Many of the Indians in the neighborhood of Cerro de Pasco, especially those who dwell in the Puna, in the direction of Cacas, infest the roads for the purpose of plunder. They conceal themselves behind the rocks, where they lie in wait for travellers, whom they severely wound, and sometimes even kill, by stones hurled from their slings. When great boyas occur in the mines of the Cerro, these roads are so unsafe that it is not prudent to travel, except in well-armed parties. The solitary traveller who seeks a night's lodging in one of the Puna huts, exposes himself to great peril; for the host not unfrequently assassinates his sleeping guest. Nor is there much greater security in villages, such as Junin and Carhuamayo. Only a few years ago, the bodies of three travellers were found in the house of the Alcalde of Junin, the principal authority in the village. The travellers had sought shelter for the night, and were inhumanly murdered. Every year persons known to have been travelling in these parts, mysteriously disappear, and there is every reason to believe they have been murdered by the Indians. Many of these Indians are mine laborers, who, for their incorrigible turpitude, have been banished from the Cerro, and who live by pillage.
I will close this chapter with a brief description of four-and-twenty hours which I passed during a journey in the wildest part of the Puna region.
On the 12th of January, 1840, having passed the night in the hut of a Puna shepherd, I awoke next morning at day-break. The sun was just beginning to cast a light tinge of red on the snow-capped tops of the Cordillera. Through the aperture in the roof of the hut, which served the purpose of a chimney, there penetrated a feeble light, just sufficient to show the misery and poverty that prevailed in the interior of the habitation. I rose from the resting-place on which, only a few hours previously, I had stretched myself exhausted by cold and fatigue, and raising the cow-hide, which closed the doorway of the hut, I crept out to make preparations for the continuance of my journey.
I saddled my mule, and put into one of the saddle-bags a small supply of food. Whilst I was thus engaged, one of those fierce little dogs which are domiciled in every Indian hut, slily watched my movements; and though he had rested at the foot of my bed during the night, yet he was only prevented, by the repeated threats of his master, from making an attack upon me. My Indian host handed me my gun; I paid for my night's lodging by a few reals and some paper cigars; and having asked him to direct me on my way, I rode off whilst he was expressing his gratitude, and his kind wishes in the words, "Dios lo pague!"
The sky was overhung by a thick mist, and the snow which had fallen during the night covered the ground as far as the eye could reach. On my way I met an old Indian woman driving her sheep. The bleating flock moved slowly on, leaving a deep furrow in the snow, and seeming impatient till the genial sun should dispel the mist and dissolve the white covering which overspread their scanty pasture. A little further on I met the son of this same Indian shepherdess. He and his dog were busily engaged in catching partridges, destined to be sold on the following Sunday, in the nearest village.
My road lay along a gentle acclivity, interspersed with rocks and swamps, which often obliged me to make wide detours. The swamps (or as the natives call them, Attoladeros) are dangerous enemies to travellers in the Puna, who, with their horses and mules, sometimes sink into them and perish. Even in the most open parts of the country it is not easy to discern the swamps, and the ground often sinks beneath the rider where he least expects it. At length the sun began to disperse the mist, and the snow gradually melted beneath his burning rays. Inspired with new vigor, I took a survey of the wild solitude around me. I was now on one of the level heights, about 14,000 feet above the sea. On both sides arose the high Cordillera summits crowned with eternal ice; detached peaks here and there towering to the skies. Behind me lay, deep and deeper, the dark valleys of the lower mountain regions, which, with the scarcely discernible Indian villages, receded in the distance, till they blended with the line of the horizon. Before me stretched the immeasurable extent of the level heights, at intervals broken by ridges of hills. It seemed as though here, in the snow plains of the Cordillera, Nature had breathed out her last breath. Here life and death meet together as it were to maintain the eternal struggle between being and annihilation.
How little life had the sun yet wakened around me! The dull yellow Puna grass, scarcely the length of one's finger, blended its tint with the greenish hue of the glaciers. Advancing further on my onward course, how joyfully I greeted as old acquaintance the purple gentiana and the brown calceolaria! With what pleasure I counted the yellow blossoms of the echino-cactus! and presently the sight of the ananas-cactus pictured in my mind all the luxuriance of the primeval forests. These cacti were growing amidst rushes and mosses and syngeneses, which the frost had changed to a rusty brown hue. Not a butterfly fluttered in the rarefied atmosphere; no fly nor winged insect of any kind was discernible. A beetle or a toad creeping from their holes, or a lizard warming himself in the sun, are all that reward the search of the naturalist.
As I journeyed onward, animate life awakened in rich variety around me. Birds, few in species, but numerous in individuals, everywhere met my view. Herds of vicuñas approached me with curious gaze, and then on a sudden fled with the swiftness of the wind. In the distance I observed stately groups of huanacus turning cautiously to look at me, and then passing on. The Puna stag (tarush) slowly advanced from his lair in the mountain recesses, and fixed on me his large, black, wondering eyes; whilst the nimble rock rabbits (viscachas) playfully disported and nibbled the scanty herbage growing in the mountain crevices.
I had wandered for some hours admiring the varieties of life in this peculiar alpine region, when I stumbled against a dead mule. The poor animal had probably sunk beneath his burthen, and had been left by his driver to perish of cold and hunger. My presence startled three voracious condors, which were feeding on the dead carcass. These kings of the air proudly shook their crowned heads, and darted at me furious glances with their blood-red eyes. Two of them rose on their giant wings, and in narrowing circles hovered threateningly above my head, whilst the third, croaking fiercely, kept guard over the booty. I cocked my gun in readiness for defence, and cautiously rode past the menacing group, without the least desire of further disturbing their banquet. These condors were the only hostile animals I encountered in this part of the Puna.
It was now two o'clock in the afternoon, and I had ridden on a continuous though gradual ascent since sunrise. My panting mule slackened his pace, and seemed unwilling to mount a rather steep ascent which we had now arrived at. To relieve him I dismounted, and began walking at a rapid pace. But I soon felt the influence of the rarefied atmosphere, and I experienced an oppressive sensation which I had never known before. I stood still for a few moments to recover myself, and then tried to advance; but an indescribable oppression overcame me. My heart throbbed audibly; my breathing was short and interrupted. A world's weight seemed to lie upon my chest; my lips swelled and burst; the capillary vessels of my eyelids gave way, and blood flowed from them. In a few moments my senses began to leave me. I could neither see, hear, nor feel distinctly. A grey mist floated before my eyes, and I felt myself involved in that struggle between life and death which, a short time before, I fancied I could discern on the face of nature. Had all the riches of earth, or the glories of heaven, awaited me a hundred feet higher, I could not have stretched out my hand towards them.