Since writing the above I have been reading Prof. Bandelier’s remarkable book, “The Islands of Titicaca and Koati,” and am glad to notice that he says, p. 27: “The conclusion is reached that the Indian population, of that district (Chucuito) at least, has not at all diminished since the early times of Spanish colonization, but has rather increased. It shows how unjustified is the hue and cry about extermination of the natives of Peru by the Spaniards. I could easily furnish more examples of the kind from all over Peru and Bolivia.”
It is pleasant to have my amateurish opinions substantiated so unexpectedly and from such a high authority.
In the valleys above Talavera there was abundant pasturage and we saw many flocks of sheep and herds of cattle. Some of the sheep had very long curly horns, reminding one of the Rocky Mountain
goats, while others were distinguished by having four horns instead of two. From Talavera the road turned northward and followed for some distance the valley of the Andahuaylas River, then crossed it and climbed out of the valley, passed the ruins of a tambo at a place called Monobamba, and surmounted an exceedingly bleak plateau, a veritable paramo bravo where the barometer showed an elevation of 14,500 feet. The neighboring hills, the summits of the Andes, were covered with snow. More snow began to fall before we left the paramo.
The descent to Chincheros was particularly difficult owing to the fact that a little mountain torrent, usually easy to ford, had become very much swollen. Furthermore, the mud was so deep in places that we should have found it impossible to proceed had it not been for our excellent guide, the Gobernador of Talavera, who knew how to avoid the worst places and was able to pilot us across stretches of treacherous pasture-land where the soggy soil barely sustained the weight of our animals.
It was a long forty-mile ride. The Gobernador of Chincheros, who had come out, with a dozen of his friends, to meet us two miles from his town, had been waiting in the shelter of a hut for more than an hour before we appeared. Nevertheless our tardy arrival in no wise interfered with their welcome, and the long wait had not even induced them to make any lighter the load of the Indian servant who had brought on foot a basket-load of bottled beer and coñac. We had learned by this time, from sad experience, that our stomachs, well emptied by a long day in the saddle, would rebel at being treated to fire-water even though it was “the custom of the country.” Although a refusal would have been misunderstood, no objection was offered to the fact that we merely touched the fiery draft and did not drain the glass. With the kindly escort was an officer who had been sent all the way from Ayacucho bearing a letter of welcome from the Prefect of that department, with orders to attend to our comforts on the way. We felt as though we were in the hands of our friends, but at the same time we were not prepared for what was to follow.
After paddling painfully along for a mile or so through awful mud and slush, we came to a roadside inn whose proprietor had stretched a line of flags across the road and erected a primitive framework for them. As it was late in the afternoon, we did not tarry long to return his courteous greetings but trotted on down the valley. A sudden turn in the road brought us into view of a charmingly situated town. Deep green valleys, high mountains, and pleasant trees gave a fine setting to picturesque Chincheros with its little old church and its red-tiled roofed houses. We had to cross a stone bridge just before entering the town, and here we were met by an Indian bearing on a pole an enormous flag. Although it had less than twenty stars and only eight stripes, it was unmistakably intended to be “Old Glory.” Welcoming us with a loud shout, the bearer turned about and marched at the head of our cavalcade. Flags fluttered from every house. The streets were thronged with people, many of whom showered us with rose-leaves! As we entered the plaza, the church bells, which had been ringing ever since we rounded the turn in the road, redoubled their noise; the shouts increased, and we were almost carried from our horses on the shoulders of the crowd. We realized perfectly the spirit with which our arrival was celebrated, and knew that it was merely an expression of cordial goodwill toward the United States, arising from a mistaken idea that we were the official personification of that great country; but it was all we could do to keep our faces straight.
After we were finally lodged in a comfortable room belonging to the little local club, we thought the crowd would disperse. Not at all. Nothing would satisfy them but that one of us should make a speech which, however feebly delivered, was received with great enthusiasm. More rose-petals were thrown, the bells were rung again, the flags waved, the people cheered, and we were made to know what it must be like to be a returning military chief and to hear the band play “Lo the Conquering Hero Comes!”