"Never mind, my friend," continued Glenarvan; "where the herds of the Indians pass, we can also; and, since this will keep us in our course, let us start for the pass of Antuco."
The signal for departure was immediately given, and they entered the valley of Los Lejos between great masses of crystalized limestone, and ascended a very gradual slope. Towards noon they had to pass around the shores of a small lake, the picturesque reservoir of all the neighboring streams which flowed into it.
Above the lake extended vast "llanos," lofty plains, covered with grass, where the herds of the Indians grazed. Then they came upon a swamp which extended to the south and north, but which the instinct of the mules enabled them to avoid. Soon Fort Ballenare appeared on a rocky peak which it crowned with its dismantled walls. The ascent had already become abrupt and stony, and the pebbles, loosened by the hoofs of the mules, rolled under their feet in a rattling torrent.
The road now became difficult, and even perilous. The steepness increased, the walls on either side approached each other more and more, while the precipices yawned frightfully. The mules advanced cautiously in single file, with their noses to the ground, scenting the way.
Now and then, at a sudden turn, the madrina disappeared, and the little caravan was then guided by the distant tinkling of her bell. Sometimes, too, the capricious windings of the path would bend the column into two parallel lines, and the catapaz could talk to the peons, while a crevasse, scarcely two fathoms wide, but two hundred deep, formed an impassable abyss between them.
Under these conditions it was difficult to distinguish the course. The almost incessant action of subterranean and volcanic agency changes the road, and the landmarks are never the same. Therefore the catapaz hesitated, stopped, looked about him, examined the form of the rocks, and searched on the crumbling stones for the tracks of Indians.
Glenarvan followed in the steps of his guide. He perceived, he felt, his embarrassment, increasing with the difficulties of the way. He did not dare to question him, but thought that it was better to trust to the instinct of the muleteers and mules.
For an hour longer the catapaz wandered at a venture, but always seeking the more elevated parts of the mountain. At last he was forced to stop short. They were at the bottom of a narrow valley,—one of those ravines that the Indians call "quebradas." A perpendicular wall of porphyry barred their exit.
CLIMBING A MOUNTAIN.