If the purple mists of oblivion could be dispelled and we had a peep of the far bygone past, we should first find this country peopled by a race called Quitus; subjects of a king, but altogether lawless and independent, for the simple reason that communications betwixt tribe and tribe were few and far between, as in many cases were the tribes themselves. If they kept touch with each other it was through traditions, or through the more tangible instrumentality of knife or spear or poisoned dart.
Thus they may have lived and died for thousands of years, then we read of the first invasion. For some peoples dwelling far to the south had advanced further in civilization than the poor Quitus, with the inevitable result—a desire for conquest, bloodshed, and rapine.
They were called Karans, and made their warlike descent upon the coast in armed boats or rafts. These Karans went to work in the usual way with invaders of the past—they slew the men and old of both sexes, enslaving the women and the girls and boys. Having once conquered the country they kept it, just as we Britons would have done, only we use the more refined expression “annexation.”
These Karans had a fine time of it after this. The country was such a wild and glorious one; no need to work or do anything, except hunt and fish and enjoy life. They called their kings “Shyris,” though there certainly was very little shyness about any of them. As these kings waxed richer and richer they grew more and more independent, not to say insolent, till their fame attracted the attention and inflamed the ambition of a great Inca called Tupac Yupanqui. Then war began in earnest, and lasted till the death of this King Tupac. There was a short lull after that; but, the days of his mourning being over, the dead monarch’s son Huayna-Kapak, a still more daring warrior than his father, continued the terrible warfare, and at length in a great battle conquered the Karans and slew their last Shyri. Well, the Karans were conquered; but they did not know it, for they simply made the dear king’s daughter their queen and continued to fight under her.
Huayna-Kapak found he had all his work cut out, and that it would take him an age to kill all these warlike Karans, who were here, there, and everywhere at the same time. So for a time he was nonplussed. But lo! to his tent one day came an emissary from the enemy. He had not come to sue for peace; very far from it—only for a truce during the flood season, and that the dead might be properly interred on both sides.
Perhaps Kapak was a Scotchman, anyhow he was very canny. It would have been easy enough for him to have deprived this emissary of his head, but it would not have been diplomacy. Instead of taking his head or even his scalp he treated him very kindly and asked him as many questions as possible, the emissary in return telling him as many lies as he could think of. But there was one thing on which this Karan was extremely enthusiastic, namely, the beauty and accomplishments of the young queen. She was more lovely and radiant than the most beautiful bird in the forest, and she was as brave as a jaguar. Well, the canny Inca went to bed and dreamt about all the Karan had told him, and he was not any better when he came to breakfast next morning—he was in love. Why should we fight against so charming a queen? It would be easier to conquer the Karans by marrying her. So an interview was arranged and a marriage next, and this bold but love-smitten Inca never went back—another proof, I think, that he must have been of Scotch descent—but dwelt in Quitu or Ecuador and ruled over his people for forty years.
After his death the kingdom became divided into two, for the king left one part of it, namely Cusco, to Huascar, half-brother to Atchualpa, the king’s son by his Shyri queen, the latter falling heir to Quitu proper.
Huascar was a quarrelsome fellow, and finally he declared war on his half-brother, but was defeated and thrown into prison. Poor Atchualpa some time after this fell a victim to treachery, his retainers were brutally massacred and he himself strangled.
After this the government of Ecuador became pretty much of a muddle. A chief called Rumiñagui made himself King of Quitu first, but the Spaniards determined to put him down. He was beaten in battle after battle, and on getting nearer to the capital this reckless and cruel chief massacred the “virgins of the sun” and burned the city. He found time to remove even all his gold and treasure, which he took with him to the wilds, burying them in a mountain, which still bears his own name. Some day a portion of this treasure, which I am told is still concealed at the base of this mighty hill, may be discovered by some adventurous boy who leaves this country with twopence-halfpenny in his pocket, and who will, after killing wild beasts innumerable, return to England and live happy ever after.
The Spaniards now came into possession of the country, and after a deal of additional wars and a great deal of massacre and bloodshed, Ecuador became a republic. This happened about sixty years ago, and ever since it has been as much a prey to rebellions and revolutions as to earthquakes, being probably less happy and contented even now than when it was governed by the easy going kings of the Shyri dynasty. The greater portion of the country east of the Andes is clad in dense forests, and inhabited by wild beasts and still wilder men. And it was into this wilderness our hero Tom was now about to penetrate.