I remembered this conversation in after-days, when Uncle Richard showed how fully he kept up to the principles he professed, and Dona Maria proved herself to be a true and faithful wife.
After Uncle Richard had transacted some business, we set off on our expedition, mounted on mules, for the road we had to traverse was rough and uneven in the extreme. We had several small rivers to cross, which, in consequence of the storm of the preceding day, had become torrents, and almost carried our mules off their legs. The beds of the streams, too, were full of large stones, which had fallen down from the mountains. In these torrents swimming is of no avail, as the water rushes on with irresistible force, carrying everything before it. Sometimes in the descent of the hills the mules sat on their haunches, gliding down with their fore-feet stretched out in the most scientific fashion.
At length, sliding down a steep descent, we arrived at the hot spring, which issues from an aperture about three feet in diameter, at the bottom of the valley—the water bubbling up very much like that in a boiling pot. Around the brink of the aperture is an incrustation of brimstone, of a light colour, from which we broke off several pieces and carried them away. The dominie put in his finger to test the heat of the water, but drew it out again pretty quickly.
“You will not find me doing that a second time!” he exclaimed, as he put his scalded finger into his mouth to cool it.
We had brought some eggs, which were boiled hard in little more than three minutes.
Mr Laffan having carried away some of the water, afterwards analysed it, and found it to be composed of sulphur and salt. On being exposed to the sun, the sulphur evaporated, and left pure white salt fit for use.
After leaving the spring, we continued some way further towards the Rio Vinaigre, or Vinegar River. On our road we passed several Indian huts perched on the summits of precipices which appeared perfectly inaccessible; but, of course, there were narrow paths by which the inhabitants could climb up to their abodes. They naturally delight in these gloomy and solitary situations, and had sufficient reasons for selecting them: for they were here free from the attacks of wild beasts or serpents, and also from their cruel masters the Spaniards, who were accustomed to drag them away to work in the mines, to build fortifications, or to serve in the ranks of their armies.
Dismounting, we climbed up a zig-zag path, to pay a visit to one of these Indian abodes which was less difficult to reach than the rest, although a couple of well-armed men, supplied with a store of rocks, could from the summit have kept a whole army at bay. The hut was the abode of an old Indian, the descendant of the chief of a once powerful tribe. We found him leaning against the sunny side of his house, and holding on to a long staff with which he supported himself. He was dressed in a large broad-brimmed hat, a poncho over his shoulders, and sandals on his feet. His projecting, dropping lower jaw exhibited the few decayed teeth he had in his head, which, with his lustreless eyes, made him look the very picture of decrepitude. He brightened up and rose, however, as he saw Uncle Richard,—with whom he was acquainted, and who had frequently shown him kindness,—and welcomed us to his abode.
The thatched hut was diminutive, and full of smoke, as there was but one small hole in the roof by which it could escape. Some distance behind it, and separated by a wide chasm, over which a bamboo bridge had been thrown, was a wide level space, with mountains rising above it, on which sheep and goats were feeding—the fields fenced round by a shrub called el lechero, or milk-tree, which derives its name from a white liquid oozing out of it when a branch is broken off. This liquid, however, is sharp and caustic. The sticks, about six feet in height, throw out young shoots like the osier, and when pruned become very thick, and form an excellent fence. Within the enclosure were growing patches of wheat, potatoes, and Indian corn, as also the yuca root, from the flour of which palatable cakes are formed. This mountain
