At present, that railway, begun many years ago, goes from Lima to Oroya and thence south to Huancayo which is nearly fifty miles from Yscuchaca. It is proposed now to continue it from Huancayo to Yscuchaca and thence due south to Huancavelica where there are mines of quicksilver and copper. Eventually it will form one of the links in the chain of the Pan-American Railway.
Our mules were pretty tired and so were we, but when one is on the home stretch it is easy to travel from early to late. We rose before five o’clock. Our road first crossed the Mantaro, ascended the left bank of the stream for several miles, passed several mineral springs, and then climbed out of the narrowing cañon up toward the village of Acostambo. At one place where the road had been cut through what looked like a fossil bed, I was so fortunate as to find, in situ, a fossil bivalve. Professor Charles Schuchert of Yale University has been so good as to identify it for me as allorisma subcuneata. It has been found also in Brazil. Its geological horizon, the upper carboniferous, is widely distributed in South America and is well known about Lake Titicaca. The location of this fossil here may indicate the presence in this vicinity of coal-beds. If any could be found, it would be the greatest benefit, not only to the railway that hopes some day to pass through this valley, but also to the copper-smelters in the vicinity. As a matter of fact, Peru does not need the coal for power; these great and rapidly flowing rivers like the Mantaro, the Pampas, and the Apurimac offer an abundant water-power that, transformed into electricity, would run all the railroads and factories that could possibly be crowded into Peru.
Personally, I do not believe in the construction of steam railroads in this country. The difficulties of overcoming steep grades are serious, and the cost of building is necessarily all out of proportion to the traffic that is likely to be developed. I do believe, however, that the future of Peru depends upon the development of her water-power and the building of light electric railways that would be sufficient to handle economically the product of the mines and to accommodate passengers. If the region were one where extensive crops could be cultivated and a large amount of heavy freight developed, this argument would not hold. Under the circumstances, however, I believe that it is a much safer investment for capital and a much more practical work for the government to develop electric traction.
At Acostambo, a town of perhaps two thousand inhabitants, we tried to buy something to eat for lunch, but there was nothing to be had except some dough cakes that had been “cooked” in cold ashes. After passing through two or three small villages where most of the Indians seemed to be in a state of intoxication, we crossed the Cordillera Marcavalle and found ourselves on the well-travelled road to Pampas. Before us, spread out in a magnificent panorama, the fertile, densely populated valley of Jauja. Watered by the Upper Mantaro River and its affluents, there are over fifty villages, towns, and cities, clustered together in this rich plain. Immediately ahead lay four towns almost exactly in a straight line and less than ten miles apart: Pucará, where we stopped long enough to buy some parched corn and freshly roasted pork for supper, Sapallauga, Punta, and Huancayo. Instead of the desolate region in which we had passed most of yesterday, we were now in one of the most thickly populated parts of Peru, and felt as though we were back again in civilization. This sensation was increased when we began to clatter down the long street of Huancayo. It seemed like an age before we finally reached the business centre of the city at 9 P.M. and surrendered ourselves into the hands of a courteous Austrian hotel proprietor.
We had spent nearly fourteen hours in the saddle. This was quite forgotten when we learned to our delight that there was to be a train for Oroya the next day, for the first time in two weeks.
We had heard that the train from Huancayo left usually on Sundays, so we had promised our soldiers a sovereign apiece if they would see to it that we reached Huancayo by Saturday night. As they had to accompany the slow-moving pack animals, they did not arrive themselves until the next morning, somewhat in fear lest they had lost their promised reward. When they were assured, however, that we had caught our train, and when they had received their gold and what was left of our kitchen utensils and supplies, their delight knew no bounds, and they were constrained to embrace us in truly oriental fashion.
Sunday morning is a great event in Huancayo. Before sunrise, thousands of Indians come in from the surrounding towns and villages for the weekly Fair. Two large plazas are crowded with vendors of every conceivable kind of merchandise: oxen and mules raised nearby, toys “made in Germany,” pottery and ponchos made in Huancayo, and beer made in Milwaukee. Overflowing from the crowded plazas the Fair extends for nearly a mile through the main street of the city. The picturesque Indians in their brilliantly colored ponchos, thronging the streets and alternately buying and selling their wares, offer a field for diversion that no one should miss who reaches Lima.
Like the Mexican Indians, so vividly depicted by Mr. Kirkham in his artistic “Mexican Trails,” there are many among the throng who will “sell a hen, later to bargain for a sombrero, presently to go upon their knees within the church yonder, candle in hand; lastly to lie by the roadside, overfull of pulque and oblivious of this world, or the next.”
The type is the same whether it be seen on a Sunday in the Andes of Mexico, Peru, or Colombia. Only here it is chicha that is the favorite beverage instead of pulque.
The long expected train was due to arrive at noon and “to leave soon afterwards.” The platform and the newly constructed booths near the little corrugated-iron station were crowded for hours by