mountains rose up on either side, completely surrounding us. ”This stream will be a safe guide,” observed Don Jose; ”and if we proceed along its banks, we shall reach a spot where we can remain concealed even should a whole regiment come in search of us.” We proceeded on foot some distance, the active mules leaping from rock to rock, while we scrambled on after them. Sometimes we could with difficulty get round the rugged points at the foot of which the stream forced its way, while the cliffs towered up high above our heads. Here and there we caught sight of the snowy pinnacles of the mountains rising towards the sky. At length we emerged into a more open valley, and were once more able to mount our mules. We now entered the forest. Don Jose led the way by a path which was scarcely perceptible. I observed here and there notches on the barks of the trees, which I concluded served to guide him. Through an opening in the trees I saw the sun setting towards the valley below us; and had I not possessed great confidence in our conductor, I should have been afraid that we were about to be benighted. Directly afterwards we entered a thicker part of the forest.
Often it was with difficulty we could see our way amid the dense foliage. Don Jose, however, did not hesitate. After proceeding for some distance, the sound of a woodman's axe reached our ears, and we saw through an opening ahead several persons engaged cutting away at the vines which had prevented the tall tree they had just hewn down from reaching the ground. A little way beyond was a hut, and in its neighbourhood several persons were at work. ”These are my friends,”
said Don Jose, ”and they will willingly afford us shelter for the night, and protect us to the best of their power.”
While he was speaking, the man who appeared to be the director of the party came forward and greeted him. A short conversation ensued.
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