Incaland / A Story of Adventure in the Interior of Peru and the Closing Chapters of the War with Chile

by Claude H. Wetmore

“I suppose we have all been careless,” said Hope-Jones. “Back in the sierra there was no animal life, except the llama and a few goats; we are in the Montaña now and it’s different. However, let’s change the subject and have breakfast.”

The fire was lighted, another venison steak was cooked, and with it they ate the last of the corn bread. After breakfast Ferguson set to work on the deer, cutting the flesh into strips, and while he was doing this Hope-Jones and Harvey, following his direction, built a little smoke-house with three boughs and started a slow fire within. Later the strips of flesh were hung on pieces of twine that had been stretched across the top, and the place was closed, except for a small opening, through which the fire could be replenished during the day. After this the three went to the brook side and washed such clothing as was necessary, which was hung on bushes to dry.

The noonday meal consisted of fried eggs and cold venison; then, after tending the fire in the smoke-house once more, the three lay down for a siesta. The afternoon was quite warm, the drone of insects could be heard, and they had a refreshing sleep for two hours.

But the sun was not to set without further adventure, which, like that of the morning, brought in its train a lesson to the three who were unaccustomed to the wilds of the Peruvian interior. Harvey, who was the first to awaken, believed that he might find some wild fruit in a clump of trees which grew about a quarter of a mile to the east, and so he left the camp at three o’clock and soon crossed the open space. He found himself in a little grove, the size of that in which the tent was pitched. But the trees, which had appeared different at a distance, were the same, and, disappointed, he was about to return, when his attention was attracted by a purring sound, like that made by kittens when their backs are stroked; and looking down he saw, almost beneath his feet, three little animals that were at play, catching each other with their paws by the tails and ears, and rolling over and over. They were not much taller than kittens, but were more plump, and their bodies were broader. The hair was a brownish yellow, spotted with brown of a deeper tint, and their little tails were ringed with the same color.

The boy watched them a few minutes, then thinking what a surprise he could give Hope-Jones and Ferguson, he lifted one in his arms. It was quite heavy and gave forth a peculiar whine when taken from its companions. Harvey held it close and started back to the camp, walking briskly.

He had gone about a hundred yards when there came from behind him a hideous howl that made his heart jump into his throat and his hair stand on end, while chill after chill passed down his spinal column. Glancing over his shoulder he saw an animal bounding after him, mouth wide open and foam dropping from yellow fangs. It was the size of a lion. Giving a scream, the boy started toward camp at a speed he had never equalled. For a few seconds he was so dizzy from fright that he seemed to be floating in air. Every muscle was stretched to its utmost, and he bent far forward, calling at the top of his voice, in the hope that his companions might hear.

Another awful howl sounded, this time nearer, and he could hear the footfalls of the animal close behind; the next second he could hear it panting, and then, just as he felt that the next breath would be his last, reason came to him, and he dropped the little animal which, without thinking, he had held tight in his arms.

The instant he did so the footfalls ceased and the panting grew less distinct. He cast a swift glance over his shoulder and saw that the animal had stopped beside her cub and was walking round and round the little yellow creature and licking it. The sight gave him hope, and he ran on toward the camp, ran as he had not even when that terrible breathing was so close, for then fear had partly benumbed him and at times he had staggered.

He was halfway between the groves when the animal’s cry sounded again and acted on him like the spur on a horse. He glanced back. The creature had left her cub.

“Perhaps she thinks I have another one of her pups,” was the thought that flashed through Harvey’s mind, and the inspiration came to dash his hat to the ground, which he did, and a few seconds later he looked back over his shoulder once more. Yes, the animal had stopped, but only for an instant, to sniff the piece of woollen, and then had bounded forward.