Part 4 (2/2)
”I know your father has a great regard for him, and whatever he promises he can perform. You are indeed fortunate in meeting with him. He is a cacique, whose fathers once had great power in the country; and though deprived of his lands, he is still looked up to with respect by the natives in all parts of the country.”
”Then how comes he to be called Don Jose?” I asked.
”That is the name by which he is known to the whites, and it is the safest by which to speak of him,” answered Domingos. ”I know not if I ought to tell his real name; but you will be cautious, or he might be displeased with me.”
”Yes; do tell me,” I said; ”I am curious to know more about him.”
Domingos looked around. The person we were speaking of was still out of hearing.
”I will tell you, then,” he replied. ”His real name is Pumacagua. His father, who headed the last attempt of the Indians to gain their liberty before the revolution, when numerous tribes gathered to his standard, was defeated, made prisoner, and shot. Young Jose, our friend, after fighting bravely, escaped, and though sought for, was not discovered.
Your father had concealed him at great hazard, and afforded him shelter till better times came round. He and I were the only persons in the secret. Jose Pumacagua has, therefore, reason to be grateful to your father, besides being connected with him by the ties of blood.”
Just then Don Jose, as I will still call him, came up, and we were unable to ask further questions of Domingos. Ellen was much interested when we afterwards narrated to her what we had heard, and said that she should try and get Don Jose to tell us his adventures, as she was sure they must be very curious.
We were soon left quite alone; for the cascarilleros, having loaded themselves with the result of their labour, took their way through the forest. Our friend told us that they were carrying the bark to a village out of the forest, where it would be free from damp, and be exposed to the drying influence of the sun. When thoroughly dried it would be conveyed to the town of Guaranda, and then sent down by mules to Guayaquil. I should have mentioned that the chinchona trees surrounding us were very beautiful and graceful. They had large, broad, oval, deep green, s.h.i.+ning leaves, with white and fragrant flowers, and the bark was of a red colour. The trees varied in height from forty to sixty feet. There were other trees in the neighbourhood which looked very like them, but Don Jose showed us the difference. The nature of the bark is known by its splintery, fibrous, or corky texture. The true bark is of the former character.
Having cleaned out the hut, we made our usual arrangements for pa.s.sing the night. Don Jose and Domingos, I saw, were somewhat uneasy, and two of the men were sent out as scouts to watch the path by which we had reached the hut.
”It is well to take precautions against surprise,” observed our friend.
”However, our enemies, if they do follow us, will not travel during the night, so that we shall be able, by moving early, to have a good start of them.”
At length, two hours after sunset, the Indians returned, reporting that they had seen no one. I was awaked by hearing Don Jose's voice--”Up, friends, up! We will be on the road, and not breakfast till we reach a spot where no foe is likely to follow us.” He held a torch in his hand, by the light of which we got ready to mount. The Indians had meantime saddled the mules, which were brought round to the door of the hut.
”Follow my example,” he said, producing from a bag which he carried slung over his shoulder, under his poncho, some dried leaves. ”This will enable you to travel on for many hours without hunger, and a.s.sist in preventing the damp air of the forest from having any ill effect.”
Sitting down on the trunk of a felled tree, he placed the bag before him, and put leaf after leaf into his mouth, till he had formed a small ball. He then took out from the bag a little cake, which I have since found was composed of carbonate of potash, prepared by burning the stalk of the quinoa plant, and mixing the ashes with lime and water. The cakes thus formed are called _llipta_. The coca-bag, which he called his _chuspa_, was made of llama cloth, dyed red and blue in patterns, with woollen ta.s.sels hanging from it. His attendants followed their master's example, as did John, Arthur, and I. Domingos, however, declined doing so, and speedily prepared some chocolate for Ellen, Maria, and himself. A little time was thus occupied, and mounting, we turned our mules' heads towards the east, just as the grey light of dawn appeared above the mountain-tops, the stars still s.h.i.+ning with a calm light out of the deep blue sky above our heads, not glittering and twinkling as in northern climes. We were thus initiated by our friend in the use of the far-famed coca.
”How do you like it?” he asked.
”I find the smell of the leaf agreeable and aromatic, and now I am chewing it, it appears to give out a grateful fragrance,” I answered.
It caused, I found, a slight irritation, which somewhat excited the saliva.
”Ah! you will be enabled to go on if you wish till noon without eating, and then with a fresh supply continue on with active exercise till nightfall,” he observed. ”It is with this wonderful leaf that the running chasquis or messengers have from time immemorial been able to take their long journeys over the mountains and deserts. It must not be used to excess, or it might prove prejudicial to the health, yet in moderation it is both soothing and invigorating. It will prevent any difficulty of respiration also as you ascend the steep mountain-sides.”
The coca-plant grows, I should say, at an elevation of about 6000 feet above the level of the sea. It is a shrub from four to six feet high, the branches straight and alternate, and the leaves, in form and size, like tea-leaves. They are gathered three times a year. They are then spread out in a drying-yard and carefully dried in the sun. The dried leaf is called coca. They are afterwards packed in sacks made of banana leaves. It is most important to keep them dry, as they otherwise quickly spoil.
Daylight at length enabled us to see our way along one of the wildest and most rugged paths on which I should think it is possible for animals to proceed. Up, up we went, with a roaring torrent on one side, and a glorious view beyond of mountain above mountain, some snow-covered, others running up into sharp peaks--others, again, considerably lower, clothed even to their summits with graceful palms, whose feathery tops stood out against the sky. Sometimes we had to cross narrow chasms on the fallen stems of trees; now we arrived at a wide one, to be crossed by means of a suspension bridge, which swung frightfully from side to side. It made me giddy as I watched those who first pa.s.sed along it.
It was composed of the tough fibres of the maguey, a sort of osier of great tenacity and strength, woven into cables. Several of these cables forming the roadway were stretched over b.u.t.tresses of stone on either side of the bank, and secured to stout timbers driven into the ground beyond them. The roadway was covered with planks, and on either side was a railing of the same sort of rope as the rest of the bridge. Light as it appeared, the mules one by one were led over. We followed, not venturing to look down into the foaming torrent, rus.h.i.+ng impetuously along a hundred feet or more below us. Soon after this a ladder of rocks appeared in front of us. We were here compelled to dismount, Don Jose and John helping up Ellen, Domingos a.s.sisting Maria, Arthur and I scrambling up by ourselves while the Indians, waiting till we had reached the summit, remained behind to drive on the mules. Every instant I expected to see one of them roll over; but they climbed up more like monkeys than quadrupeds, and at length joined us on a small level spot at the summit.
”A dozen bold men might hold this pa.s.s against a thousand enemies,”
observed our friend. ”Few but our people know it, though. We will proceed yet higher, and cross the most elevated pa.s.s before we stop for breakfast, if your sister can endure hunger so long.”
”Oh yes, yes!” exclaimed Ellen. ”I would not have you delay on my account. The chocolate I took prevents me feeling any hunger, even though this pure air is calculated to give an appet.i.te.”
On and on we went, at as rapid a rate as our mules could move, upwards and upwards, the scenery if possible growing wilder and wilder at every step. Huge ma.s.ses of rock rose above our heads, with snow-topped pinnacles peeping out at each break between them. We had gone on some way further, when at a short distance on our left I saw perched on the top of a rock a huge bird, its head bent forward as if about to pounce down upon us. Presently we saw its wings expand. It was of great size, with huge claws, a pointed, powerful beak, a neck dest.i.tute of feathers, and a huge comb on its forehead. The feathers were of a glossy black hue, with a white ruff at the base of the neck.
”Do you think he will attack us?” I said to Don Jose.
He laughed. ”No; he is a coward! We can easily drive him off if he make the attempt.”
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