"The arrieros do not wash their hands or faces from the beginning to the end of a journey; I had been strongly advised to follow their example, and was warned that I would suffer if I did otherwise. I dipped my hands in the warm water, and then yielded to the temptation to wash them; I was paid for my rashness by one of the worst cases of chapped hands I ever experienced. I retained the impurity of my face, and on reaching Santa Rosa my complexion was darker than that of any of my peons, and soiled enough for a street gamin of New York.
"From the Inca's Bridge we ascended the valley of the Cuevos River for some distance, and then began a steep ascent. It was a steady struggle, and as we rose higher and higher I could see it was very trying to the strength of our mules. They panted for breath, and after a few minutes' exertion it was necessary for them to take a rest of nearly equal length. At Mendoza, and also in the lower country and on the table-land, I had observed that the arrieros and peons were very cruel to their animals, belaboring them severely for their insubordination, and calling them a great many hard names. But in the dangerous parts of the journey the whole state of affairs was changed. The mules were docile, and quite the reverse of obstinate, while the drivers were models of gentleness. They used neither whip nor spur, but spoke softly, and permitted the animals to suit themselves in going on or resting. For a good deal of the way our advance was very slow.
"We stopped frequently, for five or ten minutes at a time; at noon we halted for an hour where there were a few shrubs on which the mules could nibble, but nothing which would make a satisfactory meal. We passed the night—the third of the journey—in a casucha, which Federico said was two thousand feet below the summit of the pass. The wind blew fiercely, and made the casucha, doorless though it was, preferable to the open air. I ordered the peons to clear it of dust and rubbish, and we spread our beds on the floor; we got along fairly well, and were up early enough to be off as soon as daylight permitted us to see the road. It wasn't a place for late sleeping, and a snow-squall that came on during the night added to our discomfort. It was only a squall though, not a storm, and did no real harm.
A VICTIM OF THE STORM.
"Near our camping-place there were many skulls and skeletons of cattle; Federico said they were the remains of a large drove which were caught in a storm and perished here on their way to Chili. The great perils of the mountain passage are in the snow-storms, which sometimes detain the traveller for weeks in one spot. They rise suddenly, and the experienced mountaineers cannot be tempted to venture out when such storms are liable to come.
"From here to the summit the road was like a series of zigzags directly up the side of the mountain. It was trying to the nerves to look down, and I soon found the best thing was to fix my gaze on the top of the mountain, or to the first visible angle of the path above me, and keep it there. At times we ascended at an angle of forty degrees, and I am not sure but that it was sometimes forty-five or fifty degrees. Certainly I have never climbed a steeper road, and never want to do so.
"Hurrah! here we are at the top. We can toss a stone into Chili with one hand and into the Argentine Republic with the other. We are more than two miles in the air, and as we look away to the westward we can see the dark mass of the Pacific Ocean forming the curving rim of the horizon.
"We are at the crest of the Andes, and the South American continent is at our feet."