High Spots In The Andes Peruvian Letters Of A Mining Engineer S Wife

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HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

HIGH SPOTS IN THE
ANDES :v ' :;

Peruvian Letters of a Mining Engineer's Wife

BY
JOSEPHINE HOEPPNER WOODS

With $8 Illustrations
from Photographs

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK

1935

btf V/< 1 0f$ j ftY* JOSEPHINE HoEPPNER WOODS

Ajjf ir%lCts reserved. This book, or parts thereof, muut
flot c be teproducod in any form without permiwicm,

VKINTED W THE UNITED STATKS OF AMERICA

Dedicated to

"CLARENCE" BUT FOR WHOSE URGING AND

ENCOURAGEMENT THESE LETTERS WOULD

NOT HAVE BEEN GATHERED TOGETHER NOR

PUBLISHED

CONTENTS

CHA*TB PAGE

I. RENEWED FRIENDSHIPS 15

II. THE JOURNEY TO BOLIVIA 23

III. THE HUANCHACA MINE PULACAYO FIESTAS . 37

IV. MORE ABOUT PULACAYO THE STRIKE OUR

EXIT 59

V. LA PAZ COCHABAMBA ....... 77

VL CHOJNACOTA AMONG THE GLACIERS 95

VII, MORE ABOUT CHOJNACOTA 113

VIII. CLARENCE'S ILLNESS SUPERSTITIONSON OUR

WAY TO SANTO DOMINGO 140

IX. THE SANTO DOMINGO TRAIL 166

X, THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP 193

XI. BUTTERFLIES, MOTHS, BATS, INSECTS, SNAILS,

BIRD, SNAKES, ETC. 227

XII. MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS" .... 257

"Patience" 257

Returning to Peru After Seven Years in South

America . 266

Losing a Gold Brick 271

"Bootlegging" and Revolution . . . .274

The Big Storm 281

XIII. THE STORY OF THE SANTO DOMINGO MINE . . 287

GLOSSARY 315

INDEX 317

ILLUSTRATIONS*
Llama at Lake Huayatani Frontispiece

FACING PAGE

MoIIendo Landing 32

Potosi Hill from the Mint 33

Man Carrying Tin Cup o Bull's Blood to Sprinkle

Over Doorpost and Lintel o Mine's Mouth . . 33

High Class Chola, La Paz 48

Indian Boy Selling Candles in La Paz 48

Chuncu Indian Boys, La Merced 49

Coca Plantation, La Paz Yungas 64

Market at Huancayo Selling Chancaca 64

Aymara Indian and Llama 65

Market, Cochabamba Valley 65

Pinnacles, La Paz 80

"Alacitas," La Paz 81

Plaza Murillo (main plaza) , La Paz 9 6

Beer Wagon, La Paz 9^

Making Chufio . , . . - 97

Huancayo Market 97

Carnival Dance Near La Paz , . . ^ . . 100
Indian Dancers with Ostrich Plume Headgears, Sorata,

Near La Paz l

Making Pottery, Cochabamba Valley 101

Indian Woman Weaving Poncho *oi

* Grateful acknowledgments are made to Mr. C. S. Bell for nearly all the

photographs. .

ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING AOR

Cathedral, Copocabana, Bolivia 108

Road from Tarma to die Chancamayo Valley . , . 109

Crossing the Pass on the Road to Vlloca . . . . 116

Quimse Cruz Range, Chojnacota . u6

Chojnacota Mine .117

Mr. and Mrs. Woods on the Chojnacota Glacier . , 124

Near Lake Huayatani Returning from Monte Blanco 124

Lake Huayatani ("Resting Place of Geese") , . . 125

Plaza de Armas, Arequipa ... , . . 14,8
Near Arequipa Indian Woman with Baby on Her

Back ., ... 148

Indian Woman Spinning As She Walks 149

Main Cathedral in Cuzco , , , , 156

Harvesting Potatoes Near La Pass ...... 157

Constructing Balsa in Bolivia, Lake Titicaca . . . if>7

Sunset, Lake Titicaca . 160

Lake Titicaca Indian Men Have Just Returned from

Fishing "....,. 160

Ruins of Inca Palace on Island of the Sun, Lake

Titicaca ,161

"Temple of the Virgins/* Island o the Moon* lake

Titicaca 161

Macho River Indians Carrying Log for Santo Domingo

Mine .....'.,....., i7 (}

Huancarani End of Auto Road ,.,,.,,177

Mr* and Mrs. Woods Crossing One of the Nine Swing-
ing Bridges on the Way to Santo Domingo Mine 196

Rear of Casa Santo Domingo at Right 196

Santo Domingo Camp ,,.....,, 197

Delving for Gold in the Santo Domingo Mine , . . 197

ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING PAGE

The ''Dally Eggs" Amalgam Put in Retort, Ready

for Distilling Off the Mercury 204

The Big "Clean-up" That Paid for the Mine . . . 204

"The Mine Is Paid for!" 205

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

CHAPTER I

RENEWED FRIENDSHIPS

Santo Domingo Mine, May n, 1931.

MY VERY DEAR BYRDIE-BYRD!

I cannot quite match your hopping for joyand you hav-
ing sciatica! on receipt of my card but I could have danced
a genuine Nez Pcrcd Indian war dance, exactly like the one
we saw at Cul-de-Sac, Idaho, so many, many years ago for
I am sure that you, too, still remember that wild night ride
over those terrible roads from Clarkston, Washington, to this
annual "powwow n you, my brother Frank and I in our "one
hoss shay/ 1 oblivious of the lurchings and almost capsizings
of the phaeton, in our eagerness to see those Indians in their
feathers and war paint, beating their tom-toms, leaping in a
circle around the huge bonfire, the dancers now in the full
glare of the firelight and now in the shadow but chanting
incessantly, untiringly "whooping 'er up" for hours and
hours until we, wearied of the noise and exhausted from
merely watching the magnificently savage scene, slipped
away through the darkness and vowed we had enough of
Indian dances for that year, at least; but after I read your
good, chatty letter, I could have imitated those Nez Perc
savages most hilariously and how my feet did itch to do sol
but I was reading my mail in the same room with the
family of our Peruvian agent at Tirapata, "awfully ladylike
folks/' who would have deemed me ready for a strait-jacket
had I even begun to "whoop 'er up" as those Reservation
Indians did*

Tirapata is our railroad station, 140 miles from the mine,
and we had but that very morning returned from New York,
where we had spent nine very pleasurable weeks, and we
were OE our way to Santo Domingo after four months' ab-
sence, as we had spent ten days in Lima on the "up" trip and

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

a week on the "down**; hence this accounts for my seeming
delay in replying. We have been home only two weeks and
very busy ones have they been.

And you really want a sketch of all that has occurred since
last we saw each other. Ah! let's not, count back all these
intervening years, but you proceed to make yourself coin*
for table, for merely "hitting the high spots** will make the
narrative a long one. The last time I saw you was in Col fax
and what an open house you and your dear old deaf mother
did keep! I remember you waved at me from the porch with
your dust-cloth as T xvas coming up the hill, for you had not
yet finished the morning's "tidying up*'; Miss Pileher was on
the porch with you, both of you smiling and so happy, both
of you still a little self-conscious of the new sparkler on the
third finger of the left hand, for you were both engaged, both
very much in love, and you, especially you, clear Byrdie, were
genuinely sorry that I didn't even have a beau!

The next day I left for Pullman to teach at my Alma
Mater, the Washington State College, and you were married
very shortly afterward. I was excessively busy the next two
years, teaching German most strenuously, for I had live
classes, the majority of which had no less than sixty husky
young "farmers" to answer the roll* for, if I remember rightly,
the change from Washington Agricultural College, School of
Sciences and Experiment Station to the present Washington
State College had not yet been made. At an early faculty
meeting "Prexy" Bryan told of the sabbatical vacation ar-
rangement, whereby if one taught six summer schools with-
out pay, the teacher would be entitled to a year off on full
salary; three summer schools without pay would give a
year's vacation on half-salary, etc, I then and there decided
I would teach two summer schools and with my munificent
savings, fulfill a dream of going to Europe, a dream I had
cherished since 1 had been a freshman, when Prof. Barry had
diagrammed on the blackboard the setting of L* Arr&bi&ta, a
charming little story in French but laid in Capri, Italy*
And do dreams come true? Not only did I have the joyful
satisfaction of visiting the Blue Grotto near Capri but many
another wish has been realized.

RENEWED FRIENDSHIPS

On daddy's seventy-fifth birthday, he and I started for
Europe, going first to Germany, visiting relatives, and where
I later matriculated at the University o Berlin; at the end
of the semester, with "seven-league boots" I'll take you on
a tour through Germany, Bohemia, Austria, Italy, Egypt and
the Holy Land, "backtracking" as little as possible on our re-
turn but giving you time to catch your breath in two full weeks
in Switzerland, where, although the scenery is "breath-tak-
ingly" beautiful, yet I am inclined to think the mountains
would not be so awe-inspiring to me now, since I have spent
so many years in the high Andes. Safely delivering you to
your own fireside, I'll hurry on to meet daddy at Bremen,
from where we sailed barely in time for me to take up my new
duties at the University of Washington, for during rny vaca-
tioning, Prof. Barry had left W. S. C. and the new Head of the
German Department and I were almost sure not to "jibe."

After two happy, fully occupied years at Seattle, we went
to California just for the summer but I was persuaded to ac-
cept a position in a small mining town and here, in Tuolumne,
I met Mr. Woods and Cupid shot his dart.

I was teaching German in Alameda when we entered
the Big War but as German became decidedly out of favor
after that fateful Good Friday, I took the Civil Service ex-
amination at the close of the school year and, shortly after,
accepted a position. In the Ordnance Department at Wash-
ington, D. Cl Clarence (Mr. Woods) was doing war mineral
work with headquarters in New York and on Thanksgiving
Day after the Armistice we were married at my brother
Ernest's home in Hastings, Nebraska. I could end now by
saying that we lived happily ever after, but my life has been
so much more interesting since that happy date nearly four-
teen years ago that the real story is just beginning. Ill hurry
you through an ideal honeymoon spent in Arizona, mine
examination trips to Mexico and Honduras and bring you
with us to Los Angeles, where we are visiting my sister Tillie
and where my daddy appears to persuade us to go on a farm.

On a forty-five acre tract in the Orland, California, Irriga-
tion Project, we put in three years of unremitting toil; you,
Byrdie> have lived on a farm and know something about it

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

but we, "poor babes in the woods/' we had to learn every-
thing: to milk cows, to stack hay, to raise chickens and tur-
keys, to irrigate; to work so hard that night brought what
seemed to us but a few minutes of oblivion, in reality six

or seven hours of profound sleep, for the sun never caught
Clarence in bed in all those three years, while the chores
were rarely entirely finished before nine o'clock. Three
whole years of unceasing drudgery!

After the first year, I taught the district school as a side
issue, to help make ends meet, but those seven hours in the

schoolroom were a relief from the never-ending toil on the
farm. I would come home from school to wash the abomi-
nable separator (we had eighteen milch cows), to wash the
accumulated dishes, to feed the three hundred turkeys and
bed them, take care of the chickens and ducks; and then get
supper for daddy, Clarence and the hired man. Saturday
was baking day: twelve loaves of bread, four or six pies,
as many cakes; I washed the clothes* cleaned house and
then to town late in the afternoon with Clarence to do the
week's shopping; ironing (what little was done) after supper
and with old-fashioned sadirons, too, for then, our farm was
not equipped with electricity- Yet with all this unaccus-
tomed hard work, we never missed church and we rarely
came home without guests.

I have been told many times that I have a flair for lan-
guages but Mother Nature remained a closed book to me: I
could not see the beauty of a tomato vine for the loathsome
worm that I knew had to be eradicated; things just wouldn't
grow for me as for our neighbors, try as hard as I might; the
"wonder of growing things*' meant only backache to inc.
However, I did successfully raise turkeys and chickens but
I never did quite overcome my repugnance to handling
them^ to their inherent odors, I was constantly washing my
hands it's a wonder 1 have any hands left! But Clarence
was a dear; he did the work of three ordinary men, never
complained and, to this day, has never blamed anyone but
himself for this fiasco, has always said a mature man should
not have allowed himself to be persuaded to do something
he knew nothing whatever about. And there is no doubt we

[18]

RENEWED FRIENDSHIPS

would eventually have made good, but at what a price! Too
tired, too dulled by slavish work to take any other interest
in life than that of making a mere living!

Still, it was not all drab and sordid: we had the finest
neighbors ever, and how we did enjoy those Farm Bureau
meetings! We tried so desperately hard to make up for
lack of experience by treasuring all the "pearls of wisdom"
that flowed from the County Agent's lips and we were so
pathetically interested in the discussions. I never missed a
meeting and Clarence missed only those when he had to
"take the water." Oh, those all-night irrigatings, after a
full day's work! How exhausted he would be, yet go to
work the same morning with a smile! Our neighbors worked
as hard as we did and they, too, were nearly always cheerful-
miracles don't all belong to the dim past! But there is one
thing that this farming experience has done for us, and that
is, that the farmer has our unbounded sympathy, no matter
what class of farming it may be. Fortunately, Clarence and
I were never both discouraged at the same time; if one of
us was unduly "down in the mouth," the other found some
reason for optimism, and vice versa.

After one exceedingly warm and trying day at school, I
found a telegram or rather a notice that there was a telegram
in the town office for Clarence, in our mail box. Clarence
was making concrete for lining the ditches sweltering, sweat-
ing but smilingwhen I brought him the notice; the milk
separator, the stacked dishes, the turkeys, everything had to
wait while I, with a prayer in my heart that the telegram
would mean a way of escape from the farm, hurried in our
second-hand Ford to town. Clarence had been enrolled in
the Institute of Mining Engineers for a position ever since
we had left Arizona but he had turned down several offers
our first year on the farm because he wanted to "make good"
as a fanner but two more years of a "strong back and a weak
mind" proposition were time enough to remind us that there
were other things we could do much better, with infinitely
less effort and with immeasurably increased financial returns.
We reasoned that we could accept a job, pay for the farm

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

with our savings and then live comfortably on the farm ever

after; surely, with no encumbrances, one could live com-
fortably on a farm! But our farm is still a liability yet we
know there is money in that farm, for we have put a lot in

it! And our ideas of comfort have changed.

The telegram, as ardently hoped, at least by me, was an
offer to come to Bolivia at $300.00 per month, expense money

for the trip to be sent on acceptance. Three hundred
dollars! Why, we hadn't accumulated that much cash in all
those three back-breaking years. True, we were slowly, oh*
so slowly, finding the load a little lighter but real cash f i'

faith, those $300.00 seemed like three million to me* /
accepted before signing for the telegram and I am sure I
exceeded the speed limit in getting home. Clarence de-
liberately finished lining the ditches before coming to the
house and then there were all the chores to do before the
matter could be discussed, but there was no doubt in my
mind we were going to South America. First of all, who
would take care of the ranch? There were twenty-five or
thirty cows to dispose of, for we could not expect anyone
taking care of the ranch to work as hard as we did. Then
C. would have to precede me, for we knew nothing of the
conditions 'way down there, even if there were a suitable
place for a woman to live. But still more important, I must
finish the remaining three months of school, for I had taught
too long not to know what it meant to change teachers so
near the end of the school year.

That night we decided C. would accept, asking for a month
to arrange matters on the farm. We would ask C/s father
and mother to live on the ranch; we would sell the cows;
my daddy would go to Coif ax to live with a widowed daugh-
ter and I would come to South America as soon as a home
was ready for me. What a busy month that was! How the
time did fly! And what dreams did we not dream of our
return to the farm after the three years 1 contract had ex-
pired! This letter is entirely too long already so in my early
next, depending on the promptness of your reply, 111 write
you about <4 Our Five Years in Bolivia" to be followed by

RENEWED FRIENDSHIPS

"Gold Mining in Peru"~~a sort of serial. Sounds like break-
fast food, doesn't it?, Here's hoping my serial will give you
enough "pep" to reply promptly, even though it is not "shot
out of guns."

P.S. In rereading the paragraph about my not having a
beau, I feel impelled to add, that it was not until I went as
a "new teacher in a little town" that my romance budded;
you and Miss P. were both new teachers in small towns when
you met your fates and we both know many other cases to
substantiate this fact, so I have come to the definite con-
clusion that,

"The good Lord gives to every good woman,,
Her own little house to keep"

if and when, in hunting "pastures new," she chooses a small
town; there her chances for matrimony are increased a
hundredfold. I am passing this advice along to my un-
married nieces and friends, not as a theory but a fact, and

I always cite myself as a shining examplel

How I would have enjoyed visiting with you last summer!
Too bad I found out too late that you were In Toppenish.
One of the greatest unalloyed pleasures in life is the re-
newal of a friendship that has lain dormant and I surely
was appreciative of this pleasure when I saw Iva at Lewiston,
the same unselfish, "fly away" Iva, who loves us all but
almost never writes us; and Leah, whom I saw at Pullman,
younger looking even than when I last saw her many years
ago and even more charming; the many other friends oi
college days: "Sweet Marie," sweet as ever and just as dig-
nified as when she was a freshman; "Lovely Rose/* "Svelte
Sue/* "Gracious Grade," "Dirty Dora, she eats mud" (really
the most meticulous one of us all), "Messy Mattie," "Giddy
Gladys" (now a staid matron, mother of two) and "oodles"
of others. How It warmed the cockles of my heart to be
recognized so unhesitatingly by Colfax folks, to be enter-
tained by former pupils, whose children were now almost
of high school agel And the host of Seattle friends! Glar-

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

ence liked every one of my friends and they all seemed to
like him a sort o mutual admiration affair, and now I hope
when next we come to the "States/' we shall see you and Hal,
personally renewing our friendship of so many years*
standing.

CHAPTER II

THE JOURNEY TO BOLIVIA

Santo Domingo Mine, July 7, 1931.
DEAR BYRDIE:

I was very much pleased and flattered as well to receive
such a prompt reply to my "effusion" of "Renewed Friend-
ships/* Did I find the girls much changed? With but one
exception, practically not at all; old Father Time has dealt
gently with our "bunch'*; may he continue to do so! Each
of us married ones has "the nicest man in the whole world"
while the few unmarried ones are absorbed and happy in
their chosen professions.

Now, true to my promise, 111 begin to tell you about those
five years in Bolivia, beginning with Clarence's departure,
my preparations to go and some of the "high spots" of my
thirty-four days* "Boliviaward" journey. The short month's
time allotted to Clarence, already full, soon overflowed with
visits from relatives, who came to wish him bon voyage and
"good luck" on his outset to this far-off, vague and then
almost mysterious land of Bolivia; to say "good-by" for three
years but those three years have multiplied themselves by
three and each year has had its many pleasing (and other-
wise) adventures, all interesting and a few exciting. Clar-
ence was given a never-to-be-forgotten farewell party by our
fellow associates of the Farm Bureau. I believe every man,
woman and child of the Murdock District, and a few thrown
in for good measure from Orland, were at the schoolhouse
to bid him godspeed and this large gathering of our neighbors
made us feel that the unceasing toil on the farm was more
than compensated by the warm friendships we had made.

But March $8th, the day of his departure, was a difficult
one for me, I could not trust myself to another good-by
at the station. It was Monday, a school day, and Gladys,

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

my fellow-teacher, had most thoughtfully offered to teach

both her pupils and mine but I thought the more fully
occupied I could make myself, the less poignant would be
my feeling of loss. And, never, never, will I forget the tact
and sympathy of those precious little kiddies on that day. I
was a perfect Niobe I simply could not dam the tears, al-
though I felt like damning them; it was a long, tearful clay
but I would not efface its memories, if I could.

Clarence's second letter from Bolivia told me to come as
soon as I could get ready but he suggested that I come on
a Grace boat from San Francisco, which would bring me
directly down the west coast of South America to Antofagasta,
where he would meet me. He included a long list of tilings
to bring: table linen, bedding, dishes, kitchen utensils, wear*
ing apparel for the tropics and for the high altitude, as our
new home at Fulacayo was 13,600 feet above sea level and
although almost exactly 1500 miles south of the equator,
yet, due to the altitude, was nearly always cold. The light,
summery clothes designated for the '"tropics** (one invariably
associates the tropics with excessive heat), were very much
in demand, in fact, I did not have quite enough of them but
I managed to "get by** and then 1, had no further use for
them all the while I was in Bolivia* (After nearly nine
years down here, I recommend that you bring practically
nothing with you, aside from your personal things* 1C you
come to S. A. for linen is cheaper and 'most everything can
be duplicated here at a cost, if you include freight, consular
fees, etc., less than at home and think of the freedom from
bother I)

Clarence's letter also gave instructions about passport,
vaccination certificate, doctor's certificate (required by the
Huanchaca Company, that one's heart was able to stand the
high altitude), a credential from the Chief of Police or other
civic authority that 1 had not been in jail within the past,
two years and the vm& required on the passport for every
country I intended to visit.

School had closed for the summer vacation but 1 had not
yet sold the cows; half the herd were pedigreed, registered
and consequently expensive Jerseys. Finally, 1 sold the grade

THE JOURNEY TO BOLIVIA

cows "piecemeal" and the registered herd on time plenty of
time, for now, nearly nine years later, the cows are still un-
paid for; verily, verily, we were not destined to be successful
farmers!

The neighbors were unfailingly kind; Mrs. Morey took
me to Chico in her car and helped me a lot in a full day's
shopping; Mrs. Summers accompanied me to Willows, the
County Seat, and was my witness in obtaining my passport,
nor must I forget "Bug," who always looked after my trans-
portation whenever our dilapidated car was out of com-
mission.

And then, in the midst of my feverish preparations, came
a letter from Clarence, dated at Antofagasta: he had been
ill, had been "sent down the hill" to recuperate and did not
know if he would be able to "stand the altitude." You can
well imagine my anxiety and mental suffering Clarence ill
and six thousand miles away! True, the letter was a month
old and he had added, "By the time you receive this, I shall
very likely be back at the mine," but I lost all heart for
further planning and could only anxiously await the next
letter, which, fortunately, came ten days later with the blessed
news that he was now all right and that he thought the
altitude would have no further ill effects.

Remember that you often told me I was "born under a
lucky star"? I certainly thought so when I received a wholly
unexpected letter from Dora, an old college "stand-by,"
who, I believed, was still teaching in Spokane. She had
married a San Franciscan, and asked me to visit them. I was
"tickled pink," not only to hear from her again and at such
an opportune time, but I had been rather dreading the time,
alone, in San Francisco the time necessary to have my pass-
port visd not only by the Bolivian Consul but by those of
Peru and Chile as well, for, as a matter of course, I intended
to disembark at every port, being the "born sightseer" that
I am; and time for the inevitable "last minute" shopping.
Dora met me at the ferry and was of invaluable assistance
to me; she and that fine husband of hers made the stay in
San Francisco a very pleasant one indeed. But I must uot

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

forget to add that I was given a heart-warming farewell party

also by our good neighbors of the farm.

**Hy" boat, a Grace freighter, had accommodations for
sixteen passengers but only eight were booked; my stateroom,
planned for four persons, was shared with Miss Mather, an
Englishwoman, going to the nitrate pampas of Chile as gov-
erness for the children of an English family* with whom
she had "governessed" before. She and I did all the usual
deck stunts together, walked our mile (ten times around the
deck) after each meal and we studied Spanish together; my
college Spanish had about all evaporated but some of it
"came back/* Miss Mather was a traveling companion par
excellence. Our boat was heavily laden with lumber, a
great amount of flour and a huge quantity of dynamite; clue
to the dynamite, the boat was anchored twelve miles out
from the dock, so my brother, who had come from Sacra-
mento to wish me bon voyage, Dora, her husband her two
sisters and I had to go out to the boat on a lighter. My
brother was quite concerned about the dynamite? on board
but I I merely requested him not to tell daddy, for 1 was
too eager to be on my way to care what the boat was trans-
porting.

We arrived at Talara, Peru, exactly two weeks from the
clay we left San Francisco. I thought I knew the geography
of the Western Hemisphere, but I never realized how much
farther east South America lies from us; we had to set our
watches ahead every day. Ah, those two unbroken, heavenly-
restful weeks from Sain Francisco to Talztra, I shall never
forget themperfect days on a calm sea f not a care in the
world, congenial companionship and the glorious feeling of
physical rest, for I can truthfully say that after the first Week
on the ship, I felt completely rested for the first time in
three years.

I forget just what day we crossed the equator; a freighter
and so few passengers, old Neptune did not think it worth
his while to initiate such a handful. I made my second
trip down to South America on the same boat that we went
north on, so I received my certificate from Father Neptune
without the ordeal of initiation but Clarence paid pretty

THE JOURNEY TO BOLIVIA

dearly for his; the ceremony of initiation is really lots of
fun, even to the initiates, and in another letter sometime 111
try to describe it in detail.

The barren, desolate vista of Talara Is not a reassuring
first glimpse of South America but we were all eager to set
foot on land and were impatient at the port doctor's delay
and the arrival of the port officials, whose sanction is neces-
sary before one may embark; even though ours had been
a strictly passenger boat, we would have had to anchor about a
mile offshore, for there are no good harbors and accessible
docks, such as we have, on the west coast of South America.
With the exception of a new dock, recently completed at
Buena Ventura in Colombia, this is the procedure: small
rowboats or motor boats come alongside the big boat for
passengers and baggage; huge flatboats for freight. The
accommodation ladder is securely fastened to the side of the
boat and down this ladder we go, one by one, to the small
platform at the water-end of the ladder and watch our
chance to jump into the small boat, tossing on the waves.
When the launch has its quota, we are rowed or motored to
shore, and again we watch our chance to leap on the dock.

But at Mollendo, which is our port for Santo Domingo,
the small boat stops or tries to stopat a concrete pier
under the overhanging arm of a crane, which projects out
over the surf. A chair is let down into the bobbing-up-and-
down boat and if there is a woman in the party, she scrambles
into the seat; men hang on the side and back rungs and even
to the legs of the chair the pier manager blows a whistle,
up goes the chair; another whistle and the chair swings over
the dock and there you are! I always breathe a sigh of relief
when the landing is accomplished or we are safely aboard
the ship, for of course the procedure is reversed when you
leave the port. Sometimes the sea is so rough that it is
impossible to disembark; we have known of passengers being
transferred to freighters at Mollendo and having to wait on
the freighter four days before it was deemed safe enough for
a landing. And once I landed without the chair. I had gone
out to the Santa Barbara to meet a friend and the sea being
unusually calm we landed with but little difficulty, but a

O7]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

man In our small boat, hi trying to jump from the boat to
the steps of the dock, was thrown Into the surf, but fortu-
nately he was promptly rescued.

Talara is an oil town; lias an Immense power plant and
a * 'cannery " of its own for making die Eve-gallon oil cans;
has excellent schools both for the "Gringo" child and the
native (being teachers, Miss Mather and I visited the .schools)
and a handsome clubhouse, which Is beautifully situated on
a high promontory. The captain and all the? passengers were
Invited to a dancing party at the club. We had a good time-
the captain, such a good time, that on our return to the
dock (the entire crowd came with us to the dock as it was
an enchanting, moonlit night), lie offered to bet the crowd
that he could outswim anyone to the ship; there were no
takers, then he bet he could outswim anyone, with Mrs*
Woods on his back! Still no takers so my vigorous expostula-
tions were unnecessary*

Paita, the port of "Panama'* hats, which you may buy from
$10 on down to a dollar, depending on your ability to bargain
and also the time left before the departure of the boat--
Paita gave u& our first characteristic South American smell.
It smells like an open sewer* which It really is. Here, for
the first time, I heard of burro, or should I say 6wrra\v, milk
being commonly used for delicate babies and adult con-
valescents; but since coming to Santo Domingo, the Chilean
wife of our Peruvian engineer told me the hurra milk is
considered almost a specific for anaemia, that her older brother
was such a frail child he was given this milk almost ex-
clusively, and that now he Is a strong, sturdy but excessively
obstinate man!

Miss Mather and I took a side trip in a four-seated buck-
board a few miles inland to the picturesque little village trf
Piura; like ail South American towns, and cities, it has a
main, plaza with a church taking up all of one side and all
the other blocks o buildings radiate from this central square*
There were many beautiful flowers. This was November,
spring down here, and I especially remember the profusion
of bougainvillea and a perfect riot of roses. But there was
also the largest aggregation o ragged, dirty children in a

THE JOURNEY TO BOLIVIA

given space that I ever saw, not excepting Egypt nor Jeru-
salem, and how they did swarm around us; but unlike the
kiddies o the far east, they did not pester us for "baksheesh."
At the dinner table that night, I asked the captain how in
the world could the mothers distinguish their own children
under the accumulated layers of grime, and he replied, "Oh,
by the smell!"

I shall not bore you with details of all the little ports, and
we stopped at 'most all of them, but Salaverry stands out as
a "high spot/ 7 The sea was very rough as it almost always
is at Salaverry; Miss Mather and I had leaped safely into
the motor boat, we had been down in deep troughs and up
on the crests of heavy swells but finally reached the dock,
that is, approached the landing place, and I had just
maneuvered the ticklish feat of planting my feet on the slip-
pery steps of the dock, when, turning to watch her make the
leap, I saw, to my horror, her and the two men, who had
been trying to assist her, all three swept from the lurching
deck of the motor boat into the turbulent sea.

The seconds seemed like hours but at last I saw her,
supported by two longshoremen, who had dived into the sea
at once to her rescue. I saw her, rising full length from the
surf, not, howevef , as a nymph, but more like a drowned
dachshund, and still clutching her handbag! Of course, we
returned at once to our boat, put her to bed, covered her
with blankets and gave her hot drinks. It was an extremely
harrowing experience but she was a good sport, came to
dinner that night and seemed none the worse for her un-
premeditated immersion in the cruel sea but she called out
in her sleep several times during the night, and she wrote
me later that it was several months before she ceased having
nightmares of drowning. We are more than willing to pass
up the next little port, but, lo and beholdl a notice appeared
on the bulletin board that no passenger would be permitted
to disembark until we reached Callao (the port of Lima) by
"orders from headquarters"; to this day I think that order
was fictitious but it worked.

We arrived in the offing twelve miles, owing to the dyna-
<'V; ^V t r -f ^nllio very early in the morning. The

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

captain called our attention to a very gayly decorated Grace
boat, making its way from Valparaiso, Chile* to the clocks at
Gallao; he told us there was a Cardinal on board, hence its
gala attire; through binoculars we saw many scarlet-robed
priests promenading the deck, apparently in a procession.
Never before had the port officials seemed so slow in examin-
ing our passports nor the port doctor so deliberate but finally
we were in the motor boat for the twelve miles to Callao,
finally on the street; car to Lima and in spite of our im-
patience we arrived in time to secure a most excellent van-
tage point from which to view the parade. It was a colorful
affair.

"Priests to the right of us,

Priests to the left of us,
And on to the Cathedral,

Rode the six hundred***

that is the Cardinal and 599 other notables rode in motor
cars, while the lesser lights, a countless multitude, trudged
on foot. There were priests in scarlet, in black, in white

and in brown; bishops in. purple, officials in conventional

black; traffic officers in blue uniforms with silver buttons and
white gloves; policemen, it seemed hundreds of them;
smartly dressed in blue uniforms with reel trimmings and
gold buttons, each with a white belt and shoulder strap*
supporting his weapon, and highly polished puttees. It was
a magnificent sight, and weren't we lucky to arrive in Lima
on that particular day?

J was even more interested in tine immense crowd of such
various-hued peoples: white, black, yellow and bronze, for
Lima has many Negroes* Japanese, Chinese and Indian*,
with all gradations between. I saw the barefoot* poncho-clad
Indian by the side of the up-to-date dressed business man;
the laden burro next to a shining Packard automobile truly,
Lima on that day was not only the* "City of the Kings** but
also of contrasts. Miss Mather was dreadfully bothered by
fleas but they didn't molest me at all. Following in the wake
of the crowd, we entered the Cathedral but with such a vast

[30]

THE JOURNEY TO BOLIVIA

assemblage it was impossible to see much so we left by a side
entrance as soon as we decorously could.

Miss Mather hailed a taxi and we drove to the Zoological
Gardens, where we had an excellent luncheon with large,
luscious strawberries for dessert. Miss Mather warned me
not to eat the strawberries as typhoid is currently supposed to
be lurking in any uncooked fruit or vegetable throughout
South America but delicious, delectable strawberries in
November were too much of a temptation for me so I "took
a chance' ' and feasted on them with much gusto. The Mu-
seum is quite close and I wanted to visit it but she was tired
of museums, preferring to "sight see" the penitentiary; but
I have a horror of penitentiaries visiting one once at Lin-
coln, Nebraska, was enough to do me for a lifetime so we
compromised by my promising to make my visit to the
Museum brief while she strolled around in the gardens and
then I would wait for her while she "did" the Federal
Prison. About ail I remember of the really splendid Mu-
seum at Lima were the ghastly, shrunken human heads,
heads shrunken to the size of an ordinary orange with all the
features perfect hideous, gruesome trophies of the head-
hunters o the Amazon. But Miss Mather was destined to
be disappointed, for as she tried to pass a guard at the prison,
she was curtly informed that no one could enter without a
permit and as getting a permit entailed several days* red tape,
she decided she "didn't want to see their old penitentiary
anyway/* We returned to the Cathedral, now empty, and
were shown the remains of Pizarro by a caretaker. Later we
were told that these bones are replaced occasionally.

Arica is a pretty little port with a well-kept park and a
Children's Playground on the waterfront; the open market
was dirty and "smelly." Four years later Clarence and I
spent part of a vacation here, after General Pershing had
been there trying to settle the Arica-Tacna Dispute, and we
found the place quite transformed; the streets had been
paved aad were much cleaner than the streets of New York
were on our last visit and the market had been housed in a
very pleasing, sanitary building. Miss Mather had to have
her passport visM and I went with her to the British Con-

[3* ]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

sulate; not to be outdone, we then visited the United States
Consul, -who xvas most cordial and gave us a large quantity
of magazines and other reading matter, which was most grate-
fully received, as we had exhausted the ship's library.

We were scheduled to stop at Iquique but a few hours, but
owing to a longshoremen's strike we were held up three days.
Miss Mather disembarked at Iquique but instead of being
met by her friends, was met by a messenger* who advised her
that the children whom she was to teach had the measles and
would she please remain in Iquique until further notice?
Bad luck for the kiddies but mighty good luck for me, as she
met me every morning at the dock and we spent the* entire
day of all the three days together* I think I could find my
way around Iquique even now blindfolded. At that time it
was a very busy port, shipping tons and tons of nitrate for
fertilizer to practically all parts of the world, but in a recent,
letter from a friend of mine whose husband is Mead of the
Transportation Department of the Anglo-Chilean Nitrate
Corporation, I infer the once active, bustling* humming
little port is now "dead as a door nail/* Site wrote that hun-
dreds of men had been "laid off/* that the nitrate industry
seemed about to flicker out, hopelessly "in the red/* Miss
Mather and I visited the American Institute, a Methodist
Mission School. The Director was quite proud of the school
and justly so and, after he had shown us all over the plant,
he said, "Mrs. Woods, we are short of teachers, a chronic
condition, and if you ever want to teach again, there will be
a position for you here/* And, while I never taught in
Iquique, I remembered "that chronic condition** and later
taught at the American Institute in La Pa*/* and in Cocha-
bamba*

It was while we were in Iquique that we had a "near-
mutiny*' that very afternoon Miss Mather had repeated her
oft-spoken surprise that "our*' captain never swore, that all
the captains she knew before, and she knew a great many,
swore like troopers. Late that same afternoon I was sitting
-on the deck all alone, for with the exception of Mr, Ford,
the western manager of Grace & Company, and his wife, who
had embarked on our boat at Callao, 1 was the only passenger

THE JOURNEY TO BOLIVIA

left. It was warm and sultry; suddenly the intense silence
was broken by the longest string or succession of strings of
the most fulminating, violent and picturesque oaths I had
ever heard or even read about. I heard the captain's voice
detonate, 'And biankety, blank, blank, if I ever hear of any
of you giving this blankety, blank, blank a thing to eat or to
drink or even speak to the blankety, blank, blank, etc., Ill
put you in chains, too." I fled below to Mrs. Ford's state-
room, where later Mr. Ford told us that a sailor had struck
the Second Officer, and the audacious offender had been put
in chains and fastened to a post on the Captain's bridge; that
no one was allowed to speak to him and that he was to have
only bread and water until the boat arrived at Valparaiso,
where he would be turned over to the proper authorities.
The captain was his usual bland self at dinner that night
but those invectives, those lurid blasts of vituperation, came
too fluently to have come from an amateur, from one who
could be so self-possessed less than an hour later; as for me,
1 was still too "shaky" and too frightened to ask anything
about the poor wretch above and for the rest of the journey,
I carefully kept away from that end of the boat.

Before I leave the ship, I must tell you about the myriads
and myriads of **guano birds" which we saw from the time
we approached Paita and all the way down to Callao mil-
lions of them. Sometimes they flew so close, we could almost
touch them, an apparently endless flight; at ports we never
tired of watching them as they dived for fish and they never
failed to get them. At Mollendo, vacationing, Clarence has
timed a flight of these birds. For two full hours there was a
steady stream of flying birds. Fishermen row their boats out
to the birds and are thus assured of a good catch of fish. At
Callao we anchored entirely too close to a guano ship and
the horrible odor would have induced us to leave our boat
as quickly as possible, even if the celebration in honor of the
Cardinal had not made us eager to leave, and, fortunately,
the guano boat with its evil-smelling cargo had departed
before we returned. The export of guano is one of Peru's
biggest sources of income.

Nor must I forget the gigantic tureen of jellyfish chowder

[33]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

is there such a thing? -at Pisco: the ocean as far as the eye

could see was a gelatinous expanse of jellyfish plus sea
water, with occasional seaweed as a "final touch" garnish.

The request to please not use the bath at Pisco was decidedly
superfluous and every time we have anchored there, there
has been this same phenomenon, Pisco is also the name of a
commonly used alcoholic drink in both Bolivia and Peru,

which looks like gin but is made of grapes and is as strong
as "white mule," and ranks second, perhaps, to chicha in
popularity. Whether the town derives its name from the

beverage-manufacturing industry or the drink derives its
name from the jellyiishy port, I have been unable to find out;
anyone I have asked, just grins.

Finally, after thirty-four days, we arrived at Antofagasta
just at dawn, I was on deck before the anchor was dropped
and Clarence got to the ship before the port officials; the
purser demurred about letting him on board but ho didn't
even see the purser! The captain, Clarence and I hud break-
fast together and then we landed at Antofagasta on the
calmest sea of the whole voyageI had been teased all the
way down that the sea would be so rough, we might have to
wait, anchored twelve miles out, days and days before making
a safe landing. Antofagasta was once a Bolivian |x>rt and
to this day many Bolivians refuse to add Chile to the address;
it was the cleanest and the freest of smells of any South
American |x>rt that I visited* We were domiciled at the
Huanchaca House, the rest home for the employees of the
Huanchaca mine; it is a large beautiful residence with wide
verandas overlooking the then busy harbor*

Since Clarence had been in Antofagasta already ten days
awaiting my arrival, we left the following morning for
Calama, where we remained the night "to break the alti-
tude." We ascended on the narrow-gauge railway somewhat
slowly through barren country to the 44 paiBpas t ** the salitrM
(nitrate fields); these nitrate pampas of Chile arc the most
desolate, the most barren of anything I have ever seen; not
a bush, not even a cactus* not a blade of grass to relieve the
monotonous waste. These nitrate fields also once belonged
to Bolivia and the export of nitrates for fertilizer and also

[34]

THE JOURNEY TO BOLIVIA

for ammunition has been a rich source of income to Chile,
but as I wrote you earlier the industry is now a "has been."
The oficinaS; dwelling places o the managers, who are, al-
most without exception, Englishmen, are like oases in the
desert: here you will see a clump of pepper trees and a few
hardy flowers but these tiny bits of greenness and gay colors
are all but lost in the vast, dreary stretches. Many are the
stories we have heard of the lavishness and munificence of
the gay entertainments and the open-handed hospitality of
these oficinas.

At Calama the train unloads its passengers for Chuquica-
mata, the camp of the largest single deposit of copper ore in
the world, and passengers for Bolivia, who are afraid
to risk the steady, steep climb into the rarefied atmosphere of
the altiplano. Leaving Calama quite early the next morn-
ing, our train continues to ascend rather slowly but soon
the desert waste gives place to more colorful scenes: snow-
capped mountains are plainly seen in the distance and at
every station groups of Indians in gay-colored ponchos, or
that once were gay, and in trousers slit at least twelve inches
above the ankles to show what once were white ruffles, and
with such queer-looking hatsl The women wore such
voluminous skirts that, when spread out, I am positive each
skirt would measure eight yards in circumference around
the bottom skirts of red, yellow, purple, blue, orange, and
sometimes one could get a glimpse of all these colors on one
woman; the skirts reach halfway from knee to ankle and, cold
as it was, nearly every woman was barefooted. White
varnished hats were perched precariously on their heads-
how they ever keep them on is still a mystery to me, yet I
have never seen a hat blown off* We passed immense fields
of borax and saw Indians shoveling blocks of borax, remind-
ing one of shoveling snow.

It is an all day's ride from Calama to Uyuni, the junction
point for the Huanchaca mine as well as for all other desti-
nations, as the narrow-gauge track changes here to the stand-
ard gauge* Uyuni is the windiest, bleakest spot on the map
of the Western Hemisphere and, as it is nearly 1 3,000 feet
above sea level, it is also very cold* There are no taxis in

[35]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE; ANDES

UyunJ so we walked very* very slowly, to the Company's
office, about three blocks. Clarence had had the lamentable

experience of hurrying here, trying" to keep pace with the
chico carrying his baggage, the result of which was a trip
to Antofagasta and a month's sojourn there to recuperate.

An autocarril (an automobile adjusted to run on the rail-
road track) was waiting to take us to Putaeayo, where we
arrived about 8:30 i>. M. and were taken at once to the Ad-
ministration House and were warmly welcomed by the Man-
ager and his charming wife. And our eventful life in
Bolivia, began.

[36]

CHAPTER III

THE HUANCHACA MINE -PULACAYO FIESTAS

Santo Domingo Mine, August 10, 1931.
DEAR BYRDIE-BYRB:

It was "extravagantly" sweet of you to answer by air mail
and such promptness deserves an immediate reply: it was
stupid of me to forget to tell you that the Huanchaca mine
is silver, located at Pulacayo. The address, Cia. Huanchaca
de Bolivia, Pulacayo, Bolivia, South America, is an envelope-
ful; we are 1500 miles south of the equator, "up in the
world" 13,600 feet, more than 2000 feet higher than Mt.
Hood and 1600 feet higher than your beloved St. Helens.
In December the weather is comfortably warm between sun-
rise and sunset; we are in a saucer-like depression and the
sun seems unable to locate us before nine in the morning
and then he abruptly takes his leave about four in the after-
noon; his rays come down so almost vertically, that the tem-
perature during the clay varies almost not at all but with his
departure there is a decided coolness and I am glad to don a
light sweater, although the electric stoves in bathroom, living
room and dining room are almost never turned off. It will
be somewhat colder in June with little flurries of snow, yet,
on the whole, the thermometer registers so little difference
throughout the year, it is not worth "writing home about."
But the extreme dryness of the air is not only very noticeable
but nerve-racking and wrinkle-producing as well, so we
women saw to it that open vessels of water were on all our
stoves all the time.

This mine at that time -1923 to 1925 was recognized as
the largest single-vein silver mine in the world; it had more
than a hundred miles of underground tunnels; the deepest
workings were 660 meters (2145 feet) below the adit level,
the entrance of the mine, while the adit level was, and I

[37]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

presume still is, 600 meters (1950 feet) below the top of the
mountain. The Administration House is built over the
mouth of the tunnel* Huanchaca had an estimated produc-
tion of more than five hundred million ounces of silver-
not so much today with silver worth but thirty cents* but at
that time it was probably worth a dollar an ounce and five
hundred million dollars is quite a tidy sum for any mine
to produce- In those early days it averaged a metric ton
of metallic silver a day: this silver was taken on llamas to
Potosi, about eighty miles distant, and there coined into
money with which the workmen were paid*

Just how old the mine is, no one seems to know; it was
included in the famous "Potosi District" and it was very
likely worked in Pr/arro*s time, about the middle of the six-
teenth century. In our time there was a staff of nearly a
hundred employees, mostly "Gringos/* and 1500 workmen,
about i $00 of the latter working underground these were
largely long-haired, barefooted Indians, who spoke only
Quechua. The mine was very hot, due not only to its great
depth but also to the subterranean, extremely hot waters
which point to volcanic origin, for the volcanic mountains
of San Pablo and San Pedro are quite close* These waters
were charged with carbon dioxide gas, which settled in the
most poorly ventilated parts of the mine, and unless the ut-
most precaution, with eternal vigilance that the safety pre-
cautions were carried out, was exercised the workmen were
asphyxiated* It has always been considered a dangerous
mine: once twenty-eight men in trying to escape up a ladder
were all overcome by gas and dropped, one by one, down
the shaft. The second day after Clarence arrived two men
were killed, but he always minimized the hazard* and dan-
gers to me and it was not until we had left Pulaotyo that I
fully learned how alarmingly dangerous this mine is. How-
ever, with a new ventilation system and with the most
meticulous precautions, the death toll was materially de-
creased. One wholly unwarranted tragedy was that of a
"gaa-perro" (gas-dog, a strictly local term) himself, whose
sole duty was to be on the lookout for gas he dropped a
twenty-five cent tape lime down a shaft and went down to

[88]

HUANGHACA MINE-PULACAYO-FIESTAS
recover it; Clarence was at once notified that he did not
respond to signals and his body was brought up as promptly
as possible but in spite of the fact that the mine had every
known apparatus for resuscitation, all the efforts of the doc-
tor were in vain.

Due to the excessive heat, the Indians wore breech-clouts
only. In making his daily rounds in the mine, Clarence
noticed a very large, well-proportioned Indian in one of the
stopes and occasionally he would slap him on his huge,
sweating shoulders, calling him "Firpo," which seemed to
please the Indian very much; Firpo at this time was the idol
of all South America and was confidently expected to knock
out Dempsey. About a month or so after Clarence had been
jocularly noticing "pseudo-Firpo," the Indian sent word by
the timekeeper that he wanted to speak to the "Capitan"
very confidentially; with the aid of a trusted interpreter, he
told Clarence o a place where his family for generations
had obtained gold whenever they needed it; its location was
a secret handed down from father to eldest son and his father
had taken him to the place when he was twelve years old.
He continued, "I am not a miner but I know you are and
that you will do the right thing by me, so if you care to see
this place, I will take you to it." Clarence was touched by
his trustfulness but told him it was impossible for him to
leave the mine then, that he could, however, send another
man and the Indian replied that whomever C. delegated
to go in his stead would be treated as if he were Clarence
himself.

Accordingly, a few days later a young California engineer,
who needed a vacation, went to a certain designated village,
three days distant by mule, where he saw the pseudo-Firpo,
but by previous arrangement he was not to be recognized;
some morning the Indian would leave the village and a few
hours later the engineer was to follow. This the Californian
did for two full days on muleback, then the two traveled
together two days on foot and it was during these last two
days as they passed through hamlets or were met by Indians,
that the latter, who had never before seen a white man, knelt
at the engineer's feet, kissed his hands and asked for his bless-

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

ingl The natives evidently took him to he a god and this
experience may have been the reason why he wrote his folks
at home, "I urn now so close to heaven that I am .shake
hands with Jesus**" (This letter was published in the local
weekly of his ''little home town** and as we had once lived
in this same little town, he passed the papers on to us to
read.) Sacrilegious? I am sure he did not mean it that way
hut you must admit it is a graphic way of depicting the high
"curve" upon which we were living.

On the morning of the third day of foot travel, "Firpo"
showed the engineer the place; sure enough, then* was plenty
of signs of old workings. The Indian removed a few rocks
and exposed the gold* which existed as narrow ribbons of
metallic gold in slate rock* There was a considerable area
of mineral i'/ed rock exposed but the rich stringers were so
far apart and the locality so extremely isolated that the engi-
neer deemed it inadvisable to do anything with it. The
point is, however, that this Indian had told the truth, that
undoubtedly his forefathers had taken out many thousands
of dollars* worth of gold and, as far as lie knew, many mil-
lions still existed* (tt was through such stories that we
became interested in Santo Domingo and now, here* Indians
frequently bring in specimens of gold ore* and some day we
shall find another Santo Domingo: does this make your feet
itch to come down here, too? I hope so*)

The silver ore at Huanchaca was brought out of the mine
in electrically driven cars, dumped at the mnr/w where
women, 150 to 175, sorted the lead, the xinc awl the silver
ore in their respective piles. Here it was necessary to guard
against ore stealing: appropriating silver ore is called ore
stealing but "sneaking** gold ore is called M high<"gnicling/*

Pulacayo, while wholly dependent upon the Huanchaca
mine for its very existence* was, however, "municipally** in-
dependent in that it had its own police force (the Company
paid all the {>olieemen*s salaries) and its own public schools
(the teachers were all paid by the Company and the build-
ings were owned, furnished and maintained by the Com-
pany); it had about 7500 inhabitants, many of whom had
never been farther away from home than Uyuni (I have for*

[403

HUANCHAGA MINE-~PULACAYO~~FIESTAS
gotten but I think UyunI is about thirty kilometers eighteen
miles from Pulacayo) and some Pulacayans had never even
been to UyunL They and their forbears were born in
Pulacayo, the men worked in the mine, most of the women
in the cancha, and eventually they died there. When the
mine was closed down temporarily some time after we left
and these poor people, who knew no other spot in the wide,
wide world, had to seek homes elsewhere, I almost wept
when I heard about the expulsion, reminding me of Evan-
geline and Hermann und Dorothea, but the less romantic
side to this foixible ejection was the intention of the new
management to get rid of malcontents and agitators.

The Administration House was a big, barnlike structure,
built over the entrance of the mine; all of the lower floor
was given over to administrative offices, telephone exchange,
telegraph office, the printing press, etc. The second floor
belonged exclusively to the Manager; he and his wife had
remodeled a suite of rooms and added a sun porch on the
north side, thus making their immediate quarters quite com-
fortable. The building was constructed on a steep hillside,
so the servants' quarters were on a level with the upper floor
and yet were on the ground floor; the servants had the cheer-
iest and best situation for it received all the sunshine, both
morning and afternoon. We were entertained at the Ad-
ministration House a whole month while our house, the
Mine Superintendent's domicile, was being calcimined, re-
papered, painted, etc. Clarence, the Mill Superintendent,
and the Head Accoxmtant had been keeping "bachelors'
manage** in this house about four months before my arrival
"naff said/*

1 still remember how Clarence and I with heavy wraps
on and a blanket over our knees huddled in front of the
small electric stove to keep our teeth from chattering, for
one small electric stove made but little impression on those
two very spacious and high-ceilinged rooms that were as-
signed to us in the Administration House. Our two rooms
were communicating but to go to the dining room, the sola
(drawing room), the library, billiard room or to the Man-
ager's rooms, anywhere in, fact in that big, barny building,

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

one had to first enter a very wide, glassed-in corridor, which

gave access to all parts, and it was well to don a warm wrap
before sallying forth to dining room or elsewhere after sun-
set, for the evenings are cold the year round in Pulucayo.
The entire floor was sumptuously furnished but rather for
elegance than comfort; our rooms had four immense French
windows opening out on the street veranda, bur not a glim-
mer of sunlight filtered through. From this veranda we had
an excellent; view of "Main Street** and the plaza, while the
imposing (for a mining camp) and ornate church was di-
rectly opposite our sitting room; the latter had its disadvan-
tages, chief of which was the almost daily funeral, and I have
counted four coffins in a row for one burial service* The
weeping and wailing, the mournful dirges, were too distress-
ing for me, so I usually absented myself before five and did
not return until six or after, when "the coast was clear*" of
coffins, mourners and "hangers on/* The many deaths were
not due so much to accidents in the mine as to the appalling
infant mortality*

The priest was a corpulent, well-educated, welMikcd, full-
blooded Quechua Indian. Once his mother came from u
distant village to visit him. The Manager's wife invited the
priest and his mother to dinner; the mother ate the meat
from the chicken bones and then deftly threw the bones over
her shoulder on to the highly polished floor; please page
Emily Post should we other guests have likewise thrown
our chicken bones on the floor?

My first night in Pulacayo, I awoke shortly before mid-
night with the worst headache 1 had ever experienced, an
agonizing pain at the base of my head; I had "aorochc* 1
(Spanish) or "puna*" (Quechua) for altitude sickness and 1
just had to bear itI assure you I did not grin for there
seems to be no quick remedy for the ailment, but by noon
the following day I was quite all right arid when Clarence
came home at four in the afternoon to tell me that we were
invited to a patty that night, the thirteenth wedding an-
niversary of the Careys*. I was "rarin* to go/*

It was my 4 *dbut" in Pulacayo society and no "debutante,"
before or since, ever had a better time* All the einpteado$

[4*]

HUANCHACA MINE-PULAGAYO-FIESTAS
(employees), both "Gringo" and Bolivian, were there and
there were enough Gringos present so that my lack of
Spanish was not embarrassing. It was a charming, lively
party, wet but not obviously so; a full-blooded Quechua In-
dian served the refreshments (for the life of me I cannot
remember what we had to eat). The Indian wore trousers
of bayeta, a home-spun and home-woven material of sheep
or llama wool; they were skin tight except where they were
slit halfway to the knee in the back, displaying white, pleated,
presumably, "undies." He wore a short jacket of bayeta, a
white shirt or rather blouse and the most "stunning" belt
I ever saw, at least four inches wide, and I thought it was
elaborately embroidered; but in the market later, I learned
that the llamas, dogs, people and flowers in red, orange,
purple, blue, yellow, black and white are knitted in the
whole belt is tightly knitted and nearly every Indian wears
one of these handsome belts. This Indian was barefooted
and I, a "tenderfoot," thought he was there just for effect
and it was not until the following day that I found out that
he was just an ordinary servant. The waiter at the Adminis-
tration, although an Indian, wore "white man's" clothes and
at dinner wore a full dress suit.

The mine doctors wife, a young bride, Bolivian with a
German grandfather, an ex-teacher in the La Paz schools,
was as eager to learn English as I Spanish, so we then and
there, at this party, arranged to study together and I went
to her home the next morning at ten. Every morning we
studied Spanish from ten to eleven and English from eleven
to twelve. And we did this for a full month without a single
interruption now, wasn't that a typical way for me, an ex-
teacher, to begin my life in Bolivia?

I didn't have to but I invariably did go through the plaza
on my way to the doctor's home. This plaza in Pulacayo was
a never-ending source of entertainment to me; here I aired
my Spanish the most frequently and many a laugh did the
Cholas and I have over some of my funny mistakes these
South American peoples, wherever you may meet them, are
too innately polite to ever laugh at you but they love to
laugh with you. Here is a really true story, but, "honor

[43]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

bright, 1 * I am not the "Gringa": A recently arrived Gringa
bought a half doxcn pullets in the market and after they
were delivered, decided she would buy a rooster and raise
her own chickens; she knew gal Una was hen but by the time
she got to the market, she had forgotten the won! for rooster,
which site had just looked up in the dictionary. The same
Ghola picked out a nice gatlina for her but the Cringa said,
"No, no, nn hombre-gallina*" (No, no, a man-hen!) and she
got her rooster without even a smile from the Chola,

How soon did I master the Spanish? Ah, my dear, I have
far from mastered it yet but I plunged right into speaking
at once and shortly after we were settled in our new home,
I said to Clarence one noon, "I have misplaced my scissors
and can't meet them anywhere" (the word cmvwfmrto
meet or to encounter is used for "to find"), ami Clarence
replied, "I'll help you meet them/ 1 and it; was some minutes
later before he grinningly called my attention to our
"broken" English, But this showed that we had begun to
think in Spanish anyway.

The "Chola" is a %voman with some foreign blood, he it
ever so little; although ninety percent Indian, she is no
longer Indian but a Chola. Here in the pla/a, which was
also the market place, the Chola sits on the ground, usually
a sheepskin under her, and her many, many voluminous
skirts become useful as well as picturesque; whatever sh< has
to sell is spread out in front: of her; generally a certain Chola
sells only eggs, another onions and still another only slices
of pumpkin, etc. But the two coca-venders were\ however,
the busiest and most; prosperous every morning and night
as the shifts went to work, every man stopped to buy a hand-
ful of coca. He will not go to work without his coca and
many a man has a lump of coca the size of a turkey egg in
his cheek, it seems forever, because every time I saw these
men, they had the same "swelling" (looks like mumps) on
one side of the face. Coca resembles the senna leaf some-
what and the tea has an insipid taste; coca tea is recom-
mended for soroche. Men, women and children use it; I
have seen a six-year-old boy with a "hen-egg lump" in his
cheek but usually the children are not addicts until they

[44]

HUANGHACA MINE-PULACAYO-FIESTAS
reach the age of fourteen or sixteen. Coca has a slightly
narcotic effect (it is the source of cocaine) but when chewed
with an alkaline substance, fe lejia" it is called down here, or
with plain wood ashes, it deadens the pangs of hunger and
as a result almost all the chewers of coca are undernourished;
many a miner goes to his shift of work with but a hunk of
bread and a handful of coca.

The meat-vender is next in popularity, for all South
Americans are great meat eaters. Very good beef on the
hoof was shipped in from Argentina and this beef, as well
as mutton and very occasionally pork, was sold by a Gholo,
a favored "concessionaire"; meat is very cheap here and we
bought the choicest lomita (tenderloin steak) for the same
price as soup meat I am not sure but I think we paid only
thirty centavos a pound, at that time, about ten cents U. S.
currency. Yum, yum, I can still smell those savory stews that
two or three Cholas concocted on that plaza; they sold this
appetizing "goulash in tin plates and why bother about
washing a plate? I know these plates were never washed
during busy hours, but were piled up with the savory mix-
ture for the next comer as fast as they were emptied by the
previous one, and during slack hours, why work, if you
didn't have to?

In one corner of the plaza was the recova, a large ware-
house-like structure where the Indians brought their vege-
tables, fruits, eggs and what not, often from very long
distances, on llamas and not infrequently on their backs.
Sometimes we Gringas were permitted to buy directly from
the "wholesalers/* for the Bienestar (welfare)-man allots to
each Chola the amount she may have to retail at her "sitting"
in the plaza but we could not buy cheaper at the recova
it was a "change" however, to buy directly from the Indians
and in this way we picked up a little Quechua. Whenever
I saw a train of llamas or burros winding its way down the
steep mountain side, I grabbed my camera and hurried to
the plaza; the unloading of the llamas or burros, the brisk
selling at the recova^ the skurrying back and forth of the
high-hatted, billowing-skirted Cholas, carrying their wares
in the llijillas on their backs and followed by a seemingly

[45]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES
endless rabble of niilos (children), heterogeneously garbed,

mostly ragged and dirty, but as picturesque as their mothers
this was a "moving picture*' that never palled, apparently
the same each time yet always different. And I can still see
those gnarled, stunted, apologetic tomatoes, brought many
a weary mile on a burro's, a llama's or even an Indian's
back, each tomato carefully wrapped in a leaf, all of them
in a hand-ivoven basket of reeds or grass what a contrast
from the huge, smooth, evenly ripened "beefsteak" tomatoes
I had grown on our ranch! Then one Sunday I saw a tiny
Indian boy making his way carefully through a particularly
large crowd, gently pulling at something, I knew not what,
and even the boy himself was completely lost to sight at
times, obliterated by one of those balloon-like skirts of a
Ghola, and when he finally emerged, he was tenderly rowing,
not yanking, a fairly good-sized^ live bronze turkey! I saw
again in retrospect the hundreds of turkeys I had so heed-
fully fed and solicitously bedded and here was a lone turkey,
probably the boy's one precious possession, and it must, have
been brought many, many miles to this market, for I know
finicky turkeys cannot be raised at such a high and cold
altitude. One is expected to bargain for everything one buys
down here but did I haggle over the price of this turkey?
I'll say I did notI even gave him a yapa, a small gratuity
to his first asking price and I would not be surprised if the
boy had not recovered from his astonishment, yet* We had
canned butter, canned milk and more often canned tomatoes
than fresh ones but did these make me long for a return to
ranch life? 1*11 give you just one guess for the answer: even
the toothsome, luscious California tomato had no pull, while*
to this day, merely the picture of a milk separator in maga-
zine or catalogue gives me a queerish feeling at the pit of
my stomach,

Ac the side directly opposite from the rcc&va were several
cmuchm where chicha is sold; a red flag at the entrance sig-
nifies hay chicha while a white flag says it is all gone. Flags
are used this way in cities not only for chicha but for picante
(a highly seasoned, decidedly hot food) and other specialties
as well* Chicha is an alcoholic drink of peanuts or corn,

[46]

HUANCHACA MINE-PULACAYO-FIESTAS
masticated by the oldest (because they can do nothing else),
hence usually toothless, women, then expectorated into an
olla (pot), allowed to ferment, drawn off and is then ready
for use. I have seen the whole process with my own two
eyes and "they say" chicha is also made by presses in an en-
tirely sanitary way, but whenever I attempted to drink any
of it, I could always see those toothless hags and my glass was
set down untasted.

I soon learned to distinguish the "raw/* long-haired In-
dian from the one who was an old-timer in the mine, to
even recognize the locality from whence he came by the kind
of hat he wore; I could even estimate, fairly accurately, the
wealth of the Chola from the amount of jewelry she wore

(and the Chola wears no spurious jewelry), calculated with
her number of polleras (skirts). I presume no Chola wears
less than three polleras and I was told by a neighbor, whose
veracity is above reproach, that one Chola counted fourteen
of them on herself to satisfy my friend's curiosity. The pol-
lera is made of a thick, fuzzy, woolen material, called castilla

(it makes an excellent "silence cloth" for the dining table);
the castilla is pleated in wide pleats on a yoke, as many pleats
as is possible, thus making the skirt very full; the length is
about halfway from ankle to knee and "they say" the skirts
are never taken off the newest one is put on top and eventu-
ally the oldest one drops offbut I am sure there must be
exceptions, for several times what I mistakenly took to be
a circular, bright flower bed turned out to be a Chola skirt
drying in, the sun*

The Chola, nor the Indian woman, knows not bloomers
nor "panties." The "high-class" Chola costume is beautiful
and very expensive: besides the many, voluminous skirts

(the castilla costs a dollar a yard up to as much as three,
and each skirt requires at least eight yards; the "ultra first
class 1 * Chola disdains even castilla and has heavy silk or
velvet, which means many more yards) she has a basque,
costing from $10 to $25, a pair of very high-topped boots
with excessively high heels, a stiff, painted white Panama hat
and a most gorgeous, beautifully embroidered, heavy silk

[47]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES
shawl. If she should change her garb as often as we do, It

would take: a millionaire to keep her In skirts alone.

The babies and there are so many of themhave their
legs tightly sivathcd together and are tints bandaged up to
their armpits* I often wonder how the little tilings ran grow.
Even the doctor's wife bandaged her baby like this and when
1 merely hinted at this* she promptly called my attention to
the fact that there are no bowlegged children in South Amer-
ica. The babies of Cholas and Indians are invariably car-
ried in a shawl, railed a llijilla, on the mother's back; these
mothers seem to love their babies very much until they are
able to toddle and then, with a younger one to look after,
the older ones apparently look out for themselves. Most
of the little girls are dressed in exact replica of their mothers,
enormously full skirts, tight basque and all! The little boys
are more nondescript, ofttimes literally a bundle of rags.

All the women and girls wear their straight black hatr in
two braids down the back (I knew only one Chola who
bobbed her hair but site had worked for Americans so long
that she was quite Americanised the belief is general among
them that if the hair h cut off* it is because of a 4 *bacl
disease*"); it is an unusual sight to see a Chota well combed
they have queer, little, homemade wooden combs, and
believe this or not, but 1 saw two Cholas combing each
other's heads and with evident relish picking the lice off these
wooden combs and eating them! It is u common sight to see
a mother detousmg her offspring by hand and 1 have been
repeatedly told that the '"hand picked" lice are always eaten
cither by the mother or. if die child "m "real good/* it may
get them!

Every Indian, man, woman or child, always has a load
on his back. It is a badge of servitude, handed down from
the Incas; the nobility only carried no burden. Even to this
day f the toddling Indian child has its diminutive cargo* per-
haps a few little sticks, and this load h increased as the child
grows, hence he is literally trained to be a "beast of burden**;
a man will carry more than a hundred pounds on a paved or
good, road (eighty pounds is an load) and in the

[48]

HUANCHACA MINE-FULACAYO-FIESTAS
mountainous, rough trails, he Will uncomplainingly carry
fifty pounds all day long.

Although we were very well looked after in the Adminis-
tration House, yet we were happy to be in our own home.
The nine o'clock, or even as late as ten o'clock dinner, did
not "set well" with "small town*' folks as we were; besides,
the "head of the house" went to work very early and with
such a late dinner, we felt we had no evenings at all. Our
house was lovely, quite a pretentious seven-room, adobe
house, plastered inside and out, with many, many windows
and a delightful sun porch, which received every ray of sun-
shine that old Sol sent out, for it projected in such a manner
that it received the sun from all three directions, east, north
and west. Here among the flowers, mostly hardy ones such
as geraniums and nasturtiums, but I did have some wonder-
ful carnations, and surrounded by cages of canaries, I spent
most of the day when at home. The many canaries were for
detecting gas in the mine and I am glad to say that not one
of these enchanting song birds lost its life during our entire
stay in Pulacayo.

Marcelina, a pretty seventeen-year-old Chola, so fair she
could easily pass for a Gringa, was my first and only servant
in Pulacayo. She spoke almost no Spanish but she had had
three months* excellent training by my next-door neighbor,
who, seeing her possibilities, had suggested to Clarence that
she keep Marcelina until I arrived. I bought a Spanish
primer and later other books for her, giving her a lesson in
Spanish every day (if she had all her allotted work done at
four, she was entitled to a lesson and not one single time did
she fail to ask for her lessonl). I, perhaps, learned more
Spanish than my pupil but in an incredibly short time she
was able to read recipes in my Spanish cook book. Within a
month she was doing all my housework just as I wanted it
done; she was a jewel and every Gringa in camp kindly
envied our having this capable servant. I had but one
serious "show down," with her and that was in teaching her
how to use the kitchen range. Nearly all these people down
here have the idea there can be no heat without visible
smoke, hence she would have the wood sticking out a foot

[ 49 ]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

or so from the firebox and the kitchen had just been done
over, all in white. I explained to her that with the firebox
firmly closed there was more heat, all the smoke escaping
through the pipe as If should; the second time I told her I
didn't want my newly painted, enameled and calcimmed
kitchen all smoked up; but the third and last, time, I made
her understand most unmistakably chat if she didn't keep
that firebox shut, she couldn't work for me, and we had no
more disagreements. The idea is prevalent down here, that
any artificial heat is injurious to the health* that the sun
only is beneficial; some of the most pretentious homes in
Antofagasta, in La IV/,, in Arequipa or Lima have no heating
arrangements whatsoever; if you are eold, put on more
clothes, pile on the ponchos* even 'blankets, but a stove* ex-
cept for cooking, never! Marcclina dusted meticulously but
she would put the books upside down, likewise the sheet
music on the piano, which I almost invariably reversed after
she had gone to the kitchen. If anything went wrong with
our electric stoves or telephone, I never had to send for the
electrician a second time, another reason for good-natured
envy among my neighbors, and shortly after we left Pulacayo
this native electrician and Marcclina xvere given a real
church wedding; with the Manager's wife as mat ron*'0f -honor*
Marcelina went to the Administration as chief cook the day
following our departure.

Now, you ask. me to tell you about the fiestas. 1 have
rambled about the plaza a lot and if, by any chance, I have
forgotten anything; please don't hesitate to * 'speak up."

Pulaeayo was '"dripping wet** ami alcohol plus fiestas
equals quarrels, brawls and "confusion worse confounded/"
The pure Indian is rarely quarrelsome, the Cholo ex-
tremely pugnacious but the Chola is the worst of all, My
second or third night in Pulacayo, I was awakened by a
woman's terrifying scream and I called to Clarence to go to
her rescue but he merely answered, "Oh it is just a Cholu
fracas," and was asleep again, almost before he had finished
the sentence, but I lay awake a long time:, imagining all norts
of dreadful things. At the table next day, 1 was unmercifully
chaffed by all the old timers for wanting my husband to

[ 50 3

HUANCHACA MINE-PULACAYO FIESTAS
interfere In a Chola fight: within a few weeks, I, too, became
callous to their screams and shrieks. And if we had dis-
turbances like that on ordinary days, or rather nights, you
may well imagine the uproar during fiestas.

Fiestas are the bane of the Manager's life: there are re-
ligious fiestas, civic fiestas and if there should be a week
without one, a private fiesta is staged. Since having a " 'su-
pernormal* jag on'' seems to be the aim and purpose of every
fiesta, it is really remarkable that any work is accomplished
at all. Each fiesta is supposed to have its raison d'etre and
has its characteristic customs; the outstanding ones as
"Carnavar and "Todos Santos/' the veriest neophyte can
grasp the reason for, but many of them dedicated to lesser
saints, in which the Indians, sometimes in large groups, wear
fantastic costumes, such as a bear, a boar or representing
some hideous "there ain't no sech animal" and nearly always
"His Satanic Majesty'* with horns and tail, but each par-
ticipant symbolizing a definite part of the whole; these latter
require a lifetime of asking why and wherefor to find out
what it is all about, so 111 merely give you my impressions.

Car naval, corresponding to our Mardi Gras as celebrated
in New Orleans, is, as you know, one big "blow out'* before
Lent begins. It is the fiesta throughout South America, the
biggest one of all. In Pulacayo, the festivities began with
Compadre's Day (Godfather's Day), the only day in the year
when liquor, either inside or outside of man, is allowed in
the mine; the workmen, festooned with serpentine and
covered with confetti, come out of the mine on flat cars, so
much "the worse for liquor" that the majority of them can-
not get off the cars without help; they are too far gone to
"whoop *er up" any more and, with but few exceptions, they
go quietly home to sleep it off.

This is followed by Comadre's (Godmother's) Day, which,
to the Gringos at least, is the most colorful and most excit-
ing of all the holidays. I told you about the one hundred
and fifty to two hundred women who sorted ore, but I did
not add that they were considered better workers than the
men but received smaller pay; that almost every one had a
$ch year with usually a different father for each baby;

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

the Company maintained a nursery at the cancha where these
women worked; a nurse with other helpers looked after the
babies while the mothers sorted ore. The father takes no
responsibility whatsoever for the support or fare* of the child;
the boy babies become miners, the girls, ore sorters and thus
the cycle of workers is perpetuated

These "cane ha women/* as they are called, begin months
ahead to plan for this day: they elect a chairman, appoint
committees, send for artificial flowers, serpentine, confetti,
plenty of liquid refreshments including beer, whisky, crfime
de menthe, chicha, and Itwhe, dc tigw (tiger's milk), appro-
priately named for it is alcohol and hot milk* a concoction
which "they say" has "white mule" backed off the map. The
Company furnishes the printed programs and the pri/es for
the lottery; the prizes consist of basques, hats, pollcras (the
Chola skirt and a much coveted prixe), and handsome shawls
or manias, the most coveted prize of alL The prizes are
numbered and duplicate numbers put In a box while the
names of the women were put in another box; a "Gringita/*
usually an American child, draws the numbers and another
"Gringita" the names; the woman gets the prait correspond-
ing to her number; whenever a pollftm or tnanta is drawn*
there is much applause and a round of drinks.

A committee of three tvomen came to our home about ten
in the morning of Gomadre's Day to escort Clarence and
me to the elaborately decorated cancha* where a gay wreath
of artificial flowers was placed on his head and a corsage
bouquet pinned on my coat* We, with the Manager und his
wife,- other Heads of Departments and their \vives, were
given "grandstand* 1 seats to witness the big drawing. Even
before the drawing commenced, we were raising 1 our glasses
to our lips at every "Salud" (Prosit!) and surreptitiously
emptying the glasses back of usotherwise I would not be
here writing you all about it. After the drawing; there was
plenty of speech-making, interspersed with gay music and
the "rounds of drinks" continuous; then Clarence was appro-
priated by one of the women "bosses/* the doctor gallantly
offered me his arm and thus pairing off, we revelers, accom-
panied by three or four bands and followed by the whole

[5*]

HUANCHACA MINE-PULACAYO-FIESTAS
camp, marched and countermarched through the streets,
stopping often for the paraders to dance the cueca, a charm-
ing native dance in which the waving of handkerchiefs, much
bowing and pirouetting play a prominent part. After what
to us seemed hours and hours of parading and intermittent
dancing, the cancha women and their guests (this is strictly
"Mothers' Day") climbed the Administration steps to the
dining room, the overflow in the immensely long hall and on
the steps, where all were served with a copa de champana,
and it was during the "champagne-respite" that we Gringos
made our escape to our homes for a much-needed rest. But
not so with the natives, they "whooped 'er up" until five. At
seven, the same committee came for us again and, "willy-
nilly," we had to go with them to the schoolhouse, where
dancing continued all night. The Gringas were very popular
with the cancha women, who danced with us even more
than with our husbands, mostly the cueca, but quite often
all we dancers joined hands, circled to the right, then to the
left, and sometimes we just "jiggled" up and down; it was
really lots of fun but there was too much "strong drink"
and it was kept up too long; Clarence and I attempted to
leave several times but each time were resolutely turned
back by an intrepid committee, who were determined the
Gringos should have a good time! About two in the morn-
ing, with a plea of illness, Clarence was allowed to take me
home.

I think I can truthfully say that this Comadre's Day was
one of the most strenuous merrymaking days of my whole
life. The next morning the camp, or rather town, was com-
pletely "dead to the world"; the plaza was deserted and not
a soul was stirring. But by noon little cliques began to
gather and at two the parades with banners and much music
again started, but luckily we were expected to be only spec-
tators from now on; as participants our little part had been
played* The dancing, parading, throwing of confetti, of
water and of flour- this hubbub continued intermittently
and decreasingly in the number of revelers and in noise until
the first Sunday in Lent. (Marcelina from the very first day
she entered service with us had carefully pricked a hole in

[53]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

both ends of every egg 1 she used and blew the contents out.
She couldn't stand to see me break an egg' and 1 never under-
stood until Gar navalthe eggshells arc carefully treasured
for throwing water.) The Mardt Gras in New Orleans is
but a patch compared to this carnival and Ash Wednesday
is supposed to end all merriment but not here; it takes a
few days to get wanned up to the real carnival and a few
more clays to taper off after the celebration is officially
finished. The Huanchaca Company expected no work for
two weeks.

Todos Santos (AH Saints), our Halloween of childish
pranks, is a two-clay commemoration, November ist, the Day
of the Living, and the following day, the Day of the Dead.
The first is u wild, wild "play day" hut on the morning of
the second, there is a decorous procession to the cemetery,
almost every man, woman and child bearing candles and
4 * breads," which are placed on the graves by the relatives;
numerous "prayer boys'* are in attendance, who receive a
small stipend for repeating prayers at designated graves (and
1 think they "swipe" the food and drink afterwards). The
priest reaps a big harvest but following these religious rites*
the celebration deteriorates into a drunken orgy, almost as
bad as, if not worse than, the worst features of Carnaval.

Other noteworthy fiestas are Independence Day, August
6th in Bolivia and July sjfHh in Peru, celebrated at least
three days, with parades, speeches, firecrackers "u* everything;
then the observance of the Patron Saint's Day of the mine,
varying, of course, with each mine. In Chojrtat'Ota this
fiesta, while not hinting as long as Caritaval, as a gorgeous
spectacle far surpassed the latter: the mincra and millmcn
and mechanics, in different groups, were garbed in rented
costumes of the most fantastic designs ami most gorgeous
hues; each group had its own band* each hand taking turns
at accompanying the singing and dancing and again all
the bands playing in unison; the whole brilliant: pageant
presumably enacted some allegory* which no one seerrwtl able
to explain to us and which we were too "dumb" to get*

The Intendentc, an officer of the law comparable to our
sheriff, came over early in the morning of our first "Patron

[54]

HUANCHACA MINE-PULACAYO-FIESTAS
Saint Day" in Chojfiacota from Monte Blanco, which was
in the same province with us, to keep the peace at the festival.
Borrowing one of our mules, he rode the mile or so to the
little chapel where the pageant was staged, promising to re-
turn the mule at once, for we were entertaining visitors and
needed all our mules to transport the women, at least, of
the party. Tired of waiting for the one mule, we started out
without it and did not meet mule nor Intendente neither
on the way nor at the fiesta. The Intendente had imbibed
too freely, ran amuck, fired his gun indiscriminately into
the crowd, killed one man and severely wounded a woman,
but this did not stop the fun; in fact, we did not hear about
the fracas until the next day! And except for a temporary
suspension, the Intendente was not even punished! The
same day, a laborer, returning from the fiesta, too far gone
"in his cups*' to make the steep grade to his home, lay down
in the road to rest, went to sleep and the hot sun, beating
down upon his uncovered head, made him "loco" and he
died a few days later.

Death almost always stalks these fiestas; at Pulacayo, espe-
cially during Carnaval, one or two deaths up to six or eight
were so common as to scarcely cause comment; at our first
Carnaval in Chojilacota (I forgot to mention that Clarence
had charge of a tin mine here), one man died from alcoholism
and another from wounds inflicted by his "woman" throwing
a beer bottle at his headand hitting him. It had long been
the custom for the Company to furnish pisco (the gin-like
drink made from grapes) one year and four bulls the next
year; we happened to hit the pisco year and Clarence vowed,
"Never again" as long as he was in charge, so our remaining
two years were bull years. These bulls were sacrificed at the
portal of the mine, the warm blood sprinkled over the
entrance and the still-quivering heart placed on the altar
of the little chapel inside; this was supposed to prevent any
fatal accidents for the coming year; the bulls gave a pagan
touch to this supposed-to-be religious festival. We heard
that formerly the heart was cut out of the living bull but
that was not true in our time, for Clarence saw to it that
the bulls were promptly killed before the heart was extracted.

[55]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

The meat was later distributed among the workmen but I do
not think it was barbecued.

St. John's Day, celebrated the night of the 2grd of June,
when huge bonfires are lighted in many, many places on the
mountain sides, is said to be to warm up St. John, for the
24th of June is the coldest day of the winter. (The bonfires
are also supposed to bring the sun back, for this is the time of
the winter solstice.) The almost continuous circle of high
leaping flames is a beautiful, unforgettable sight.

La Paz has a fiesta, peculiarly her own, called "Alacitas,"
meaning in Aymara, "Buy of me." It begins January 24th
and lasts three days. The "king" of this fiesta is a man
doll, called El Ekeko, who, according to very, very old tradi-
tion, has the power and ability to bring to every house in
which he is brought an abundance of everything with which
he is laden and there are many who still believe this. He
is made of stucco, his mouth open and arms extended; his
clothes are painted on him; he is loaded with almost every-
thing that man uses: sugar, rice, flour, coffee, tea, chocolate,
potatoes, coca, chuno (dried potatoes), chalona (dried mut-
ton), corn; every edible the country produces, not forgetting
feed for the animals; and besides all these things in tiny,
tiny bundles, he is burdened with scissors, pots, pans, kettles,
dishes, vases, matches, cigarettes, cigars, saddlebags filled with
money, and whatever can be imagined; on his head is placed
a gay, knitted cap of many colors and over this a straw or
felt hat with a bird's wing on it. He is so heavily heaped
up that he himself can scarcely be seen and too heavily loaded
to stand alone. The prices vary with the size I bought an
"Ekeko" with all his appurtenances for four bolivianos, at
that time, about $1.20.

Besides the Ekeko, you may buy in miniature, also of
stucco, the "cutest" little doll houses with lovely gardens
and fountains; whole farms with cattle, sheep, horses, burros,
etc.; a panadero with a basket of bread on his head; a
"Cholita" selling vegetables; an Indian, man or woman, spin-
ning; a nun at prayer. The local scenes are so cleverly
depicted, so accurately miniatured in their bright colors,
that I just wanted to buy them all! I did buy so much that

[56]

HUANCHAGA MINE-PULAGAYO-FIESTAS
when Clarence returned from his mine examination trip to
Santo Domingo and I was lamenting that he had missed
"Alacitas," he said, "It seems to me you have it all here,"
for I had spread out all my purchases on two big tables,
the bed, the dresser and part of the floor. Besides the
diminutive articles in stucco or plaster o Paris, there is for
sale an almost infinite variety of dolls: Indian dolls, man
or woman, the latter with an almost microscopic but perfect-
in-detail baby in a llijilla on her back; Cholos and Cholas
in a bewildering diversity of sizes and of gay-colored frocks;
even Dutch dolls, French dolls and Eskimo dolls. And the
"cunningest" furniture to go with the "darling" doll houses;
white llamas, black, brown and spotted llamas; sheep, burros,
horses, cows, alpacas. The farmer buys those toy animals,
not for the children to play with, but for himself, and he
takes excellent care of them for he believes he is buying
them for the Virgin, who will intercede for him, that his
flocks and herds will increaseseeing the tiny replica reminds
her of what the owner wants. With the same idea the house-
wife will buy cooking utensils, a knife, a fork, a spoon (such
"adorable" little spoons, some of solid silver with monolith
handles I bought three dozen!), a broom, a chair, a sofa,
whatever she may want for the coming year. A carpenter
will buy "baby" tools of his trade, a shoemaker that which
he may need, etc. Now, wouldn't it be a splendid idea if
one could thus buy a miniature package of kindness, of
charity and unselfishness?

From the countless, happy, shining faces of the children
that I saw in this plaza every afternoon, and morning, too
for I almost "camped" at "Alacitas,"- I am quite sure many
of the articles were bought for toys to be used as such. The
Indian and his family were, of course, dressed in their very
best ponchos, while the Chola fairly scintillated in her best
"bib and tucker," which would have to be translated into
white, stiff hat, ponderous earrings, gorgeous silk shawl, gay-
colored skirts and high-topped, tasseled boots. There was
no drinking nor carousing and while policemen were in evi-
dence, "Alacitas" was more orderly and a "heap more" inter-

[57]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

esting than all the other fiestas put together, also much more
attractive than many a street fair in the "good old U. S. A.**
I must not write another word, for this letter is already
too "fat" and "fat" letters are apt to go astray.

[58]

CHAPTER IV

MORE ABOUT PULACAYO THE STRIKE OUR EXIT

Santo Domingo Mine, Oct. 11, 1931.
DEAR BYRDIE-BYRD:

I am so glad the bulky letter reached you and also the
package of photographs. I think your idea to number a
sentence or paragraph and put the corresponding number
on the photograph for reference is "good and timely" and
I shall proceed to carry out your suggestion. So you, too,
were tremendously interested in "Alacitas" I can't conceive
of a person who wouldn't be. I am positive that "Ekeko"
(which means dwarf) and his numerous cargoes are strictly
native-made and perhaps the Indian and Cholo dolls, but
the French and other foreign dolls and a good many of the
toys have the smack of being "made in Germany"; but never-
theless, even if everything was imported, the "copying" is
exceedingly clever and one would learn more of customs and
costumes in the three days of "Alacitas" than in that many
years of merely traveling. It is interesting to note here that
the La Paz City Council is making every effort possible to
encourage homemade products and is discouraging imported
articles with excessive taxation.

You say I wrote a lot about the Indian and the Cholo but
have not even mentioned if there are other people in South
America. I "stand rebuked." But in all my letters, please
bear in mind that almost all I tell you is from the viewpoint
of a mining camp, that my home in South America has always
been in a mining camp, that our visits to the capitals or to
the cities have been few and far between and then usually
visiting "Gringos." Naturally, at a mining camp there are
many more Indians and Cholos than the gente decente,
most of whom in my acquaintance have been comprised in

[59]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

the "white-collared" employees In the office, as time-
keepers, etc.

As the distinction between the animal and the vegetable
kingdoms and between the vegetable and mineral kingdoms is
not clear-cut, so, I take it, is the distinction among the three
classes down here. Broadly, this is my idea: the Indian,
like our own, is a descendant of the aborigines, who were
here when the Spaniards came; our forefathers killed off
most of our natives but down here "for better or for worse/'
who knows? the Spaniards, while they tried mighty hard,
did not succeed as we did in almost obliterating the "poor,
red man/' The psychology is too much for me: the Indian
at home would not work, down here, he does all the work.
Now, would the Cholo and the gente decente have made a
god of work (shall I spell it WORK?) if the Spaniard had
succeeded in exterminating the Indian? Would our colonists
have worked so hard, if the Indians had done their work
for them? Of course, we know the motives of the colonists
were so radically different from those of the Conquistadores,
but I wonder if the entirely different character of the South
American Indian from that of the Northern may not have
had some slight influence, at least? The Cholo, as I wrote
you earlier, has a mixture of Indian and some foreign blood,
generally Spanish; and be this admixture ever so slight, say
90 percent Indian, he "looks down" on the Indian. Nothing
will insult him more than to call him an Indian. (Page our
late President Wilson's second wife or Will Rogers and see
what they think of their Indian blood!) The gente decente
disclaim any Indian blood at all, claiming usually pure
Spanish ancestry, but any mixture except Indian will do.
Aside from birth there seems to be the distinction of occupa-
tion as well: the tailors, shoemakers, barbers, those who work
with their hands, are the Cholos while the lawyers, doctors
the professional people are gente decente. Just call a gente
decente a Cholo and see the fur fly! I remember when.
teaching at Cochabamba, a young girl in sotto voce called a
student-teacher on the playground a Cholo and he overheard
it. Was there a row? Any high school squabble or faculty
fracas I ever witnessed and you know I had ray share of

MORE ABOUT PULACAYO-THE STRIKE-EXIT
them was a mere bagatelle compared to this. The "Direk-
tora" threw up her hands and exclaimed, "Now we have a
mess on our hands!" The girl was induced to apologize (I
know it was with the same reservation as Galileo to her, he
was a Cholo anyway), but the girl's parents had to come, too,
and they with the daughter retract before the entire school,
apologizing for anything derogatory that might have been
said about the young man; it was a stirring event and the
very funny part to me, at least, was the fact that they were
all Gholos! Or so the Principal told me. Soon after we
settled in our new home in Pulacayo and I was still a live
question mark, we had the Head Accountant as one of our
guests at dinner and I asked him if he would please tell me
the difference between a Cholo and an Indian. He said,
"Mrs, Woods, there is no difference but there is this dis-
tinction: the Cholo wears shoes and his feet smell, the Indian
doesn't wear shoes." In his department nearly all of the
Indians and Cholos came under his eyesand nose.

How did we pass the time when there were no fiestas?
Ah, my dear, even with no household cares, the time did
"fudge it." At first I made myself read Spanish instead of
English and after a while I really preferred the Spanish; I
conscientiously "did" my hour of Spanish every morning
and you, of course, remember my propensity for walking so
I rarely missed a daily walk of three or four kilometers (a
kilometer is six-tenths of a mile) and here on the "roof of
the world," I learned to play golf. We had a nine-hole golf
course and we claimed to have the highest links in the world
but I think this was challenged successfully by Cerro de
Pasco of Peru. At Chojnacota, where we later lived, and now
here at Santo Domingo, the camp is so steeply located that
it would be difficult to play "Ring around the Rosy." Most
of our time in Pulacayo there were six Gringas in camp, four
o whom played bridge, so we had "Bridge Teas," the non-
bridge players dropping in for tea. Letter-writing became
a restored art: I began writing "round robins" of anything
special, such as fiestas or the strike, and a round robin was
passed around among our many relatives you know my
large family and Clarence has seven sisters besides three

[61]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

brothers and parents-and generally a copy to different
friends, who likewise passed it on, and in this way we re-
ceived many replies to one letter.

A wedding anniversary, a birthday, almost any pretext
was seized upon to have a party, while Thanksgiving and
Fourth o July were "red letter" days. Our men folks were
very busy, however, so our parties usually began with a
six o'clock dinner and were almost never late affairs. Almost
regularly once a week, the miJlman's wife and I would have
an "excursion" to Huanchaca, where the furnace of the mill-
ing plant was located. We went by electric tramway through
a tunnel (the main tunnel of the mine) six kilometers or
more long (almost four miles) and at the Huanchaca end we
transferred to "mule tramway," a few kilometers more. We
have also gone over the mountain by mule all the way, which
is a very pretty ride. But the trip through the tunnel always
had its thrills: sometimes the light would go out and we
would be "stalled" hundreds of feet underground or the
mules would be late in meeting us at Huanchaca, Once we
were shown a snake in a bottle just as we emerged from
the tunnel, the first snake I had seen in Bolivia, and for
that reason this one was put in a bottle; a snake at such
a high altitude is a rara avis indeed. The tramway from
the end of the tunnel to Huanchaca is literally lined with
crosses, grim reminders of careless driving, although some
may have been due to accidents while building the road, for
a cross is almost always erected at the place of fatality and
our first few times of going over this road we held on firmly
to the seat and tried not to see the crosses.

The "mayor domo" at Huanchaca had a pet vicuna, several
alpacas, a few viscachas and a great number of birds; visiting
him was very nearly like going to the Zoo, and how he
enjoyed showing off his pets! He was hospitality personified
and if he knew we were coming, served us a delightful
luncheon, but going so frequently, we intentionally did not
advise him and brought a few sandwiches along. The plaxa
at Huanchaca was almost as interesting as that at Pulacayo
even though the whole town was terribly "run down" on
account of most of the works having been transferred to

C6*]

MORE ABOUT PULACAYO-THE STRIKE-EXIT

Pulacayo. At that time Huanchaca boasted the longest
furnace-chimney in the world, a mile or a mile and a quarter
long, I have forgotten the exact length. Huanchaca was
much more beautifully located than Pulacayo and had two
pretty little lakes, so we not infrequently had picnics there.

About six months after our arrival in Pulacayo, the Man-
ager's wife, all excitement, asked me over the telephone if
I would take care of four distinguished guests for one night,
the following night. Naturally I was at once on the qui vive
to know what it was all about so she came on over and we
feverishly discussed plans for entertaining, under the Man-
ager's direction, the President of Bolivia with his family,
the President's brother and family, Herr Kundt, the Head
of the Army, the entire American Diplomatic Corps and the
lesser lights who usually accompany such notables. They were
coming by special train to visit the mine; the Administration
House could not accommodate so many, hence each Gringo
family was asked to receive as many guests as could be
stowed away. We had one guest room and in a pinch could
fix up another, so the American Minister and his wife and
the American Consul and wife were assigned to us. Needless
to say there was much "high pressure" planning: a banquet,
as a matter of course, but a banquet for twenty visitors and
thirty "regulars"~for fifty people in a mining camp, even
though a large one, taxes the resources to the utmost, par-
ticularly on such short notice. But everybody cooperated
most heartily and at six in the evening, when the train was
scheduled to arrive, the last detail had been taken care of.
The banquet was held in the ballroom as the dining room
would have been crowded. The camp guests were not to
appear on the scene until a half hour after the train arrived,
thus giving the "out-of-town" guests time to "doll up" and
we were to take our respective guests to our homes after the
banquet.

At six-thirty we were advised by telephone that the train
was delayed and would not arrive until seven. I still re-
member how I sat before the electric stove, shivering in my
evening frock; and when Clarence answered the 'phone
almost an hour later, he was advised that no one knew when

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

the train would arrive but that we would be informed the
moment of its arrival. Shivering and hungry, we waited and
waited, we put on wraps, we waited, and at ten-thirty we
heard the train whistle. At eleven-fifteen, the cold, tired,
travel-worn, distinguished guests were being introduced to
the cold, tired, waiting-worn camp folks, and at eleven forty-
five, we sat down to a magnificently appointed banquet how
those servants ever managed to keep the hot things hot is a
marvel but the cold things just naturally took care of them-
selves. I had the honor of being seated between President
Saavedra and his brother but I am sure I made no impression
whatsoever on either brother, for all I could "teeth-chatter-
ingly" say was, "Hace mucho frio" (It is very cold).

Nevertheless, it was an elegant affair and in spite of the
cold, the delay, etc., it was an event to be always remembered
and I am not likely to forget it, for when we arrived home
at four A.M., I discovered that I had put my party frock on
backwards!

The late morning after, Clarence took the visitors through
the mine, that is, the men of the party for women are de-
cidedly persona non grata in any mine in South America.
The Indians believe that if a woman enters the mine there
is sure to be a fatal accident within twenty-four hours, and
they so firmly believe it that they will at once quit work if a
woman is seen in the mine. Hence, although Clarence was
Superintendent of the mine at Pulacayo, Manager at
Chojfiacota and we now own the Santo Domingo mine, yet
I have never been in a mine down here. I really do not care
at all but I love to tease Clarence about wanting to see the
mine. I have been down in the Treadwell mines of Alaska,
in the gold mines near Tuolumne, California, and in a coal
mine near Seattle, Washington, and they are all alike, just
as Mark Twain said, "A hole in the ground/* but I most em-
phatically do not agree with him that "the owner is a liar/*
Not so long after Clarence had taken over the mine at Pula-
cayo, the wife of the head mechanic had as a guest a teacher
from Chuquicamata, who, girl-like, was "crazy" to see a mine;
one night the mechanic had some repair work to do OB the
pump level and he was persuaded to take his wife and their

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MORE ABOUT PULACAYO-THE STRIKE-EXIT
guest with him. The next day two men were killed, a for-
tuitous happening, of course, but a serious strike was averted
only by posting a notice at the entrance of the mine that no
one, not even the General Manager himself, would be per-
mitted to enter the mine without an order signed by the
Mine Superintendent. And 1 am positive no woman has
ever and very likely will never receive permission from Clar-
ence to enter a mine, for while he may not be superstitious
himself, he believes ia respecting the superstitions of others.

While I am on the subject of parties, I must tell you about
our "house warming." We invited all the employees, about
thirty. The doctor's wife helped me plan the games, all of
which had to be in Spanish we played "Stage Coach/' "Roll
the Platter/' had charades, wrote "Consequences" and each
guest was requested to tell a funny story, also in Spanish, so
there was a: great deal of merriment. It was the first "dry
party" ever given in Pulacayo I had brought down a gallon
jar of real, genuine grape juice, which Guy, Clarence's
brother, had brought to Orland from Portland, where Guy
had made it from his own vineyard; I also brought down a
half dozen quart jars of choice fruit from our ranch and
these containers were later prized as our most precious pos-
sessions. We served Bryan cocktails, a fruit salad, several
kinds of sandwiches, cake and coffee.

I shall never forget that cake making the first two cakes
fell flat, so in despair I went to my next-door neighbor, who
sympathetically said, "Of course, Mrs. Woods, you can't use
your California recipes down here, I should have told you
that; here you must use less sugar, less shortening and less
baking powder; you pile on the icing to make up for lack
of sweetness. Ill let you have my recipes but even with
these, you'll have to watch the baking with both fingers
crossed, for we never know what will happen." So Marcelina
and I after much toiling and suspense did succeed in turning
out four fairly presentable cakes, but I assure you they were
not worth the effort. A really fine cake in a high altitude sends
forth "great tidings of great joy" which invite all the neigh-
bors to drop in to share the miracle. You never, never ask
for baking powder when shopping but always, "Roydl," ac-

[65]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

cent on the last syllable; rolled oats or oatmeal Is known only
as "Quaker/* pronounced "Quacker" with a broad "a". (Ad-
vertisers, please notice.)

And, perhaps, I might as well digress still further and tell
you that everything must be cooked much, much, more in
the high altitude, that the pressure cooker is indispensable,
and even with a pressure cooker, that beans are absolutely
"verboten." All cooked foods must be thoroughly well done
and every single food made as digestible as possible; and, my
dear, unless you are willing to spend almost all of your hus-
band's salary on a varied diet, youll have to learn to 'live
off the country": the almacen (store) carries an almost com-
plete line of canned goods fruit and vegetables from the
United States, jams, jellies, marmalades and candies from
England, fish from Norway, cheese from Switzerland, caviar
from Russia, potted meats from France and whatever your
fancy craves, but the cost is high, as high or higher than the
altitude and which our pocketbooks could not stand; the
first month's statement makes you dizzy and before the second
is due, you have already learned to make your own marmalade
from the delicious Chilean oranges although a Californian, I
admit the Chilean and Bolivian oranges are sweeter and better
flavored than our well advertised "sun-kists"; you have al-
ready learned to make jelly and jam from whatever fruit the
market affords: quinces, in season, are abundant and very
cheap and they make the base for many a mysterious but
"licking good" conserve; the runty hard peaches make deli-
cious sauce, likewise the pears (I haven't seen a really good
peach or pear in all my years in South America). Even the
tuna (cactus fruit), with cream and sugar and a little lemon
juice, makes a "different" dessert and, thank goodnessl, the
Mission fig is just as delectable and just as "utilizable" and
just as cheap down here as at home.

It was in trying to lower the "high cost of living" that my
half-dozen jars became so highly prized and not one ever
remained empty; the grape juice jar became like the widow
woman's cruse, not of oil but of vinegar and it was not
allowed to fail, for apple peelings, the parings of all fruits,
were used for keeping up the supply of vinegar, and since a

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MORE ABOUT PULAGAYO-THE STRIKE-EXIT
bottle of table vinegar cost more than a dollar and salad
eaters consume a lot of vinegar, that Item alone reduced the
monthly bill appreciably. Instead of canned corn, we used
the native hominy and it was very good. We made our own
baking powder.

Still more, a group of neighbors and myself made a twenty-
gallon barrel of sauerkraut; one afternoon we were bewailing
the high cost of sauerkraut and my "right-hand" neighbor, a
Canadian, said, ' 'Surely, Mrs. Woods, with that German
maiden name of yours, you ought to know how to make
sauerkraut"; and my "left-hand" neighbor, of Scandinavian
descent, added, " Cabbage is so plentiful and so cheap now,
let's try It." I had never made any alone but I had helped
to make many a barrel of it, so right then and there we called
up Mr. Lambert, Head of the Bienestar (Welfare), and asked
him if the camp had a "krauthobel"; he replied he thought
he could locate one so we asked him to let us have all the
cabbage he could spare for the next three days and also to
send up a nice, clean barrel. Mr. Lambert, you will readily
infer, was very much in demand, for he not only looked after
the thousand and one details incidental to his job, but he was
invariably willing to "put himself out" for any extra or
extraordinary request we Gringas asked of him; incidentally,
he was a two-handed gunman, supposed to have five or six
notches on his gun, and who had left the States precipitately
and had left Chile between suns his territory was becoming
somewhat limitedbut just the same, he was very popular
and there was no doubt but that he inspired a ''wholesome
respect."

On the third day, my kitchen, my pantry and even my
back porch were overflowing with cabbages, and then Mr.
Lambert phoned that he was unable to find a kraut-cutter!
My Swedish neighbor brought her maid and two butcher
knives; my Canadian neighbor did likewise and we had a
genuine "sauerkraut bee"; by night we were six tired but
happy at least three of us were happy women, for the
barrel was filled to capacity, with plenty of brine on top. I
think in a month it takes longer to ripen at 15,000 feet-
It was ready and was it good? We told the world it was and

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not only told him but invited him and his wife to many a
feast of "wienies*' and sauerkraut.

But, my! how I have rambled away from my dry party
perhaps, because it was "dry," you will not mind the ram-
bling. But apparently everyone had a good time and they
stayed very, very late. I had asked everybody to come
promptly at eight and all the Gringos did; the "Nationals"
they prefer to be called Nationals rather than "Natives/*
for the latter has come to mean just the Indians began
arriving at eight-thirty and the last guest arrived at ten, with-
out excuse or apology. It is costumbre (the custom); and
believe this or not, but when I had "mixed" guests to dinner
at six, I invited the Nationals to come at five; the Gringos
always understood, but even so, we rarely could sit down
to the table before six-thirty! The Bryan cocktails seemed
to go over big.

Not so long after Clarence arrived at Pulacayo, he was
sent to Punatuma to give the power plant a "once over"
and while helping the natives pull a dead llama out of the
canal he ruptured himself. He was too engrossed in his work
to take the time off for an operation, but a year later the
hernia became unbearable and at the insistence of the Gen-
eral Manager, we went to Ghuquicamata where he entered
their up-to-date and most efficiently managed hospital I
presume all hospital experiences are but variations of the
same general pattern but I feel I must pay some small tribute
to the splendid, sympathetic American nurses, who not only
took such excellent care of Clarence but kindly soothed my
"nerves" and gently calmed my fears. After a month at
"Chuqui," we spent another month at Antofagasta for Clar-
ence to recuperate. However, I must not forget to tell how
very much Clarence and I appreciated the unvarying kind-
ness of the hospitable "Chuqui" folks, especially the girls o
the "Hen House" (where the teachers lived). I, too, was
domiciled there, for the authorities at the hospital said I
was too nervous to live at the hospital, but the "Hen House"
was close and when Clarence was well on the way to recovery
I was so taken up with the "Hen House life" that I persuaded
the hospital authorities to allow Clarence to spend the last

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MORE ABOUT PULACAYO-THE STRIKE-EXIT
week of his "sentence" at the house with "us teachers/'

During our protracted absence from Pulacayo, many por-
tentous events were happening at the mine; the mine was
owned by a French Company, the Directorate was Chilean
and the management, Americanjust imagine, if you can, the
complicated bookkeeping. Everything had to be recorded in
both Spanish and English, while the Monthly Reports had
to be in Spanish, English and French; add to that, the con-
stant fluctuating of exchangefor all items had to be con-
verted into the terms of the boliviano, the dollar and the
franc it is a wonder the accountant and the auditor were not
raving maniacs! While we were in "Ghuqui," the American
Manager was replaced by a Frenchman, who brought three
of his countrymen with him. They seemed to antagonize
the workmen and the employees right at the start. The
three accompanying Frenchmen soon replaced three Ameri-
cans and the "Exodus" began: one by one our American
friends were "let out." Although none had been "sent down
the hill" when we returned, yet we could see the "handwrit-
ing on the wall" and our once cheerful, happy camp became
a sad one. Clarence asked to be relieved but his resignation
was not accepted, as the mine was so large and its workings
so complex that the new man must first become familiar
with the labyrinth of tunnels before the old one could be
spared. Finally the new Mine Superintendent arrived but by
this time there were but two American families left, no, just
the Woods family, for the other family was Canadian. The
Frenchman who was to take Clarence's place could not stand
the altitude and at the end of four days had to be carried out
on a stretcher and placed on a special train for Antofagasta,
where he did not Improve; he then went to Valparaiso, also
In vain, and later died in Paris.

Meantime, matters went from bad to worse; production fell
off, orders were sent out and countermanded and sent out
again until no one knew "where he was at." I told you that
many of the workmen had been born in Pulacayo, that many
of them had never been beyond Uyuni (about seventeen miles
distant), so it is not at all strange that they looked upon the
mine as their own. They became obsessed with the idea that

[69]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

the "Viscacha" as they had nicknamed the Manager on
account of his bristling mustaches, which resembled the long
whiskers of this gray-colored cousin of the rabbit that the
"Viscacha," for some sinister purpose, was deliberately trying
to wreck the mine!

Finally, on January the igth, matters came to a crisis;
there had been many, many rumors of huelgas (strikes), so
many that we had ceased to pay any attention to them, but
this morning the Mill Superintendent told Clarence that the
strike would take place at two that afternoon. Clarence
found everything as usual when he made his customary
round in the mine that morning, so he inferred it was just
another rumor; but at one-thirty, a shift boss came to his
office to tell him the miners were coming out of the mine.
Clarence went at once to the Administration to notify the
Manager, who said he already knew all about the impending
uprising and that he knew how to handle the situation, so
Clarence returned to his office and busied himself with
reports.

Shortly before the clock struck two, men could be seen
coming from the mill, the maestranza (shops), from every-
where, converging to the plaza, and at two, in a more or less
orderly procession, the thousand men (not counted) started
for the Administration. At the first indication of trouble,
the women of the neighborhood gathered at my home, be-
cause from our porch there was an unobstructed view of the
Administration Building and then, too, we all felt there was
safety in numbers. We watched the men climb the outside
steps, saw them go inside, could see them part way going
up the inside steps, saw a large part of the crowd deploy on
the veranda and then we heard a shot and a few seconds
later another, followed by two blasts of dynamite, and this
finished our "seem so" calm and each and every one of us
"went to pieces." I did not know where Clarence was nor
did the others have any idea where their husbands might be.
To add to our terror, the Chilean wife of the Manager's
French secretary began to tear her hair, all the while scream-
ing, ee Mi Jorge, mi Jorge* estan matando mi Jorge!**., then
the Peruvian wife of the American accountant, not to be

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outdone, alternately pounded me on the back and pulled out
her hair, screaming all the while at the top o her voice,
ff Por Dios, por Dios, donde esta mi Federicof" (The first
woman screamed, "My George, my George, they are killing
my George!" and the second rent the air with, "My God,
my God, where is my Frederick?")

By this time my Gringa neighbor and I were sobbing, all
of us hysterical, but at this juncture, "Jorge," the French
secretary, appeared, assuring us, even shaking his wife to
convince us, that our respective husbands were all safe and
unhurt and fortunately Clarence did come in a minute or
two and was followed by the other husbands almost imme-
diately; then, somewhat calmed but still excited, we women
with our men watched the frenzied mob drag the half-faint-
ing, torn and bleeding Manager down the steps, through the
plaza, and toward the railroad tracks. The women and chil-
dren, mingling in the crowd, were worse than the men: they
threw missiles of anything they could lay hands on, they
spat at him, they called him vile names in Quechua, which
happily we could not understand. The poor victim's face
was smeared with blood, for he had been "crowned" with a
porteviande (a five-storied enameled dinner pail), his long,
luxuriant mustaches had been ruthlessly cut off with a piece
of calamina (galvanized iron), his clothes were in shredshe
was a sorry sight, more dead than alive. Then he was lost
to our view but we learned that he was half-carried, half-
dragged a kilometer or more down the railroad track; two
of the other three Frenchmen were "man-handled" very
roughly, too, but not so severely as their chief, while the
fourth had been forewarned and "beat it down the hill"
before the mob collected.

In the meantime a man hurried from the office to our
home to advise Clarence that with the two shots we had
heard, two men were badly wounded. It seems that the
Manager did not want to kill any of the men, that he thought
by flourishing a gun he could scare them away; but he did
not understand the caliber of these infuriated men, who, ap-
parently, had no fear whatsoever of death. The crowd had
forced its way to the Manager's living quarters, where both

[7*]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

he and his wife were awaiting them, both with guns; the
Manager aimed at the foremost man's legs but he kept right
on coming; the shot hit him in the leg but the crowd, now
a maddened mob, did not recede, perhaps pushed ahead, too,
by those in the rear. A second man was shot in the foot,
but he seized the gun from the Manager, while a third man
hit him over the head with the heavy dinner pail; the Man-
ager crumpled down from the blow and was then dragged
out as we later saw; his wife, distracted, knowing not what
would become of her husband, locked herself in an inner
room.

Clarence went at once to see the wounded men and de-
cided they must be sent promptly to Uyuni for medical
attention, as our camp doctor had been let out a few days
previously and his successor had not yet arrived; hence he
ordered the train, with a first-class coach, to be made up
immediately. When the milling crowd saw the first-class
coach, they began to remonstrate, protesting a coach was too
good for the "Viscacha," that a flat car was good enough
for him; but when Clarence explained that the coach was to
take two wounded men to Uyuni, that they needed the
protection from the cold and possible snow, then the throng
fell back and permitted the coach to be attached. When
the train overtook the three exhausted, maltreated French-
men, they were put on the flat car, but when the train had
put Pulacayo and the mob a few kilometers more in the
rear, the Manager was carried into the coach to his wife.

During all this excitement and hubbub, the "interidente"
(sheriff) and his handful of soldiers were conspicuous by their
absence, and only when the train was made up and ready to
depart did they appear from behind a hill and they escorted
the Manager's wife to the train; she was a good sport, held
her head high, disdaining the mob, mostly women and chil-
dren (the men had not yet returned from conducting the
three Frenchmen down the hill) who said dreadful things and
spat at her but they did not throw stones. The Manager lay
at the point of death for many weeks in Uyuni and was in a
hospital at La Paz for five months. Clarence and I saw him
and his wife as they were leaving La Paz for Valparaiso,

[7*]

MORE ABOUT PULACAYO-THE STRIKE-EXIT
later to Paris, but they did not care to see us and she and
I had been such good friends, too. One of the wounded
Pulacayo workmen died.

After the train had departed and the crowd was straggling
back from its degrading pursuit, there was a short lull, a brief
respite for us over-excited women and we were all breathing
a little easier, when that whole multitude came marching
right up to our house! Was I scared? I didn't know but
what they intended to take my husband forcibly, too. And
they did, but with what a difference! The spirit of the mob
had completely changed; now instead of sullen, ''hell-bent"
faces, there were broad grins; the men, and women, too,
threw their hats up in the air and shouted in unison, "Que-
remos al Senor Woods J queremos at Senor Woods!" ("We
want Mr. Woods, we want Mr. Woods!") Like the children
they really are, they had already forgotten the tragedy of
just a short half hour before. Mr. Anderson, who had
worked under the French regime as Head Mechanic, lived
next door but they were still at our house. A group of men
hoisted Mr. Anderson on their shoulders in typical football-
hero fashion, another group grabbed Clarence, and so with
the band playing patriotic airs and these two men in their
elevated positions, heading the procession, we all (Mrs. An-
derson and I were not leaving our husbands out of sight,
not for one minute!) including what few Gringos were left
and that whole multitude marched up and down, up and
down, through the main thoroughfares and through even a
few byways, with the restored American flag and the Boli-
vian flag flaunting gayly over the heads of Mr. Anderson and
Clarence; when the music stopped just for a moment, the
air was rent with, "Viva Huanchaca!" "Viva la huelga!"
"Viva, al Sr. Anderson!" "Viva al Sr. Woods!" "Viva
Bolivia!",, anything they could think of to "Viva" I believe
I even heard one "Viva la Sra. Woods!"

When they had shouted themselves hoarse, when the flag-
bearers began to stumble, then in the plaza, several group
pictures were takencan you imagine a crowd, having so
recently committed such atrocious, lawless acts, grouping
themselves eagerly, even vying to obtain center positions, to

[73]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

be photographed? But, then, they did not feel that they had
done anything wrong, rather they were elated, for they be-
lieved they had saved the mine! After much speech-making,
the waving of the two flags and patriotic music, the self-
appointed "master of ceremonies" in "behalf of his fellow
countrymen" declared Clarence "Gerente" (Manager) and
declared Mr. Anderson Head of the Mechanical and Trans-
portation Department. Thereupon more pictures had to be
taken, this time with Clarence and Mr. Anderson in the
center, the Bolivian flag high above them and our own
"Stars and Stripes" just below.

At five could it be possible it was only five? -those three
momentous hours had been so stirring, so exciting, so thrill-
ing, they almost seemed a lifetime at five, Clarence looked
at his watch and said, "People of Huanchaca, you have asked
me to be your Manager, you have thrust the position on me.
Well then, if I am to be your Manager, you must all do as
I say, you must obey orders and" but the crowd interrupted
with "Si, si. Viva al Gerente! Viva! Viva!" so many times,
that again looking at his watch, he continued, "It is now ten
minutes past five; at six, the night shift will report for work
as usual and all work will go on as if nothing untoward has
happened let us all work together." With a few more
"Vivas/' the crowd quietly dispersed. I went with Clarence
to the telegraph office, where he sent a message to the Direc-
torate at Valparaiso, Chile, apprising them of the recent
occurrences. At six the full night shift went to work I
should say complete., for, happily, throughout this disturb-
ance, no one was "full" there was no drinking at all. The
following morning Clarence received a reply to his telegram,
authorizing him to take entire charge of everything and to
"save the mine."

The Huanchaca Company paid its men every Saturday.
On Friday the cashier or his assistant would go to Uyuni, cash
the check for the about ^5/40,000 necessary to meet the pay-
roll and return the same day; a policeman usually accom-
panied the cashier, and if there were an extra-large amount
to be brought back, Mr. Lambert went, too. On the Friday
following the huelga, Clarence went to Uyuni himself to

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MORE ABOUT PULACAYO-THE STRIKE-EXIT
cash the check, signed by himself, but the bank at Uyuni
refused to honor his check, even though he had the tele-
graphic authority; the banker really wanted to help out but
said he was helpless he could only cash a check signed by a
Manager who had written authority. The ousted French
Manager was still In Uyuni but, not unreasonably, he
refused to sign a check. While Clarence felt that the work-
men would willingly wait another week for their pay, yet
he wanted to bring back the payroll, so he appealed to
President Saaveclra and after a few minutes' conversation over
the telephone, the President of Bolivia assured Clarence that
the matter would be satisfactorily arranged; but It was not
until nine o'clock that night that the bank-cashier brought
the jB/4o,ooo, a personal loan from the President to Clarence,
and the train brought him and the money back early enough
the next morning to meet all obligations.

The written authorization came before the next pay day
and everything went along smoothly. The production in-
creased appreciably, there were no labor troubles at Pulacayo
during the four months that Clarence was Acting Manager,
but about a month after he had assumed charge there was
trouble at Punatuma, the power plant, A Gringo, who had
been Head Mechanic at the plant before, was sent there to
do some repair work and the workmen refused to let him
enter the plant, even threatened him with a gun; the native
in charge telephoned to Clarence for Instructions; Clarence
told him to send the mechanic back and at once ordered an
official Investigation. The Committee on Investigation re-
ported there were many complaints against the Gringo,
largely of his harsh treatment of the natives, and that the
authorities of the village of Punatuma would not be respon-
sible for his safety, if he were sent back. Thereupon, the
mechanic, Lambert and Clarence motored to Punatuma
(sixty kilometers), and when the thirty or more Cholos and
Indians saw the mechanic In the car they began protesting
to Clarence that they would not allow the mechanic to
stay In Punatuma, but they fell back when Lambert de-
scended from the car; and so with Mr. Lambert on one side

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HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

and Clarence on the other, the mechanic was conducted to
the plant.

After looking the plant over and deciding that no one else
could do this job, Clarence called the men together, told
them that this Gringo was the only man available who could
do this particular job, and it was imperative that the work
be done at once; this gathering was in the front yard of the
plant; Clarence went out among the men but Mr. Lambert
paced up and down on the porch, ready for any emergency
and the men knew it. Clarence issued an ultimatum that
any man who did not want to work under this Gringo could
draw his pay (he had borrowed sufficient money from the
village priest to pay the entire gang, if such a contingency
should arise), and that all those who quit would have to
leave Punatuma the following morning. All but four quit
and by nine o'clock the next morning, all the disgruntled
men and their families had quietly departed. The Gover-
nador of the village secured new men, the mechanic was
left in charge, Clarence and Mr. Lambert returned to Pula-
cayo and the repair work was completed without any further
disturbance.

While it was "all quiet on the western front" and on all
the other fronts all the remaining time of our stay in Pula-
cayo, yet I never saw a knot of men talking together but I
feared another huelga; one experience of that kind Is
enough for a lifetime, the old camaraderie was gone, and
when a reorganization made a "new deal" necessary, I was
not at all sorry to leave Pulacayo.

[76]

CHAPTER V

LA PAZ COCHABAMBA

Santo Domingo Mine, Nov. 5, 1931.
DEAR BYRBIE:

I was more than pleased to receive an air-mail reply and,
of course, my dear, you may read these letters to your club;
I feel quite complimented that you think them worth while
and I know how the "personal touch" always adds to the
interest: that you know the writer so well, way off in South
America, enhances the "effect." Yes, I did end that "exit-
letter" rather abruptly but then we left Pulacayo even more
abruptly. However, I did scrupulously apportion those
precious fruit jars between the two Gringas left in camp and
if I remember rightly those two friends drew lots for the
vinegar bottle.

Facing an unknown future, but fully decided in our own
minds that we would remain in Bolivia a few years longer,
we went to La Paz, the highest capital in the world, as it is
almost always spoken of, and it does have the President's Palace
and it does house the Senate and"Diputados," as Bolivia 's Rep-
resentatives are called, and the Executive and Lawmaking
Departments are in La Paz; but the Supreme Court, the
Archbishop's Palace and the main University are located in
Sucre, hence, besides having the distinction of having the
highest capital in the world, Bolivia may also boast having
two capitals and both are well worth a visit.

One never forgets the approach by rail into La Paz; no
matter from what direction you may come, you will have to
ride for hours over the barren, monotonous altiplano (high
plain), which, next to that of Tibet, is also the highest in the
world; and then suddenly you drop, and a real drop it is ;
into a deep saucer, actually more like a gravy-boat, and
the beautiful city of La Paz with its highly colored peaks
its castle-like pinnacles of rock, literally bursts upon youi

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HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

view it is, indeed, like a restful, sunken oasis in a vast des-
ert. It is situated in a quebrada, at the very head or begin-
ning of the Yungas Valley. Illimani, its huge bulk towering
more than 2 1 ,000 feet above the sea, capped with everlasting
snow, seems but a stone's throw away in reality, it is sixty-
four kilometers (|}8i/ miles) distant. The mountain may
still have a German flag flying from its top: while we were
in Chojfiacota, a party of Germans from the Araca mine, a
tin mine, in the Quimse Cruz (Three Crosses) section of
the very high Andes, succeeded after several efforts in mak-
ing the strenuous, hazardous ascent and the climbers planted
the ' 'Fatherland's" flag on the summit. Some Bolivians, and
naturally, were displeased but the Germans merely shrugged
their shoulders and told the malcontents that they wei*e per-
fectly welcome to take the flag down! The Germans, as
you know, are noted for their lack of diplomacy it seems
to me it would have been a much more gracious thing to
hoist both the Bolivian and German flags. However,
Illimani doesn't care and the chances are a million to one
that that German flag has been whipped to tatters long ago
and lies buried under tons and tons of snow.

But not content with this gem of Illimani as a setting for
one of her two capitals, Bolivia has added the snowy peaks
of Sorata, Juana Potosi and Mururata, all of which can be
seen as we approach La Paz, and it is indeed a rare occa-
sion if one of them, at least, is not visible, although the
others may be concealed in the clouds.

La Paz itself is very interesting so high up in the world
and so far from the sea. Arica, the nearest port, is about
fifteen hours by train and a summit of more than 14,000
feet must be negotiated between the two, hence most all
travelers avoid either the rapid ascent or descent; people
have been known to "go out" completely and were resusci-
tated only with great difficulty by applying "canned" oxygen
in the going almost "straight up," while even the descent
ofttimes leaves suffering in its wake, such as nosebleed and
a ringing in the ears. Mollendo, the Peruvian port, is two
full days* travel from La Paz but it is the route most gen-
erally chosen by tourists, as it gives the beautiful trip across

LA PAZ-COCHABAMBA

Lake Titlcaca and, if the tourist is making the trip all
around South America, a side trip to Cuzco is made before
crossing the lake. Usually, then, the traveler goes by train
to Antofagasta, requiring one night and two days, and he
thus not only ''breaks" the altitude but avoids the long water
trip. Hence, La Paz, in her proud isolation, unlike Lima
and other coast cities, has kept her local color and this ex-
clusiveness makes her the most worth while of any South
American city to "sight see/'

When you come to La Paz, under no circumstances must
you fail to visit the Sunday Indian Market; it commences
at the San Francisco Market, a colorful market itself every
day in the year, and extends three or four blocks up the
hill between and including the calles (streets) of Murillo
and Recreo, and of course the side streets within the angle
like this:

Francisco

Marlcet

Here the Indians bring their produce such as chuno (dried
potatoes), chalona (dried mutton), corn, quinua, onions,
potatoes, quinces, pears all the vegetables and fruits the
country yields, chickens, ducks, turkeys, etc. And such a
bewildering variety of knitted and woven articlesl All
hand made and formerly dyed with native dyes, but now
with German dyesboxes after boxes of German dyes can
now be seen piled up amid the native wares. There is pot-
tery, too, but more artistic pottery can be bought in Cocha-
bamba. All these wares are displayed in the street and the
shopkeepers along these streets take advantage of the crowds
that come to see the Indian Market, to make a special display
of their best and most brilliant offerings: polleras (Chola
skirts) in all their vivid hues, with bolts and bolts of the
castilla^ of which the skirts are made, piled high in front of
the shop; Chola blusas (blouses) more like basques, to
match or more often in contrast to the skirt; Ghola shawls,
from an ordinary one of llama wool, to the finest cashmere

[79]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

ones, beautifully embroidered the silk ones are usually not
exhibited outside but carefully guarded in glass showcases;
Chola shoes and boots; fardos, bolts and bolts of the home-
spun bayeta; an occasional cow-hide or bull-hide trunk, all
studded with bright nails or oftener fastened together with
bright-colored strips of hidethese trunks are called patacas
and for souvenir-hunters are a real "find"; quantities of
hand-made lace; such a variety of scarfs, made of alpaca or
llama wool, woven and dyed in the most brilliant hues.
Some of these scarfs are truly handsome and I know a woman
who bought three of these beautiful scarfs, out of which
she made for herself the most "fetching" and "chic" sports
suit, that would be the envy of Fifth Avenue. But aside
from the sundry and various "thousand and one" objects
for sale, there is a constant shifting of kaleidoscopic colors,
a mingling of ponchos, polleras, business suits with a sprin-
kling of "Gringa" street dresses, and while not so cosmopoli-
tan as the marts of Alexandria, yet this Sunday market is in
a class by itself, once seen, never forgotten.

Plaza Murillo is the main plaza of La Paz, a spacious, well-
kept park of trees, ornamental shrubs, grass, flowers and
fountains, a band stand at one side, with the President's
Palace and Cathedral (still unfinished and already many,
many years in the building) enclosing the "park" on one
side; the Senate and House of Representatives at right angles
to the Palace and Cathedral, enclosing this side, while the
two opposite sides are taken up by commercial buildings.
This plaza is nearly always busy, while on Sundays and band
concert nights it is almost literally "packed"; it has been
said that if you hang around this plaza long enough, you are
sure to meet anyone you know in La Paz.

The "Mercado de Flores" (Flower Market), just a few
blocks down from Plaza Murillo, is a "thing of beauty and
a joy forever": such a profusion of rosesLa Paz might very
appropriately be called the "City of Roses"; sweet peas,
piled up high on low counters; chrysanthemums in glorified
array; the most wonderful daisies, sweet-smelling, and a daisy
called "Faust's Marguerite," resembling our Shasta Daisy;
many, many marigolds; pansies, large velvety ones, by the

LA PAZ-COCHABAMBA

carload; lilies of many varieties, the overwhelmingly fragrant
Madonna lily and the Easter lily, very much in evidence at
all funerals; dalias (that's the Spanish spelling), poppies,
petunias, forget-me-nots, jasmine, gladiolas, the "romantic"
magnolia, the meek primrose and still many others, whose
names I do not know. Any time of the year, you may buy
plenty of flowers but, of course, they are seasonal here, too.
We Californians are accustomed to a profusion of flowers
and if we have occasion to buy any we expect them to be
cheap, but the prices in La Paz are about a third, approxi-
mately centavos to our cents, so a New Yorker would feel
himself a millionaire in the flower market of La Paz. At
this same market you can also buy the most "adorable"
baskets, all sizes and shapes, made of reeds and grasses, most
of them from Copocabana, an Indian village located on a
peninsula in Lake Titicaca, about four hours by automo-
bile after you leave Guaqui, the Bolivian port on Lake Titi-
caca; wherever possible the word Copocabana is woven into
the basket or the water bottle or whatever it may be, in
brilliant colors. Some of these extremely artistic baskets
with excessively high, slender handles, filled with mar-
guerites, or sweet peas, or roses, or what will you, would
make a gift "fit for a queen" and at a price to fit the hum-
blest pocketbook.

The Market of San Agustin, directly back of the flower
market, is interesting and also fragrant but not so pleasingly
fragrant; here are vegetables and fruit of all kinds, eggs,
meat, fish, etc. You will wind your way through very wide
aisles, wide enough for four or five persons abreast, and
then through extremely narrow aisles with scarcely enough
space to pass another person. On counters about three feet
high, called patitas from the way the Chola sits on them,
the Chola with her many, voluminous skirts sits, surrounded
by her wares for sale. One Chola will be encircled by little
pyramids of stunted, gnarled tomatoes, five or seven in a
pyramid, and selling for twenty centavos a pyramid; another
Chola will have little piles of potatoes, or camotes (sweet
potatoes); still another is surrounded by little pyramids of
oranges, usually five, sometimes as cheap as ten centavos for

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

the five delicious oranges from the Yungas. In fact, almost
all the flowers, fruit and vegetables come from the Yungas,
now only a few hours by train and more recently by auto
from La Paz, but I hazard a guess that almost ninety percent
of the produce is still brought up on mules or burros. The
market affords no paper ,bags or other containers, so you
learn to bring your shopping bag and basket, and if unac-
companied by a servant, there are numerous chicos (boys),
who, for ten centavos, will faithfully follow you around,
carrying your purchases and even seem pleased at every
additional burden, until it would seem they couldn't carry
another ounce, and then cheerfully carry the heavy load for
many blocks to your destination. (Of course they expect,
and usually get, a tip.) I was particularly glad that I
learned to know this market so well, for later when we lived
at Chojnacota, a box of flowers and two baskets of fruit and
vegetables were sent us every Wednesday, and I could make
our want list so well that rarely were there any substitutions.
La Paz has still another attractive market, the San Fran-
cisco, but I have described the others so much in detail that
I will merely add that if you have exhausted all the other
markets and stores for some special article, you will, nine
times out of ten, find that very thing at the San Francisco
market.

One of the other places of interest, exceedingly so to me,
is the "Baby Home/' a public institution supported partly
by the Government but more largely by charity and called,
"Asilo de la Gota de Leche," which literally means "Asylum
of the Drop of Milk." Here, jutting the street, is a small
vestibule, and facing the inner wall is a turnstile and, con-
venient to the reach, is a cradle-like affair; the unwelcome
baby is placed in the cradle, the turnstile given a turn and
the mother, or whoever deposits the baby, sees it no more
or, at least, so I was told when I visited the place one Sun-
day afternoon but I have recently been authoritatively in-
formed by our national engineer at Santo Domingo, whose
cousin is one of the Directors of this institution, that, if
the baby has some identification tag or mark, accompanied
by a written request from the mother that she wants her

LA PAZ-COCHABAMBA

baby later, when she can take care of it, then the identifica-
tion of this particular baby will be carefully preserved, even
until it reaches the age of eighteen. He did not know if
there had ever been any mix-up such as a mother not getting
her own child, but he said the great majority of the found-
lings are never claimed, that it is not a strictly religious
organization in that it is not supported by the Church,
Catholic, of course, down here, but that these "Sisters of
Charity" who take care of the babies are volunteers, usually
devoting two years only at a time but that some "do" sev-
eral "terms" also voluntarily. When the boy baby is seven,
he is sent to the "Asilo JoseY' also a charitable institution
but religious, in that it is strictly Catholic; sometimes girl
babies are sent here, too, depending on conditions; the older
girls are trained to take care of the younger babies and they
are "farmed out/' too, as nurse girls or helpers, to respectable
families, who must report at stated times to the "Sister
Superior" at "La Gota de Leche," giving details of the
health, conduct and usefulness of the child entrusted to their
care. If there are more girls than room, then the surplus
is also sent to the San Jos Orphanage, for they have two
sections at this huge institution, one for boys and the other
for girls. The boys are taught trades such as shoemaking,
tailoring, carpentry, etc.; the girls learn to sew, embroider,
knit and cook. One may buy the most exquisite hand work
here, or you may bring your own linen, pick out your pat-
tern and have the work done to order; most of this work is
done by the girls but under the supervision of a Sister. As
I understand it, not all the Sisters are nuns nor all the
Brothers priests but that here, too, there are many volun-
teer helpers. Whatever the organization, the Asilo San
Jos seems to be doing most efficiently a tremendous amount
of charitable work and if you ever see a procession of the
little girls or of the little boys, taken out for a walk, you
wonder if there can be any more children in La Paz, and yet
these orderly processions of uniformed, clean kiddies must
wind their way in and out among a seemingly countless
rabble of ragged, dirty street urchins.

This, my first visit to La Paz, was of six weeks' duration,

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HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

the latter five as a teacher in the American Institute; true
to form, I visited this school and it, too, like the one at
Iquique, was needing another teacher, one who could teach
English, and it was a happy arrangement, for not only was I
glad to be of service, but I was so comfortably and grati-
fyingly made to "feel at home" while Clarence was making
connections for a worth-while job. The American Institute
is a Methodist Mission School. I believe there are such
schools in many countries of South America; I know there
are two in Bolivia La Paz and Cochabarnba and I learned
to know these two quite well.

At La Paz I had my first experienceah, how many "first
experiences" I have had since coming to South America!
of teaching kindergarten and I said to the "Direktor," "But,
I don't know a thing about kindergarten," and he replied,
"Oh, you'll enjoy it and it is only for a few days anyway."
And did I enjoy those few days of kindergarten? I was
genuinely sorry to see the regular teacher return and I
learned a lot more from those adorable kiddies than they
ever learned from me. One of the older tots would confid-
ingly put her little hand in mine and all unconsciously
teach me how to play their games, to "step off" their clever
little dances, and how they would those appreciative kiddies
how they would apply themselves to any little task I as-
signed them! (I diligently studied every kindergarten book
or plan the "regular" had left in her room or at school.)
I fully decided that if I had my life to live over, I would
surely become a kindergarten teacher!

Besides this class, I had four others, teaching English to
kiddies ranging from eight to sixteen years of age, boys and
girls segregated, but the Institute does have many classes
with boys and girls together and I think I am right in saying
that the American Institute was the first school in South
America that "dared" to permit boys and girls to recite
together or to work in the laboratories together. I wish I
had a "Prospectus" here so I could give you definite informa-
tion about this excellent school but the prospectus would
not tell you that these American teachers are the "salt of
the earth," that in spite of their meager salaries, they do,

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LA PAZ-COCHABAMBA

individually, an incalculable amount of charity work, that
their regular teaching work is kept up to standard all the
time and that, even though they are missionaries, they are
not long-faced "killjoys" but a cheerful, happy, optimistic
and earnest group of teachers, whose influence for good,
and more by example than precept, is much further reaching
than they themselves dream of and this influence is steadily
increasing. I think the La Paz Institute had about 500
students, when I was teaching there-it has overtopped 600
smce-with about 50 boys in the "Internado," dormitory
for the boys who live at the school, and about 25 girls in
the "Internada." The faculty consisted of the Direktor and
his wife (for almost invariably the wife teaches, too), nine
or ten American teachers, usually heads of departments, and
I just haven't any idea of how many national teachers and
student-teachers. Quite a few of the graduates go to the
"States" for normal school or university training and return
to the Institute to teach. The buildings (and it is really
quite an imposing plant) are situated near the Prado, the
"Unter den Linden" of Berlin to La Paz; this Prado which
was so feverishly dug, filled, patted and macadamized, then
planted to have it ready for the "Centenario," beginning
August 6, 1935.

This was also my first experience of living at a school;
for me it was delightful but as a "steady diet" I think I
would prefer to 'lock the schoolhouse door, leaving all the
cares inside." It must be a tremendous responsibility to
look after the health and welfare, with all the thousand
and one details which the latter implies, of a bunch of
healthy, curious, hungry, growing young animals, to be at
their beck and call any hour of the day or night, but these
twenty-four hour duty teachers had all the appearance of
thoroughly enjoying their work; everything was so systema-
tized that interruptions were exceptional.

But living at the Institute makes me think of American
"eats": you may hear people rave about German bratwurst,
English "teas," French pastry, Italian empinadas, South
American chili dishes, etc., and all these countries do have
good food and good cooking; but the whole group together,

[85]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

indiscriminately or piled, that is their specialties, one on top
o another, the sum total of all their best cooking can't
compare with a good "square" American meal of fried spring
chicken with milk gravy, mashed potatoes, hot biscuits, corn
on the cob, and topped off with strawberry shortcake or ice
cream, or both. The American Institute served good,
wholesome, appetizing American meals but also had native
cooking for its "clientele"; it is better not to dwell on "eats"
away from home,' but take it from me, if you are especially
addicted to having your food "just so," if you are not happy
unless you have dined well, don't leave the States. Native
cooks can be taught "American style" as I know from pleas-
ant experience, and they can be taught and trusted to thor-
oughly sterilize all uncooked vegetables, especially lettuce
for salad, by first soaking them in dilute solutions of po-
tassium permanganate or iodine, so if you are keeping house,
why worry? It is the finicky tourist who must suffer.

And "eats" reminds me of American apples they can be
bought in any of the large markets for thirty centavos, at
that time about ten cents, apiecenot so bad, for we have
paid ten cents for an apple in Boston; but any American
apples, no matter from what locality, are always sold as Cali-
fornia apples (if you intend to send this letter to any Florida
friend, better delete the apples). There are only two fairly
well-known states, New York and California, throughout
South America, and sometimes I think a good many people
regard New York as a city in California!

The American Institute has tennis courts, football
canchas, an out-of-doors skating rink and encourages ath-
letics of all kinds; the friendly rivalry with other schools
has done much in breaking down prejudices. The school
takes children from kindergarten and graduates them as
what would correspond to our high school seniors; a friend
of ours, who had his two little girls in the American Insti-
tute and later placed them in the public schools of Berkeley,
California, was very much pleased that his two young daugh-
ters were "up to grade" and very highly gratified at their
teachers* praise of the excellent training they had had, A
son of another friend of ours graduates this year from the

[86]

LA PAZ-COCHABAMBA

Arizona School of Mines; he finished the La Paz American
Institute and in spite of the handicap of his halting English
became an accredited freshman and will get his degree after
the four years' prescribed work. A very encouraging sign
of the trend of the times is the large number of girls en-
rolled in the Commercial Department. Some subjects as
Bolivian history, geography, civics, etc., are required by law
to be taught in Spanish but every child must study English
and on the whole the children learn to speak English very
well. J

At the end of five weeks, Mr. Washburn, the Direktor,
asked me to go to Cochabamba, exchanging work with his
wife; naturally, he preferred to have his wife and their two
really charming children with him in La Paz; he also
asked as a favor, that I finish the school year at Cochabamba
-the same old story of not wanting to change teachers so
near the close of the yearand much as I disliked the idea
of being separated from Clarence that much longer, yet I
felt I should grant this favor, not only dutifully but gladly,
as a slight recompense for the genuine hospitality accorded
me. And I was a guest at the Alumni Banquet in Cocha-
bambal

So I left La Paz, with regret, on a Sunday morning at
seven-thirtythere are but two trains a week traveled all day
over the monotonous altiplano, my first experience of trav-
eling alone in South America, and arrived late in the after-
noon at Omro, where all passengers for Cochabamba have
to remain all night, I stayed at the Hotel Hispano-Ameri-
cano, largely because it was so near the station; it was not
so bad, and sometimes "not so bad" may mean the highest
praise. The train departs at eight or thereabouts the fol-
lowing morning over one of the most tortuous and "switch-
backing" roads I have ever seen, descending through the
pretty Cochabamba valley to a little less than eight thousand
feet; the train stops about five-thirty and goes no farther;
we have arrived at Cochabamba, and apparently, every man,
woman, child and dog- Cochabambinos are at the station
to meet us. Mrs. Washburn rescued me from the throng
of chicos, who seemed determined to relieve me not only of

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

my suitcase but of my handbag, gloves and even my hand-
kerchief! Then we rode in a taxi through narrow streets,
through the large, very attractive main plaza, through more
narrow, very bumpy streets, almost to the other extreme end
of the town, where we stopped before a high adobe wall,
then walked a few steps to a tall, ornate gate, whose huge
knocker Mrs. Washburn deftly manipulated and almost at
once the gate was opened by the gardener, who conducted
us through still another gate, across an immense cemented
patio to a room at whose door, Miss Danskin, the "Direk-
tora" of the Girls' School, smilingly welcomed us, and a
little later conducted me to a very large, high-ceilinged room,
redolent with fragrant flowers and with a balcony over-
looking the most wonderful, the most enchanting garden it
was ever my privilege to know a veritable fairyland and
this was my happy home for four months.

This school had formerly been a very wealthy man's
home: it was a two-story, adobe mansion with vast rooms
built around an enormous patio; all the rooms, upstairs and
downstairs, opened out on extremely wide, "high vaulting"
porches; the opposite side of each room had at least one
balcony, some, three, either overlooking the street or the
garden. When the school authorities took over the prop-
erty, the main patio was converted from a flower garden to
a roller skating rink, with smooth concrete flooring. Al-
most every night we skated I had always loved to skate,
both on roller and ice skates; and now under the big arc
light in the center, we teachers skated and skated. We had
many skating parties and we had one big masquerade!

Oh, for a "pianola" pen to describe the incomparable gar-
den! (We speak of "pianola" hands at bridge, that play
themselves, why not a pen, that would write all of itself?)
This almost "perfect" garden was divided into nearly equal,
very long halves by a broad walk between a row of eucalyp-
tus trees these trees grew very rapidly and were the main
source of fuel for both the Boys' and Girls' Schools,
Paralleling the eucaliptus (Spanish spelling) trees, all the
way down to the swimming pool, were two rows of roses,
roses of many varieties; beginning from the house and to

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LA PAZ-COCHABAMBA

the right of the roses, were beds of pansies, large velvety
"them's for thoughts" kind; beds of gladioli, other rare roses,
lilies; sweet peas almost the full length of that long adobe
wall; ornamental shrubs, citrus trees, oleander trees, mag-
nolia treesmost of the trees with beds of violets snuggled
at their bases; fruit trees, peach, cherry, pearand here I
saw my first chirimoya tree. I had eaten the fruit in La
Paz for the first time, a very sweet, rich, pulpy fruit with
a taste like a cross between pineapple and peach; it has
seeds, black ones, resembling watermelon seeds somewhat, in
the rich, creamy pulp; outside it is a dark scaly green, some-
what heart-shaped and about the size of a small pineapple.
If you eat too much chirimoya, there is apt to be a faint
taste of turpentine, but "Oh, boy!" chirimoya ice cream is
something to write home about. Beyond the orchard and
extending to the rear wall was the vegetable garden and
many of the teachersbut not I took their exercise by
helping the gardener hoe, weed, etc. And here I saw arti-
chokes growing for the first time. All of the left half, be-
ginning from a small patio at the rear of the house, and
extending to the rear wall, was given over to playgrounds,
tennis courts, volley ball, etc. Shall I whisper that often
when the students were all gone, and the gardener, too,
had disappeared, some of us dignified teachers had the time
of our lives, sliding down the kiddies' slides, "letting the
old cat die" in their swings and even playing tag in and
out and around the gymnastic paraphernalia? Ah, how
many delightful, pleasurable and cheering walks I have en-
joyed in this "super-attractive" garden! I presume as long
as I live I shall continue to rave over this garden in Cocha-
bamba and those majestic snow-crowned peaks of Chojna-
cota.

Elizabeth Danskin, the "Direktora," of English parentage
but born in Chile, has devoted and is still devoting her life
in unselfish service to educate the Indian, the Cholo and
the gente decent e; she is now in a similar school in Santiago,
Chile. I count her friendship as one of South America's
biggest gifts to me. Nor must I forget to tell you about the
gardener: I have forgotten his name but having but one eye,

[89]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

he had been dubbed "Cyclops" by one of the teachers (of
Mythology, I presume) in the early days of the school and
Cyclops he has been ever since; he was a faithful fellow
and hard-working as you will infer he had to be, to keep
this extensive garden so trim and beautiful, but he had the
weakness of "hitting the bottle" periodically and each time
he either resigned or was dischargedit amounted to the
same thing with him and regularly after two days off, he
would sneak back in the garden and except for working
harder than ever, there was no outward sign that anything
unusual had occurred.

My work was indeed interesting and most agreeable: I
taught the higher grades in English, girls in the morning at
"our" school and boys in the afternoon at the Boys' School,
although the senior class was "mixed" and I never had a
finer-spirited class than those young women and young men
of Cochabamba. Almost never did I have to remonstrate
about an ill-prepared lessonthey were reading Evangeline
and as absorbed and sympathetic in the tale as any northern
class. How they did try to pronounce the "i" short and
not say Meeses Goods instead of Mrs. Woods! (There is
no "w" in Spanish and quite often in Pulacayo notes would
be sent up to the house from mine bosses addressed to "Sr.
Guts"!) The "s" is difficult for beginners in English and
even seniors will say "e-strangers." The more I learn of
other languages, the more grateful I am that "the accident
of birth" gave me English so "early in the game" and to this
day I marvel how the phonic-speaking Germans and Latins
ever pronounce English as well as they do.

The Boys' School is also housed in an attractive building
with a lovely patio (but it lacks the charming garden) and it
is about four short blocks from the Girls* School. And while
I am at the Boys* School, 111 relate a daily incident that
occurred there: the Direktor was the proud and happy father
of two winsome tots, who had to have fresh milk, so every
morning about nine a cow was led into the patio, the Indian
herder, in the presence of the Direktor's wife, thoroughly
washed his hands, then the udder of the patient cow, then
his hands again; a shining pail was in the meantime brought

[90]

LA PAZ-COCHABAMBA

from the kitchen and then the always surprised Indian in-
duced "Molly" to yield of her abundance. And there was
an abundance, for there seemed to be plenty of fresh milk
for the two babies, for the "Faculty Table" (the Boys'
School had an "Internado" but the Girls' School had only
day students), and for us at the Girls' School for "good, old
American" ice cream as a Sunday treat.

A phase of student life down here that is hard for "Ameri-
cans" to understand is the student's active interest in politics.
"Quien sa beT 9 perhaps, our students take too little inter-
est; but in the four months I lived in the Girls' School at
Cochabamba, there were no less than four huelgas, all po-
litical strikes, which took all the children, even kiddies of
six or seven years, out of school from a day or two up to
the "ace" one, which began Saturday, August ist, when the
Students' Federation declared a huelga3. sympathetic
strike with the strike on at Sucre, presumably due to the
deporting of four obstreperous university students and the
strike was not called off until August 22nd! We did not
"keep school" on Saturdays but on this particular Saturday
we were intending to have a special parade practice for the
Independence Day celebration, August 6th. Miss Danskin
and I were with our girls, taking them to the "Olimpico,"
where all the schools of Cochabamba practiced for the big
event (and incidentally, the American Institute Girls car-
ried off the prize for the best marching for several successive
years; their uniform is navy blue kilted skirt, white middy
with blue tie, white shoes and stockings and white hat). We
had gone but a few blocks from our school when we were
turned back by a Committee from the Students' Federation;
Miss Danskin, who "knew the ropes," did not stop to "par-
ley" at all and we "right about faced" our girls, who were
glad to be relieved from the tiresome drill on such a hot
day. On Sunday, the second, the Rektor of the Cocha-
bamba Schools (not corresponding to our city superinten-
dent but more like our county superintendent of schools with
territory limited to the city) sent official notice for all
schools to reopen August grd. We did, but no students
appeared. I am taking the following from my diary opened

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

in front o me: August 4, no students; August 5, no stu-
dents; August 6, Independence Day, the Students' Federa-
tion actually prevented any school parade! It was a
near-Revolution, mounted police clashing with boys! For-
tunately the good sense o the prefecto prevailed and the
parade was called off, thus avoiding bloodshed. But from
a teacher's standpoint, I think those boys should have been
warmly spanked and then jailed for a few hours to cool off.
My diary gives August loth, nth, isth, i^th, "strike still
on"; on Friday the 1/j.th, I decided to go to La Paz to visit
Clarence, who had charge of a tin mine, only a few hours'
ride by auto from La Paz, and stay there until the strike
was over. On Saturday, August 2 2nd, Miss Danskin wired
me to return. Three whole weeks of "juvenile nonsense/'
yet taken seriously and even abetted by a large part of the
parents. And in spite of all these interruptions school life
went on.

I have told you so little about Cochabamba itself: it is
the third city in size of Bolivia La Paz, Oruro and Cocha-
bamba; it is located in a lovely valley and would be "per-
fectly" charming, if it weren't so dreadfully dirty; the main
plaza and a few, very few, streets are comparatively clean
but merely walking from the Boys' School or from down
town "back home," as soon as I entered our gate, I always
had a feeling as if I were entering another world such a
clean sweet world. I ardently hope none of my good Cocha-
bamba friends will ever know I have "talked about" their
city but some experiences are indelible: several times while
going to the Post Office twice a week with the Hortons, the
three of us missed, by a mere step, being drenched with
slops from the bedroom! And most of the streets smell as
if such were a nightly occurrence. "They say" that Cocha-
bamba has more churches for its population than any city
or town in all South America; it may be true but I think
Lima and Cuzco must run a close second.

Just across the narrow street from the Girls* School, also
running the full length of the block but unlike the School,
which extends but a half block laterally, is the huge Con-
vent of Santa Teresa, extending two or more blocks laterally;

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LA PAZ-COCHABAMBA

Its high grim walls enclose and forever bury who knows
what tales o joy or grief or even tragedy? For "they say'*
that once the gates close behind a nun, she never sees or is
seen by her folks or friends again. The convent bell rings
every morning at four; a few minutes earlier, a sweet, clear
soprano voice may be heard singing a "Te Deum," appar-
ently from the very house-top. I only heard the singing
twice, for I am, as you know, constitutionally opposed to
early rising, but the teacher whose room abutted that street
used to set her watch by this singing.

Thursday, July i6th, was a religious holiday and the
church part of the nunnery was a scene of great festivity.
Mrs. Horton and I visited the church it was magnificently
decorated, banks and banks of flowers and countless lighted
candles. On this same day we went to the "Coronilla/*
where a monument is erected To THE HEROIC WOMEN OF
COCHABAMBA, who in the war with Chile in 1879 entered
the battlefield with the men and fought more desperately
than the men to win the losing fight.

On another holiday and there are so many holidays and
what with strikes, too, it is a wonder that schools function
at all Miss Danskin showed me a small hill where the
Chola goes to pray to the Virgin, that she may be given a
child, for the Cholas believe a childless woman cannot enter
heaven; we did not ascend the hill, so I do not know if
there is a chapel here or not.

The environs of Cochabamba are beautiful and many an
excursion did we teachers have by auto (rarely), by train
occasionally, but oftenest by horseback -I shall never forget
old "Isaac/* pronounced "Esaak," whom I invariably rode
and who was so trustworthy in every way except stumbling-
he could stumble over the tiniest rock and once, when the
Hortons and I were visiting the airplane landing field, Isaac
almost stumbled over the "Junker"; the mechanic courte-
ously "saved my life'* and then invited all three of us to
enter the plane, strapped us in, but we did not fly that
"first experience" was to come later in Lima.

It was at the Girls* School that Clarence and I were com-
pletely and everlastingly sold to the idea of a home with a

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HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

patio, for six months after I left, Clarence and I spent two
wonderful weeks vacationing here; one can give such de-
lightful affairs in a patio, out of doors, and still have all the
privacy of a drawing room but have you heard of the
Dutchman who went crazy because he could not figure out
how to make the hole of the doughnut larger without in-
creasing the size of the doughnut? That is our problem-
how to have a charming little home, yet with a big patio.

However, I think my present-moment problem is to finish
this letter "pronto" -how I have rambled! Ill conclude
by telling you that the Alumni Banquet was so much like
ours at home, with speeches and songs an' everything, that
I almost forgot I was so far away, until the dessert, merely
fruit, was served; it was such an elaborate banquet up until
then but I presume I shall never get over my hankering
for ice cream and "sech" to top off with. I have attended so
many formal dinners and elaborate banquets in Bolivia
and Peru, and still I have the feeling of being 'let down"
when the inevitable "just fruit" appears for dessert. (This
banquet was given at a hotel and not at the school.)

Oh, oh, I almost let slip about the examinations at the
close of school they are so different from ours. Instead of
our written finals, the "victims" have to appear before tri-
bunales, committees of three teachers, two of their own and
one outside delegate, who go to different schools to conduct
the examinations orally. I was on a committee to conduct
examinations one whole day at one of the public schools
for girls the poor things were too frightened to remember
their own names and committees from other schools were
sent to ours; never may your own teachers alone give a final
examination. Just imagine, if you can, kiddies of nine
standing up before a committee of three august personages
and trying to answer the simplest questions; older students
are ofttimes more frightened than the younger ones. We
do have this "inquisition" for a Master's or a Doctor's de-
gree "up north" but candidates for degrees go into it volun-
tarily, these youngsters are but "dumb, driven cattle."

Byrdie, you are a friend true and tried, especially tried,
if you ask for more letters like this one.

[94]

CHAPTER VI

CHOJNACOTA AMONG THE GLACIERS

Santo Domingo Mine, Jan. 3, 1932*

MY VERY DEAR "IVA GRACIOUS":

Your shocking news of our dear "Byrdie's" passing on has
upset me very much. In the same mail I received such a
pathetic note from Hal; it was heartbreaking, and now, if
you did not urge me to continue these letters so joyously
begun scarcely six months ago, I would not have the heart
to go on, but you say that Byrdie herself, even when she
was so very ill, requested that I keep right on, sending the
letters directly to you this time and that you will pass the
letters along "as usual.*' Ah, Iva, this "carrying on" is
sometimes bitterly hard to do, but, after all, it is what our
loved ones want us to do.

Before I take you to Chojnacota with me, I must tell you
that the lower altitude at Cochabamba did me a world of
good. I know that to you, who have never lived above
three thousand feet in your life, even seven thousand feet
seems pretty high, but remember that Pulacayo is nearly
14,000, La Paz only 1500 or so feet less, and I was this high,
with the exception of the one trip to Antofagasta (Chu-
quicamata doesn't count, for while only 10,000 feet high,
it is excessively dry, the wind blows every afternoon forcing
the fine, powdery dust through every cranny, even through
double windows, so it cannot exactly be called a health
resort), for two years and while I did not feel the need of a
change, yet my mind and body responded gratefully. I am
sure I bored the teachers dreadfully at both schools by
almost constant exclaimings over the balmy air, by my deep,
satisfied breathing and, worse still, never failing to tell them
that my nasal passages were not all stopped up every morn-
ing, that I had slept so soundly and restfully and that I was

[95]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

fairly reveling in wearing summery clothes why, until the
rains came, in October, I did not even need a wrap at
night!

And thus with the Alumni Banquet as despedido (fare-
well) for me as well as for the seniors, I left Gochabamba
the following morning, regretting to leave the warm friends
and the beautiful garden with all its pleasant memories,
yet anticipating the great joy of seeing Clarence, who was
to meet me at Oruro, from whence we would go by train
the following morning to Eucaliptus, then sixty miles by
auto to Pampa Mina, where the power station is located,
and where we would transfer ourselves and our baggage to
mules for two kilometers (1.2 miles) ' 'straight up" to
Chojnacota, which was destined to be our permanent ad-
dress and "cozy fireside" for three happy, interesting years.

The train ride, a very short one, from Oruro to Eucaliptus
is over the same old altiplano toward La Paz; here a rather
"the worse for wear" but still-in-good-running-order auto-
mobile, a Chandler, awaited us and almost at once we began
to ascend, not so steeply at first, over barren, uninteresting
country until we reached Caxata, about two-thirds of the
way, and then, ah, then those last twenty miles are over
the most "breath-takingly" beautiful, "inspiringly" lovely,
the most "make your hair stand on end," the most "every-
thing you can think of," scenic and thrilling mountain road
in the wide, wide world, I am quite sure- The chafer
(Spanish spelling) pointed out peaks, telling their names,
distances and relative heights, whether they were in Bolivia
or Chile, but I was too busy catching my breath, holding
on to the seat and earnestly wishing he would keep his two
hands on the steering wheel, to remember even a single
name. I knew we were in the Quimse Cruz section, that
there are higher peaks in the Andes than those that were
pointed out to us, but I also knew that we were in the high-
est mining section of the world, that the Caracoles tin mine,
the Chojnacota, the Laramcota and the Araca tin mines are
as high as the condor nests; that the equally fine road as
ours, forking to the right, was the famous Caracoles road,
that cost more than a million dollars and several lives in

[96]

CHOJNACOTA AMONG THE GLACIERS
its making all this I knew from Clarence's letters before I
left Cochabamba but I was too thrilled, and I confess too
frightened, to take in any details on that first trip. Those
hairpin curves, incredibly sharp corners and looking down
thousands of feet into space! marvelously magnificent In its
scenic beauty though the road Is, I breathed a sigh of relief,
I had a feeling of being miraculously saved from the jaws
of death, when we skirted a deep blue lake and the car
stopped at the power plant. On mules, we "back-tracked"
that road around the lake and turned very sharply to the
left up a fairly steep, wide road, wide enough for an auto
and I wondered why we didn't stay in the auto, until we
reached the waterfallthen I understood. The waterfall is
the overflowing of the dam, built at the lower end of Chojna-
cota Lake (Chojfiacota means Green Lake in Aymara) for
conserving the water, which conies from the Chojnacota Gla-
cier, not a mile beyond. It is the water from this lake
conveyed through a pipe 1425 feet long, with a 585 feet
drop, that furnishes the power for the mine, the mill and
the camp.

I have sufficient reason to remember every foot of that
1425 feet of old, worn-out, twelve-inch iron pipe for every
break of that old pipe meant a shut-down: no power, no
heat, no light; a consequent loss of production but I fear
I was more vexed at the physical discomfort than any loss
of production. True, we had an emergency stove in the
sola, in which we burned tola or yareta or taquia. Tola
and yareta are somewhat similar hardy bushes with heavy
roots, that grow on the altiplano (we use roots and all, mak-
ing a very hot fire but not lasting and extremely "messy"),
while taquia Is llama droppings and the "messiest" of all.
We always had a supply of candles but trying to read by
candlelight before a fire that alternately scorches and freezes
Is not nearly as comfortable as a Morris chair with a shaded
electric light at your elbow and a steady electric heater at
your feet. Taquia Is used almost exclusively in La Paz
and largely throughout Bolivia and fuel is one of the most
expensive items in the cost of living. In our second year
at Chojnacota this iron pipe was replaced by an eighteen-

[97]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

inch wood-stave pipe and we had no further power troubles
until the dry season, when our beautiful Lake Chojilacota was
beautiful no more. Not only was our dazzling waterfall
extinguished, but it even ceased to be a lake, degenerating
into a deep pit with only a ditch of sluggish, "puny" water,
too puny to "make the wheels go round"; hence a new plant
was installed at a neighboring lake, Laramcota (Blue Lake),
with a wood pipe about a thousand feet long it always
reminded me of a huge, gigantic anaconda or boa con-
strictor, slipping down among the rocks. The Laramcota
plant is more or less a permanent monument to our stay
in the neighborhood, for on a bronze plate on the huge dam
of the Laramcota Lake is inscribed, "Clarence Woods, En-
gineer and Superintendent/'

How I have digressed from the waterfall! Just beyond
the waterfall, the road becomes a trail, cut out of solid rock,
and we ascend very, very steeply until we are on a level
with the dam, and then, the most beautiful panorama
imaginable spreads out before you: the Chojfiacota Glacier,
the snow-capped Chojnacota peak to the right, the Laram-
cota peak, even higher, at the left, the zigzag trail up the
highly colored mountain side, that leads to the mine, with
the lofty snow-covered Monte Blanco towering above and
its glacier partially hidden by "our'* Chojnacota Glacier
a group of glistening snowy peaks with a background of the
"bluest" sky is an "eyeful," and added to all this there are
three lovely lakes, sometimes of the deepest blue, again a
jade-green, the change of color possibly due to the reflection
from the ever-shifting clouds. The second lake is about a
half kilometer beyond Chojnacota Lake, also dammed for
conserving water but is nameless, probably because it was
such an uncertain factor; from this second dam, we get our
first view of the little house, perched right over the lake,
that bore the dignified name o Administration House,
where we spent three happy years, mostly in entertaining,
it seems to me as I glance over my diary, but yet rich in
friendships and varied experiences. Julio, the cook, was
at the steps of the glass-enclosed veranda to meet us and a
little later, our "inheritance" of an English millman, Swed-

[98]

CHOJNACOTA AMONG THE GLACIERS
ish bookkeeper, German Mine Superintendent, Irish store-
keeper, Bolivian cashier and another Bolivian office man
of this American company presented themselves.

It was such a cozy, comfortable, little house, consisting
only of bathroom, bedroom, living room, dining room and
kitchen I am naming the rooms as they were grouped
around the patio, but the rear of the patio was an almost
sheer precipice of solid rock. The rooms were connecting,
the ceilings low to conserve heat; it seemed like a doll's
house after the immense Girls' School home at Cochabamba.
This was my first experience of entering a home, a home
for me, completely furnished to the minutest detail- I never
even opened my boxes of linen, silverware, not even of "gim-
cracks/' all the while we were in Chojnacota, for at that
excessive altitude there was no danger of moths, mice, nor,
I assure you, of mildew! Our boxes were neatly piled at
one end of the long veranda and shortly before leaving
Chojnacota "for good/* almost three years later, I had oc-
casion to want something in one of our boxes and, by mis-
take, the carpenter opened a box filled with shoes! Samples,
just for the right foot, of boots, shoes, slippers, all kinds and
sizes and goodness knows how long that box had been stored
there, for our predecessor, now our millman here at Santo
Domingo, knew nothing whatever of that box of shoe sam-
ples; the shoes were in perfect condition.

On this, my first day in Chojnacota, Julio had an excellent
dinner (noon) awaiting us, topped off with ice cream! After
dinner, Clarence took me over to the guest rooms, about
thirty yards distant (there isn't enough space to build a
house big enough to include two large guest rooms in the
whole camp), and those guest rooms were "a thing of
beauty, a joy forever/* connected with a white-tiled, up-to-
date bathroom; if there had been housekeeping arrange-
ments possible, I would have at once moved my trunks and
suitcases right over to the guest house, but even ninety feet
can become a long distance, when you are 15,623 feet (I
do love to add that 23 feet) above sea level, when the wind
might be blowing and when there might be flurries of snow,
to go for your breakfast, dinner and supper.

[99]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

The offices and the living quarters of the employees are
clustered around the patio, one side of which is taken up by
the guest house, which overlooks the lake and gets all the
sunshine. But at the Administration House, it was neces-
sary to go out in the veranda ofttimes called the "green
house" because we had every available space filled with
window boxes of plants and flowers in order to see the lake
and, unfortunately, the veranda was on the south side, so
what little sunshine penetrated came early in the morning
or late in the afternoon from the ends. Then we visited the
servants' quarters, a tiny house opposite the kitchen, and
"called it a day."

My first ride up to the mine was an event: I just couldn't
see how a mule could cling to such a narrow trail and I
admit I was badly scared, but I went so many times that I
learned not to mind at all and comfortingly assured every
visitor whom I escorted over the trail that no mule had
ever fallen off and that the trail was being widened every
time a mule went over it! The mine is a thousand feet
higher than the mill, which is directly beyond the offices
and on the same level as the Administration House. The
trail takes you through the miners' camp, which is where
the Mine Superintendent lives, too. At this camp was a
boarding house, a "cinema" and a sort of athletic field-
think of it, an athletic field more than 16,000 feet high!
About three quarters of the way up, there was a cancha
where the ore is sorted by women, the waste ore being
dumped over the mountain side. The women work in this
open cancha in all kinds of weather, pushing wheelbarrows
loaded with heavy ore, or sorting ore ready to be put in
wheelbarrows; bundled up to their ears, yet barefootedl
When I went up with Clarence, I usually waited here at
the cancha for him, for there is a comfortable house here
for the "cancha boss/' rather an office, and if the wind
were blowing too strongly or it were snowing too fiercely, I
would take refuge in this office, but visitors, of course, al-
ways wanted to go "clear up" to the mine.

By climbing a little farther than the mine, the summit of
the ridge was reached and the view was well worth the effort

CHOJNACOTA AMONG THE GLACIERS
or probable scare. In any direction snow peaks can be seen:
Illimani, Laramcota, Chojnacota, the latter so close it seems
you could almost step over to it, Monte Blanco, with its huge
bulk obliterating any further view in that direction; the
glaciers of Laramcota, Chojnacota and Monte Blanco, and
at least five beautiful, large lakes. And the auto road to
Araca looks like a broad silver ribbon, folded back and
forth and occasionally tied in a bowknot! Women folks
could, of course, go to the summit but could go only to the
portals of the mine the inside of the mine was "verboten"
to all "skirts"; as I wrote you before, the Indians have a
queer notion that a woman entering the mine is a sure sign
of an accident.

I learned to ride a mule in Chojnacota, that is, really ride;
you know I stayed in the saddle lots of times on our horse-
back trips in and around Pullman on good, paved highways
but riding up and down, especially down, steep trails of
the Andes Mountains is something different; but all these
three years in the Quimse Cruz, I was merely being "gra-
ciously prepared** for the still steeper and much more
"scary" trails in the decidedly lower eastern range of the
Andes where we now are.

The tin ore is brought down from the mine in cars drawn
by Ford locomotives to the cancha, the sorted ore put into
loading chutes and loaded directly into the andarivel (aerial
tramway) buckets and sent down to the mill; at the mill the
ore is concentrated, the tin oxide with the sulphide, these
are then roasted in the furnace, which converts the sulphides
into oxides; this calcined product is reconcentrated in the
oxide mill and the final product, tin oxide, called barrilla.,
is dried, put in hundred-pound sacks, sent on llamas down to
the power plant, where it is transferred to camiones (trucks),
taken to the railroad at Eucaliptus and shipped to England.
In England, the barrilla is smelted into metallic tin and as
tin plate is shipped to all parts of the world.

Ore stealing is not confined to silver or gold mines. Occa-
sionally a workman would be detected selling a piece of espe-
cially rich ore to a comer ciante (merchant or peddler) and,
of course, he was "fired" at once and not allowed to return.

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

Before Clarence took over the management of the Chojnacota
mine, all the barrilla was sent by llamas the entire way to
Eucaliptus, requiring about fifteen days, but with trucks,
which he installed, one day was sufficient from the mill to
the railroad station. Llama trains continued to come for the
haulage, and quite often the barrilla was sent out both by
truck and llamas, but the barrilla was never entrusted to a
train of less than a hundred llamas, the owner then being
considered a "responsible party.'*

Once an Indian came with thirty llamas asking for freight
but he was refused. The following day a very large train
of llamas arrived, whose owner was well known, and the
llamas were loaded with barrilla. It seems the "thirty-
llama man" had persuaded the responsible man to include
his thirty llamas. When the long train of llamas arrived at
Caxata, the "thirty man" declared his llamas were too tired
to proceed but that he would overtake his "partner" before
he reached Eucaliptus. The responsible man waited as long
as he possibly could before turning in the barrilla to the
agent at Eucaliptus it had to be shipped on the first train
and, of course, the agent found there were thirty sacks short.
Clarence was at once notified and inquiries brought out that
a workman of ours had been seen talking to this "thirty-llama
man"; this workman gave the name of the Indian and of his
village, about seventy-five miles distant. Our Intendente
(Sheriff or Chief of Police) went to this village, saw the sus-
pect on the street, loaded him. into his automobile without
giving the Indian a chance to remonstrate at all, brought
him to Caxata and then asked him about the barrilla. The
Indian pretended to know absolutely nothing, even denied
his identity, whereupon the Intendente shoved him into the
room of an old adobe house, locked him in and told him he
could have neither food nor water for twenty-four hours,
at the expiration of which time perhaps he would be able
to remember better. But still he knew nothing. Another
twenty-four hours of enforced fasting and still he was stolidly
innocent, and then the Intendente took his riding whip
and lashed him across the shoulders until the Indian begged
for mercy and confessed that he had hidden the barrilla in

CHOJNACOTA AMONG THE GLACIERS
a vacant house; he took the Indian to the vacant house and
they unburied the thirty sacks!

There were about five hundred men employed altogether,
the majority of which were miners, who lived in the camp I
have already described; the mill workmen's camp was about
five hundred feet above, almost "straight up" from the Ad-
ministration camp, and at the mill camp was the plaza as it
was "miscalled," for it was merely a pile of big, mostly flat
rocks, but what little market there was, was carried on here.
Chojnacota, unlike Pulacayo, was private property and the
Manager was practically a "Czar"; comerciantes were allowed
to come to Chojnacota only once a month, on pay day, and
permitted to remain but twenty-four hours; alcohol was con-
traband, for Chojnacota was strictly dry. Hence this "plaza
day" was a big event and all kinds of merchandise were sold.

The plaza was transformed into a sort of street fair, most
of the "gewgaws" handled by Turks or Greeks but there
were plenty of native merchants as well; usually fortune-tell-
ing, raffles and games of chance went on and unless the
sereno (watchman) was constantly on guard, the gaming
would become a real gambling bout. There was such a
variety of things to eat: the same savory stew I wrote you
about at Pulacayo, called especerias and made of meat, par-
sley, garlic, cumin seed, pepper, red and black, mint and
chijchipa, a dried herb brought from the Yungas try it some
day, using sage instead of the chijchipa; breads: allullas^ made
of white flour; quepichas, made of whole wheat and barley
ground together; quispinas^ made of canahua, a seed resem-
bling millet; bizcochos, made of white flour but a little "fan-
cier" as it has more lard and has sugar sprinkled on top. A
plate of stew and one of these breads would be a satisfying
meal, but you would want to bring your own plate and I
fancy you would not want to see the bread made. There was
always chupe (soup) served red hot, not only from the fire
but due also to the aji (red pepper): it is made of chalona
(dried mutton), chuno (dried potatoes), habas, a large bean
resembling the lima bean but of a light-green color, peas,
potatoes and plenty of red pepper. A segundo, or second
plate, called ranga-ranga, is made of tripe, cut in very small

[ 10 3]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

pieces, cooked with potatoes, chijchipa, mint and plenty of
red pepper. Sweets are conspicuous by their absence. The
air is laden with the pleasing odor of these highly spiced
cooking foodsit whets my appetite even now, merely writing
you about it. The foreign merchants set up gayly colored
tents or awnings, spread out their wares on hastily constructed
counters; the Indians and Cholos, dressed in their best,
spread out their produce, their hand-woven and hand-knitted
articles on the rocks. Quite often one can "pick up" real
genuine silver, hand-wrought goblets, pure silver spoons,
fancy Ghola shawls and brooches. The brooches consist
usually of a cleverly fashioned fish with silver scales and ruby
eyes a fish seems to be a "lucky piece/' for it is used so much
in their jewelry. This "busy mart" was always lots of fun,
even if you didn't buy a thing.

The almacen (store) was directly adjoining the plaza, but
on this day, it might as well have closed its doors. Although
this camp was much smaller than that of Pulacayo, yet the
store was much better stocked: it seemed every new manager
ordered in wholesale lots whatever foods he liked best, the
succeeding manager did likewise, not caring for his predeces-
sor's taste, and thus there was an accumulation of the choicest
brands of "pat de fois gras," deviled ham, other potted
meats; fish in oil, in mustard, in tomato sauce; mushrooms,
"petit pois," "choucroute" (but the French do not know how
to make sauerkraut), shrimps, lobsters, string beans, many
kinds of cheese, the best that European markets afford be-
sides a very large and varied assortment of American canned
goods; all this to choose from, with fresh fruit and vegetables
once a week from La Paz, plenty of eggs, chickens, turkeys,
occasionally the delectable per dices (like our partridge), vis-
cachas (like our cottontail rabbit), fresh beef or mutton at
any time, so you can readily see we lacked nothing in the
eating line.

We needed no refrigerators in Ghojnacota to "keep"
things nor to make ice. Ice cream? We had two freezers,
one very large one and the other "family size." With a
glacier in our backyard, making ice cream was no problem
and, fortunately, we all enjoyed frozen desserts there is such

[ 104]

CHOJNACOTA AMONG THE GLACIERS
an infinite variety of them now; but more fortunately still,
one can eat ice cream or its many, many relatives at extremely
high altitudes without ill effects. We thought Pulacayo was
high and were careful of our diet, using a pressure cooker
much of the time, but at Chojfiacota, two thousand feet
higher, overeating and particularly overdrinking (alcoholic)
was practically suicidal. We had three pressure cookers, two
of them in constant use, and our heaviest meal, from neces-
sity, was at noon. High altitude is not conducive to fatten-
ing (overweights please take notice) and painful experiences
soon teach one not to overeat.

In Bolivia, we almost never saw fresh pork just why, I do
not know; perhaps the people are afraid of the dreaded tri-
chinabut at Chojfiacota we had ham, bacon and sausages,
mostly from the United States, however.

I presume with all these "eats," I should add that the Com-
pany kept a well-stocked sideboard of liquors, all the "mak-
ings" of cocktails, in our dining room; but when we left,
three years later, it was nearly as well-stocked as when we
arrived. It was not replenished either, for my husband is
"unalterably" dry and cocktails or "whiskey straight" or
"gin and ginger" were usually served only to officials, to
those, who, we were "tipped off," were accustomed to having
them.

Adjoining the plaza but a little farther north was the camp
boarding house, "run" by a Japanese, whom we also "in-
herited"; Abe (pronounced Abby) San made all the bread for
the camp, too, and occasionally he would send down to us
the most delicious rice cakes; he also helped me out wonder-
fully on our first Christmas there, which I will tell you about
anon. To the right of the boarding house was the school-
house and a playground "of sorts"; a school teacher, likewise
inherited, did not stay with us long. I did not see him until
the day he left, a week or so after our arrival, for he had been
on a protracted spree all this time; Clarence said he was
known to send his pupils out for chicha or pisco and then
gulp it down right before his pupils! Clarence waited for
him to sober up before "sending him down the hill" and I
had been out for a walk and met him as I was coming up the

[ 10 5]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

hill. He looked a wreck and did die a couple of weeks
later at Oruro; his mother and sister subsequently came to
Chojnacota, trying to claim indemnity under the Employees'
Indemnification Law, that he had died in service.

We had a succession o "queer birds" for teachers but
I'll tell you about only two: we received an application from
a teacher in La Paz, who had splendid recommendations and
seemed well qualified; he was sent for and when he arrived
he brought with him a wife and eight children! The salary
was only B/i$o a month (about $50.00) and he drank, too!
But I really meant to write about his wife, rather than the
teacher she was not yet twenty-eight, looked younger, had
eight living children, five dead and had had three "mishaps"
figure it out, if you can. She was expecting the stork
when the family came to Chojnacota and she died in child-
birth, which was really tragic; being gente decente, the
remains were taken in the truck, with the family, to La Paz
for burial, for there is only a semi-weekly service by train.
The teacher returned with the six youngest children, and the
eldest, a girl of about twelve, undertook to be mother-house-
keeper, and with kind neighbors, things would not have been
so dreadfully bad, had the father not "taken to drink" worse
than ever. Many an act of charity in which the "right hand
did not know what the left hand doeth," kept those poor,
worse than orphaned, kiddies from actual want and some-
what lessened their misery. At t|ie end of the school year,
the family went to La Paz.

The succeeding teacher was a real "gentleman of the old
school," a young man, scholarly, interested in his work, and
he accomplished wonders not only in the daily routine of
teaching but in cleaning up the school and the yard and
many a time have I seen him lead a pupil by the hand to
the pump I should say hydrant and give him a vigorous
"washing down"; and it was not very long until all the
kiddies arrived at school with clean hands and shining faces
and on time, too. He organized a "boy-scout" unit; his
young sister (he was supporting his mother and this sister)
taught the girls sewing and other handwork; quite often the
whole school was taken out for "paseos" (hikes) for nature

[106]

CHOJ5JACOTA AMONG THE GLACIERS
study we had an up-to-date, live school. Moreover, the
teacher was an accomplished dancer and at least once a week
he came down to the Administration to teach us Gringas and
Gringos the tango and other "fancy" steps. Superfluous to
add that he kept his job.

At the left of the boarding house and a little higher up
was the doctor's office, dwelling, dispensary and hospital; and
I could tell you some rare and extraordinary stories of the
series of doctors, but I think they would better be told and
not written. Now, I presume you are wondering why there
was such drinkingfor the Irish storekeeper had to be "let
out," too, for excessive drinkingin a dry camp; but, my
dear, the United States is not the only country where the
"Eighteenth Amendment" is violated and bootlegging seems
to be an art indigenous to all parts of the world. However,
as with our school, we finally did get a splendid doctor, a
loyal storekeeper and replaced all the "wet" incumbents
with "drys."

We were completely "sold" to the system of having the
Administration group so far from the mine and mill camps;
our quiet environs were a decided contrast from the almost
continuous hubbub at Pulacayo and although I seem to have
dwelt a great deal on the drinking, yet it was nearly all
"private" or so-called "bottle" drinking and Chojnacota,
on the whole, was almost a model camp.

This series of teachers, , doctors, etc., reminds me of my
troubles with a succession of servants. I was so fortunate in
Pulacayo with my "paragon" Marcelina and while at the
American Institute both at La Paz and Cochabamba the
domestic machinery seemed to function almost automati-
cally, so I expected no "servant problem" at Chojnacota.
What a rude awakeningl Julio, whom we inherited, a Boli-
vian, was an excellent cook, in fact, he had been "chef" on
the Antofagasta-La Paz railway; his wife was supposed to
keep the house clean and to do the laundering. The pre-
vious Manager was alone, his family living in La Paz for
school advantages, but the young English millman took his
meals at the Administration; so there were but the two to
cook for. Julio's "woman" was given the privilege of doing

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

the laundry for the office men, in spite o the fact that she
was receiving extremely good wages from the Company.
Julio received twice as much salary as I have ever paid
any servant before or since yet the house was never swept
unless I especially demanded it; the woman did make the
bed but never aired the bedding without a special request,
she was too busy washing and ironing for others. Still, the
meals were so excellent, so tasty and Julio seemed so anxious
to please and I had not completely forgotten how to do
things around the house myself that we overlooked a lot of
the woman's shortcomings. But when I saw the first month's
statement of our household expenses, even though the Com-
pany did pay all the expenses, I immediately asked for the
keys of the dispensa (storeroom) and when Julio asked for
a second can of butter (Golden State butter from California
at J5/3.65, about $1.25 per pound), I wanted to know why
he needed so much butter, for remember there were only
the two of us to cook for. Then he "in a huff" went to the
office and complained to Clarence that I was interfering
with his cooking! Clarence came over to find out what it
was all about and soothed Julio's ruffled feelings but it was
the "beginning of the end" when he had to account for
everything he used, he lost interest in preparing good meals
and, very shortly, he received a letter that his mother was
ill and he asked for permiso to visit her. Almost invariably
when a servant or laborer wants to quit work, he or she
receives a letter that a father or mother or grandfather or
someone is ill and he must go to the bedside as soon as
possible.

It was approaching Christmas time and we knew that we
were expected to entertain all the employees at dinner
"our" young Englishman had told me of all the costumbres
(customs) that were counted upon from us and he was a
jewel at helping me, too, in making out the list of invita-
tions, for what with employees with wives and others with
"housekeepers/* a delicate situation might arise; the seating
of the guests, according to "rank," required thought, but I
brushed all this aside for the more important question, "Who
was to cook the dinner?" We asked Julio if he would not

[108]

Road ;from tarmcrto the : Chancdmciyp Valley

CHOJNAGOTA AMONG THE GLACIERS
remain until after Christmas and he promised to do so, but
when, on the following day, a whole case of eggs had been
delivered to the kitchen during my absence on a muleback
ride, and all the eggs had been used up, except six dozen,
twenty-four dozen eggs minus six dozen, or eighteen dozen
eggs in a few hours and he could give no satisfactory explana-
tion, I didn't care whether he stayed for Christmas or not,
so on December i5th, Julio, his wife and two children left
for La Paz to visit his sick mother and, as far as I know, they
are still there! Believe it or not, with two well-trained serv-
ants, cook and maid, a laundress and, later, even a house-
keeper, our household expenses were cut in half and never,
never, even with "loads and loads" of company, did the
monthly expense account equal that of extravagant Julio.

Julio was followed by Josefa, a full-blooded Aymara In-
dian, who could cook meat, potatoes and vegetables splen-
didly but said she knew nothing of postres (desserts). She
was a "character/ 7 had lived all her life in Chojfiacota,
chewed coca incessantly (and one did not have to see the wad
in her mouth to know itit smelled to heaven), and she went
on periodical sprees. Whenever she asked to go arriba
(above), meaning to the plaza, I knew I would have to get
supper, nor would she return until we sent the sereno after
her. But she was a good old soul and helped me out many
times when I was in a ''tight pinch" (many visitors and a
poor cook, or perhaps no cook at all).

Josefa seemed to be the "good angel" of the camp, the
confidant not only of the Indians who lived in the camp but
of those who brought eggs, chickens, vegetables, etc. Many
an Indian has she lodged in her quarters on a stormy night,
and the Cholas confided in her as well; I knew of one Chola,
the "woman" of one of the office men, who "refuged" with
her after every "scratching and hair-pulling" bout with her
"man," and after the last scrap, she hid in Josef a's room for
two whole days. But after this last affair, the belligerent
woman was sent out of camp, protesting so vigorously, how-
ever, at being sent out, that Clarence threatened to have her
put in a sack and toted down the hill! Her man resigned and
got a job at a neighboring mine, where their fights became

[109]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

the scandal of the whole countryside; after one "ace" affair,
he kicked her out permanently and subsequently, just a few
days later, in fact, he married a gente decente La Paz girl.

Once when I returned from a walk to the second dam, I
found a "swell-looking" lemon pie, meringue and all, on
the kitchen table. Josefa had given me a nice surprise and
ever after she made nearly all the desserts. But she was too
old, past forty, which is considered ancient, quite senile, for
a woman, to do all the cooking required though she con-
tinued to "help out" as long as we were in Chojnacota and
she died a few months after we left, of alcoholism requiescat
in pace!

But here was a Christmas dinner to prepare for sixteen
guests, eighteen people in all, and Josefa apparently knew
only how to cook meat! When I was in the depths of despair,
Abe San, the Japanese boarding house keeper, who had be-
come aware of my dilemma, came to the house and told me
not to worry about a single thing, that he would prepare
the whole dinner of roast turkeys, cranberry sauce, mince
pies an' everything. He not only made good but also brought
down a Christmas tree all decorated, with a gift for every
guest! And a staff of helpers in the kitchen! Was he a
friend in need? Unanimous Ayes!

During all the time Josefa was in the kitchen, she had a
succession of chicos (boys) to help; one would just about
learn to wait on the table presentably when pronto, presto,
another boy appeared in the dining room; I had two* chicos
to help me in the other part of the house but I soon gave
it up they were hopeless. Of course, if Clarence and I had
been alone all the time, I would not have minded so much
but we were continually having such a number of unex-
pected guests: people from neighboring mines, for Chojila-
cota was conveniently situated to "break" the long, tiresome
trip from outlying mines to Eucaliptus. The Intendente,
who lived at a neighboring mine, but was our Police Officer
as well, spent a good deal of his time at Chojnacota. I note
from my diary, that on January i6th, our Intendente, the
Sub-prefecto of Luribay (Chojnacota is in the Province of
Luribay), the Intendente of Luribay and four army officers

[no]

CHOJNAGOTA AMONG THE GLACIERS
"drop In" for a visit o four days. In fact, about all I record
in my diary our first year in Chojflacota is 'Tower off,"
followed by names of guests, more often uninvited than in-
vited, for dinner or for supper and quite often for several
days.

On February ist we received a telegram from our good
friends, the Bells, of the American Institute at La Paz, that
they were sending us a good cook for I still have the propen-
sity of letting my friends know when I am in distress so we
sent our chauffeur at once to Eucaliptus to meet the cook,
but he was unable to locate her and then the telegraph lines
were kept busy. It seems the cook arrived in Eucaliptus,
there was no one to meet her, she had never traveled alone
before, became frightened and took the next train right back
to La Paz, hence we never saw Dolores Guzman. And this
shows up our telegraphic service; more than once our guests
have arrived two or even three days before the telegram
announcing their coming arrived.

Once Glarence sent down one of the most promising-look-
ing of the women of the cancha, an ore sorter, whom he
thought might do temporarily, or if she made good, might
stay on as cook. I never dreamed a human being could be
so stupid, so utterly stupid: Felicidad (what high-sounding
names these servants do have!) not only knew nothing about
cooking, she did not know how to build a fire, she did not
even know what a frying pan was! I told her to warm up
the sauerkraut for supper and she sent it in as soup it
was the first time I had ever heard of sauerkraut soup. We
had company, too, but instead of being embarrassed, I
started to praise it and all the others followed suit, lauding
It to the skies! Felicidad could not wash nor iron, so I asked
her if she could mend and she replied, "Si> si Senora" Then
I gave her a basket of socks and stockings, with white, black
and tan darning cotton, or rather wool, for we wore no
cotton nor silk hose "among the glaciers"; when she re-
turned the basket and I unrolled the socks and stockings to
Inspect her work, I found she had darned the black hose
with white wool, the white ones with black, while the tan
was used on all of them, but only where it would be sure

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

to show! I asked Clarence to send her back to the concha
and as she was the most promising, I did not care to try
any of the others.

Mr. Maycumber, millman at a neighboring mine and * jw
our metallurgist at Santo Domingo, told me this, for he was
one of the partakers of the sauerkraut soup: Mrs. Maycumber
was "breaking in" a new servant at Chuquicamata and one
morning she was making a lemon pie and, with the custard
on the stove, remembered something she needed at once at
the store, which was close by, so she told Hortensia to watch
the custard and she hurried off. The custard began to
burn, then to smoke, the kitchen became full of smoke and
then Mr. Maycumber entered the kitchen and asked what
was burning. Hortensia pointed to the custard. Mr. May-
cumber asked, "Why don't you take it off?" and she answered,
"The senora only told me to watch it, she did not tell me to
take it off!"

On Monday, March 8th, Guadalupe arrived from Oruro,
150 kilometers (ninety miles) from Chojfiacota, and she had
walked every step of the way! She had heard we wanted a
cook, did not have any money and knew no other way to
come than to walk. I insisted that she rest a day, then she
took over the kitchen. She was a marvelous cook and sub-
sequently, by a queer turn of events, became the maid and
she was a marvelous maid, too! She is the only maid I
ever had who, once a week, took all the pictures off the walls
and dusted the backs she had had several years' service
with a Gringo family in Oruro, She had but one failing,
she just would have babies!

There are a few more to add to the list but I have just
suddenly remembered that when we were in Pulacayo and
I used to hear the women complaining about their servants,
I inwardly vowed that I would never, never discuss my serv-
ants here and I have "outwardly" broken that vow all to
smithereens. Forgive me if I have bored you.

CHAPTER VII

MORE ABOUT CHOJNACOTA

Santo Domingo Mine, February 16, 1932.
MY DEAR IVA:

It was such a surprise to receive a prompt reply from
such a notorious procrastinator as you are known to be, that
I could scarcely believe my own eyes when I saw your hand-
writing on the air-mail envelopeand what a bristling array
of question marks!

And the discussion of servants really did not bore you!
My dear, no one realizes more than I do the contrast be-
tween my "servant-problem 7 ' life in South America and the
''nightmarish" drudgery on the farm; I hope I am cor-
respondingly appreciative of the leisure which servants do
give us.

Yes, I was the only "white" woman in camp from the
middle of October until the middle of April the following
year. There were the women of the office men, who were
nationals, but whether they classified themselves as Cholas
or gente decente, I don't know. Our bookkeeper had a
Chilean housekeeper and she was included in the list of
Christmas guests as Mr. X/s wife but about a month or so
later Mr. X. took his housekeeper out and sent her away
on the same train that brought his Argentina wife from
Tucum^n; scarcely a month later Mrs. X. carried on an
affair so openly with our camp doctor that her husband took
her away and neither ever returned. An American, who
had been auditor at Pulacayo, took the bookkeeper's place.
Thus one becomes aware that scandals as well as bootlegging
are not confined to one particular part of the world.

Why were the tin concentrates sent to England? They
were sent there to be smelted because England does it more
cheaply '* whoever is first on the ground and gives the low-

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

est price" gets the business, as it always has been and, I
presume, always will be. England has the oldest tin mines
in the world for tin was first discovered there by the Romans
in the dim past and the famous Cornwall tin mines, now
1800 feet below sea level, have been worked almost con-
tinuously since the Roman Invasion. Naturally, she had
the first smelter; other smelters have competed: Patifio, the
Bolivian "tin king," built a smelter at Arica, and during
the Great War one or two were built in the United States,
but Patifio abandoned his smelter at Arica when England
restored her original prices and I presume ours at home
were abandoned at the same time.

Speaking of Patifio, the tin king, reminds me of a sketch
I recently read in the Sunday Magazine Section of the New
York Times. I do not remember the writer's name but she
said Patirio (did not even spell his name correctly) was born
in Cochabamba, a small Indian village, on the altiplano!
Shades of Jupiter 1 I feared I was hitting Cochabamba
rather hard when I mentioned its lack of cleanliness but to
cite the third city of Bolivia, a city noted for its salubrious
climate, as an Indian village, and on the high plateau! If
only the travelers in South America would try to be a little
more accurate, their articles and books would cease to be a
source of amusement and misinformation and we Gringos
would not feel it necessary to apologize for our countrymen.

How could we dance at such an high altitude? The na-
tionals, born in the high altitude, are breathing their native
air and they seemed to be able to dance steadily without
tiring but we Gringos rarely danced a record through;
usually a half-record on the phonograph was my limit and
the rest intervals between dances were very long, nor did
we ever dance the whole night through; from seven to ten
was generally "called a night." These nationals, however,
who can dance at 15,000 or more feet, these "high-born"
dancers cannot live at sea level; we have known of several,
in attempting to live on the coast, who developed tubercu-
losis and had to be sent higher, where they soon became
well again.

I like to have you be a "question box" and if I forget

MORE ABOUT CHOJNACOTA

to answer any o your questions, don't hesitate to repeat.

Continuing now from my diary: on January 6th Clarence
had the toothache so badly that we decided to go at once to
Araca, where we knew there was a German itinerant den-
tist; our car was at Eucaliptus, so we decided to walk to
Pampa Mina and hail the first camion that came along and
we were fortunate in having one overtake us before we had
gone a half kilometer beyond Pampa Mina. Araca is about
twenty-five miles from Chojnacota, these twenty-five miles
being a continuation of the marvelous mountain road from
Caxata, only more so; in spite of Clarence's sufferings, the
grandeur and the "muchness" of those many majestic moun-
tain peaks, the glistening, bluish-white glaciers, some of
which I could almost touch, for I sat on the outside from
the driver's seat to keep the cold air away from Clarence's
aching tooth; the amethyst blue lakes far below, the count-
less switchbacks and many hairpin curves, the unobstructed
view of Illimani, into which we seemed to be directly speed-
ingall these made an indelible impression and this impres-
sion was but enhanced with every subsequent trip, for we
had the great pleasure of traveling over this road many,
many times and under wholly auspicious conditions. There
are three summits to be crossed, the highest one being near-
est to Chojnacota, just beyond Laramcota and is a little bit
more than 17,000 feet above the level of the sea. Almost
everybody feels a little touch of puna or soroche in crossing
this Laramcota summit and I invariably had a ringing in
my ears, but fortunately the uncomfortable feeling does
not last long. About two-thirds of the way to Araca there
is a series of such sharp curves, twistings and windings,
that a great many folks feel "queer at the stomach" and
more than one of our guests has had to precipitately leave
the car and his breakfast. This road claims the distinc-
tion of being the highest automobile road in the world.

We had left Pampa Mina at two and arrived in Araca at
five-thirty, only to find that the dentist was up at the mine,
1500 feet still higher. The Manager at Araca was very
sympathetic and at once telephoned the dentist, who said,
him right up," so a mule was saddled and Clarence

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

continued his journey without me, for it would be dark
before he could return and the Manager considered it im-
prudent for us to stay all night at the mine, especially for
Clarence to remain at such an excessive altitude after the
shock of a tooth extraction; as for me, I was given no choice
in the matter but was conducted to the guest house, where
the Manager introduced me to Miss Krause, the housekeeper.
I knew, before I heard her name, that she was German and
she evidently became aware simultaneously from my physi-
ognomy that I, too, was German, and almost in concert we
immediately began, "Sprechen sie Deutsch?" and have kept
it up off and on, mostly "on/* ever since.

You know, of course, that my parents were both born in
Germany, that all of us children are American born but
that we always spoke German, at least with mother, in our
home, that I taught German for eleven years, but you do not
know that on one occasion I had forgotten every bit of
German I ever knew! Once in Uyuni, on a trip down from
Pulacayo, Clarence wanted to register a letter and we both
forgot the Spanish for "register." There was a group of
men speaking German in the lobby of the post office so
Clarence suggested that I go ask one of these men to tell
us the word. I went up to them with all the assurance of
the infallibility of a teacher about to conduct a class and
when I began to speak can you believe it? I could not
even remember the word for "please" in German! I did
manage to convey to them, however, in Spanish, what we
wanted to know but that paralyzing incident will never be
obliterated from my mind; I was actually afraid that I had
forgotten all my German. Clarence thought it a huge joke
but I was so seriously alarmed that I "dug up" some Ger-
man books and determined I would read some German
every day and found that I still could read as fluently as
ever nor do I think it possible that I could ever forget the
spoken word, when hearing others speak it; my lack of ar-
ticulation was entirely due to lack of practice. I had had
no opportunity to speak German since leaving the farm.
Clarence's folks are originally English, came over in the
Mayflower such a multitude of direct descendants there

[06]

MORE ABOUT CHOJNACOTA

are from those one hundred and odd souls who sailed from
Plymouth in 1620! And Clarence has not learned a word
of German, although he has been "exposed" so continuously
he is immune to any language (although he "gets by"
with Spanish) and there were no German-speaking people
in Pulacayo, hence I embraced the opportunity to "sprechen"
with Fraulein Krause and almost embraced her, too, in my
delight.

The time flew so fast that I could scarcely believe it was
eight o'clock when poor Clarence, still holding his jaw,
returned; we induced him to eat a little soup and he needed
no persuading to go to bed. His face was so badly swollen
that the dentist had not given him any anaesthetic; he had
pulled and pulled, broke off a piece and pulled some more;
Clarence almost "went out" but finally pulled himself to-
gether and was able to ride the mule down the hill. It
was the first tooth he ever had pulled and he is, therefore,
likely to always remember the painful experience. High
altitude is blamed for many things and its being "hard on the
teeth" heads the list.

The Manager at the Araca mine was a German and
nearly all his staff were German. We have found that an
English Manager will have his staff English, a Dutch Mana-
ger will surround himself with his countrymen, the French-
man will have "Frenchies" almost exclusively, but not so
with an American Manager he employs all nationalities,
and if his staff is largely American, it is merely a "happen
so" and not deliberately intentional. We were up early
for breakfast the following morning and everybody at the
table, except Clarence, spoke German. With the Aufwieder-
sehen to Frl. Krause, I asked her to visit us at Chojiiacota,
emphasizing my eagerness to practice my German, and in a
short time she came to visit, later to stay, and has been with
us "off and. on" ever since; she is with us now at Santo Do-
mingo "on" again.

That early trip back to Chojnacota in the truck, Clarence
feeling better, a "heaven born" day with the sun shining on
those majestic mountain peaks, making them stand out as
gigantic, hoary-headed sentinels over the glorious panorama

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

spread out around them ah, but I must not rave forever
over those magnificent mountains, though I am still inclined
to do so, even after several years' absence.

"Our" Carnaval at Chojnacota began on Sunday, February
i4th, and lasted but three days. It was similar to the one
at Pulacayo but on a smaller scale. The procession of men,
women and children, dressed in their brightest best, was
headed by three bulls, which were led by men, each as gayly
garbed with serpentine, bright ribbons and artificial flowers
as the bulls themselves, and the six of them, bulls and men,
"stepped out/' proudly aware they were the cynosure of
all eyes. This procession as it wound its way down that
serpentine trail, was a pretty sight; then the parade of mill-
men, mechanics, etc., met the mine procession on the road
that comes from the plaza and the two, each with its bands
of lively music, with many vivas, with bushels of confetti
and serpentine, made their collective way to the Adminis-
tration House for "review" and also for pisco y for this first
year happened to be the pisco year. Miss Krause was visit-
ing us and we also had guests from La Paz. All helped
serve the pisco, which looks like gin but has a lot more
"kick"; after all had had several rounds of drinks, Clarence
and I with all our guests had to dance with the revelers,
cueca and "ring around the rosy" and what not, after which
most of the Indians knelt at my feet or Clarence's and kissed
our hands! This was different from the previous carnavals
in which we had participated. With the banners of the
several sections gayly flying in the breeze, the artificial
wreaths a little awry, but the bands still blaring forth with
might and main and but an occasional lurch among the
marchers, they paraded on up to the plaza, where they
"whooped 'er up" all day and most of the night; but hap-
pily we were far enough away not to be disturbed. At
four in the morning a Cholo died of alcoholism and another
died before the festivities ended, so Clarence vowed, "Never
again" would he allow pisco to be served at the Company's
expense, as long as he was Manager; the Bolivian Law
allows alcohol to be sold during fiestas throughout the coun-
try but the two following years that we were in Chojfiacota

C8]

MORE ABOUT GHOJNAGOTA

there was no free "booze." Monday morning there was
another big procession up to the mine, where the bulls were
sacrificed, as I wrote you in a previous letter. Tuesday the
activities had subsided appreciably and on Wednesday a
goodly number of the men reported for work.

Our first Sunday in Chojflacota, Clarence and I rode to
the glacier and this was my first lesson in "sticking on" the
mule no matter how big the boulders nor how steep a de-
clivity; it wasn't more than a half-hour's ride but we stayed
right on those mules over hummocks, into potholes and
whatever else glaciers leave in their wake, and we rode right
up to the snout of the glacier itself, where Clarence put a
rock on the reins of our mules to keep them from straying,
and we climbed up on the most unusual, loveliest, most awe-
inspiring "backyard" it was ever my privilege to "own"
and in our pride in "showing off" this glacier to our many
guests, we really began to feel the glacier was ours. We
peered down into deep, glistening, beautiful blue crevasses;
we leaned against high pinnacles of lighter-blue ice (posing
for photographs) and we slid, rather than walked, over huge
fields of snow and ice; all this I did countless times, for
Clarence was too busy to accompany every visitor, and al-
most without exception every visitor to Chojflacota wanted
the thrill of climbing the glacier, which, to nearly all of
them, was the first glacier he or she had had the opportunity
to become acquainted with, and the acquaintance was made
with so little effort, no discomfort and with no previous
"endurance tests/' which I had to undergo before viewing
my first glacier on Mt. Rainier. The only stipulation which
Clarence exacted was that no one ever attempt to go to,
or rather up on, the glacier alone; he also requested that
women, no matter how many in the party, should not attempt
to climb the glacier without at least one man to accompany
them.

The glacier was never the same twice in succession, even
though but a day had elapsed since the previous visit: the
crevasses had widened or disappeared to give place to entirely
new crevasses or there was more ice exposed, or more snow-

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

drifts or two or more factors or all combined to change
the topography.

One time the Bells and two other friends of the American
Institute, Clarence and I "rode and tied," for we had only
four mules; thus when there were more than four in a
party, and many times there were ten or twelve, then four
would ride a short distance, dismount and four others ride
a while, and so on. However, when we went just to the
snout of the glacier, on such a short trip, the men in the party
usually preferred to walk. Sometimes with but five or six
persons for some extended excursion, Clarence would borrow
extra mules from our good neighbors. But with the Bells
this time, six of us in all, we thought four mules would
suffice, for we knew that after reaching the place most acces-
sible to climb up on the snow fields, the mules would be of
no further use. So the six of us "rode and tied/* but if I
remember correctly the three women did not do much "ty-
ing." We rode far beyond the mine cancha, up and up over
seemingly impossible places, and finally leaving our mules
securely fastened, we laboriously climbed over huge
boulders, usually sliding and slipping down the other sides,
toiling on until eventually we began climbing the real top
of the glacier, arriving on those vast snow fields, perhaps
hundreds of feet of packed snow, nobody knows how deep.
It was a strenuous climb but well worth the exertion and
grinding toil; what a vast expanse of glittering whiteness
surrounded us! And we were at the "last" foot of Chojfia-
cota peak I hazard a guess that four or five more hours of
steady climbing would have brought us to the very top; but
to scale this peak, however, one should get a much earlier
start than we did; as it was, we barely reached home before it
"nighted" as it Is so graphically expressed down here.

The glacier extends five or six miles up in the mountains
and one can go all the way over this glacier to the Caracoles
mine; before our time, a party of four did make the trip,
but two were snowblinded, one fell in a crevasse and was
extricated with back-breaking, almost superhuman effort,
while the fourth became so exhausted he could scarcely crawl,
let alone walk, and all four said, "Never againl" Our Mine

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Superintendent, who considered himself an expert mountain
climber and who knew glaciers, for he had climbed moun-
tains and glaciers in Switzerland, and had been on and
across (laterally) the Chojnacota Glacier many, many times,
started across alone, something he had never done before
nor will do again and he stepped into a crevasse, covered
with snow, but fortunately there was an ice bridge, which
he straddled in his fall. The bridge was about five feet
below the surface and, as he said, he was some scared Dutch-
man. It was an extremely deep crevasse and very wide at the
top; would the bridge hold, while he cautiously turned him-
self and propelled himself toward the icy wall? It was bit-
terly cold and he knew he must work fast, albeit with great
care, lest he became too numb to move at all and he knew
he could expect no help, for no one was aware that he was
on the glacier. I cannot remember all the details it was a
harrowing experience, even though he related it in his usual
phlegmatic manner, but I think he used his pocket knife
to cut steps in the ice and by dint of much struggling, breath-
less and with bleeding hands, he finally flung himself on
the solid ice. He carefully tapped every step of the re-
mainder of the way across.

Our second never-to-be-forgotten trip (our first, you re-
member was just to the snout of the glacier, when I almost
had heart failure because I was expected to stick on my mule
over hummocks, through potholes and what not) was to
Monte Blanco. We left home early one morning "en mula"
(muleback) down to Pampa Mina, turned to the left on a
narrow trail opposite the automobile road which was on the
other side of "Chojnacota creek" and continued on this trail
around the mountain until we came to a quebrada at whose
summit Monte Blanco is situated. We did not go to the
summit but to Monte Blanco mine, where we arrived merely
a few minutes before almuerzo (luncheon); that climb up to
the Monte Blanco mine is far more strenuous than the one
from Pampa Mina to Chojnacota; the trail around the moun-
tain side to a neophyte seemed "the last word" as an impas-
sable trail. I remember Miss McCray, a teacher from La
Paz, saying, after we had negotiated one extremely sharp

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

curve it was her first trip, my sixth "Well, I never knew
before that a mule could walk on nothing/' After crossing
the stream in the quebrada^ we toiled, or rather the mules
toiled up and up an unbelievably steep trail, a large part of
which consists of steps cut in the rock; it was necessary to
allow the mules to rest often, for their panting sides indi-
cated what effort is required of them to make this ascent.
Finally we reached the camp. It is not much higher than
Chojnacota but what a difference in temperature! The wind
sweeps down from snowy Monte Blanco unrestrained by
any benches or ledges, such as we have at Chojilacota, which
protect our camp from the wind that blows similarly from
"our" peak; then, too, the Monte Blanco camp is so situated
that the sun has a difficult time finding his way into it; he
rarely "calls* ' before ten in the morning and he makes his
calls very brief, seldom staying until three he simply can't
get around that vast, precipitous cliff at whose foot (or feet?)
the camp is located. In the many times we were at Monte
Blanco, I cannot recall a time that it did not snow. Old Sol
made himself more at home in Chojnacota and so directly
did he send down his beneficent rays that it seemed as warm
at nine in the morning as at two in the afternoon; and
while we had plenty of snowmy diary notes one foot of
snow on August i4th, but that depth is quite unusual yet
we never had the cutting wind when it was snowing or
otherwise.

However, the warm hospitality of the Monte Blanco folks
more than compensated for the chilliness outside; whether
expected or not, we and as many guests as we brought with
us were always cordially welcomed and, muy pronto, a good,
hot luncheon appeared, it seemed almost as if by magic.
About two we would start home the short way: first, under
the mill "dump-tramway" and under which the mules al-
ways reluctantly were persuaded to go, then in fifteen or
twenty minutes more of excessively steep ascent there lies
before your delighted gaze the gem of all beautiful lakes, the
lovely, incomparable Lake Huayatani, more than five hun-
dred feet deep, in a shell-like formed basin of solid rock.
Huayatani is Aymara for "Resting place of geese." When

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Mr. Millikan, the noted physicist, was experimenting on this
lake to prove something about cosmic rays, he lowered a con-
trivance five hundred feet and did not touch bottom; the
banks are so steep, I wonder how Mr. Millikan ever got a
boat down into the lake or how the people ever got Into
the boat and then out again. Monte Blanco Glacier has no
visible terminal moraine, for its snout apparently has edged
its way to the very water's edge and being fed by this glacier,
the water of the lake must consequently be ice-cold. This
deepest blue, indigo blue, midnight blue or whatever can
portray this blue lake, perched more than 16,000 feet above
sea level, cradled deep in the lap of a grand, old mountain,
and with a stupendous, marvelously beautiful, glistening
white glacier seemingly about to slip headlong into it, and
the lofty, snow-capped peaks, silhouetted against a cobalt-
blue sky, towering high above in the background, oh, my
dear, to "pen-picture" this lake with its magnificent setting
is beyond me it simply beggars description. If it were In
the States or in Europe, thousands and thousands of tourists
would visit It every year; its inaccessibility would be over-
come by Yankee ingenuity or European mastership.

This second part of the "round trip" to Monte Blanco
affords a breath-taking, prolonged view of this marvelous
lake, for we ride at least two miles along its edge, after
which we constantly turn back for just another look until
it is completely lost to view. We proceed over a rough, rocky,
ascending trail until we reach the top of the ridge and-
the breath-takingly beautiful panorama of the entire Chojna-
cota valley is spread out before your "long ago ceased to be
astonished" eyes. The first time I came with Clarence, he
started almost at once to ride down on the other side, giving
me but a few minutes for exclamations of rapture, and I,
feeling that no mule could possibly keep its feet on that
"straight down" trail and too badly scared out of my wits
to even remember a prayer, clung desperately to the saddle
and kept my eyes glued to the cliff-side. The time the Bells
Miss McCray, Clarence and I made the trip, we all dis
mounted to "tread on this enchanted ground"; when Clar
ence prepared to remount Miss McCray said, "Surely, we ar<

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

not going to ride down that trail!" And I replied, "Clarence
takes it for granted that his wife must go wherever he goes,"
and then she "spoke up" and asserted, "But I am not married
and I am not going to ride!" Mrs. Bell is such a "game
sport" that even if she were "scared stiff," she would mount
and follow and smile. However, in deference to Miss Mc-
Cray, we all walked down, each one leading his mule; about
half way down there is a stretch of five hundred feet or so
of loose shale, where one always had to dismount anyway
and while you and the mule following you would slip and
slide in those loose, sliding rocks, yet it was not particularly
dangerous and after you had come over the trail a few
times, you rather enjoyed the sensation, like "shooting the
chutes." After the loose shale, you were generally tired
and quite ready to mount, even though the trail seemed pre-
carious.

One other time, when coming home from Monte Blanco,
we had the once-in-a-lifetime thrill of seeing a huge avalanche
of snow and ice come hurtling down from the left fork of
our glacier tons and tons of feathery snow and immense
blocks of heavy, blue ice, making a terrific noise as if the
earth itself were being torn asunder. Before our 'time, a
workman was climbing the about 2000 feet high, steep moun-
tain side that separated us from Monte Blanco, and as he
neared the top, the wind blew off his hat; in leaning forward
to catch his hat, he lost his footing, followed the hat, and
his remains were unrecognizable. We had heard of this
casualty so many times that the wind could have taken our
hats, our boots, all our possessions, without our making the
slightest effort to reclaim them. Whenever the Bells visited
us, they always made a second round trip to Monte Bianco-
just the two of them; photography is Mr. Bell's hobby and
he 'asserts that Chojnacota and its environs have the most
"camera fodder" of any place he has ever seen.

Any visitors of ours who could stay long enough were
given three "treats": first to the glacier, second, the round
trip to Monte Blanco, and third, the trip to Araca, which
I have already inadequately described. One time we took a
whole Chandler-ful of guests to Araca, seven of us, and as

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I remember, two of the seven left their breakfast at that
hairpin-curvy, wind-y place. Returning from Araca, we de-
cided to go to Tanapaca, the "rest home" of the employees
of the Araca mine; the new auto-road had recently been
completed and we wound, spiral-like, down a mountain side,
dropping, almost literally, from the high, barren rocks into
the lap of almost luxuriant vegetation, which appeared as a
Garden of Paradise to our now-accustomed-to-snow-and-
glacier eyes; this finca (farm) furnishes fruit and vegetables
for the camp, all the feed for the mules and was also the
bakery for the mine, as the bread rose better at the lower
altitude. We had our picnic lunch here, well supplemented
with fresh milk, apples, peaches, radishes, lettuce and other
salad "makings" from the farm. From a lovely garden
fragrant with roses, lilies, verbena-geraniums and many,
many other flowers, we had an unobstructed view of grand,
old Illimani; no wonder we stayed too long and it had
already "nighted" quite a bit before we reached the highest
summit on our return. Our chauffeur told us that from
this summit we could now see the Big Dipper and the South-
ern Cross, both at the same time, so we all piled out of the
cozy, warm car into the deep snow to gaze upon this phe-
nomenon, but not for long; we were glad to crawl back
into warm lap robes and blankets, and we knew we had a
two-kilometer muleback ride ahead of us- this was June 6th,
pretty well along in winter and we knew our fingers and
toes might be "nipped" before we reached our ever-com-
fortable sola.

Another time, on a Sunday, we picnicked part way down
on this "hill" that leads to Tanapaca and watched the
Indians preparing their chuno: the potatoes are spread out
on the ground and left there during the night to freeze;
if they are making tunta or white chuno., the following morn-
ing, before the sun is up, the potatoes are covered with
straw, but if it is to be the common or black chuno., the
potatoes remain uncovered. In either case, the men, women
and children tramp, tramp, tramp on the potatoes with their
bare feet, squeezing out all the juice possible; the potatoes
are left again to freeze and if to be the white variety, covered

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

with straw again before sun-up. This process is repeated
four or five times, until all the moisture is extracted, then
the potatoes are thoroughly dried. The white tunta, as I
understand it, is first put in water, just enough to cover, for
several days until "cured" and is then dried. Dried in
this manner, the potatoes will keep for years and chuno
is the main staple of the Indian's diet.

Did you know that Bolivia is the birthplace of the potato?
About two years ago there was a Commission sent down
to Bolivia, I presume from the United States Agricultural
Department, which reported a long list of the varieties of
potatoes grown here, but everyone I have asked, either
Bolivian or American, if he knew how many kinds of pota-
toes are grown in Bolivia, invariably gave the answer, "Tan*
tos" (very many), but no one knew definitely the exact num-
ber. But the Chilean wife of our Peruvian engineer has given
me a list of forty-one varieties, each one of which she knows.
She tells me that only the papa-pajsi, the papa~lacay$alla> the
papa-jankainnilla y the papa-runas and the papa-cati can be
used for the tunta, while the black, or common, chuno is
made only of the papa-amarga and the papa-jaruchi; there
is a papa-milli which gives three crops a year but does not
keep well and there is a papa-jamachipeque, which is raised
especially as a children's food, for babies, and which, when
cooked, looks exactly like starch. I shall not bore you with
the complete list you will have inferred that papa is Spanish
for potato and the second name is either Quechua or Ay-
mara. Every American, or other foreigner as well, at some
time or other, remarks about how "good" the potatoes are,
and they are very good, but when it comes to size, I have
never seen a South American potato that can compare to
the "Burbank" or "Idaho gem/' One of Mr. Othick's girls,
born in Bolivia, was telling me yesterday of a "potato fair"
held in La Paz a year or so ago, at which there were counters
and counters filled with many varieties of potatoes, and one
variety was so large that each one weighed a whole poundl
(Since I started this symposium on potatoes, I must add that
fifteen minutes ago I received a photograph of the potato fair

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at La Paz; each variety was numbered and there were 89
varieties!)

We went to La Paz quite often, by* auto in the dry season
and by train when the road became impassable. One time,
July ^oth, "in the dead of winter," we started for La Paz
in our old Chandler. We started late as it was half past
two when we left Pampa Mina and took but three small
sandwiches to eat, as we expected to arrive in La Paz in
time for dinner. About eighteen miles from La Paz, we
had a "break-down" and almost immediately thereafter it
"nighted," until the night was as black as a stack of black
cats and we had no lights, not a flash-light, not even a match!
The chofer did every possible thing he could think of to
make the car go but she obstinately refused to budge; he
tinkered and tinkered in the darkness and finally the car
moved ever so little and the chofer, who seemed to be able
to "smell" the road, cautiously bumped us along for a few
yards, when the engine gave a final gasp and was "dead"
"for keeps."

The Chandler had an old-fashioned top, with many rips
and tears, and most of the isinglass was broken. That bit-
terly cold wind of the high plateau swept all around us,
from all directions, above us and beneath us and forced
its way into every gap and rent, even though we tried
desperately hard to better matters by stuffing every avail-
able hole with anything we could gropingly find in the car.
The three tiny sandwiches, divided among three grown
people, could not assuage the pangs of hunger, but rather
merely whetted our appetites. In this Stygian blackness,
the chofer and Clarence managed to move the car to one
side of the road and then the chofer walked back a kilometer
or so to see if he could get help but without success, he
could not even get a candle; then he went forward a kilo-
meter or two, also to no avail; finally we made up our minds
to make the best of it, try to get a little sleep and the morrow
would surely bring a solution.

Unfortunately we had but one small lap robe but, wrap-
ping this around the two of us, Clarence and I huddled
together in the back seat, the chofer slouched down in the

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

front seat and we tried to get * 'forty winks" and we may
have dozed a bit, but if you have ever tried to sleep when
you were cold and hungry, cramped into quarters not meant
for sleeping, yet afraid to move, for fear a new position
will be still colder, and all the time hearing the wind howl-
ing hideously, relentlessly trying to tear away what little
protection the car afforded, then you can understand how
interminable that night seemed. But, like Lincoln's favorite
maxim, "This, too, will pass," so, too, this night passed and
never before in all my life was the "Erst gray dawning"
more appreciatively received. Haven't you noticed many
times how everything takes on a more cheerful aspect as
soon as a glimmer of light appears?

As soon as he could see at all, the chofer hurried to the
nearest choza (Indian hut) to secure assistance. Clarence
and I descended stiffly from the car, stretched our cramped
limbs, walked uncertainly but finally more vigorously, until
we were pretty well warmed up by the time the chofer re-
turned with ten big, husky Indians. The car was pushed
and pulled a half kilometer or so to a small eminence, from
whence it was hoped by starting on its own momentum, the
something or other would spark and the car would keep on
going, but it went only as far as gravity took it; repeated
efforts, propelling the car to other little hills, proved futile.
There was nothing to do but wait for a passing car, and
sometimes there would not be a car pass over this road for
days at a time- a pleasing prospect, for this road, like all
roads in Bolivia, excepting those built by mining companies
from mine to the nearest railroad station, is not conducive
to "joy riding" and only those on business bent travel over
such roads. In the dry season the road from Eucaliptus to
La Paz is "not so bad," especially if the chofer is familiar
with the road, knows all the bumps and the detours to avoid
the worst ones.

However about nine o'clock a Ford came along and the
owner, learning our predicament, turned around and, tak-
ing Clarence and me with him, drove to "Alto," where we
hailed a street car and I went directly to the American In-
stitute while Clarence made arrangements for a truck to

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bring In our chofer and car. We shall always be grateful to
this good Samaritan, who brought us almost to La Paz, and
the mere remembrance of how the "Direktora" at the In-
stitute tucked me into bed, brought me such good things
to eat and then saw to it that I had three hours of complete
rest and sleep, is an indelible "waymark" of loving gratitude.
It took three days to get the carburetor fixed and whatever
other "innards" needed fixing, but I never yet have been
impatient to leave La Paz. On the fourth morning we left
La Paz at nine in the morning and arrived at Chojfiacota at
three in the afternoon, but I vowed I would never again
take a long trip In that old car nor ever leave Chojfiacota
again without plenty of wraps and plenty to eat; not so very
long afterwards, the Company sent us a beautiful Cadillac,
a seven-passenger car, and I at once furnished it with two
heavy blankets, which belonged exclusively to that car and
the carpenter made an ingenious "feed box" which could
be filled on short notice.

Another trip I must tell you about I think I mentioned
it in a previous letter was the two weeks' vacation Clarence
and I spent at Cochabamba. Clarence had heard me talk
so much of Miss Danskin and of the lovely garden that he
was anticipating meeting her and curious to see the garden
and he was not disappointed in either. Whatever I may
have omitted in the Cochabamba letter, I can add now: we
took Clarence to the museum, nicely housed in an attractive
building and the variety of stuffed and mounted birds from
the Cochabamba vicinity alone was surprising and the ar-
rangement of the birds was pleasing; but the snakes and
large animals! I especially remember a huge snake with
bumps where they shouldn't be and corresponding hollows
out of place, and a jaguar, decidedly anaemic in his middle
but unduly corpulent at both ends! These distorted snakes
and animals looked as if they had been instantaneously petri-
fied by some cataclysm, which surprised them in convulsions
of their own. In the patio there were a few cages on low
counters, containing wild animals alive and in one cage there
was a handsome, restless, half-grown jaguar, which attracted
much attention; we noted how wide apart were the bars of

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its cage and we were horrified but not surprised to read in
the papers shortly after our return to the mine that a little
girl had come too close to the bars, and the jaguar struck
out a paw and so cruelly ripped the child's body that she
lived but a few hours after the tragedy. There was a l^rge
tame condor, about four feet high, about three feet long
and which must have had a spread of wings of eight or nine
feet; black feathers, white cross-bars on the wings, a white
ruff at the base of his naked neck; an imposing-looking bird,
who walks up inquisitively to every newcomer and insists
upon being noticed, his every action shouts to high heaven,
"Look at me, for I am the King of all birds."

We also "did*' the markets: the municipal, a sanitary mar-
ket somewhat resembling the San Agustin market in La Paz;
the Indian market in the streets just beyond the municipal,
and as much more interesting than the municipal market as
the Indian market in La Paz excels the San Agustin. And
the pottery market 1 I wonder why we, or most of us, find the
Indian pottery so fascinating; if it weren't so bulky and
so breakable, I'd have transported the major portion of what
we saw to my own keeping; the prices are ridiculously cheap
and I simply could not resist buying a two-gallon, graceful
cookie-jar, with a tight fitting lid I know the designer never
intended it for that, as he perhaps has no idea what a cookie
is, but as such, it appealed to me and I "personally con-
ducted" that jar all the way to Chojnacota, where it rendered
good service, but since the mine is now closed down I pre-
sume it is merely awaiting better prices for tin.

We arrived in Cochabamba on a Sunday evening and the
following Sunday, Miss Danskin, Clarence and I went by
train, about two hours' journey, to Cliza, an Indian village
of pretentious size, whose Sunday market attracts all the
residents in that valley within a radius of many miles, and
it is a market well worth any man's while. It was a warm
day and as we walked up from the station, we passed an im-
mense stock market of cattle, such a lot, I wondered from
whence they all came; even more sheep, some burros and
quite a herd of fine-looking horses; the poultry exhibit wasn't
anything to brag about but 111 "tell the world" that the dis-

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play of wool was! Snowy-white, whitish, not so white and
then all gradations to pure black and in such quantities
that I am sure there must have been a hundred bushel-baskets
o fluffy, soft wool all ready to be carded or spun. Which
re-ainds me to tell you that we fill our cushions here with
wool instead of feathers, for feathers seem to be an "un-
known quantity" in Bolivia or Peru, as you will find out if
you stay all night at any hotel or even at some pretentious
Bolivian or Peruvian home. Pillows stuffed with wool would
be all right, if they weren't stuffed, "pressed down and run-
ning over," if they weren't so overstuffed that they become
as hard as the proverbial brick. Fortunately, I have learned
to sleep without a pillow but for those who just must have
a pillow, I would suggest an air cushionwhen deflated, it
would occupy so little space and it certainly would add to
one's comfort. Here in Santo Domingo we inherited feather
pillows, which, with those I brought down with me, give us
plenty to "go around/' And another "remind": while at
Pulacayo I bought two sheep skins and Marcelina cut the
wool off, washed it, carded it and made it into the fluffiest,
whitest yarn you ever saw; then I crocheted a sweater, which
I wore in Pulacayo, in Chojnacota and even brought it to
Santo Domingo; but it was too heavy for here, so I re-
luctantly gave it to Mrs. Bell on her first visit here and she,
very likely, passed it on to some worthy indigent student,
who may still be wearing it, for that sweater surely did wear
"like iron."

There was almost as large a variety of yarn as of wool in
this Cliza market; I remember that Miss Danskin bought
enough for a sweater but I just couldn't think of a thing I
needed to use either wool or yarn. One hundred and fifty
feet beyond was the main market, a huge, roofed-in, shed-
like affair, and we were making our way slowly toward it
when, abruptly, we became the unwilling and astonished
onlookers at a birthday party: we saw an Indian woman,
presumably the midwife, pick up the newly-born infant, take
it to the irrigation ditch, a few feet away, dip her hand in
the water and give the baby its first bath. I am sure to all
three of us, involuntarily, came the image o an up-to-date

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

maternity hospital In Its spotlessness, the doctor robed in
white and with rubber gloves, the nurse or nurses in stiffly-
starched uniform, and the meticulous care bestowed on the
minutest detail. In contrast, here on the roadside, but a few
feet away from the smelly stock corrals, an Indian woman
dar d luz (gave light, gave birth) to a mite of humanity with
neither mother nor nurse In white, and the mother, perhaps,
carried her few hours old baby that same day to her home,
it might have been several kilometers distant, and no doubt
"mother and child are doing well/' I concede, however, that
this birthday party should be classified as another "once in
a lifetime" experience, for I do not believe one can guarantee
such a "party" as a Sunday occurrence In Cliza.

I described in detail the Indian market in La Paz but the
Cliza market Is different: in La Paz the Indian market over-
flowed from its allotted streets into the Cholo and even into
Greek and Turk shops, but at Cliza all was purely Indian
and what a riot of color! There was the same savory stew:
I am sure their recipes must be handed down from genera-
tion to generation and, apparently, from tribe to tribe as
well. At this market we bought those misnamed Cocha-
bamba rugsthey should be called Cliza rugs, for here they
are made; you remember the one you saw at my sister
Annie's? Hers Is typical of these gorgeous, tightly hand-
woven sheep-wool rugs, generally seven feet by nine, in the
center a pavo real (peacock) with outspread tail, and the
bird Inside of a six-pointed star of white or yellow or red
rays; the background always red, dark red, light red, some-
times almost a pink; the border with Bolivian flags (red,
yellow and green), or the Bolivian shield, or swastikas, or
conventional designs, or, perhaps a blending o two or more
or even of all the designs In the border of one rug! When
one bears In mind that all this work is done by hand, the
design carried out "in the head" and always symmetrical,
that the wool is hand prepared in all Its stages, dyed by their
own native dyes, which never "run," one is extremely sur-
prised that the Indian can fashion such a thing of beauty
with such crude methods, and when one learns that It takes
six months or perhaps more to complete one rug, then one

C

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is amazed at the price they can be bought as low as jB/25
(twenty-five bolivianos), at that time about $8.75 U. S. cur-
rency; the price one pays depends upon his bargaining ability
one feels that the first asking price is already too cheap
but the vendor would be very much disappointed if you
paid what he first asked and I am sure the South Americans
buy these rugs, and everything else, much cheaper than we
Gringos do. As soon as we three Gringos entered that mar-
ket, the rug vendors were on our trail and we did buy the
whole stock, six rugs, no two alike; they seem to be exact
replicas at first glance, yet of the dozens I have seen, there
is always some slight difference. (Now I hear the rugs are
dyed with imported dyes and do "run'' and they are not so
artistic either.) We bought some small "runners," too, that
are very attractive and which could be made in a few days,
for thirty cents apiece, and I am still using them; more than
six years of constant use and they have been sent "to the
wash" countless times. The peacock rugs I have always
deemed too lovely for the floor and have tacked mine on the
wall as a piece of tapestry.

There was also a great deal of pottery but Clarence hur-
ried me by this; a large assortment of baskets, not as "fin-
ished" as those of Copocabana but some very pretty ones
I am still using one as a mending basket, which I brought
all the way to Santo Domingo, and while we declare that
anything brought to Santo Domingo is not to be taken out
again, I feel that when the time comes to leave that basket,
I'll "smuggle" it out. The Cliza market is colorful, ex-
tremely interesting and I'd love to go again; we spent all
the money we had, borrowed all Miss Danskin had, but
fortunately we had return tickets to Cochabamba.

The week remaining of our vacation in Cochabamba went
all too quickly; Clarence relearned to roller skate, and we
brought Miss Danskin home with us. I remember how we
kept up a continuous chatter and kept pointing out points
of interest to her from Caxata to Pampa Mina, in order that
she should not become frightened but she did "hold her
breath" many times and continued saying over and over
again, "I never in my whole life expected to ever see any-

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

thing as grand and as beautiful as this." We hoped to have
her stay four weeks with us but she "felt the altitude" and
remained only fifteen days. Another "remind" how the
altitude affects different people: Miss Danskin couldn't sleep,
felt "headache~y" and felt she couldn't breathe adequately.
She was accustomed to take a cold bath every morning and
although we had electric stoves in the bathroom, she didn't
quite have the courage to take a cold bath in Chojnacota
and she missed that "tonic." Another woman had a harrow-
ing experience: one Saturday late in the afternoon this young
woman and her brother stopped at the house to inquire for
Mr. Woods; he was not in the office nor at the mill so I
suggested he might be up at the plaza. They went up to
the plaza, did not find him, and returned almost imme-
diately. She seemed very tired so I asked her to wait for
Mr. Woods in my sala and she had no more than seated her-
self when she fainted; her brother and I placed her on the
couch, did all the "first aid" essentials and she recovered
consciousness only to "go out" a second time. In the mean-
time I had telephoned to the doctor and Miss Danskin had
hurried over to ask Mrs. Karatieff to come at once. The
woman regained consciousness a second time but for only a
moment or two and then relapsed into unconsciousness the
third time; with the combined efforts of the doctor, of Mrs.
Karatieff, Miss Krause and the rest of us, she was finally
brought back and was carried to the guest house, where her
brother cared for her throughout the night and the follow-
ing morning she was able to ride down to Pampa Mina and
she, her brother and Miss Danskin left on the same camion
for Eucaliptus. I think this unfortunate occurrence has-
tened Miss Danskin's departure. The young woman and
her brother had come to Chojnacota to put on a show,
whether a cinema or trained dogs, I have forgotten which,
but they never gave their entertainment, although they gave
us plenty of excitement at the Administration; a little later
I received a letter from the sister from Oruro, thanking us
for our kindness and hospitality.

Now you are wondering who Mrs. Karatieff is: she is the
English wife of a one-time Russian Count, who was our

MORE ABOUT CHOJNACOTA

Mill Superintendent; she not only was a nurse but had
studied medicine in England for several years, had taught
English in the Berlitz School of Languages in Germany and
she spoke her native tongue, German, French and Russian
equally well and "took to" Spanish as a duck to water. She
has experienced more "ups and downs" than falls to the
lot of the average woman, for she saved not only her own
life but that of her husband by nursing wounded soldiers
during the World War and lived through all the horrors
of the Russian Revolution she tells actual occurrences that
make one's hair stand on end; she and her husband by dint
of strategy and some political "pull" were finally permitted
to leave for England, where they arrived penniless, in rags
and wholly destitute and she had married a millionaire!
But the "downs" have not embittered either her or her hus-
band, who has more university degrees affixed to his titled
name than anyone I have ever met, and, as you know, a big
slice of my life has been spent among college professors;
they are high up in the list of the nicest and most cultured
people we know and we are pleased to count them very good
friends.

But to return to the effects of high altitude: Miss Krause
brought a pedigreed, well-trained, German police-dog, named
Gumpel, when she came to live with us. Miss Krause is
especially fond of dogs, in fact, she has quite a number of
trophies awarded her for training the best police-dog in
several annual dog-contests held in Kiel, Germany. Gumpel
began to lose appetite, to lose "pep," to be ill and Miss
Krause cared for him as if he were an only child; one after-
noon when she returned from a walk, Gumpel lay stretched
out before her bed in his last sleep the high altitude had
been too much for him and his passing on was almost too
much for Miss Krause. Clarence had the dog carried away
and buried, while the rest of us tried to assuage her grief;
she could eat no supper and I don't believe she slept that
first night; she mourned without reserve for several days.
We did not tell her just where Gumpel was buried but she
knew it was somewhere on the west hillside and as long as
she remained in Ghojfiacota, I think she never watched a

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

sunset without longing for her beloved GumpeL Although
without nerves at all or seemingly o iron ones, if any, yet
Miss Krause "felt the altitude" and did not quite complete
two years with us.

We still had Guadalupe and were especially fortunate in
getting Amalia, who had had five years' experience and train-
ing under Mrs. Washburn, who was "Direktora" at La Paz
but also domestic science teacher at the American Institute
in Cochabamba. Amalia was, without exception, the best
cook we have ever had; she was slow but her meals were so
excellent, when they finally did appear on the table, that one
gladly forgave her tardiness. Not very long after Amalia's
arrival, Guadalupe received a letter that her father was ill
and she must go to him at once; her father's illness lasted
about a month and when Guadalupe returned, pale as a
ghost, she had had another child, her fourth. Mrs. Karatieff
thought Clarence was very hard-boiled because he refused
to compel a carpenter, the alleged father of Guadalupe's
fourth child, to marry her; I am inclined to believe a man-
ager would soon have more fame than any celebrated "marry-
ing parson" if he undertook to force the fathers into
matrimony with all the expectant mothers of his domain.
Mrs. Karatieff had not yet resided a year in South America
and I presume that by this time she herself is as calloused as
the rest of us re the moral situation. Guadalupe simply
could not "stand the altitude" any more and I let her go
with regret.

Amalia brought her cousin, Ernestina, from La Paz and
my servant problems were "nil" all the rest of the time we
were in Chojnacota; Ernestina was as quick as Amalia was
slow, hence they made a splendid team. Ernestina is the
first Chola I know of, who bobbed her hair and who wore
modern clothes; not only did she find time to do all the
work that Guadalupe had previously done and to help
Amalia in the kitchen but she became a personal maid for
me as well. I deeply regretted leaving these two capable
girls and how they did weep on the day of our departure!
They wept so copiously that, to distract them a bit, I asked
if I might borrow Amalia's "best" clothes to have my picture

MORE ABOUT CHOJNACOTA

taken, so she brought me a half dozen polleras, basque, stiff
hat, earrings and all, but I felt I did not have time to put
on the high boots and so I was ' 'snapped" alone and then
with the two girls and they were so amused they almost for-
got we were leaving. A few months after we came to Santo
Domingo, Amalia married, really married, the carpenter
and as far as I know they have 'lived happily ever afterward/'
Ernestina returned to her former employer in La Paz, who
was happy to take her back. This ends my servant chronicles,
for we have not kept house since coming to Santo Domingo.
We have our own home but the servants from the hotel
also take care of my house and Miss Krause is housekeeper
at Casa Santo Domingo and she manages all the servants.

A few more "high altitude" narratives and then I must
close. Our third Christmas in Chojnacota we were expect-
ing Mr. Whittaker, who had something to do with the fi-
nances of Bolivia in some official United States capacity-
definite, isn't it? and Mr. McGurk, the United States Con-
sul, to have Christmas dinner with us and to stay long
enough for the "three treats." They arrived as far as Pampa
Mina, where our doctor met themwe had received a tele-
gram from Caxata that Mr. Whittaker was ill. The doctor
advised that they return at once as Mr. Whittaker was suf-
fering from soroche; he was unable to "stand the altitude"
and as soon as they arrived in Eucaliptus he became quite
all right again. Mr. McGurk made a second attempt to
visit us but again someone in the party became quite ill,
necessitating an immediate "get away/' so we did not have
the pleasure of taking him to "our" glacier, or to Lake
Huayatani, but I believe he did make a trip to Araca with-
out anyone of the party becoming ill.

Mr. Bricker was another "victim"; he is a very well-known
"character" among mining people, somewhat like "Swift-
water Bill" Gates, in that he has made and lost and made
again many fortunes, is also an American citizen o German
descent, but here the similarity ends. Mr. Bricker has
traveled practically all over the world, was in South Africa
during Cecil Rhodes' time, prospected in Australia, in
Alaska and came to South America more than thirty years

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

ago. We had heard so many stories of his eccentricities: that
he wore earrings, that he always carried a pocketful of loose
gems, mostly emeralds, wonderfully fine gems, and offered
one or two or even a whole handful to whomsoever he took
a fancy, that once when taking some friends out for a ride
in a brand new car, a Packard, I think, the young daughter
of the family was so delighted with the car that she ex-
claimed, "Oh, I wish I had a car just like this," and when he
drove the car up to her home, he asked the young girl if
she really wanted such a car, and upon her affirmative he
got out of the car and presented her with that new Packard
then and there! I knew he was sending at least one student
and I heard that he had sent several more to school at the
American Institute, so when Clarence told me he had re-
ceived a telegram that Mr. Bricker, with some friends, was
coming to Chojnacota for several days, I was very much on
the qui vive to see him.

He and his two associates arrived shortly before dinner
in the evening and we visited but a short time after dinner
as Mr. Bricker seemed very tired. He did have earrings,
but they were small gold hoops and inconspicuous I had
been picturing him with long, bizarre ear drops and he
did not look at all like the highly advertised prospector with
the wide hat and red flannel shirt but, on the contrary, gave
the appearance of a kindly old gentleman "of the old school,"
well bred, serious but with a twinkle in his eyes, indicating a
sense of humor, which perhaps * 'saved the day," and him,
in those much talked of reverses. He told us entertainingly a
little of his rich and varied experiences but as we expected
him to be our guest for a week, we persuaded him to retire
early. During the night he became quite ill and our doctor
hurried him off the following morning before breakfast; al-
though he had prospected, mined and lived in very high
altitudes a large part of his life, yet he was taken with a
severe attack of soroche and was carried down the hill to the
waiting auto. Fortunately, he recovered his usual good
health shortly after arriving at a lower altitude. He must
be nearing eighty now but is still "going strong," promoting
mines in southern Chile, according to latest news of him.

MORE ABOUT CHOJNACOTA

I shall always regret that we did not learn to know him
better and that I have never had the opportunity to thank
him personally for the ten-pound box of delicious candy
which he sent me shortly after his all too brief visit at
Chojnacota.

To counteract these "not being able to stand the altitude"
stories I must not forget to tell you that Mr. and Mrs. Howell
and their two babies, the younger about a month old, spent
a carnaval week with us, and all four seemed to thrive on
the altitude. The elder daughter, about three, had very
blonde hair, so fair it had a faint bluish tinge, and many
Bolivians had never seen such white hair. Even our doctor
had to feel of her hair to convince himself it was real, while
the Indians stared at her in awe; she was a cute little "tyke,"
not at all afraid and I feel quite sure that if those Indians,
who kissed our hands, thought Clarence and I were gods,
they undoubtedly took little Mary Jane Howell to be an
angel.

And I do want to add, lest I forget, that our short-time
guest, Mr. Bricker, had the "Order of the Condor" conferred
upon him by the Bolivian Government, the highest honor
there is in Bolivia to be conferred upon a Gringo. It is your
fault that this letter is so long; you shouldn't have asked so
many questions nor insisted that I write everything in detail.

CHAPTER VIII

CLARENCE'S ILLNESS SUPERSTITIONS ON OUR WAY TO
SANTO DOMINGO

Santo Domingo Mine, April 29, 1932.
DEAREST IVA:

I have not replied to your air-mail response to my install-
ment of the Ghojnacota letter, for just a few days after I
mailed that letter to you I was called to the bedside of my
beloved Clarence, who was lying ill in a hospital in Arequipa.
He had been to Lima and was on his way home, when the
dread typhoid laid him low; I received the message the night
of Washington's birthday, which we had been celebrating
in our usual American way, with a big dinner interspersed
with speeches, the waving of the Stars and Stripes, and with
an occasional scream of the eagle. I left the next morning,
our doctor accompanying me as far as Huancarani, where
the automobile was awaiting me.

How can I ever describe that trip to give you even the
faintest idea not only of the mental anguish but of the great
physical discomfort, the real dangers and some almost
miraculous escapes from death? February and March are
the worst months of the rainy season and no one travels
in this section of the Andes during these two months, unless
it is a case of dire necessity. Usually the trip to Oconeque
can be made leisurely in one day but we were delayed three
hours by a swollen stream a short distance this side of
Quitun; ordinarily the creek is so low, that in wading, the
water barely covers one's ankles, now it was a raging torrent.
A herd of llamas with their llameros were on the opposite
side of the now angry river, waiting to cross. When the
water had subsided a little, these Indian llama herders cut
down a couple of trees (a species of the polo santo, which is
hollow and partitioned off in spaces of a foot or eighteen

CLARENCE'S ILLNESS-SUPERSTITIONS
inches apart, serving as an apartment house for ants; usually
avoided like smallpox by the Indians but in an emergency
as this there was nothing else to do); they felled the trees
with their machetes, lashed the two together with their
home-woven ropes, tied another rope at the end of the trees
and managed, after several attempts, to throw this rope to
our side of the stream, where our Indian mulero fastened
this end of the trees securely with heavy rocks while the
llameros were fastening the other end in like manner; thus
a bridge was made to span the turbulent, roaring waters, at
the narrowest place, naturally, but here the waters boiled
the most. Then the Quitun-side Indians threw still another
rope across to us and with two Indians firmly holding each
end of this rope, we had an improvised railing to clutch as
we cautiously stepped sidewise over this slippery footbridge;
the doctor crossed first and then I followed, keeping my
eyes glued to the railing a misstep would have been fatal,
for no one could have been rescued from that boiling
cauldron below; the water lapped our feet and occasionally
wet our ankles. With a prayer of gratitude in our hearts
for having made a safe crossing, we walked the short distance
to Quitun, where we had almuerzo, the noon meal, consist-
ing of the inevitable chupe, a soup concocted with dried
mutton, dried potatoes, native herbs and plenty of aji (red
pepper); this with heavy, black bread begins and ends the
menu. Needless to say I could not eat the most tempting
food would not have appealed to me but even under the
most favorable circumstances I fear I would have to be
starved into eating this evil-looking and still worse smelling
chupe. Our mules were delayed an hour and a half longer
in crossing the stream but we arrived at Oconeque just as
it was "nighting" on Wednesday.

We left very early Thursday morning in order to arrive
at Agualani before the creek had risen too much to allow
crossing but, perversely, we arrived too early; it had rained
incessantly all night but was slackening somewhat as we
started out. Flores, the trail rider, who lives at Oconeque,
sent two "tried and trusted" expert river men with us. We
all sat at the shore, watching the swirling, foaming water,

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

it seemed to me for interminable hours, when one of the
Indians said, "Now we can cross/' and yet to my unpracticed
eye, the water had not lowered an inch. The doctor removed
his medicine case that, at least, would be saved in case of
misfortune; he was "killing two birds with one stone" in
accompanying me out, for he had to see a patient at Lim-
bani. The Indian mounted the doctor's mule and forded
the angry stream to show us that it could be done; he headed
upstream and kept the mule's head turned that way but
the strong current pushed the mule downstream. I admit
I was terribly frightened nothing but the picture of Clar-
ence lying ill in a hospital could have induced me to mount
my nervous mule and attempt that frightful, it seemed
suicidal, crossing and I had to do it aloneno man could
stand up in that raging flood; too terrified to even recall a
word of a Psalm, I put my feet up on the mule's neck, clung
to the pommel of the saddle and I kept my eyes as well as
those of the mule pointed upstream and, after what seemed
an eternity, we were safe on the other side. Trusting my-
self then to look down, it seemed to me we lacked but six
inches from the whirlpool, where we emerged; had we been
pushed those few inches farther, into that maelstrom, no
human agency could have saved me nor the mule. I trem-
bled and shook for a full half hour, even though I knew I
was safely across, and I could not watch the doctor make
the hazardous crossing, neither was I able to dismount I
was "plain scared stiff."

We did not arrive at Huancarani until three in the after-
noonwith our early start, we should have arrived at eleven
in the morning; and instead of Cuadros, our motor-transpor-
tation agent such an experienced chauffeur that we rely
upon him implicitly to bring us through, whatever the con-
ditions may be instead of Cuadros himself, he had sent his
assistant, a very good driver, but being a much younger man,
he lacked the judgment that I, at least, felt was needed on
this trip. Leaving Huancarani so late, it was impossible to
get farther than Crucero, and for many kilometers before
we reached Crucero there was no distinct road to be seen;
the entire stretch of altiplano seemed to be a lake, hence

CLARENCE'S ILLNESS-SUPERSTITIONS
we had to proceed very, very slowly; it rained almost in-
cessantly, not a downpour but a steady, drizzling rain from
the time we left Santo Domingo until shortly after we left
Huancarani, when the rain changed to snow. We arrived
at that cold, bleak village of Crucero about six and I went
at once to bed, removing only my boots and wraps, piling on
the mountain of heavy but not warmth-giving blankets,
having my dinner of hot milk brought to me. I asked the
hotel proprietor to see that we got started not later than six
in the morning. I told him that we would not expect break-
fast but that we would stop at Rosario for something to eat,
but he insisted that no matter how early I cared to leave
desayuno would be ready for us. I was awake several times
during the night; it snowed all night; at Hve I heard no
moving around; at five-thirty I went to the kitchen, roused
the cook; her little boy and several dozen guinea pigs also
came to life. I told her to send the chico to wake the chauf-
feur, that we would leave as soon as the car was ready and
that she was not to bother about breakfast, but "mine host"
had evidently told her to prepare eggs and, "willy-nilly," I
had to wait for the "passed" eggs. It took the chauffeur a
long time to get the car started and at seven, in a driving
snowstorm, we finally got away. The doctor came only as
far as Huancarani with me; he returned at once to Limbani
to look after a patient and then hastened back to Santo
Domingo, for it seems every time the doctor is absent from
the mine, that is the time chosen to have an accident! But
aside from being needed at the mine, we all felt that after
I got into the automobile, the journey troubles would be
over. They just began!

We skidded (skated, from patinar, they say down here)
and "slithered" along the slippery road, necessarily proceed-
ing very slowly and eventually arrived at Rosario, where we
were told it was absolutely impossible to cross the river; the
stream was bridged here but a flood several years previous
to our time had carried away the approach of the bridge
on the far side and the government had never repaired it:
in the dry season, the bridge was not needed and in the
rainy season it couldn't be fixed. The chauffeur put it up

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

to me, if we should attempt the crossing; anxious as I was
to go on, yet I did not want to decide his fate as well as my
own. After trying the depth in several places, he suggested
that I walk across the bridge one of the spans, a railroad
rail, still spanned the river and he promised to use every
precaution in trying to get across, that if it appeared too
dangerous, he would back out. A young man from Rosario
helped me across the bridge. The rail was slippery with
snow but happily there was only about ten feet of it to
navigate and I tried not to see the roaring river below. Then
I nervously watched the chauffeur plunge along he had
first unfastened the fan and covered the entire engine with
canvas (this he did at every river) then he would "put her
in high and step on the gas"; twice my heart stopped, missed
a beat, as the car seemed to sway and I thought surely it
would topple over into the swirling, greedy waters, but he
made it and I climbed into the wet car and we were off
again to slip and slide. Landslides delayed us the chauffeur
and his helper would get out and shovel dirt and debris^
just enough so the car could climb over the obstruction and
bump safely down on the other side; a culvert was completely
swept away so the two men had to build a road down into
the creek and then another to get back on the main road;
a little farther and we saw no road at all! The rampageous,
icy river had cut out a huge slice of the road as one would
cut a third of a loaf cake in the middle. What to do? It
seemed we would surely have to turn back, but I presume
the chauffeur caught the imploring look in my eyes, for he
told his helper to wade along the edge of the stream and
with a stick to feel his way and we would follow in the car;
thus for twenty minutes, it seemed almost that many hours,
we nosed our way along what once had been a roadbed and
after many desperate efforts, the car clambered up on the
main road once more.

At Triunfo we were told we could not possibly cross the
river at Recreo, that it would be suicidal to attempt it, that
we would better remain at Triunfo until the waters subsided,
and again the chauffeur put it up to me. I suggested we
go to Recreo and then decide. Recreo is a finca (farm) at

[ 144]

CLARENCE'S ILLNESSSUPERSTITIONS
the river's edge but the owner is almost never at home, leav-
ing the ranch in care of Indians, who will not permit any
one to remain overnight, so we knew, if we were unable to
proceed, that we would have to return to Triunfo, about
fifteen miles. For some reason or other there were a dozen
or more Indians at Recreo and several of them assured us
that we could make the crossing safely, so we disconnected
the fan, covered the engine and "stepped on the gas"; but
we did not get a sixth of the way across I should guess we
went about twenty yards when the water came over the
seat, the engine gasped and died and the car was actually
beginning to topple over. I thought, "this is the end/' but
the Indians had seen our plight. Eight or nine ran out to
us, braced the car from overturning and, with the help of
the chauffeur, succeeded in backing the car out. This was
our "closest shave."

The car was now useless to go on and we had about made
up our minds to return to Triunfo when a couple of men
came riding up, and on learning the urgent reason for the
trip, offered to get horses for the chauffeur and me to ford
the river, and I most thankfully accepted the offer. One of
these men led the way across the river, told me not to look
down but to keep my eyes upstream and always toward the
opposite bank. The current was very swift and our horses
drifted terribly downstream; I preferred wet feet rather than
taking the chance of being swept out of the saddle, and kept
my feet in the stirrups, and kept my eyes glued to the man
ahead, but I was quite dizzy before we landed and I fear
another five minutes would have caused me to let go of my
desperate clutching to the pommel of the saddle. The chauf-
feur followed with my one bag, which he jauntily held up
in front of him.

It quit raining about this time and the fifteen-mile horse-
back ride to Asillo over a relatively good road would have
been a pleasure under normal conditions. Pancho (nick-
name for Francisco), the chauffeur, was confident that
Cuadros would be at Asillo to meet us, for he had arranged
to leave Tirapata Thursday noon, if we had not yet put in
an appearance.

[ 145]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

We arrived at the rather large Indian village of Asillo at
six and went to an inn where I had stayed before on a previ-
ous "full of adventure" trip but one in which time was no
factor. The landlady welcomed me as a long-lost sister-
queer how the news of Clarence's illness had been "grape-
vined" all along the way but there was no Cuadros awaiting
us at Asillo. The innkeeper advised me that, even if Cuadros
arrived yet that night, we could not go on to Tirapata, for
the road was muy terrible. Again I went at once to bed
(the bed was a concrete platform in a corner of the room;
there were four such concrete beds, one in each corner, but,
fortunately, I was the only guest that night) and had my
dinner of hot milk served in bed (fresh milk is really a
luxury anywhere between Arequipa and the mine, so I was
doubly fortunate in being able to have it twice). There was
the usual mountain of heavy blankets but there were two
sheets, both clean, a circumstance to be most devoutly thank-
ful for, even though you only removed your boots and some
outer clothing. I was up bright and early in the morning
awaiting Cuadros, expecting every moment to hear the honk-
ing of his car one always honks loudly and continuously
several minutes before entering any Indian village, to clear
the narrow streets of the numerous dogs and chickens, men
and women; the honking may announce your coming and
bring them all out, but at the same time it warns them to
keep out of the way. I walked up the hill from whence
Cuadros would come and back to the village many times,
but at eight, I hired another car to take me to Tirapata.
Pancho had left Asillo very early this same morning for
Recreo to get his car in condition for whatever occasion
might arise. The new chauffeur was dubious about getting
to Tirapata and consented to try only with the condition
that he be allowed to take four men along as helpers in
case of trouble and we had plenty of trouble 1

While the distance between Asillo and Tirapata is a little
less than five leagues (fifteen miles) and in the dry season
has been made in a half hour, in the wet season, the flat,
marshy country becomes a sticky morass, a quagmire. Hap-
pily he met Cuadros only a kilometer or so out from Asillo.

[146]

CLARENCE'S ILLNESS-SUPERSTITIONS
His truck had mired, he had broken an axle and was on
the point of walking in to Asillo, when we drove, or rather
crawled up. I asked him to abandon the truck and return
with us and if he hadn't, we would never have reached Tira-
pata that day, in a car, anyway. We abandoned the regular
road entirely, tried out places here and there and everywhere,
miring countless times; all would pile out of the car, except
the chauffeur, the five men would work furiously, tearing
up tufts of grass, digging out the wheels, and placing the
grass quickly in the gutters to give purchase to the revolving
wheels, then all five lift with all their might, until, after
repeated efforts, the car would run the men would run, too,
and climb in, but for just a few minutes, and then another
miring! The train was due to leave Tirapata at four-thirty
and there are but two trains a week; we could see the wind-
mill at the station it was maddening to be so close and yet
feel that I might miss the train the torment of Tantalus
was mine. When I left Santo Domingo, I had planned to get
to Tirapata in plenty of time for a two days' rest, time to
pack suitcases, to do the thousand and one things necessary
on starting out for such an indefinite stay; now I prayed
only that I would catch the trainsuch details as a bath or
a change of clothing became of no consequence. At two a
horseman met us with a telegram from our good friend, Mr.
Corry, Chief Engineer of the Railway of Southern Peru, with
the comforting news that Clarence had had no fever for two
days but he was very weak. Our agent at Tirapata had
thoughtfully sent the message on to me, for he knew we were
held up somewhere and that I was very anxious for news of
Clarence. At three the exhausted party arrived at Tirapata
the men bespattered with mud from head to foot, all of them
wet to the waist, for many times they had to dig the car out
of a river of water.

With but scanty thanks for their heroic efforts, I hurried
to my room, frantically trying to undress, pack and do a
dozen things at one time, when Mrs. Christen came with
the "last straw" news, that there would be no train! There
was a gigantic landslide between Sicuani and Cuzco and the
train was on the other side of Sicuani, there was no telling

C H7 ]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

when a train could get through! In the meantime, Mr.
Christen telegraphed to Puno for the autocarril (an auto
adjusted to run on the railroad track) and within a half hour
came the reply that the autocarril was out o commission!
Then he telegraphed to Mr. Corry at Arequipa for permis-
sion for me to ride in a hand car to Juliaca but Mr. Corxy
was in Mollendo and his assistant wired back that, due to
the gravity of the slide at Sicuani, it was advisable not to
allow any hand cars to leave Tirapata; but the message to
Mr. Corry was forwarded to him and just a little later
another telegram came, granting the permission. Mrs. Chris-
ten and the three girls helped me to get ready; Mr. Christen
put a mattress on the hand car, so I could lie down, brought
several blankets and his poncho made of rubber, through
which no wind nor rain could penetrate; a lunch was hastily
prepared and at five, we were off.

Juliaca is forty and one-half miles from Tirapata and the
train usually makes it in an hour and a half to two hours
but hand propulsion is a little slower than a steam engine.
I was quite comfortable at first, sitting with my feet dangling
down in front of the car, until we arrived at the first station,
Pucara, where two men came to me with a telegram, pur-
porting to give them permission to ride on the same car
with me to Juliaca they had some urgent reason, I do not
remember what, for getting to Puno; I was perfectly willing
they should accompany me, whether they had the permission
or not, all I was concerned about was to get to Juliaca, so I
could catch the train to Arequipa the following morning.
But taking on two more passengers meant adding more man-
power; we had started out from Tirapata with four husky
Indians, at Pucard we took on two more this made the car
quite crowded but the two passengers riding in front of my
"private berth" served as a windshield and I can assure you
I was grateful for that windshield before the trip was over!
While the altiplano seems to be flat, yet there were some
uphill pulls, when it took all the efforts of the six Indians
to make the grade, and then coming downhill there was
the consequent holding back and even then, it seemed at
times that we would surely fly off the track. About midway,

CLARENCE'S ILLNESS-SUPERSTITIONS
I have forgotten the name of the station, we were held up
some fifteen minutes for further orders from Juliaca; here
the six Indians were relieved by six others and again we were
off. Brr-rr-rr, but it was cold! In spite of all my efforts and
those of the two caballeros, the bitterly cold wind would
penetrate around the edges of the poncho and sometimes a
sudden blast would lift the entire poncho, and but for clutch-
ing hands, would have swept it all the way back to Tirapata.
If you ever want to experience a really cutting, penetrating
to the bones and marrow, cold wind, take a midnight ride .on
an open hand car in the great "wide open spaces" of the
altiplano; but for the blankets, the rubber poncho, and the
two men as a shield, I don't believe I could have survived
that fearfully cold ride. Those two men were swathed in
mufflers, their overcoat collars turned up and their caps
pulled down low, and at every stop they creakingly climbed
down, stamped their feet and swung their arms to coax a little
warmth into their chilled bodies; yet I was told that the six
Indians were actually sweating from their exertions.

We arrived at Juliaca at one-thirty of the "cold, gray dawn-
ing," almost too numbed with the cold to care whether we
arrived or not, but Mr. Christen had wired the hotel of my
coming, so a mozo, half-asleep at the door, let us in and con-
ducted me to a cold room; but it, at least, was a protection
from the biting wind. Removing only wraps, but piling
them on the bed for extra warmth, I crawled between the
shivery sheets and dozed off to dream of bright lights, a
comfortable couch, piled high with downy pillows, in front
of a huge fireplace in which crackled a roaring fire; and I
awoke in a cheerless, frigid room with aching bones and a
real case of soroche. But the breakfast brought to my room
and in all South American hotels breakfast is served in your
room although consisting of merely cafe con leche (coffee
with hot milk and much more milk than coffee) and toast,
no, just bread, for if you want toast it must be especially
ordered, and if you want jam for your toast, you must pay
for the whole jar, even though you use but a spoonful yet
the breakfast warmed my "innards" and I was so glad that
I had entered on the last lap of this nerve-racking trip

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

that past worries were forgotten and I was at the station
betimes, in fact, before the gates were open. Our good
friend, Dr. Reed of the "Clinica Americana/* was at the
station and his eyes almost popped out of his head, when
he saw me, for he could not imagine how I had arrived at
Juliaca, with all train service to and from Cuzco held up
indefinitely. He introduced me to a missionary nurse, who
is a great friend of the Head Nurse in the hospital at Are-
quipa, where Clarence was domiciled; she told me that
Clarence was doing splendidly, which, of course, was a great
comfort, and she also related this: when Miss Hunt, the
nurse, told the doctor that Clarence had no more fever,
he could not believe it and he placed the fever thermometer
in Clarence's mouth with instructions to leave it there until
he, himself, came back to read it; the doctor was making
his daily round of visiting the patients but was called out
on the street and completely forgot about the thermometer
in Clarence's mouth, where, she said, it remained for hours!
Clarence said it was too bad to spoil a good story like that
but in reality the thermometer was under his arm and not
more than twenty minutes, for Miss Hunt relieved him of it.

I was the only passenger in the cache salon and to ride in
"solitary grandeur" from eight- thirty in the morning until
five-thirty in the afternoon over a route that you know by
heart and quite often "by stomach," for it curves in and out
in a most distressing manner and it took all my "holding the
right thought" to keep my luncheon where it should stay,
such solitary grandeur soon palls; to read was impossible
with the train jerking so violently, while in trying to play
solitaire, the cards were more often on the floor than on
the table; such an unaccompanied day's journey is monoto-
nous and unpleasant enough under the most auspicious con-
ditions but to me, on this day, it seemed it would never end.

However, we did finally arrive at Arequipa, where "Tia"
Bates, of the widely-known Quinta of her name, met me
and at my first words, "How is Clarence?" she replied, "Oh,
fine, he looks better than you do." We drove at once to
the hospital. Mr. Vickery of Grace 8c Co. was with him;
lie had been a daily visitor ever since Clarence was taken

CLARENCE'S ILLNESS-SUPERSTITIONS
to the hospital and we shall always remember his faithfulness
and good-heartedness with loving gratitude. Clarence did
look better than I had dared to hope his eyes were clear
but he was still pitifully weak. And were we glad to see
each other! Both of us vowed that "never again" would we
be separated even for the shortest time, but alas! we had
vowed that before and had had to break the vow and have
had to do so since. I shall not bore you with further de-
tailssuffice to say that he was in the hospital four weeks
more, then we went to- Mollendo for another four weeks,
where he recuperated very, very rapidly. Now we are home
again and I am praying that we shall both be able to remain
right here for a year at least.

But, my dear, this letter was to tell you of the trip to
Santo Domingo and here I have taken you from the mine!
What an array of questions! How did we entertain so many
guests in such a tiny home at Chojnacota? I often wondered
myself how we did it. The guest house contained two large -
rooms, each with two three-quarter sized beds they would
take care of eight people; we had a wide couch in our
sola, which more than once "slept" two small people; several
times our office force would "double up" and thus let our
guests have a bed, and I remember when once with all this
we had to put a "shake-down*' on the floor in one of the
guest rooms. However, more than four guests at a time
for a week, or for a week-end, was a rare occurrence, and
as for "eats," unexpected guests, and there were so many,
were taken care of by always having plenty of salad dressing,
canned goods, and never allowing the cookie jar to be empty.

Did I mind very much being the only white woman in
camp? Well, not very much; whenever this particular phase
of nostalgia manifested itself, I donned coat and hat and
took a brisk walk; returning from the second lake, and
sometimes even from the third, I usually thanked my lucky
stars that I was privileged to enjoy such magnificent scenery.
I rode a great deal with Clarence and we had a well-stocked
library besides the great number of magazines from the States.
We had a very good phonograph with several hundred
records, the very best of the classics one of the previous

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

managers was a real musicianbut, nevertheless, I often
wished for a woman-friendmany, many times I wished "Iva
would drop in/' for you were always a tonic to me. With
the coming of Miss Krause, I used my German more and
after Mrs. Karatieff arrived, well, she and I discussed and
"settled" most of the problems of the world.

What games do Bolivian children play? Ah, bless the
little childrenthey seem to be the same the world over:
the boys fly kites (cometas comets; well-named, don't you
think so?), play marbles, and from the quarreling I have
heard, I am quite sure they play "for keeps," too; they play
ball, hide and seek, and I suspect they even have "gangs"
that sally forth from robbers' dens. The predilection of the
little girls is for dolls, munecas every tot has at least the
semblance of a doll, be it but a rag with a string around
the neck and another around the middle to distinguish head,
trunk and limbs. I remember one Christmas at Pulacayo,
when the Manager played "Santa Glaus" to all the kiddies
in camp, with two enormous boxes of toys from Chicago and
we "Gringas" undertook to distribute the toys according to
each child's wish but the munecas gave out long before the
procession of little girls was even half completed and no toy,
no matter how gorgeous a whole parlor set, or even a com-
plete laundry set would compensate for the wished-for doll.
Every little girl carries her doll in a llijilla (shawl) on her
back and the girls make mud pies and "keep house" just as
their northern "cousins" do.

Superstitions? Ah, my dear, what a fascinating and almost
inexhaustible field you are asking me to explore for you! I
have gathered here a little and there a little from the Indian,
the Cholo and the gente decente himself; I have read a little,
but literature on this subject is very scarce, and most of
my information is "second-hand"; but all that I have gath-
ered, to me, is extremely interesting. I shall not attempt
to write it all that would require a whole book of itself
but 111 try to sketch rapidly the "high lights."

So steeped is the Indian in myths and superstitions, that
I verily believe no minute of the day or night but is with
some portent or signification, for every dream foretells some-

CLARENCE'S ILLNESS-SUPERSTITIONS
thing, every rock or pebble or flower or blade o grass tells
him what to expect, and usually he expects evil; the multi-
plicity of religious fiestas, the profusion in which he erects
temples and chapels, his confounding of religious and pagan
rites, his excessive alcoholic thirst, all these foster supersti-
tions. He has a calendar of unlucky days, thirty-two in all
but the three worst of the whole year are March i5th, August
i8th and Sept. i8th (I have not been able to find out why);
the next bad ones are: the first Monday in August, when
Cain was born; the first Monday in September, when Judas
was born; the fourth Monday in September, when Herod
was born; and the first Monday in April, when Sodom and
Gomorrah were destroyed.

January is the unluckiest month of all, for it has nine evil
days; February, March and August each have three, October
and June but one each, while the remaining months each
have two; Friday is always unlucky, for Christ was crucified
on that day; thirteen people gathered together anywhere
signifies that one will die within the year, probably from
thirteen at the Last Supper.

The moon plays an important r61e, not only with farmers
but in all walks of life. The farmer sows only when the
moon is in the last quarter, for he believes that the seed
sown in the first quarter of the moon goes to stems and
leaves with but little fruit; he harvests during the new or
full moon, believing that then the fruit will be big and
heavy.

One should never wash clothes when the moon is decreas-
ing, for then the clothes will tear easily or wear out
prematurely.

The hair will grow luxuriantly if washed in the first
quarter of the moon.

The Indian fears yet reverences the rainbow: children
are not permitted to look directly at it, for fear they will
die; adults close the mouth tightly so no tooth shows, when
looking at the rainbow, else they, too, will die; dangerous
birds dwell at the foot of the rainbow.

The Indian tells fortunes with coca leaves as the white
man (or woman, rather) does with cards; chewed coca also

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

serves as an amulet against all misfortune; the Indian always
adds a rock or pebble to the pile o rocks on the summit of
a hill or mountain he reverently spits coca on the pile
or places the feather of a bird among the rocks as a thank-
offering for safety thus far and begs protection for the
descent.

When coming to a river, he always drinks of the water,
no matter how muddy it may be, asks the water to allow him
to pass safely and then gives his offering of chewed coca.

Unlike the whites, the Indian's witch or soothsayer is
always an old man, never a woman. To avoid witchery,
the Indian puts his pantaloons on wrong side out, his woman
her skirts on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

No Indian will slaughter cattle for food or start on a jour-
ney on Tuesday; if starting out on a journey, he always
leaves very early, before daybreak, for he believes if any one
sees him depart, he might cast a spell upon him and his
trip would be disastrous. But before leaving, the family
goes through a formal ceremony: each member of the family
puts three leaves of coca together, pours alcohol over them
and consigns them to the fire, after which they all drink,
usually chicha, to the success of the trip.

In building a house, elaborate ceremonies start as soon
as the foundation is laid, beginning about ten at night and
lasting until dawn: a table is spread with food, alcohol,
chicha, pieces of tallow, coca and herbs, which are offerings
to the spirits. Friends and relatives are invited. A fire is
started at one side and then each person takes three leaves
of coca, gives them to the Master of Ceremonies, who pours
alcohol over them and consigns them to the flames; mean-
while the entire assemblage kneels and chants a prayer.
Then all the articles on the table are wrapped in paper,
handed to the Master of Ceremonies, who wraps them again
in a white cloth and, with a companion, goes to a designated
place, where another fire is kindled into which he casts the
package, first pouring alcohol over it, and then with what
alcohol remains in the bottle, he raises his right arm and
scatters it in all directions, praying the spirits to bless all
the land between the two fires. The two return to the

CLARENCE'S ILLNESS SUPERSTITIONS
waiting assemblage, report that the spirits have answered
favorably, and in quiet reverence all bow their heads, cover
their faces with their hands and remain silent for about a
half hour. Then at each corner of the foundation, a hole
is dug, into which is placed a small bottle of alcohol or
chicha, a flat stone put on top and sealed with mud. Then
the drinking and dancing commence, continuing all night.
When the house is finished, a sheep, llama or alpaca is killed,
the walls sprinkled with blood and a cross or several crosses
fastened on the roof to keep all evil spirits away.

When the Indian builds a corral, he digs a hole at each
of the four corners, puts in each hole a hoof of one of his
animals, saved for that purpose, three leaves of coca, well
sprinkled with alcohol, and covers the holes well with mud -
his cattle now will not stray, get lost nor be stolen.

When an Indian kills a sheep or llama for meat for his
own use, every bone is saved even the dogs get none; the
bones are tied up in a cloth with coca, sprinkled with alcohol,
and then cast into the deepest part of a river; as the rains
increase the volume of the river, so will their herds increase.

The condor, puma, jaguar and llama were the totems of
the ancient tribes now only the first three are given, rever-
ence; to hunt any one of the three is sacrilege. A white llama
is sometimes sacrificed as a protection from lightning.

To meet a skunk or a fox augurs ill; but the flesh of a
skunk will cure pneumonia. If a fox enters a mine, the
mine will cease to produce.

A spider signifies joy, a white spider, great joy.

The left shoe placed on the breast of a sleeping person
will cause the sleeper to divulge all his secrets.

To walk under a ladder will occasion domestic troubles.

The first tooth extracted of a child should be thrown in
a rat hole, then the child will have strong teeth. One should
never place a plate or a concave dish on a child's head or
the child will be of small stature.

To be married on Sunday brings much misfortune to the
new home.

To bite one's tongue involuntarily presages the death of
a relative.

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

He who first enters the house where a death has occurred
will be the next to die.

If one goes to bed thirsty, his head detaches itself and
goes to the nearest water to drink.

If a rooster crows early in the night, someone will die.

If a dog does not know his master and barks at him, the
master's death is near.

A snake in one's path presages misfortune.

Two or more swallows flying downward together foretell
a storm.

When buzzards scream, there will be a hurricane.

The flesh of the viscacha ages, while the flesh of the condor
rejuvenates the consumer; salt ages, while food without salt
prolongs youth.

The owl brings bad luck; the dove presages misfortune.

A cat has seven lives, hence its flesh is highly prized to
give vitality.

The blood of a bull, still warm, and especially from the
chest, gives the partaker the vigor and strength of a bull.

Moths (night butterflies) called alma kepis, are carriers
of the soul and should always be killed to avert misfortune.

Dreams

To dream of (the South American says dream with) a
llama or sheep signifies the business venture will fail.

To dream of a corpse signifies money.

To dream of cooking, news of a death.

To dream of having a tooth extracted, death of a relative.

To dream of a negro, illness.

To dream of biting dogs, robbery.

To dream of a condor, success.

If an expectant mother dreams of snakes, she will have
a son; of frogs, a daughter; of a condor, her son will be a
great man.

Another superstition: When a girl is born, the midwife
procures needle and thread and goes through the motions of
sewing up the child's mouthto prevent her from talking
too much when she grows up.

Every flower has a signification; some are more potent

ON OUR WAY TO SANTO DOMINGO
than others in averting danger, and some day I hope to
gather enough information to give you a "flower-book/* but
this gathering "here a little and there a little" is a matter
of much time and patience, but intensely interesting.

Now to return to our leaving Bolivia: on Friday, the
thirteenth of July, 192:8, we most reluctantly said good-by
to the everlasting snows and shining glaciers among which
we had been so comfortably domiciled for three happy years;
even more reluctantly did we bid farewell to Amalia and
Ernestina, who had served us so faithfully and so welland
I particularly hated to leave that cookie jar! If the car had
not been so crowded, I certainly would have attempted to
smuggle that cookie jar along! I turned back many, many
times for another look at Chojnacota peak, at "our" beloved
glacier and at those lovely lakes, as we descended on mules
to the third lake, where the car was awaiting us. We had a
earful: the Manager, who succeeded Clarence, our son,
Lee, Mr. Othick, late Manager o the Calachaca plant, who
was going to Santo Domingo with us as millman, Clarence
and I, besides the chauffeur. We made quite a picnic of
it, taking a bountiful lunch along and stopping at a most
inviting place, where there was running water, to eat and
to rest. I recall that as we were going through the rather
large Indian village of Sica-sica, Mr. Othick remarked that
he had been married in the big church there and, inciden-
tally, he had not been to church since!

We arrived in La Paz in plenty of time for dinner and
were warmly welcomed by our friends at the American In-
stitute. Chojnacota's new Manager had the car overhauled
and we were amazed to learn that our lives had been in
serious danger from the time we started, for the brakes were
in very bad shape and many of the car's "innards" were ready
to collapse and this was Friday, the igth! The chauffeur
was dismissed for his carelessness but the time required to
repair the car gave Lee the opportunity to stay with us until
we departed, for he was to return to Chojnacota to finish
his contract. The time from Friday afternoon until Monday
afternoon passed all too rapidly, what with passports to be

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

vls^d, some extra little shopping to do, a Tea or two to
attend and, of course, the Sunday market to visit, for I
could never forego that Sunday Indian Market in La Paz,
no matter how many times I had already "been present* ';
to me, it compares favorably with the marts of Alexandria,
of Cairo, of Bethlehem and of Jerusalemfor brilliant color-
ing and bewildering variety of merchandise, it is in a class
by itself.

Our train was scheduled to leave at two o'clock; we and
our friends were at the station at one-thirty. The station at
La Paz, as well as any railroad station in South America, is
a colorful sight; it always seems as if the entire population
must surely be there and to check the crowding, a fee of ten
centavos is charged everyone not holding a ticket of travel,
to pass through the gates to the platform, but this charge
does not seem to affect the crowds, who come to see their
friends depart or arrive, or who just come.

A group of friends and I at once boarded the train, while
Clarence with other friends looked after the baggage; we
were early and you may imagine our astonishment when the
train began to pull out before we had even seated ourselves.
The women hastily left the slowly-moving train our good-
bys consisted of waving handkerchiefs and I couldn't even
smile, for fear Clarence was being left behind. As the train
took on speed, a conductor entered our car and to my frantic
questioning, replied that I was on the first section, that the
second section of the train would follow in a half-hour, that
the two sections would reassemble at Alto, the summit; the
train was too heavy to make the ascent, so had to be divided.
When Clarence saw the train pulling out, he was as sur-
prised as the rest of us but was, of course, at once told the
"why-for." If we had but known of this shunting ahead, our
friends could have ridden to Alto with me and returned to
La Paz by auto, but as it was, I walked the platform at Alto
by myself awaiting the three members of our little party:
Clarence, Mr. Othick and Charley Patra, a mechanic, who
was going with us, too, to get out of the high altitude "for
good."

In less than three hours we arrived at Guaqui, the Bolivian

ON OUR WAY TO SANTO DOMINGO
port of beautiful Lake Titicaca, arriving just a little before
sunset, but in time to see the numerous balsas floating like
big birds on the lake, some with sails but the majority with-
out, and a flotilla of these graceful, canoe4ike boats, catching
the last rays of the setting sun on quiet waters, presents a
perfect picture indelibly photographed on memory's tablet.
The balsa is a trim, long, slender boat made of totoras
(reeds); these reeds are bound into bundles, also long and
slender, with grass cordsthe cords and reeds both gathered
along the shore of the lake; the cords are tightened each day
until the bundles of reeds are firm and dry; after ten days
and sometimes as long as three weeks, the bundles are bound
side by side and bent into the shape of a canoe. The sails
are also made of reeds. The Indian handles the balsa very
cleverly and I presume it behooves him to do so, for I have
heard that very few Indians know how to swim. (A young
Indian fell into the Inambari River at Oroya last winter
and apparently made no effort whatsoever to save himself;
an American woman was an eye-witness of the tragedy and
she said he could easily have waded out, where he fell in,
if he had even tried to get up but he evidently was paralyzed
with fear; most of the Indians are said to be very much
afraid of water but the few who do know how to swim and to
handle boats are considered very good "watermen.") These
balseros are fishermen and they supply the fish market of
La Paz; the fish are small, from six to ten inches long, but
have a delicate, pleasing flavor. They are caught in nets,
hundreds at a time, and are not at all expensive.

After but a few minutes' delay at the customs house,
aduana, we boarded the good ship Inca and from its deck,
we watched the big, round moon, bigger than a washtub,
slowly ascend from behind Mt. Sorata, 21,300 feet above sea-
level, 9000 feet higher than the lake; we saw the snowy peak
of Juana Potosi become flooded with its silvery light, then
lesser peaks stood out, cold and white, for there are seventy-
five miles of snow-capped peaks bordering this lovely lake,
steeped in legends and romance; and as we continued to
drink in all this majestic beauty, even until the peaks dis-
appeared below the horizon, Clarence and I audibly ex-

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

pressed our gratitude that we had had the good fortune to
cross the lake by moonlight as well as on a "heaven-born"
sunny day about a year previous. To our fellow-travelers we
pointed out the Isle of the Sun, the legendary birthplace of
Manco-Capac, the founder of the Inca Empire, and the Isle
of the Moon, where his sister and wife, Mama-Cello, was
born; we repeated the tale of how the two were told to found
a city, the capital of their empire to be, by carrying a bar
of gold between them, until it sank into the earth of its own
volition; how they wandered for many moons until they
arrived in Cuzco, where the gold bar disappeared into the
earth. And we all regretted that the Conquistadores had so
ruthlessly destroyed this wonderful civilization, many evi-
dences of which are still to be seen not only on the islands
of Lake Titicaca and in Cuzco but also in the vicinity of
Santo Domingo, where we were going.

As the ship plowed its silvery way between these two
islands, giving rein to all kinds of imaginative fancies, we
did not voice the prosaic facts, that Lake Titicaca is the high-
est navigable lake in the world, that is, on which steamers
ply at regular schedule, that it is 140 miles long, 60 miles
wide and more than two miles above sea level; we did not
even discuss whether the water was salt or fresh. (A tourist
on a former occasion contended that its waters are salt, that
every book he had consulted said so, and then he asked a
member of the crew if the water was salt and the sailor
obligingly answered yes! To counteract this, an American
auditor, who crosses the lake often, affirmed that the drink-
ing water on the boat was taken from the middle of the lake,
that he was positive the water was fresh. Then, to make
sure, when we landed at Puno, all four of us tasted the
water to two of us it tasted fresh and to the other two,
slightly brackish!) But this night, all facts or arguments
sank into insignificance in the glamorous moonlight, which
enfolded the romantic setting of the Inca civilization and
we were on our way to a mine owned by the Inca Mining &
Development Co., to a region steeped in Inca legends, and,
if our dreams came true, we would be permanently located
in this land so conducive to "thick-coming fancies"; we had

160

ON OUR WAY TO SANTO DOMINGO
started out on a new adventure for "weal or woe 54 and this
night, at least, we were giving no thought to woe.

But, pray don't imagine that the waters of beautiful Lake
Titicaca are always calm and unruffled: our friends, the
Bells, on their last visit to Santo Domingo, were very sea-
sick on their return to La Paz. A Pulacayo friend witnessed
such a violent storm that, at first, she was fearful the ship
would founder and then, as she became so wretchedly seasick
she feared it wouldn't sink. Three "hard-boiled" sailors of a
freighter, who had sailed "the seven seas" for seven years, were
given a leave to visit La Paz, leaving their boat at Mollendo
and were to meet the boat again at Arica; in crossing the lake,
all three became deathly seasick and one of them almost did
"pass out." Fortunately, when the lake is choppy, at least,
it is not much more than a twelve-hour "run" to cross it.

Our little party of four arrived at Puno, the Peruvian port
of the lake, about seven in the cold, cold morning and it is
always cold in the morning at Puno. Our baggage was
superficially examined by the customs officials and we
boarded the train for about an hour's ride to Juliaca, where
we changed to the Guzco train and in about two hours more
we were at Tirapata, which owes its existence to the Santo
Domingo mine, for it is little more than a group of the
Company's warehouses and the resident-agent's home. I
was amazed at the bigness of the Company's plant here, for
there are materials and housing enough apparently to take
care of all the mines in Peru.

Tirapata, 12,780 feet above sea level, on the wind-swept
altiplano, is a dreary place; as far as the eye can see, nothing
but a monotonous, level waste, very arid about nine months
of the year and very wet the other three; immediately after
the rainy season begins, grass springs up as if by magic and
then the altiplano becomes the feeding ground of thousands
of sheep and of many cattle.

We remained in Tirapata until the afternoon of the fol-
lowing day, for it was necessary to repack the five years'
accumulated possessions, gathered "here a little and there a
little" in Bolivia; two large tin-lined boxes remained un-
touched as they contained our "souvenirs" to take home,

[161]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

but our wearing apparel, household stuff and a few
"gimcracks" to make things "homey' 'these had to be
meticulously sorted, for we had been warned that at Santo
Domingo "moths and rust do corrupt" and mildew is ever
"around the corner." Santo Domingo is almost an even
thousand miles south of the equator, a little over a mile
high, hence about the altitude of Denver, Colorado; it is
situated just within the border of the montana or "Green
Hell," so nearly all of our Bolivian clothes, all of our rugs,
curtains and drapes are not suitable for the new home.

All of the baggage destined for the mine and we four peo-
ple were bundled into the camion (truck) and we rode for
four hours through a semi-arid, seemingly flat but constantly
rising country to Crucero, where we remained all night. On
this afternoon's ride we saw thousands of woolly sheep and
countless llamas grazing on the plain; we saw many red-
winged, cross-bearing flamingos, "57" varieties of ducks,
many falcons (they looked so absurdly like dignified hotel
waiters with their white vests and black "tails"), a large
variety of geese, a few cranes and many, many other water-
fowls, that we did not know.

Added to its altitude, 13,700 feet, Crucero also receives
the full blast of the icy winds which sweep down from the
Aricoma glaciers, hence it is very, very cold three hundred
and sixty-five days of the year after sunset and until the
direct rays of the sun appear in the morning, and, even then,
one involuntarily seeks shelter from the wind. The stone
hotel, built around a patio, has rock floors, bare, of course,
and a fire only in the kitchen, where visitors are not only
persona non grata but where you are hereby cautioned not
to go (this holds for any hotel anywhere in Bolivia or Peru),
if you are at all "squeamish" about how your food is pre-
pared. Clarence went to the kitchen the following morning
to get a pitcher of hot water; the pitcher was icy and the
kitchen a long way across the patio from our room, hence
by the time he returned the water merely had the chill off.
I still remember how my fingers ached with the cold- and my
toes and how, piling on all the wraps we had, we shiveringly
went to the frigid dining room for the typical South Ameri-

[162]

ON OUR WAY TO SANTO DOMINGO
can desayuno (breakfast) of coffee and bread to which were
added eggs, at our request, eggs pasado, eggs "passed," passed
through hot water, for they surely had not been in the hot
water long enough to even heat the shells! One learns to
ask for hard-boiled eggs and then they arrive about as you
want soft-boiled ones. With our fingers, toes and noses
tingling with the cold, we wriggled into the truck, but sit-
ting in the enclosed cab with the chauffeur and with the sun
ere long smiling ardently down on us, we were soon quite
comfortable.

Shortly we came to beautiful Aricoma Lake, blue almost
as the deep blue of Crater Lake in Oregon; we skirted along
the edge of this lovely lake for seven miles, up to its source,
the Aricoma glaciers; we have been "upping" ever since we
left Crucero and in just a few minutes after leaving the
lake, we are at the summit, 15,750 feet above the level of the
sea, among the snow-capped peaks and but a stoned throw
from the glistening, bluish-white glacier. If one hasn't
soroche (mountain sickness), he will want to stop here to
take pictures and to see the dividing of the waters, one part
flowing to Lake Titicaca, the other to the tributaries of the
Amazon and thence to the Atlantic Ocean.

From the time we left Crucero we have noted black,
brown, white and spotted alpacas and llamas of the same
colors; it is difficult for a newcomer to distinguish between
the alpaca and llama but you learn that the alpaca has
shorter legs and a shorter, stockier neck; the wool of the
alpaca is much finer than that of the llama, hence much
more valuable. The alpaca is not nearly so hardy and
robust as the llama and, as far as I know, is never used as a
beast of burden. Occasionally we saw herds, varying from
a dozen to twenty-five or thirty, of vicunas, the wild, deer-
like cousin of the llama and alpaca, but always of the one
color, a reddish-brown or rather tan; its wool is exceedingly
fine, much finer than that of the alpaca, while its hide is
highly prized for rugs to be used as a bed cover and I have
seen very attractive coats made from its pelt. There is a
penalty of five hundred bolivianos for killing a vicuna in
Bolivia and a similar amount in soles for killing one in Peru,

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

yet in spite of this ban, vicuna rugs may be bought in the
open market and many are smuggled out of the country;
it seems to be more difficult to get a vicuna rug out of Peru
than Bolivia, but even in Peru, a rug officially stamped may
be taken out with impunity. As we descended from Aricoma,
the rocks seemed to be fairly alive with viscachas, the grayish-
tan cousin of the rabbit; its pelt, too, is used for rugs it
would take more than a hundred pelts to make a rug.
Viscacha "fur coats" are beautiful too, but the "fur" is quite
fragile or "sleazy," the hairs falling out in a very short time,
and for this latter reason, a viscacha bed covering is con-
sidered very unhealthy; the hairs have been said to cause
blindness. The habitat of the alpaca, vicuna and viscacha is
at or above 13,000 feet, so we see no more of them until we
come "out."

Huancarani, an even hundred miles from Tirapata, marks
the end of the auto road; here the Company maintains ware-
houses and an agent's home, built of stone, all of the build-
ings under one roof of corrugated iron and with stone floors.
Huancarani is but seventy-five feet nearer sea level than
Crucero but it is sheltered from the icy winds which make
Crucero so frigid; nevertheless, the rock walls and stone
floors of Huancarani are not conducive to warmth; the only
stove, as per usual, is in the kitchen, which, also as per usual,
is some distance away from the living quarters, hence we
plan to "make" Oconeque the same day, if possible. If we
can leave Huancarani at noon or just a little later, the trip
can be made to Oconeque leisurely, without the fear of
nightfall overtaking us before we emerge from the deep
canyon. I, for one, positively refuse to leave Huancarani
after two P.M., preferring the discomforts of cold and
crowded quarters (at one time seven of us were huddled
into two tiny bedrooms, but this involves another story), and
even preferring going through the motions of eating the
inevitable spaghetti, to the nerve-racking experience of travel
after dark through that long, narrow canyon with its sharp
curves and deep precipices, which occur only too frequently
on that trail but I am anticipating. At Huancarani the
baggage is transferred to pack mules and we wave good-by

ON OUR WAY TO SANTO DOMINGO

to our genial, ever-smiling Italian host, from the backs of
our impatient saddle mules, that seem even more anxious
than we to be on their way.

But, "Iva Gracious/' with this letter already so bulky, I
cannot begin that "famous Santo Domingo Trail/' as I al-
ways "spill over" when I try to describe it, so in my con-
tinued next, I'll start in with that.

Love and the usual remembrances to all the "bunch."

CHAPTER IX

THE SANTO DOMINGO TRAIL

Santo Domingo Mine, June 5, 1932.
MY DEAR "!VA GRACIOUS":

Your letter dated May 2 2nd arrived in record time and
my last "effusion'* must have reached you in a little better
than record time. Your so kindly expressed sympathy for
my distressing plight when I heard the news o Clarence's
illness is very dear to me and fully appreciated and while
I am sorry that the recital of my worries, trials and perils
made you weep, yet, my dear, that is true sympathy and I
am increasingly grateful for the sincere, warm friendship
that has been ours ever since we first met so many, many
years ago and which we both "just know" has never wavered,
although we have allowed many a month to slip by without
an outward sign of awareness of each other's existence. I,
too, shed copious tears again while I was recounting the
events to you but that, of course, was mere self-pity, a thing
to be everlastingly "scotched." Clarence is now well, actively
engaged in trying to make up for lost time, and we are en-
deavoring to completely blot out that nightmarish experi-
ence.

But, Iva, my dear, you simply can't realize how thrilled
I am at even the suggestion of a possibility that you and
"Wag" may come to Santo Domingo; here's hoping with all
my strength, heart and soul that the Alaska venture turns
out much better than your expectations, so that in six months
or so you will be on your way to this country, where 'most
everything seems "topsy-turvy" and different: the sun shines
from the north, our coldest month is July, the hottest,
January; we go north to get warm and return 'south to cool
off; instead of celebrating All Fools* Day on April ist, De-
cember stSth is the day for childish pranks; here the people

[166]

THE SANTO DOMINGO TRAIL

say "white and black" instead of our "black and white"; one
puts the clothes to sleep instead o to soak; i you want a
cake iced, you tell the cook you want the cake with bath,
if it is to have no icing, then it appears on the table without
a bath; you dream with a person instead of him, which gave
rise to the following "might have been" embarrassing situa-
tion: I do not recall whether I wrote you in one of those
Pulacayo letters, that a recently arrived "schoolma'am" lived
with us a couple of months, while her habitation was being
prepared for her. The Manager asked us to take her for
only a few days but the days lengthened into weeks and the
weeks into months, before her house was ready, but we en-
joyed having her and she helped me a lot in my Spanish.
One morning at the breakfast table she calmly remarked that
she had dreamed with my husband all night longl Startled,
Clarence and I looked at each other and then fairly howled
with laughter, much to Miss Gandarillas's amazement, and
then I told her about those pesky prepositions, which I still
contend cause much more grief and annoyance than the
verbs.

In waving good-by down here, these people gesture to-
ward themselves, while in motioning one to come, the hand
is waved away from the gesticulator; one says, "No?" when
he means yes; when a young man is courting his lady fair,
he is "stripping the feathers off a turkey"; a woman is a
bride when engaged to be married and ceases to be one as
soon as the wedding ceremony is performed; the bridegroom
buys the bride's complete trousseau as well as the engage-
ment ring and a ring for himself, which are worn on the
third finger of the left hand but are put on the same finger
of the right hand during the marriage ceremony where they
remain; if the man becomes a widower, he wears two rings!
In the home and at parties, men are served first it took me
weeks to impress upon Marcelina that she must serve me
before serving Clarence and to serve all women guests be-
fore serving the men; to a guest, a hostess invariably says,
"My house is yours," and ofttimes you wish it were literally
true, and once in a great while you are glad it is but a
meaningless phrase; if one is especially extravagant, she is

[ 16 7]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

said "to throw the whole house out of the window"; a girl
gives a man the pumpkin instead of the mitten; unless a man
wants more than one pair, he orders a pantalona. friend
of ours ordered a pair of pantalones from a tailor and was
very much surprised to receive two pairs! "Milady" of
South America almost invariably takes her breakfast in bed
and rarely appears before almuerzo (luncheon); she is a
charming hostess and is past mistress of all the social grace?
but punctuality is not in her vocabulary she will make an
engagement with you, say, at two o'clock, "dos en punta, sin
falta" (two sharp, without fail), and meet you smilingly at
four or perhaps not even come at all and yet she can reach
you by telephone it simply never enters her pretty head that
time is of any value. But the Indian, on the contrary, is up
at daybreak, in fact, I have been told that at a neighboring
mine, the Indian is up at three, builds a fire and starts his
chupe, and he is usually ahead of time, never late, in getting
to work. There are many more, to us, odd sayings and
peculiar customs among these contrastive peoples but it is
these very contrasts and "differentnesses" that make a foreign
country so interesting.

And I will come all the way to Mollendo to meet you,
even come out to your boat and will take your picture as
you descend the accommodation ladder, as you make the
jump into the motor launch and again as you make the
famous^ ride in the Mollendo landing chair you will need
the pictures to convince yourself what a scared look you
have. It goes without saying that Clarence and I both hope
you will find another "El Dorado" or another Santo
Domingo right close to us.

Now to the description of the Santo Domingo trail: it must
necessarily be a composite description of the many trips I
have taken since that first one of July 19 and 20, 1928, for
no one trip would suffice to gather in all these details. The
first time I came over the trail, I was too scared at first and
too tired toward the latter part of the trip to be able to
register much; and this description cannot be called com-
plete, for every trip, no matter how many previous ones, is
an adventure; whether going out or coming in, each trip

THE SANTO DOMINGO TRAIL

will furnish one or more thrills, for there will be something
different to see or something unusual will happen and no
trip over the Santo Domingo trail can ever be commonplace.
Hence, what I am attempting to tell you of the trail now
includes impressions of the many trips I have taken over this
trail in the last four years.

Iva, I am confident that in all the wide world there exists
no trail which surpasses this one from Huancarani to Santo
Domingo for greater variety of scenery, of climate and of
altitude; that is, in a trail of forty-five miles, which is the
approximate distance between the end of the motor road to
the Santo Domingo mine. And I hope if I am tempted to
put Q.E.D. at the end of this long recital, you will agree that
I am justified in doing so.

Usually we leave Huancarani in a blinding snowstorm, a
heavy downpour or in a drizzling rain and only occasionally
in bright sunshine. Huancarani has an elevation of 13,625
feet above sea level and is situated among the -bare granite
peaks of the lofty Andesin less than five hours we are
among orange trees at Oconeque! Oconeque is a little
more than 6000 feet high, hence there is a drop of more than
7000 feet in the little more than twenty-three kilometers
(about fourteen miles) and that drop is not only precipitous
and "twisty" but it is breath-takirigly beautiful as well. The
trail from Huancarani to Limbani, about one third of the
way to Oconeque, is a leisurely ride of an hour and" a half,
but it takes fully an hour longer in ascending from Limbani
to Huancarani; the mules are already tired from the steep
climb from Oconeque, the air is steadily growing rarer and
to me, this last lap of the trip seems interminable; in the
many times I have been out, I always forget to count the
curves and, as I look ahead, I invariably hope the next curve
is the last one and there will be ten more, perhaps, before
the huddled buildings of Huancarani gladden my impatient
eyes. This last lap of the trail is hard on the mules, too, and
just recently while a Government inspector was returning
from an official visit to our Bella Pampa power plant, his
mule fell dead at the same instant the inspector dismounted
the mule had succumbed to soroche (mountain sickness)*

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

The road (it is almost one) from Huancarani to Limbani
is wide in most places and offers no special thrills; it needs
but a few gigantic boulders to be dynamited out of the way
and a little widening here and there to make it fit for motor
transportation and how glad I shall be when this is accom-
plished! Some work has been done to this end, off and on,
but more "off" than "on." It will, indeed, be a luxury, pure
delight, to get into a car at Limbani, lean back comfortably
and forget all about those unnumbered curves, while it will
be a "super-delight" not to have to stop at Huancarani, not
to have to eat the inevitable spaghetti, but to motor directly
to Tirapata what a pleasure that will be!

In the comparatively level stretch where Huancarani is
situated, the stream, sometimes called Aricoma, from the
summit which we have recently crossed, meanders placidly
along for, perhaps, a half kilometer, then it gathers mo-
mentum and we wind in and out around points of rock,
losing sight of the stream, and when it again comes into view,
it is a rapidly moving current and long before we reach
Limbani, it has become a raging torrent; at Limbani, an
Indian village of about an hundred souls, the stream
is called the Limbani, retaining this name until Quitun
is reached, whence it acquires the name of Quitun and
it remains the Quitun until it is lost in the Inambari
at Bella Pampa, which marks the confluence of the Quitun
and the Inambari and where the Company's new power
plant is located. All along the route, the water is augmented
by innumerable waterfalls and side streams, until at Sagrario,
the foot of the renowned Bandarani heights, the once purling
brook has become a mighty river.

Almost at once after leaving Huancarani we wind in and
out around huge, gray granite boulders, some as high as
thirty feet, and many of these boulders contain tiny holes
at their base, drilled there for the dynamite which is to blow
them into tiny fragments and then the fragments are to be
smoothed out of the way for the long-hoped-for automobile
road. At rather close intervals we pass groups of Indian
huts of stone, with thatched roofs of grass, each group sur-
rounded by fences of stone, and near each group are patches

THE SANTO DOMINGO TRAIL

of plowed ground, plowed with a pointed stick man, woman
and child each contributing his labor while the baby, too
young to help, is "parked" within the enclosure; these small
patches for potatoes and, farther down, for corn as well, have
deep zigzag ridges for irrigation and are also rock fenced;
many of these little patches are on such incredibly steep
mountain sides that you wonder how the seeds ever stay
"put"; sometimes these fincas (farms) are close to the river
and again they are perched high above the trail. It is in-
teresting to note how ingeniously the Indian has bridged the
now turbulent Aricoma-Limbani stream: several of the
bridges consist of but one huge slab of slate thrown across
the foaming water, with the approaches neatly "cobble-
stoned" to meet the slab; one artistic bridge is arched, the
rocks fitted in as carefully as if they were cemented.

At Huancarani there is nothing but stunted grass but soon
tiny white flowers with no stems are seen; apparently they
are blooming from the rocks themselves this same little
flower grows in Chojnacota, 15,600 feet above sea level and
also without stems. Seemingly scapeless dandelions appear,
no larger than a dime, gradually growing larger as we
descend, until at Limbani they have become great splotches
of gold, big as a teacup. Small shrubs become larger, stunted
trees grow bigger, blackberry vines are very much in evi-
dence; soon there is a wealth of dainty buttercups, glorious
marigolds, bright sunflowers yellow is the predominating
color but occasionally one sees short-stemmed honeysuckle
of a rich red color and deep-blue lupin and some cosmos of
various colors. Limbani is in sight some little time before
we enter the village, in fact it spreads out lengthwise almost
a half kilometer; it boasts hot springs, whose mineral or
curative properties have not yet been determined and the
enterprising citizenry collected donations from Santo Do-
mingo and I presume from elsewhere with which to build the
swimming pools; the pools still lack roofs and judging from
the few people we meet in Limbani's one street, the pools
are lacking patrons, too.

Immediately after leaving Limbani, the vegetation be-
comes more luxuriant, the path becomes narrow and occa-

r 1*71 1

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

sionally one must dodge overhanging vines and branches of
trees; a cactus with a very pretty pink blossom becomes allur-
ingly plentiful but you will not need to be told twice to
leave the blossoms strictly alone I picked one and the sharp
barbs penetrated my heavy riding gloves, inflicting wounds
which were painful for several hours! We got strong whiffs
of mint this particular locality must be especially adapted
to mint, for its agreeable odor greets one at any time of
the year. The ascent of the Limbani hill is not steep but
laborious and at the summit is a large wooden cross. It
seems to me that every summit in Bolivia or Peru has not
only a cross but a huge pile of rocks every Indian in passing
adds another rock, so the pile continues to grow; but the
crosses appear not only at the summits but very often at
irregular intervals between the summits; the frequency of
them is strikingly apparent on "La Fiesta de la Cruz/' May
grd, when practically every cross is gayly decorated with the
brightest flowers obtainable. Usually the cross marks the
last resting place of some accidentado (one who has been
killed by an accident) and these crosses are about as effective
"danger signs" as can be designed. The descent of the Lim-
bani hill, however, is "something else again," so steep that
all "tenderfeet" and a good many "hardened" ones dismount
and walk. On a sunny day, at your right you can see the
deep gorge cut by the Limbani River, while at the left, far
below, is a comparatively large meadow, a carpet of rich
green studded with dandelions, marigolds and other golden-
yellow flowers; I am quite sure that at any season of the
year, although there are many varieties of multicolored
flowers, as well as the yellow ones, yet on this stretch from
the bottom of the hill to Huancarani, the yellow eclipses
all the other colors.

Once when Lee (of course, you remember that Lee is our
son) and I were coming up the Limbani hill it was Lee's
first trip to Santo Domingo his mule fell prostrate in the
trail. It was a foggy day, the fog so dense, one couldn't see
fifteen feet ahead and we had the monthly payroll with us.
What to do? It was useless to return to Limbani as Limbani
has no telephone service. Of course, Lee removed the saddle

THE SANTO DOMINGO TRAIL

from the fallen mule at once and we both thought the mule
was "out for keeps." We decided to put the saddlebags,
containing the money, on my mule and that I should ride
on until I met Juan, the trail rider, who had left Oconeque
to meet us as soon as he had been apprized of our arrival at
Huancarani. Was I scared? I shuddered at every bush or
rock, from whence I expected to see a bandit emerge, flourish-
ing his revolver and demanding, "Hands up," while at every
curve, I was fearing a whole gang of desperadoes. Just riding
alone in that thick fog was enough to frighten me, but when
I began the descent, I forgot all about the payroll or "hold-
ups." It was my second trip "in" and I remembered the
descent as terrifying, with long series of steps cut In the
rock and the trail switchbacking so that one could see the
extremely precipitous flights of steps ahead, but this time
the dense fog prevented my seeing what was coming next,
adding to my terror, and the drizzle had made these break-
neck declivities slippery. So I held the reins taut and clung
to the saddle.

I rode all of three kilometers in this panicky silence before
I met Juan at the bottom of the hillit wasn't silent all
the time either for I called, "Juan, Juan," several times to
give me courage and with the vague hope that my calling
might hurry him up a bit; however, he did not hear me
and was so astonished to meet me thus alone that I had
some difficulty in getting my message over. But when he
finally comprehended that Lee's mule had fallen by the
wayside, that I had come on alone with the payroll, then,
in true South American fashion, he first complimented me
very highly for being so "valiente," then told me to continue
riding across the Agualani River and to continue until I
crossed the little bridge near the quinine farm, where I was
to await Lee; that he would give his mule to Lee and we
two could then proceed to Oconeque, and that he would
try to procure a mule in Limbani and perhaps overtake us.
I schooled myself for a long wait and was most agreeably
surprised to see both Lee and Juan come riding across the
little bridge, scarcely a half hour later; Lee's mule had had
an attack of colic but recovered shortly after I left so he

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

resaddled her and met Juan about two thirds of the way
down the hill.

It is not until we reach this quinine farm, that the vegeta-
tion becomes tropical; then as you round the next curve, you
have the sensation that you are riding directly into the jungle.
The change is so abrupt, you feel that a magic wand has
brought forth this profusion of wonderful pink begonias and
their velvety beautiful leaves cause you to exclaim with
delight. As you drop down, the pink takes on a deeper hue
and the leaves become even larger; gorgeous fuchsias "hit
you right in the eye/* hanging down in such opulent clusters
that they seem scarcely able to bear their own weight, and
there is such an outpouring of bleeding-hearts that your own
heart almost stops its beat in admiration. Here pinks and
reds predominate but not alwaysthe prevailing color
changes with the seasons, or shall I say the time of year? for
there is so little variation in temperature the year around
that season seems a misnomer; what was once a riot of pink
in a few months may be all purple.

Sometimes, but not on every trip, always in October, you
will be charmed with the deep-red amaryllis or belladonna
lily, which grows two on a stem the lily that is nurtured so
tenderly in our hothouses, grows wild and relatively
abundantly on this trail. There are lovely petunias, the
graceful cosmos, phlox in white, crimson, blue, purple and
lilac; the dainty lady's-slipper, provided with no sparing-
hand (metaphorically, however, more like a $DD size than
milady's 6AAA); Canterbury bells of many shades and the
cobalt-blue harebells; and intertwining among bushes and
trees the prolific morning-glory of blue, striped blue and
white and of a deep red. Growing on a vine, but not so
prolificacy, are the prettiest pink balls, which remind me,
every time I see them, of the pretty clover blossoms I once
had on a favorite hat, one of those wide-brimmed droopy
hats, a Leghorn. There is lupin and there is larkspur
aplenty; lilacs, too, and a flowering tree whose blossoms are
dark purple similar to the bougainvillea; a sprinkling of
mock-orange blossoms and an enormous number of flowers
whose names I do not know, many of which looked strange,

THE SANTO DOMINGO TRAIL

nearly all beautiful but a few actually hideous to my northern
eyes.

But of all the flowers I have mentioned, the begonias are
preeminent, acres and acres of them, if one can imagine an
acre without width, for these flowers and trees and bushes,
apparently fighting for the privilege to live, grow on such
precipitous heights that you are aware only of length and the
dimension, width, becomes non-existent. Returning to Santo
Domingo once in early May, I saw such an exuberance of
the lovely pink begonias, intermixed with the white, feathery,
dainty flowers, somewhat like sweet alyssum, that I said to
myself, "Here are more than enough shower-bouquets for
all the brides in Peru this day."

But for fragrance, the exquisite, fair Madonna lily is
supreme; on this May trip, the trail repairers were cutting
out the protruding branches and overhanging vines it was
the end of the rainy season, when the brushing out of the
trail starts and continues until the next rainy season and you
filled your lungs with the delightful odors of lilacs, of orange
blossoms, of lilies, of violets and of new mown hay a
redolence of sweet smells that could not be duplicated any-
where in the wide, wide out-of-doors.

Even if there were no blossoms at all, the unusual, the
remarkably beautiful foliage makes a trip to Santo Domingo
worth while: leaves, varying in size from a tiny baby-tooth
to one that would not go into a large washtub, the serrated
leaf, truncated, petiolated, cancellated all the "ateds" of a
botany textbook, cornuted and latticed or what will you
have? Then the almost endless variety of coloring: yellows,
russet brown, soft red, the tender green of early spring deep-
ening to almost black. Vines are multifarious and omnipres-
ent. As to trees, it would take an arboriculturist to give
the names of all the trees but I hazard a guess that the palm
tree with its "57" varieties is the most numerous, and almost
every tree is encumbered with curious vines or parasites.
You will see, invariably out of reach, rare orchids of many
hues and sometimes a ravishingly beautiful orchid with a
monstrous yellow parasite resembling an ugly toad on the
same tree; the orchids choose the most inaccessible trees from

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

which to flaunt their beauty. Peru is noted for its orchids
the choicest orchids of the world have been found in Peru.
At a recent orchid show in Miami, Florida, a Lima, Peru, citi-
zen, whose hobby is collecting the orchids of Peru, carried off
every prize! We transplanted some in our front yard and
strangely enough they grew and are still growing and quite
semi-occasionally we grace our dining table with a bouquet
of exquisite orchids.

And the ferns! They simply beggar description you may
have your choice from the tiniest, delicate maidenhair fern
up to the gigantic tree fern; merely one trip convinces you
that a specialista on ferns alone would be able to label them
all, there is such a bewildering variety. There is one little,
dainty one, whose name I would like to know it resembles
a cluster of tiny green stars, the whole cluster no larger than
a child's thimble. And the mosses! I confess right now
that I do not know the difference between a moss and a
lichen, but what I call moss here is the prettiest, velvety
stuff in soft greens, reds and browns, cushioning the rocks
to a depth of eight or ten inches, perhaps even more. I
have been told that the poor people in Germany gather
moss, tear it apart, dry it in the sun and then use it for
stuffing mattresses but while the poor folks down here have
tons and tons of this wonderful moss, all theirs for the pick-
ing, yet they don't know what mattresses are, as I have learned
to my discomfort. (We had to seek refuge one night in
an Indian hut and the bed consisted of a pile of rocks, or
rather a bench of rocks with a few sheepskins thrown on
top.)

I am sorry I cannot tell the names of more flowers and
I am still sorrier that I didn't study botany more assiduously
in my "salad days," and sorriest of all that I have almost
forgotten what little I did assimilate. A botanist would need
a score of assistants and even so, I am sure it would take a
long, long time to classify only the lilies, or the ferns, or the
orchids, etc.

Very shortly after passing the quinine farm, we descend
steeply a pathway hewn out of slate cliffs, the rock above
overhanging; the miners call them half-tunnels and there

THE SANTO DOMINGO TRAIL

are miles and miles of these half- tunnels, not continuous but
at irregular intervals, and they are the most permanent part
of the trail, for being cut out of solid rock, they do not
slide and slip off into the river below as many other parts
of the trail have done and which some are still trying to
do. The trailing vines and overhanging branches get into
one's eyes, showering one with water, and these half-tunnels
drip copiously even in the driest season, hence I always
tie my slicker on the saddle in front, so I can don it quickly.
To one's right is a sheer precipice, sometimes several hun-
dred feet above the rushing stream, and again the trail winds
down to almost the river's edge, ascending steeply again, and
around such sharp curves, one wonders if the mule can make
it and soon learns that a mule can turn on a dime and
leave a nickel for change! At the very steep places, you
would like very much to dismount but there doesn't seem
room enough on the cliff side, while, of course, the preci-
pice side is out of the question, not only for fear of stum-
bling headlong over the cliff, but the mule might object to
your dismounting on the "off" side; hence, you grasp the
reins tightly, confident that the mule doesn't want to go over
the precipice either, and to bolster up your courage you
begin repeating Psalms, the Twenty-third around a short,
bare precipice, the Ninety-first when a longer "scary" stretch
looms in sight, and any other Psalms you may know in
between.

Escorting Mr. and Mrs. Stretter over this trail about a
year ago, darkness overtook us before we had climbed out
of the canyon and not one of us had a flashlight, not even
a match. I was extremely nervous, knowing the dangers of
the way and feeling the responsibility of conducting our
guests safely to Oconeque. I stayed on my mule as long
as I possibly could it seemed hours to me since I first
wanted to dismount for I had been told many times that it
was safer to be on a mule after dark than on foot, but
when it became pitch dark and even the mule quivered as
we rounded a curve, I decided I would put my trust in my
own feet and calling back to the others, I told them I was
dismounting, so they did likewise. By crowding close to the

[177]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES
cliff, "keeping in touch" with it most of the time, we
ingly descended. I knew that Flores, the trail rider, would
send an Indian to meet us and he did, but when the Indian
attempted to apply the match he had but one he found
there was no oil in the lantern! Fortunately it was only
about a half hour more until we haltingly emerged from
the canyon; there was an Indian hut at the summit of a
small hill to the right but it could not provide us with
either oil or matches, but the sympathetic owner rigged
up a lantern made of a candle stuck in a tin can and he
lighted the candle from the still glowing embers of the fire
with which the evening chupe had been cooked. No 100-
watt electric globe was ever more welcome and I am sure
that candle was more tenderly guarded than any electric
globe ever was. Mrs. Stretter and I remounted, for we were
very tired; the Indian who had brought the lantern but no
oil and but one match, led my mule, Mr. Stretter that of
his wife, while the Indian who had accompanied us from
Huancarani took care of Mr. Stretter's mule and the two
cargo-mules. It is but a ten minutes' ride from the "Good
Samaritan" Indian hut, down a very steep hill, over a small
wooden bridge, a few feet more down hill until we reach
the first suspension bridge (two small ones that we have
crossed do not "count"). And so Mrs. Stretter had the un-
forgettable thrill of crossing her first suspension bridge by
candlelight; the roaring of the black, swirling water beneath
the swaying, lurching bridge the faint glimmer of light
allowing one to see white foam as the river tumbled head-
long over the huge boulders augmented the thrill, but
she was a good sport and walked across apparently unafraid.
These suspension bridges have no railings, and are made
of five-foot hewn planks, long-wired together and slung on
cables, three underneath which carry the major weight, two
suspension cables on either side and four coming at right
angles from the stream to the center of the bridge, thus
making a surprisingly steady structure; yet they sway side-
ways and up and down leading one's mule helps to mini-
mize the vibration. Personally, I have never minded cross-
ing the bridges at all; to me, they are as nothing compared

THE SANTO DOMINGO TRAIL

to the dizzy heights, and "familiarity has bred contempt/'
almost, for the lofty escarpments. Yet I do not care to be
reminded of "The Bridge of San Luis Rey" when on one
of these suspension bridges for it was not so very distant
from this region that that bridge collapsed with such disas-
trous consequences to all the travelers on It; however, such
a wholesale disaster could not occur on a Santo Domingo
bridge, as only one person is allowed to cross at a time.
Excessively timid persons have been permitted an escort, and
two persons leading a mule does minimize the swaying ap-
preciably, provided the people walk out of step. There
are nine suspension bridges in all, one a few minutes before
we reach Oconeque, four between Oconeque and Quitun,
another but a short distance beyond Quitun, often called the
"Monkey bridge/' because we occasionally see monkeys
here, the first monkeys on the trip; a short bridge that crosses
the Sagrario Creek, at the foot of Bandarani, and but a few
minutes before we arrive at Sagrario; then the ace of all the
bridges, the one that crosses the Inambari at Oroya, and
the final one which bridges Santo Domingo Creek, about
five kilometers from the mine.

Normally, I think it takes about two hours, more or less,
to ride through the shady, damp, but always beautiful can-
yon between the quinine farm and Oconeque. There are
many birds, but due to the dense foliage, it takes a practiced
eye to see them and I will write you a lot about birds later.
In the many trips I have taken back and forth, I have seen
but five snakes on the trail and someone has always had
the start of us and killed those snakes. But butterflies, ah,
myriads of them and a later letter will "spill over" about
butterflies.

Oconeque, the Company's roadhouse, provides quarters
for its employees going out and coming In and permanent
quarters for the mules, and is also the Company's source of
supply for fresh vegetables and much of its fruit. Oconeque,
a group of stone buildings In the midst of a forty-acre,
relatively flat and cultivated area, is an always-welcomed
shelter, a haven looked forward to, whether "going or com-
ing," for man and beast are well taken care of; a mule

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

needs no further urging when within a kilometer or so
from Oconeque and tired man "perks up" a bit in antici-
pation ;o the chicken dinner with all the "trimmings"
awaiting him. If not too tired, the "inner" man satisfied,
you will enjoy strolling through the really lovely garden
and the well-kept orchard, but most of all you will enjoy
a clean, comfortable bed with real springs and real feather
pillows.

In the garden are carefully cultivated plots of corn, beds
of cabbage, of cauliflower, tomatoes, lettuce, celery, carrots,
beets, acelgas (our spinach or its twin sister), squashes and
what not, nearly all the temperate zone vegetables; by ro-
tating crops, we have fresh vegetables the year around. Re-
cently we had our first taste of rhubarb in South America:
the seed was sent from the States and Flores, our "mayor
domo" of Oconeque, planted the seeds, which grew so rapidly
that Flores was amazed; he did not know "pie plant" so
Lee showed him which was the edible part and also cau-
tioned him not to let the rhubarb take the whole garden.
I myself showed Blanco, the cook, how to prepare the rhu-
barb for the pie, and never before in South America, entre
nous, was a pie so enjoyed or so extravagantly praised.

The orchard contains oranges, lemons, citron, peaches,
papayas, granadillas. The granadilla resembles the pome-
granate somewhat but is yellow or greenish-yellow; the seeds
are surrounded by a tart, green jelly; if you have no spoon,
swallow the seeds and jelly whole, about as you would
manipulate a raw oyster; it is very refreshing on a hot day.
The flower of the tree is very beautiful, decidedly exotic,
called the passion flower, is blue outside, white and purple
inside; it is called passion flower from its resemblance to the
crucifixion: the stigmas represent the nails of the cross, the
anthers, the wounds, while the rays of the corona are the
crown of thorns.

Oconeque boasts another even more exotic flower than
the granadilla a green rose! A rosebush of green roses!
Page "Believe-it-or-not-Ripley"! I never heard of a green
rose before, have you? I will bring some to you, not only
that, but, if possible, I will bring some cuttings, and we

[180]

THE SANTO DOMINGO TRAIL

will see what we can do for St. Patrick's Day, for they are
real, genuine roses.

If it is your first trip to Oconeque, you are probably too
tired -muscle-weary, eye-weary and yes, even ear-wearyto
be at all interested, even in passion flowers or green roses;
muscle-weary from the unaccustomedly long time in the
saddle, eye-weary from seeing so many things new and trying
all the time not to miss anything, while your ears feel they
could not stand much more of that continuous pounding
and roaring of the Limbani River. The balmy air of Oco-
neque is also conducive to sleep, hence shortly after supper
you are off for a deep sleep of ten hours or more, yet you
feel sure you have slept but a few minutes when you are
called at five-thirty, at dawning, for another day's muleback
traveling. If it is not raining, it is well to have your slicker
handy, not only for the half-tunnels, which are at closer
intervals and also much more "drippy" in the stretch be-
tween Oconeque and Quitun, but it is almost sure to rain
before the day is ended.

A few minutes of riding below Oconeque, one sees the
first banana trees growing wild the stalks of whose fruit
hangs upside down in our grocery stores and markets; the
trees have leaves six to eight feet long and from twelve to
fifteen inches wide, while the stalk of the tree itself ranges
from two to six feet and even more. The foliage, all the
vegetation, becomes yet more tropical in appearance we are
now riding in the montana (literally, mountains, but as
here used, means thickly wooded or the jungle), aptly named,
"Green Hell"; the huge-leaved plants become even more
huge, the lush vegetation has become indeed "jungly." In
the hour and a half's steep descent to Quitun, one must
cross four suspension bridges the trail could* go no farther
on this side, so perforce the river was bridged and then that
happened again on the other side; four times up and down
and across, and this fourth bridge is not the longest but it is
decidedly the "swayiest" and the trail over this stretch was
made possible only by blasting the way through solid rock
almost, but not quite, continuously.

Quitun is a coffee plantation and on our first trip coffee

[181]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

was being dried in the sun in front of the large "bamy"
house o the hacienda, or I presume I should call it cafetal:
I have never lost my admiration for the manner in which
words are coined in Spanish cafetal for coffee plantation,
platanal for banana plantation, pinal for pineapple farm
of course, you will gather that cafe is coffee, platano, banana
and pina, pineapple. On the tree the coffee bean is in a
bright red pod, surrounded by a juice which is quite sweet.
There are coffee trees on both sides of the river and the
only means to cross the river, that I saw, was a single cable
with a basket on a pulley, just like the cash baskets in a
department store, only larger and not so "fancy"; the coffee
is thus transported from the far side of the river to the side
we were on, and all the laborers propel themselves on this
cable, and after seeing this self-propulsion above, high above,
that turbulent, foaming river, I would have been ashamed
to be afraid to cross a suspension bridge with its five-foot
wide, solid planking beneath my feet.

There are approximately one hundred and fifty acres in
this coffee plantation but if one were to draw a map of it,
it would be practically all length and very little width. The
mountain rises so abruptly back of the residencia of the coffee
plantation that it seems even a llama could not retain a
foothold, yet it is terraced and cultivated and "they say"
there is quite a grazing region on the summit. One is con-
stantly amazed at the steepness of the mountain sides, as con-
stantly wonders at and increasingly admires the ingenuity
and what must have been the tireless efforts of the Incas
in subduing this precipitous and almost inaccessible country,
and is most astonished of all that their work has been so
permanent.

Our narrow trail through the cafetal is rocked up about
four feet high on both sides, while the trail itself is paved
with rocks and one must be constantly guarding against over-
hanging branches of the coffee trees; the whole plantation
gives the impression of great neglect, for the trees have not
been pruned for many years. Our path leads steeply down
to a rushing side stream, whose bed at our crossing has been
securely paved with boulders and a sort of parapet has been

[is*]

THE SANTO DOMINGO TRAIL

built also of boulders, where the stream falls precipitately
five or six feet on its mad rush to join the Quitun River;
there are times when this creek is a raging torrent, some-
times impassable for several hours; even when only knee-
deep, it is comforting to know the parapet is there, thus
allaying one's fears of being carried over the precipicethe
boulders in the parapet are spaced wide apart and not too
high so the water does not form a deep pool. Now we
cautiously guide our mules over a stretch of loose shale,
about one hundred and fifty feet of these shifting, treacher-
ously moving rocks, some as small as pebbles and others as
large as a dining table; this spot has been the occasion of
many a landslide, causing delays of passengers, of mail or
freight, from a few hours to a whole week; the whole moun-
tain side seems to be bent on sliding into the Quitun River.

After about an hour's descending, around sharp curves,
through half-tunnels, splashing through innumerable water-
falls, we come to a section of the trail that winds steeply
down hill in steps cut in the rock and around a point, very
narrow, where the river actually undercuts the trail and
the steps slope outward towards the edge! Opposite, the high
smooth rock-wall of the mountain is inclined over the river
and, looking up, you can see but a thin line of blue sky.
We are so close to the mad rapids that the roar of the
pounding water is deafening the "white caps" tear and
tumble over gigantic granite boulders; this is the most
picturesque, the wildest, the most awe-inspiring part of the
whole trail; what a setting for a Zane Grey novel! We climb
out of this inferno of noise and roar and in a very short
time we breathe a sigh of relief as a relatively large space,
"the wide, open space" compared to the narrow gorge we
have just left behind, is "untwisted" before us; we usually
stop here for lunch on our way out and to allow the mules
a few minutes' respite before tackling the heavy upgrade
just beyond; also from here is the beginning of the declivi-
tous ascent to famous Bandarani, the ace of dizzy heights.

I often wondered why the trail was built so excessively
high and recently I was informed thus: Bandarani means the
"place of the flag" and when the American Company first

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

took over the Santo Domingo mine the Manager sent Mr.
Yungling as surveyor to scout a trail along the Quitun River;
he climbed down from the ridge to set this flag where he
could see it from either side for a long distancehe wanted
to be sure that he remained in the Quitun valley, or rather
I should say canyon, and if you ever see the multitudinous,
knifelike ridges in this section of the high Andes, you will
understand why the flag was necessary to assure him that he
was still in the same canyon. He had no intention of put-
ting the trail up to that flag; he was called away from this
work and some time later a road crew with a native boss
was sent to build the trail, and the boss had the men work
up to this flag and then, perforce, they had to work their
way down again! A row of graves, each marked with a
wooden cross, is a mute and ghastly reminder of the loss of
life which this sector of the trail entailed; it is said that
the life of eight men was snuffed out by a single landslide
and these eight men have no crosses. There is no record
of the total death-roll which this trail has cost and perhaps
it is better so.

We laboriously climb up and up and up, from about fifty
feet above the Quitun River until we are more than three
thousand feet still higher up, so much higher that the ever-
increasing pounding of the river can scarcely be heard at
all its resounding uproar becomes a mere murmur. For
more than an hour, the trail seems to hang like a narrow
shelf in front of us and it is not well to look too far ahead,
for the dizzy height of what appears a tiny, long thread to
travel over is not conducive to comfort. I am always pleased
when the precipitous "down" side is covered with vegetation,
for although I know I am riding along a sheer precipice,
yet I can look down into the tops of trees with more equa-
nimity than down into space; when a bare precipice looms
into view, I bethink myself of a Psalm and I used to keep
my eyes glued to the "up side" of the trail, occasionally
allowing myself the thrill of glancing down at the toy river
below; however, now, while still thrilled, I can really enjoy
the thrills without feeling those little tremors of dread run-
ning a gamut up and down my spine. And I am still glad

THE SANTO DOMINGO TRAIL

when the trail begins to descend, for then I know the worst
is over.

But we descend so steeply that all but the most seasoned
travelers dismount; looking ahead you wonder how the mule
can retain his equilibrium over those sharply pitched switch-
backs, over those steps cut in the rock, but a mule has never
fallen over the cliff along here higher up and on the summit
o Bandarani, several mules have been hurtled to a mangled
mass far below but each time a mule has gone over the cliff
it has been due to the crowding of other mules in the pack
train. Almost never have I ridden over Bandarani without
meeting a mule train; a rider always takes the inside of the
trail and usually there is no difficulty in passing, but occa-
sionally we have had to turn back several rods in order to
find space enough for the bulkily laden mules to pass us.
Generally we dismount, leading our mules as closely against
the mountain side as it is possible to do, so with much
yelling of "Mula, mula" and with plenty of maneuvering
by the arriero (muleteer), the mules are brought safely past
us, then this always-exciting episode over, we jog along until
we hear the tinkling of the bell on the bell-mule or perhaps
see another mule train in the "offing" long before we can
hear the bell, whereupon the same procedure is enacted.

The descent to the sixth and rather short suspension bridge
which spans Sagrario Greek seems very brief compared to
the toilsome, steady grind of climbing to the summit, yet on
going out, this too becomes quite a climb. Sagrario Greek,
a tributary of the Quitun, currently reported to be rich in
gold-bearing gravel, is but a stone's throw (a lengthy one,
though) to the public roadhouse, Sagrario; if it weren't for
the mud, and the trail is always muddy here at any time
of the year, it is not worth while to remount for in a moment
or two we are at this hospitable inn, where Natalia, its
widely known hostess, is indefatigable in her efforts to please.
She has a well-cultivated chacra, which provides feed for
the mules, and a variety of fruits and vegetables for her
"other" guests; her specialty is "Fresco," a delicious, cool
drink made of the juice of pineapples, oranges, lemons and
papaya or, which is my favorite, the juice of pineapple alone,

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

which she beats with an egg beater, first adding just a
little sugar, until it looks very much like a delectable ice-
cream soda and which I have named, "Pineapple delight/'
Pineapples grow practically the year round at Sagrario, hence
pineapple delight may be enjoyed as long as the egg beater
holds out. Our first two years here we always hurried
through Sagrario, stopping only to say "Saludos" and to en-
joy a fresco, i already prepared, for we felt impelled to
"make" the mine going in or Oconeque in going out, but
now I look forward to staying over night at Sagrario, which
makes the journey much less arduous and does away with
that uncomfortable, "I must hurry" feeling.

Almost exactly a league farther on, following the right
bank of the Quitun River, the trail slopes gently downward
until we arrive at Bella Pampa, the lowest point of the
trail, 3150 feet above sea level, and which also marks the
confluence of the Quitun and Inambari Rivers. In this
drop of considerably more than ten thousand feet from
Huancarani to Bella Pampa, in a day and a half's muleback
trip, I have tried to give you an idea of the variety of
scenery, of climate and of altitude; we have come from the
high, wind-swept, barren granite rocks of the Andes through
temperate and semi-tropical sections to Oconeque and from
Oconeque quickly into the tropical montana or "Green
Hell"; the transition from the hardy, scapeless dandelions
and stemless buttercups to gigantic tree ferns and huge-
leaved plants is absolutely startling; the flowers of gorgeous
hues, many of them unfamiliar, seem almost unreal; what
few birds we see are of vivid, bright-colored plumage; the
myriads of butterflies are of all the colors of the rainbow and
then some, a few of them as large as saucers (these of iri-
descent blue and gold) while the smallest is about the size
of a violet and also that color. We were freezing at Huan-
carani, neither too hot nor too cold but just "right" at
Oconeque, while long before we arrive at Bella Pampa
we have discarded all wraps and are grateful for every bit
of shade which the trail may afford. Have I demonstrated
the three propositions, so that I may now "justifiedly" add
Q.E.D.?

[186]

THE SANTO DOMINGO TRAIL

At Bella Pampa "our" company has a new 540 H.P.
hydro-electric power plant. It was begun many years ago
during Senator Emery's regime; all the parts were assembled
but the construction and its final installation awaited our
coming. The whole plant is underground. The tunnel
which conveys the water from the Quitun River to the plant
is one-half mile long, while the discharge from the "big
wheels" flows again into the Quitun about three-quarters
of a mile farther down the stream from whence it was
taken. It is the only plant of its kind in Peru and was put
underground on account of the constant danger of land-
slides.

And if this plant had not been underground, it would
have been completely demolished last April, when there was
an enormous landslide, which wrecked the house and office,
built at the entrance of the short tunnel which leads to the
"works." Muto San, who had not quite finished the in-
stalling of the plant, barely escaped with his life his second
hairbreadth escape from death at Bella Pampa; the first close
shave occurring when the Company's house in which he was
living was swept into the rapidly rising, tumultuous, swirling
black waters of the Quitun, shortly after midnight and he
had to jump out of a window, which, fortunately, overlooked
the road, where the water was still shallow; there was no
other means of exit.

But in the awful landslide last April an Italian, a tourist,
who with a companion was on his way to Maldanado to
finish "doing" Peru and thence to the Amazon, was in-
stantaneously killed, while his friend sleeping in the same
room, in a bed next to his, was unhurt; two of Muto's
assistants sleeping in the same house were badly hurt, one
of them being pinned under debris so that it took several
hours to extricate him, and these two men were so nerve-
racked that they had to be transferred to other work, A
Subpref ect was also visiting Muto that night and the two men
were sleeping in one room; neither can explain his almost
miraculous deliverance from death. Muto says his first
recollection of anything at all was that he was under his
bed and then, remembering the Subprefect, he called to him

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

and he, too, was under his own bed! They made their way
out through the debris and with the help of all the men
in Bella Pampa rescued the men who were still in what
was left of the house entire trees, roots, trunks, branches
and all, were jumbled up with rocks, boulders and dirt. Of
course the lights were extinguished and the telephone was
put out of commission but word was sent at once from
Oroya, only a mile distant, to Santo Domingo advising the
doctor of the tragedy and of the wounded and he imme-
diately left for the field of disaster, while as soon as it was
daybreak a large crew came down from the mine to help
clear away the debris. And while the doctor was taking care
of the wounded at Bella Pampa, a miner had his leg crushed
by a falling boulder in the mine, and the doctor had to
amputate the leg as soon as he returned from Bella Pampa.
Such a chapter of accidents! This all occurred while
Clarence and I were on our way home from his * 'sick-leave"
and when we arrived at Bella Pampa, almost a week later,
the trail was still choked with rubbish and we had to ride
in the river bed and then climb strenuously to get back
in the trail.

Generally, Bella Pampa is another haven of rest and re-
freshment. The man in charge, having been notified by
telephone that we are coming, "tips off" his wife, so a de-
licious almuerzo is awaiting us; soup, for soup is served twice
a day everywhere in Bolivia and Peru; chicken or duck (and
ducks "do" exceedingly well in this wet country), potatoes
or yucca, sometimes both, lettuce and one or two other
vegetables; always fruit for dessert, pineapples, bananas and
papayas being "in season" throughout the year. We always
have plenty of paltas (alligator pear or avocado) when in
season and a salad of paltas is as satisfying as a hearty meal.
But while the refreshment may be "long," the rest is short,
for we are so near home that we want to be on our way.

A short half-league over the pampa (Bella Pampa signifies
beautiful pampa or flat) and we are at the ace of all the
suspension bridges, the famous Oroya bridge, 359 feet long,
swinging like a rope high above the Inambari River. At
the Oroya end of this bridge is a gate, over which a toll-

[188]

THE SANTO DOMINGO TRAIL

house is built, for the trail from Huancarani to Santo Do-
mingo mine is privately owned only Government officials
and Santo Domingo employees have pases libres (free passes).
The toll gatherer is also inspector, for it is his duty to search
all suspects and their cargo for contraband gold as they are
going out and to search for alcohol on suspects coming in;
he also telephones the office who and at what time anyone
is crossing the bridge if the traveler is a merchant, the
inspector informs the office what wares he has to sell and
if the store is already overstocked with such wares, the mer-
chant is advised, thus saving him an unnecessary trip. With
telephonic connections at the mine, at Oroya, Bella Pampa,
Oconeque and Huancarani, we are kept in fairly close touch
with all movement on the trail. Knowing exactly when a
traveler leaves a certain station, if he does not arrive at the
next station within a reasonable time, the man in charge of
this station sends a scout out to investigate. The toll is
one sol (forty cents in normal times) for a mounted or cargo,
mule; a half-5oZ or fifty centavos for a mule without saddle
or cargo; eighty centavos for a burro with load; fifty centavos
for llamas with cargoes; thirty centavos for a cow, twenty
for a sheep, twenty-five for a person on foot with a load.
But all the tolls pay but a very small fraction of the cost
of the upkeep of the trail.

Shortly after leaving Oroya we round a curve and see a
grayish-muddy creek that telltale color which denotes min-
ing operations farther on; we have come to Santo Domingo
Creek and the pollution of that once joyous, care-free stream
reminds one of the North Pole story:" had the Pole been of
gold, it would have been discovered centuries earlier; and
so, I presume, the waters of Santo Domingo Creek would
still be crystal clear, if gold had not been discovered at its
source. The trail is now narrower and several friends, who
have come to Santo Domingo a number of times, insist that
the trail from the mouth of the Santo Domingo Creek to
the mine is the most picturesque, the most "untamed" part
of the entire trail. It ascends gradually until we reach the
Santo Domingo suspension bridge, the ninth and last one
it seems the highest of all and appears as a thread swaying

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

high up in space, but it is one of the short ones. It was but
a short distance from this bridge that a woman was sup-
posed to have pushed her husband over the cliff, and later
married the "younger and handsomer" man, who first re-
lieved the husband of his gold before the wife gave him
the fatal shove.

From the Santo Domingo bridge the trail is almost literally
"straight up" the difference in altitude between Oroya and
the mine, 3500 feet, is comprised almost entirely in the last
three miles. : A mere few hundred yards from the bridge, we
pass through a /ery short Defile and immediately to the left
is a well-defmjed path to the Tunquipata power plant, which
is situated but several hundred feet below in the Alta
Gracia gorge. We follow the precipitous mountain ridge
on the righ't side of the Santo Domingo ravine, climbing to
heights which almost rival Bandarani The mine is just
below the tdf ridge, the last ridge before entering the
Amazon Basiu, but before we see this top ridge we enter
a large curve, almost a semicircle, which to me is the love-
liest of all spots of the entire trail; very nearly at the center
is a wonderfully beautiful waterfall, whose waters cascade
almost perpendicularly from dizzy heights above, splash over
the culvert and fall vertically several hundred feet to mingle
with the onrushing waters of Santo Domingo Creek. As
we enter the twilight in this curve, for the sun never pene-
trates within its tips, and hear only the musical cadence of
the murmuring, falling water and see the graceful ferns, the
exquisite, the flower-like mosses in this dim stillness, one
can readily imagine himself in another world, in a dream-
world, a fairy grotto; and yet, what do you think the Que-
chua Indians have named this enchanting spot? "Supay
Puncu" Hell's Gate!

Very shortly after emerging from, my fairy grotto I will
not call it "Supay Puncu" we see the huge tanks of con-
centrates, the mill and a few other buildings, but distances
are deceiving and there is a good half hour's strenuous climb-
ing before we dismount "for good/' "We are told that there
are nine tanks, each twenty-four feet high and sixteen feet
in diameter thus each has a capacity of 57,500 gallons; mul-

THE SANTO DOMINGO TRAIL

tiply 57,500 by nine and you have the storage of the tailings
from the mill and these tailings, by means of a cyanide plant
ar\d a furnace, are expected to yield a goodly sum of gold.
Of course, the tanks had to be brought in in sections, but if
they were carried in on Indians' backs, as they very likely
were, their cost of transportation must have taken a goodly
sum of gold as well. When you are ailniost opposite the mill,
its "innards" can be plainly seen, foif tL*is "stair-steps" build-
ing has a galvanized iron roof, or better roofs, but no walls
the weather is warm throughout the yeg^and hence it does
not need to be enclosed; but at Ghojnacots -br-r-rr it was
so cold that it was a problem to keep not only the men but
the machinery as well from getting ' froze up."

After getting a glimpse of the camp, we, are too anxious
to reach our destination to pay any further Attention to
abysses, narrowness of trail, or to splashing through water-
falls, for from the time we have left Limbani, it seems a
kaleidoscope of a jumbling of ridges, pe^>, gorges and
waterfalls; and looking back as we approach Santo Domingo,
we see a succession of knifeblade ridges, which you know
are separated by profoundly deep gorges and I, for one,
breathe a sigh of relief that I arn not expected to traverse
all those stupendous ravines. But this last bit of trail does
require our undivided attention innumerable slides have
wiped out the trail and each time the trail has been dug back
into the trail itself. This entire mountain side, like that near
Quitun, seems determined to plunge headlong into the
stream below.

On the occasion of our first trip "in," Santo Domingo was
brilliantly lighted for our reception and never before in all
my life were lights so welcome. Muto San, the Japanese
electrician and general factotum since the mine had been
closed down, some four years previous to our coining, met
us at the turnstile and smilingly (his smile is renowned
throughout southern Peru) conducted us to our new home
and our life in Santo Domingo began,

Now, my dear, I hope I have described the trail so that its
beauty and charm far outweigh any impressions of fear or

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

weariness; that the thrills of grandeur and gorgeousness ex-
ceed those o terror or nervousness.

P. S. I read somewhere recently that the Arabs have a
legend that when God made the world, he put all the stones
which were to cover it into bags and gave the bags to an
angel; while the angel was flying over Palestine one bag
broke, hence Palestine is so stony. If this same angel had
been flying over this section of the world much later, for
we are geologically much younger than Palestine, and of
course the bags would have become much older, I am quite
sure at least a dozen bags broke and some of those stones are
still standing on endl

CHAPTER X

THE SANTO DOMINGO GAMP

Santo Domingo Mine, August 13, 1932.
DEAREST IVA:

Again I am happily surprised by your prompt reply and
I am simply overjoyed, brimming over with joy, that you
are more eager than ever to come over the Santo Domingo
trail yourself and that you think the prospects are good for
a speedy fulfillment of that most ardent, mutual wish of
ours here's hoping those prospects become a reality
"pronto," the sooner the better, and what a "talk fest" we
shall have!

Naturally, since you are planning to become a member
of our "Camp of Optimism" shortly, you would rather have
me tell you all about the camp first: our camp is relatively
small, from 350 to 400 on the payroll, which seems small
compared to the 1500 in Pulacayo, while Chuquicamata per-
haps has three or four times as many as Pulacayo. Santo
Domingo is the most compact of any of the camps I have
lived in building space is at a premium and the land here
is terraced for buildings, just as the Incas terraced it for agri-
culture. Houses are perched on every available space and
ofttimes, more often than not, rock-walls are built along
the sides, and at times on all four sides of the building, to
make the foundation more secure. There are houses for
five Gringo families one double or should I say "duplex"
house and an "apartment" house for three families. "Casa
Santo Domingo," the boarding house, has accommodations
for eight employees of the "white-collared" type, four more
rooms for lesser employees, while the first cook has quarters
off the first-class dining room, the second cook from the
second-class dining room and the other servants are housed
on the bakery floor.

C

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

As Muto San had had complete charge of the camp dur-
ing most of its last "shut-down," he was living, when we
first came to Santo Domingo, in the manager's house, "La
Gerencia," as it is designated here, and as we were merely
optionistas, he did not take the trouble to move out but
conducted us to the left half of the double house. The
first thing that attracted my eyes was the great number of
windows, thus assuring all the sunshine available, and the
longer one lives in this excessively humid country, the more
appreciative he becomes of every ray of sunshine. (Our
first record of the rainfall registered 273 inches for the year.)
Muto had had the house thoroughly cleaned and, believe
it or not, after almost four years tenantless, almost every
window of this house had presentable curtains. What with
the curtains, freshly laundered, the profusion of bright flow-
ers, each bouquet tastefully arranged with lovely ferns, and
with the brilliant lighting, our temporary quarters gave a
very inviting appearance and that first impression has re-
mained with me, so that now, when I am expecting guests,
I fill the rooms with flowers and turn on all the lights, for
all our guests from outside usually arrive about dusk. I
was too tired for more than a cursory inspection that first
night, but I went to bed feeling that our life in Santo Do-
mingo had begun most auspiciously, for among the flowers
on our dressing table was a stuffed, beautiful blue bird with
a slip of paper in its bill, on which was typed: "Mr. and
Mrs. Woods WELLCOME." The blue bird for happiness,
its yellow breast 'signifying the gold we had come to delve
for, the warm reception, and at the very last, this quaintly
expressed "WELLCAME," all augured well for the future.

After a refreshing, deep sleep, I was ready the next morn-
ing to satisfy my curiosity: I found that this home as well as
all the Gringo homes had cement floors and corrugated iron
roofs, and rock-walls; we had five rooms, bath of cement
and a homemade toilet the very large sewage pipe led di-
rectly to the deep canyon as do the pipes from all the Gringo
homes, and it was this that gave rise to the name of "Garbage
Gulch/' and it still seems a pity to me to dub such a really
beautiful canyon, abounding in tree ferns, lovely flowers and

[ 194]

THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP

variegated foliage, with such an opprobrious title, a title
which I fear will cling as long as Gringos dwell in Santo
Domingo. However, these large conduits obviate any
plumbing troubles, which may compensate a little for the un-
beautiful nickname. There was a smattering of furniture,
all homemade, too, except four rocking chairs from the
United States, very likely from Michigan. That there was
any furniture or any curtains left at all was an agreeable
surprise in a country noted for its pilfering. However, six
sewing machines (Singer, of course, for I have not seen an-
other make in all South America), nearly all the wash-
bowls and pitchers, even parts of the good American cook-
stoves and an incalculable amount of household necessities
and "gimcracks" as well, had disappeared I say incalculable
advisedly, because, with the exception of the inventory of
supplies in the warehouses here and at Tirapata, even the
inventories had disappeared! In justice to Mr. Muto, I must
add that all this stealing took place before he was given
charge, I was pleased to see a sewing machine at the almacen
(store) but when I had occasion to use it we found only
the frame left the whole works had been neatly removed.

The other half of the double house contains a real por-
celain bath but all the others are "Roman" (they "roam* 7
over a large part of the bathroom), cemented baths without
the marble finish. The ceilings are of tocuyo (native muslin)
stretched tightly from wall to wall and held in place by
narrow strips of wood about three feet apart; when we moved
into the "Gerencia," this tocuyo had been varnished but I
thought that darkened the house, so I had it replaced by the
white muslin. But I quickly regretted the change for the
bats above soon spotted the whiteness but more about
bats anon. Every Gringo house has its fireplace, for hot as
it may be during the day the evenings are always cool, but
more than for the coolness, one needs some heat to counter-
act the pronounced humidity; but again on account of bats,
I had my fireplace sealed up and I still use only electric
stoves.

That first morning on stepping out of my house (Clarence
had risen hours before and was already marshaling his forces

[1953

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

while I still slept), I was amazed to note a deep precipice not
six feet away on my left, while a lesser one confronted me but
a few yards ahead; I hastened around to the rear to discover
a steep hill abruptly limiting the back yard and the other
half of the double house circumscribed the space to the
right; verily, verily, gold was more plentiful than building
space in Santo Domingo! But after the barrenness of the
mountains, magnificent as the landscape of Chojfiacota is,
the omnipresence of the greenness, the lushness and "jungli-
ness" of the mountains here more than compensate for the
lack of "the wide, open spaces'* and I was soon to learn that
this house had the biggest front yard and the only back yard
in the whole camp I I descended seventy-seven steps I
counted them to the road, or rather trail, which leads to the
Casa Santo Domingo, the boarding house for unmarried em-
ployees and destined to be our dining room for all the years
we have been here; we call Casa Santo Domingo "hotel" for
short but it is a misnomer as we have no paying guests; it is,
I should judge, about three city blocks from "Seccion Flor
de Mayo** (Mayflower Section), as the Gringo section has
been named. It is a gradual ascent all the way but there
are no steps; to the left is a sheer precipice of about a hun-
dred feet down to the narrow-gauge track below and to the
light is an almost perpendicular mountain side, several
hundred feet high I presume it is needless to say that this
trail has been cut out of the mountain side. For several
weeks in going to and from Casa S.D., I hugged the hillside
but now Clarence says I have gone to the other extreme and
he cautions me from venturing too close to the almost ver-
tical "down" side of the cliff.

Casa Santo Domingo is a very large, two-story frame
building with a very wide veranda on two sides; its front,
facing the offices, store, botica, etc., thus has a double-decked
porch and the upper porch serves for the movie screen,
while the spectators sit on the porch, at the same level, of
the store, with reserved seats inside of the store for the
Gringos, which is an ideal arrangement for movies: the In-
dians and Cholos thoroughly enjoy the pictures and the
sensitiveness of the "white collars" is not offended by the

THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP

"great unwashed." At Chojnacota we once allowed a movie
to be given in our living roomjust once; it took us three
days to air the house. Here we * have movies every other
Sunday night, or as they say, "One Sunday, yes; other Sun-
day, no." Thus both the day and night shifts are given the
same opportunity to see the "repertoire," which is limited
to Charlie Chaplin in two comedies and which never pall,
no matter how often shown, to Louisa Fazenda in "Dizzy
Daisy," to "Daddies," Lindbergh, a Rodeo at Pendleton,
several animal pictures, a lot of "Felix" and quite a few local
pictures to which we are constantly adding. The local pic-
tures are enjoyed the very most the working people, like
the upper classes, do love to see themselves in the movies. I
shall never forget the first movie ever given in S. D.; many
of the spectators had never seen a movie and it was infinitely
more interesting to watch the faces and the reactions of these
folks than to watch the pictures; they didn't seem to grasp
what it was all about until a "close-up" of Clarence was
thrown on the screen then they shouted, "El Gerente, el
Gerente," and for the first time realized that they were
looking at pictures of real people. With a phonograph and
now a radio to furnish music, we have quite a "Roxy" theater
and I am reasonably sure that Roxy's has never had a more
"mixed" nor absorbed gallery.

Casa Santo Domingo has two kitchens and two dining
rooms respectively for the "first-class," where we and the un-
married members of the staff eat, and for the "second class,"
where from fifty to sixty workmen, those without women,
eat, Clarence wants to inaugurate a third-class dining room,
by building an addition to the hotel, for the "raw" Indian,
who comes to work with just enough supplies of dried mut-
ton, dried potatoes, toasted corn and, of course, coca to last
three weeks, at the end of which time he quits to return
home and then comes back to the mine with another three
weeks' supply. Clarence's idea is to give board free to any
Indian, who works continuously for three months: with
better food, the Indian would work better and, what Is more
important, would stay longer^ thus avoiding the continual
turnover.

[ 197]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

Casa Santo Domingo is built on a huge bench or terrace
in the mountain side and looking up at it from the narrow-
gauge track far below, it seems to be most precariously
perched on an inadequate base, but it is the oldest building
in camp and has withstood many a "stress and storm"; di-
rectly opposite, separated by a very narrow "street/' is an
extremely long building of stone, partitioned off to house
warehouses, store, offices and the bookkeeper's living quar-
ters; the bookkeeper has a peephole for inserting a gun, in
case anyone should tamper with the safe. In close proxi-
mity, but under separate roof, is the botica and doctor's
office, all in one.

At the north, or warehouse, end is a small patio, where
the mules and llamas are unloaded; in the far corner of this
patio is our far-famed jail, a small stone structure with barred
windows and a heavy door; in it we put "high-graders" for
the few hours that it takes for their families to "pack up"
and "beat it" down the hill with the malefactor; but if the
culprit is found out late in the afternoon, then he must stay
all night in the carcel, for it would be endangering one's
life to send anyone down the hill after dark. This prison
was also the last home of a crazy Negro workman, who be-
came a raving maniac after imbibing too freely of Independ-
ence Day spirits at Bella Pampa; he was brought up here
to the doctor, who put him in the carcel and thoroughly
searched him, for he had tried to kill himself at Bella Pampa
and had tried to jump off the Santo Domingo bridge on the
way up to the mine. Shortly after noon the following day,
he slashed his abdomen wide open with a case knife, brought
with his dinner, and which he, with a madman's cunning,
had concealed in the room; he lived until the following
morning. This jail also housed the mail robbersyou re-
member I wrote you about losing the December goth mail,
which was unusually heavy and which undoubtedly con-
tained much Christmas mail, the loss of which I am still
lamenting; one of these two robbers escaped from the prison
but was apprehended before he had gone fifty yards, so our
Peruvian engineer made some ingenious stocks, and ever
since, any recalcitrant prisoner is put in the stocks.

THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP

On the road that spirals up to Camp One, the summit of
"our" ridge, is our garage, containing a truck, purchased two
years ago with the idea of hauling timber for the mine; but
excessive rains, followed by innumerable landslides, have
made an auto road impractical, hence the Indians are still
carrying the heavy timbers on their backs, sometimes for
miles.

At the third curve, high up to the left, is the cemetery;
there was but one lonesome mound when we arrived, the
last resting place of a Gringo, who fell over a cliff. The
cemetery, previous to our coming, was situated at the right
of the incoming trail, before one arrives at the mill; land-
slides are no respecters of persons, either alive or dead, and
one solitary grave now marks the spot of that once populous
"dead city." Now near the American's tomb in the new
cemetery, is that of another foreigner, a Japanese, a friend
of our doctor's, who came to Santo Domingo to die, that he
might have Japanese rites at his funeral. There are thirty-
five mounds now in our "God's Acre," all but two with
crosses. One of the thirty-five is that of an accidentado, who
was instantly killed by a falling boulder in the mine. Most
of the others are of babies; I have written you of the appall-
ing infant-mortality in Bolivia and I believe Peru has the
unenviable reputation of being even worse, at least accord-
ing to recent statistics. Once, when some friends and I were
returning from a long hike, we met a funeral procession, the
small coffin being borne by four men and followed by a large
concourse of men, women and children; the coffin was open
full length, which seems to be the custom here and the lid
is nailed on after the brief rites at the grave. The corpse
was that of a man child, four years old, and was dressed in a
bright plaid robe, red predominating; on inquiring, I was
told that he was dressed to represent some saint but whether
the saint of his birthday or of the day of his death I was
unable to find out, nor if all the children and adults were
thus clothed. Primitive people are extremely reticent, par-
ticularly about anything pertaining to their religion or super-
stitions. Santo Domingo has no church nor chapel nor priest
but many an Indian has come to Santo Domingo to die in

[ 199]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

order that he might be buried in a box instead of a sack;
coffins are made in our carpenter shop. The mourners carry
lighted candles and there always is an abundance of flowers
and a short burial service is read at the cemetery by some
volunteer, usually the President of the Club, and Clarence
says the services are simple but quite impressive.

Whenever a priest or cura is coming to Santo Domingo,
the camp is notified and any marriage or baptism ceremony
is hurriedly arranged for. I have not seen a marriage cere-
mony performed here but recently we had a wholesale bap-
tism: a cura from Maldanado sent a courier ahead that he
would arrive in S. D. a few hours later and that the parents
of all babies to be baptized should be apprized of his com-
ing. He arrived on a Sunday about five in the afternoon,
tired and hungry, so the sereno notified the fathers and
mothers to bring their babies to Casa Santo Domingo at six-
thirty and we set our dinner hour ahead to accommodate the
cura, who was a Dominican priest, appeared to be an ascetic,
but was very affable and agreeable; he was accompanied by
an acolyte, a "Chunco" (wild or uncivilized Indian), who
had become a convert to Christianity and had learned to
speak a little Spanish.

Eight babies, with their fathers, mothers, godfathers and
godmothers, arrived on time and what with our "family"
of sixteen, the baptistery (billiard room) was filled to over-
flowingin fact, the men of our family overflowed into the
porch outside and later to the cinema above. (Clarence held
up the movies, so the cura could attend, for he showed the
pictures of his trip down the Inambari, of Maldanado, where
the cura has his headquarters, and the trip out from Mal-
danado to Astillero, a journey by canoe of nine to twelve
days, traveling all day and sleeping at night on the shore,
wherever night overtakes the party. Ofttimes the tired
sleepers are awakened to move their beds higher up so the
rapidly rising river (Tambopata) will not engulf them this
has occurred three times in one night! Every passenger must
provide his own food and shelter. But there are thrills as
well as weariness and inadequate food on every canoe trip
up or down this river: there is still danger from the Chun-

[ 200 ]

THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP

cos; canoes have upset with disastrous consequences, entail-
ing loss of life and always loss of all the cargo; the prowling
wild animals while on shore are another source of danger,
and huge water snakes are often seen. No wonder the cura
was tired and hungry!)

I was very much interested in the baptizings. Our Peru-
vian engineer's Chilean wife acted as the euro's secretary,
writing the names of the babies, of their fathers and mothers
and those of the godfather and godmother, and if the baby
was legitimate or natural and of these eight babies, only
one was legitimate! The cura brought the consecrated oil
but we "Santo Dominicans" scurried around for the font
(basin) to hold the water, for the candles, salt and a white
cloth. There were seven distinct procedures:

1. The cura made the sign of the cross on the forehead,
mouth and chest of each baby.

2. He put salt in the mouth of each baby (every baby
cried).

3. He put consecrated oil on the top of the head, on the
chest and back of each squirming youngster.

4. He sprinkled water, and plenty of it, on each child's
head.

5. "I believe" is repeated three times by each godfather,
with a lighted candle on each side of the head of the child.

6. The priest admonishes each godfather of the solemn
obligation his godfathership entails; the godfather assumes
the responsibility of looking after the spiritual welfare of
his godchild and if its parents should die, he must take the
child into his home and take care of it as if it were his own.

7. The white cloth of purification is passed over the head
of each child.

Now, these are the significations: i. The sign of the cross
on the forehead sanctifies the thoughts; on the breast, the
affections; on the mouth, the words that proceed therefrom.
2. The salt in the mouth is symbolical of wisdom. 3. Oil
on the head, breast and back is to give strength to fight the
battles of the soul. 4. Water on the head signifies the puri-
fication of the soul through the grace of baptism. 5. The
credo of the Catholic Church. The lighted candles signify

[201]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

the light of faith, that should guide the steps in the path of
virtue. 6. This is self-explanatory. 7. The white cloth
signifies the new life which the baptism should bring and
to endure throughout life.

You will admit the symbols have beautiful and inspiring
significations, but if each baby had not tried its "darnedest"
to out-yell all the others, if the weather hadn't been so hot
the perspiration rolled in continuous rivulets down the
beatific but harassed face of the hardworking cura, the happy
mothers, the proud fathers and even the honored godparents
showed the strain if the room had not been so suffocatingly
crowded, the whole ceremony would have perhaps been more
dignified; but in spite of all these handicaps, it was solemn
and impressive. Early the next morning the cura baptized
four more but he was just finishing when I arrived for
breakfast and a little eight-year-old girl brought her pre-
cious little doll to be baptized!

All the bins in the warehouses, the shelving and counters
and even the showcases in the store, all the office furniture,
including filing cabinets, the "fixtures" in the drug store,
everything was made here and some of it is quite "classy";
what with sawmills and lathes and artisans, who love to do
ornamental work, and what with the great variety of choice
lumber, furniture and "fixtures" become a matter of indi-
vidual taste, and tastes have differed in the thirty-five or
more years of Santo Domingo's existence.

Around a sharp curve to the left from the "jail-patio,"
about six city blocks distant, are the groups of frame houses
for laborers and their families; each family has one room and
a kitchen the houses are in "apartments," from two to six
families to a house. Most of the wooden houses were so
badly deteriorated they had to be replaced and it seems that
we are always building houses for the workmen, that there
never is enough housing. Casa S. D, is more than twenty-
five years old. It, however, is constantly being repaired a
rotten board being replaced by a new one so that if an
accurate accounting had been kept, the hotel has been rebuilt
several times. Five years seems to be about the limit of a

THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP

frame house's life. All lumber is made here and as there is
no time for seasoning, wide cracks soon appear in the walls,
and these added to the ample windows assure the laborer
plenty of fresh air. Our newspapers and magazines are very
much in demand for papering their housesthe Sunday sup-
plements of the New York Times, the Saturday Evening Post
or other magazines with pretty pictures naturally have the
preference and you would be most agreeably surprised at
some of the artistic effects, while some others are decidedly
the reverse. While the houses are not equipped with run-
ning water, yet there is a hydrant for every apartment house;
they have electric lighting and at irregular intervals an in-
spection is necessary to see that some miner o hasn't rigged up
an electric stove. If a family has more than three or four
children, the house may seem a bit crowded but, unless it is
raining "cats and dogs," the whole family, including cats
and dogs, is out of doors anyway but I must amend that last
statement and make it just dogs, for cats are conspicuous by
their absence. I have heard that cats are highly prized as
food, hence their scarcity; but there is an abundance of
canines when they become superabundant, some fine morn-
ing there are quite a number of dead dogs, mysteriously poi-
soned, that have to be carted away. I have learned not to
be too inquisitive but I can't help but wonder if it is a mere
coincidence that our doctor always has had to respond to a
night call before these mongrels were summoned to "dog-
heaven." Much effort is expended in trying to keep the
camp clean and sanitary the doctor makes daily rounds and
any family whose premises are not "up to the mark" is duly
warned and a second offense usually means expulsion.

Beyond "Alta Lima," as the natives have named their
section of the camp ("High Lima" to distinguish it from the
capital, which, you know, is at sea level), there is a deep
canyon, where the laborers' camp was formerly situated; the
mill used to be beyond this camp and this little playa
(beach) in the canyon is currently supposed to be very rich
in gold sometime, I presume, Clarence will have it "pla-
cered." From the eminence of "Aha Lima," one has a
magnificent view of a large part of the camp and also sees

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HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

the water pipe at intervals, where it is supported by scaffold-
ing as the pipe extends through space across some wide
ravine. The main source of water supply is a spring, the
water being conducted to a large, screened-in reservoir, from
whence it is piped throughout the camp; the water is so pure
that it is not necessary to distill it for laboratory work.

Directly back of the hotel and about thirty-five steps lower
down, is a relatively large plaza, containing the "Casa Azul"
(Blue House), a large frame structure which houses the
unmarried shift bosses, head carpenter and such; in this plaza
are other groups of buildings, also for unmarried workmen
in all, I should think there are about fifty living here.
Nearly all of these laborers eat in the second-class dining
room of Casa Santo Domingo. From this "Plaza de la Casa
Azul" you may have your choice of going on down 250
steps more to the narrow-gauge railway or retracing your
steps to Casa S. D. and down the stepless trail to the other
end of the track, which is almost exactly a quarter of a mile
from the entrance of the mine. The first few days here, I
made this "round trip" for exercise but a painful knee de-
veloped from the unaccustomed "plugging" down 285 steps
and short breath made the climbing laborious, so I have
contented myself ever since with walking "along the line of
least resistance"; however, on this imaginary trip of inspec-
tion, I will take you down the steps to the mouth of the
mine, but just to the mouth, for to enter the mine is strictly
"verboten" to all women folk.

At the left of the mine entrance is the "change-house,"
where all workmen are required to change clothes on enter-
ing and again on leaving the mine; the inspector's office, in
the change-house, is so situated that no one can enter or
leave the mine without being seen; the change-house has
four shower baths of hot or cold water; long rows of pegs for
the men to hang their clothes and long benches for the men
to sit on. At the extreme far end of the change-house are
rooms for the inspector, but the fleas were so bad that a
charming little house was built for him on the hillside just
above the mouth of the mine and now the inspector can sleep
in peace. Our present day inspector is an Italian, who has

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THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP

cultivated every available inch of ground, growing corn and
other vegetables, bananas and many flowers; he also has a
"penchant" for rabbits and chickens and how he keeps the
latter from his garden and likewise from being run over by
the ore cars is a mystery to me but I have not heard of a
single fatality to rabbit or chicken; but I have heard him
complain that his rabbits about "eat him out of house and
home." The night inspector is English and fortunately has
no garden or animal hobbies, thus leaving the field clear to
the day man.

We have to return through the change-house as there is no
other means of egress the building juts directly to and
almost over the canyon's edge so I'll hurry you through in
order to escape as many fleas as possible. Now we "right
about face" and to the left of the track are huge warehouses,
where carbide, fuse, dynamite, etc., are stored, but not in
great quantities as the excessive dampness causes dynamite
and carbide to deteriorate very rapidly the major part is
stored in Huancarani and brought down to the mine as
needed. The second warehouse contains electrical supplies,
tools, hardware, etc.

In line with these warehouses but separated by a passage-
way through which the men from Alta Lima come to work,
is an extremely long corrugated iron roof, supported by
heavy posts but having no walls, and this covers an elec-
trically driven lathe, welder and other such contrivances; a
blacksmith shop, two sawmills and a "lengthy" carpenter
shop all these abodes of activity are classed under the one
head of maestranza (shops) and a very busy place it is, espe-
cially when both sawmills are running "full blast**; the
welder is "shooting" its strong, blinding incandescent light;
the blacksmiths are sharpening steel or mending cars; the
lathes are at work with all those belts revolving at I don't
know how many revolutions per minute; the carpenters are
hammering and sawing all these combined sound and look
like "Pandemonium let loose," hence the signs, "Danger,"
"Keep Out/* are entirely superfluous as far as I am con-
cerned, even though I can read them in English and Spanish
and they surely are superfluous for the Indian, who cannot

[205]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

read at all. However, there have been surprisingly few
accidents in the maestranza.

I am sorry I cannot tell you about the mine itself, but as
I wrote you before, no woman is ever permitted to enter the
mine the Indians firmly believe that a fatality is sure to
occur if a "skirt" enters even the tunnel that leads to the
workings. The track from the mouth of the mine to the
crusher is a very little more than a quarter of a mile, is
narrow-gauge, and parallels the maestranza, almost "hug-
ging" it; it used to be at the left of the sawmills but about
two years ago we had a very bad landslide, which brought
down tons and tons of boulders, burying the track under a
veritable mountain of debris for a length of fifteen or more
yards; it also buried an ore-filled car but luckily the carmen
escaped. It was deemed easier to build a new track around
the slide than to attempt to uncover the old one and it was
much cheaper to buy a new car than to unearth the buried
one, even though it was filled with ore. At the time of this
slide, Casa Santa Domingo seemed to be in imminent danger
of tumbling down upon the workshops, but fortunately, it
is still standing. The trees and underbrush, especially the
trees, are kept cut down close to the bosom of mother earth,
for the swaying of the trees seem to loosen the soil and thus
start a slide, (I know we were taught in geology or was it
in physical geography? that vegetation held the soil in place
but, as I mentioned several times previously, everything
south of the equator seems to be topsy-turvy and perhaps the
equator is to blame for this contrariety.) Rain or shine,
I walk up and down this track every day for my "daily
dozen" it is the only level stretch in the whole camp and it
slopes very gradually to the crusher.

Yesterday our surveyor told me that a carman averages
twenty cars a day. The track from the mouth of the mine
to the hoist, where the ore is loaded into cars, is 450 meters;
from the mouth of the mine to the crusher, where the ore
is dumped and crushed before it is ground in the Hardinge
mill, is a wee bit more than a quarter of a mile (I have
checked up on this with my pedometer), so our surveyor has
estimated that each carman walks eight leagues (twenty-

[206]

THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP

four miles) on every shift; he not only walks, but he pushes a
ton of ore half of this distance. It takes a husky young man
for this work, yet we have had men who made a record of
twenty-five cars a shift. The carman is paid twenty centavos
a car (in normal times about eight cents) do you think he
earns his money? I most emphatically think he does and
earns it not only by the sweat of his brow but of his entire
body as well, for he emerges from the mine dripping with
perspiration.

On the right side of the track is the flume or canal, which
carries the water that is used for milling the ore in the mill.
Its source is the Santo Domingo Creek and, up to date, it
has been unfailing. Aside from its usefulness, this canal is a
never-ending means of entertainment to Mary, a German
police-dog, brought to Santo Domingo by Mr. Maycumber
in November, 1929. At first she was strictly a "one man's"
dog but now she is the pet of the camp and she delights in
bringing out the rocks that are thrown into the flume, and
almost everybody walking along the track will accommodate
her by throwing in a rock or two. She has the run of the
camp, except that she, too, is not allowed to enter the mine!

Adjoining each other and close to the crusher is a group of
buildings which are, respectively, the engineer's office, where
the maps of the mine (its workings) are kept up to date,
and it is the depository of all the blueprints, etc.; the chan-
cadora, where the samples of ore from the mine are ground
and later are panned below in the mill the high-grade ore
is kept here, too, in strong, locked boxes until ground in a
special mill, usually shortly before the regular monthly
clean-up; next is the metallurgist's office and laboratory, with
its large variety of bottles, test tubes, pipettes, balances, cruci-
bles and other paraphernalia; communicating with this is the
electric shop or taller electrico which overawes one with its
multiplicity of motors, dynamos and other complicated ma-
chinery; directly opposite, on the other side of the track,
is the transformer, which changes the "juice" from 6600 to
440 volts the gate to this building is always locked but the
vibration and reverberation occasioned by the "transform-
ing" is enough to keep me out without lock and key. I have

[207]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

always had an "inferiority complex" about anything relating
to electricity and this, too, after a whole semester of Elec-
tricity in the year of Physics, required at college to get my
M.S., no I mean my B.S., degree; needless to say I was ex-
posed enough but it didn't "take" and to this day I feel that
I owe my passing grade to a chain of fortuitous circumstances
and not to any familiarity with motors or dynamos.

Catercornered from the transformer is the fundicion or
smeltery, where the amalgam is distilled and the gold refined
and smelted. This building contained, when we arrived, a
huge brick furnace in which the smelting was done and "old-
timers'* say that it took from two to three days to get the
gold bricks ready for transportation. Mr. Othick, our mill-
man, had designed a furnace for such work in Bolivia, so he
built a similar one here and now we distill, smelt and refine
and cast into bricks, weigh, take samples for the outside assay
check, and even put in boxes, all within a few hours I
believe the record to date is four and one half hours. The
cumbersome brick furnace has been dismantled, thus giving
much more "gallery" space in the smeltery, for all visitors
and I, too, love to watch this last step in the production of
gold for the market.

Now we may go either back to the track, cross it, down
eight steps, under the track, and around the chute, which
carries the ore to the bin, whence it is shoveled into the
crusher; or we may go by the trail on the other side of
the smelteryboth ways lead to the long flight of stairs that
conducts us to the mill.

And you want me to tell you the full process of extracting
the gold from the ore well, be it on your head if the telling
becomes a bore! The ore, brought in cars of one ton capac-
ity, is dumped down a chute into the bin, and shoveled into
the crusher, the "fines" falling directly into the Hardinge
mill below, while the coarse pieces are first crushed before
they follow the "fines." The Hardinge mill, a huge iron
"monster," shaped somewhat like a gigantic top, lying on its
side, contains about two tons of steel balls of various sizes,
from that of tennis balls to dumbbells; mercury is poured in
this mill at regular intervals of about twenty minutes, and

[208]

THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP

the whole mixture of ore, mercury and balls revolves in this
gargantuan, motor-driven, six-foot top at the rate of twenty-
nine revolutions per minute. The free gold unites with the
mercury and this combination is called amalgam, in the pro-
portion usually of one-third gold and two-thirds mercury,
but the proportion varies according to the coarseness of the
goldthe coarser the gold, the less proportion of mercury.
The greater part of this amalgam should remain in the mill;
that which escapes is caught on silver-plated copper plates,
which are cleaned twice a day this daily "egg" is put in the
safe until the regular clean-up of the mill and "an egg a day
keeps the wolf away." That which escapes from the plates
flows over shaking tables, these concentrates from the tables
go to the sump, from which they are pumped into the Hunt-
ington mill, which is cleaned five or six times a week; the
concentrates from the Huntington mill are sent over another
set of copper plates, reconcentrated on other shaking tables,
and these * 'concentrated concentrates" are conveyed to the
big tanks to await further treatment, the cyanide process,
by means of which it is hoped to extract whatever gold may
be left. This entire process is graphically shown in a * 'flow-
sheet" but I am not trying to be technical far be it from
me to "technisize"; but one would infer from all this revolv-
ing of machinery, the whirring of belts, the vibrating, of
tables and what not, that every tiny speck of gold would be
recovered, but a hundred percent recovery is still a goal to
be attained.

The regular "clean-up" of the mill is a thorough and
"messy" job muddy water is everywhere. The Hardinge
mill is emptied of all its "innards" the manganese-steel balls
are worn to half their original size and sometimes a few balls
disappear entirely and the balls have to be replaced at regu-
lar intervals. The plates, removed from the mill, are scraped
and every crack and cranny in the mill is scraped for every
particle of amalgam; the "soup" from the mill is put in a
jig and, after jigging, the finer portions are panned this
panning yields the amalgam to which the daily eggs are
added. Usually, but not always, the day following the big
clean-up, the amalgam is placed in a cast-iron retort and dis-

[209]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

tilled in exactly the same manner that water is distilled: the
mercury, having a lower vaporizing point than gold, distills
off, is caught in flasks and used again; but here, too, unfor-
tunately, there is not a hundred percent recovery and the
expensive stuff has to be replenished. The residue in the
retort is unrefined gold.

The gold that has been extracted from the high-grade ore
is now added to that which has been separated from the amal-
gam and the whole is placed in a crucible with soda and
borax for refining and when the mass is fused, a little salt-
peter is added to oxidize any basic metals, as copper or iron,
which may be present. When the metallurgist decides the
"soup" is ready, the compressed air, which has been blowing
in the charcoal in the furnace to keep it red hot, is turned
off; the glowing red-hot crucible is lifted out of the furnace
by tongs, placed on a circular device and the liquid gold,
thin as buttermilk, is poured into the molds; the slag (im-
purities) comes to the top; the mold is gently tapped on ali
sides and as soon as it is deemed cool enough the mold is
turned upside down on a sheet-iron plate; usually, the brick
comes out at once but if it doesn't, the mold is tapped some
more on the sides and the bottom, and not so gently this
time, just as you would get a cake out of a refractory pan.
The slag is peeled and chipped off, the brick washed with
acid, generally weak nitric acid or aqua regia (nitric and
hydrochloric), and with water from a hose until the brick
is "shining clean." The letters, I.M.D.G. (Inca Mining &
Development Co.) are embossed in the bottom of the mold
and the brick shows these letters deeply imbedded thus it
would be difficult for a thief to dispose of a brick, especially
if he had to explain whence he obtained the gold.

Then the metallurgist takes two or three samples of the
brick to ascertain the fineness of the gold: 1000 is the basis
for pure gold and Santo Domingo gold averages from 950 to
970, thus never bringing less than $20 per ounce, against
about $17 per ounce for unrefined North American gold. I
am sure you will agree with me that the pouring of the
molten gold is the most intensely interesting step of the en-
tire process of extracting gold from the ore and any visitors

[210]

THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP

we may have at the time and I never miss this spectacular
part of the procedure. And the smelters never fail to caution
us to keep at a safe distance, for the melting point of gold is
approximately 2000 Fahrenheit and it is at this temperature
when it is poured, hence you can see how unpleasant, danger-
ous and even fatal it might be to have this liquid gold spat-
tered about indiscriminately.

After this "symposium" on obtaining gold, I am sure the
non-mining friends in our "bunch" will change any precon-
ceived notions they may have had that gold, as is, can be
picked off o bushes; like everything else worth while, it is
obtained only by the "sweat of the brow" and the toilers in
the mine sweat all over, for what few clothes they wear are
wringing wet as they come forth from the mine; the carmen
almost invariably have little rivulets of sweat running down
their faces, while the "inward sweat'* of the executives is in-
calculable; but it is a fascinating game and all the partici-
pants are forever looking forward to "striking it rich" and
every mining man dreams of some day having a gold mine
of his own.

Yes, I know you want to know more about those concen-
trates, so I'll take you down with me some fifty steps, and
irregular ones they are, cut in the rock some are but a foot
high and others so high it takes quite a little exertion to
climb them and quite a reach in descending them and
when we have arrived at those huge, cylindrical steel pipes,
each of twelve hundred tons capacity, nine of them, and it is
i estimated that $500,000 worth of gold is waiting imprisoned
inside to be set free, we have come to the most complex plant
of all. I think our metallurgist said this plant comprises four
distinct operations and there surely is a bewildering variety
of machinery. Then these four times more concentrated
concentrates will be hoisted by aerial tramway to the Mac-
Dougall seven-hearth furnace, in which the heat from the
sulphides makes the furnace self-roasting; there is a hand
rabble furnace at the plant below, which will be used when
the big furnace may be out of commission. You will gather
that this plant is not yet functioning but it will be soon and
then, our metallurgist says, the Santo Domingo mine will be

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

the best equipped and most efficient plant in all South
America!

But I shall have to bring you back from the furnace; we
may return either by the short, "all sorts and kinds" of steps-
way or the much longer and easier trail-way, past the Mac-
Dougall furnace, which seems to stand as a sentinel to the
gateway of the camp, past the smeltery and transformer house
and, abruptly leaving the trail, we will climb forty-five irreg-
ular steps, pass a small clump of guava trees and arrive at
our swimming tank. The water is conserved in this tank
for compressor use but on nearly all days except that of smelt-
ing it is the "swimmin' hole" of all the Gringos. Many a
kiddie has learned to swim here. The tank is sunk about
two feet in the ground and its maximum depth is four and
one half feet; it is a little larger than the canvas tanks on
steamers, circular instead of rectangular; the water has to be
changed every few days on account of numerous big toads,
who seem to find no other place to spawn and this, in spite
of the fact that we have strewn carbide ashes all around the
tank in an effort to keep them out.

Ever since leaving the main trail, we have been climbing
a peninsula, or is it a promontory? Or what would you
designate a narrow, high neck of land not surrounded by
water but bounded by canyons on three sides? I should
judge the swimming tank is about a third of the way up
to my home but fifty-six steps more must be negotiated be-
fore we reach the "Gerencia." The house is built on solid
rock; it has a rock foundation and the rains (and such
rains!) have descended, and the floods have come, and the
winds have blown and have beat upon this house and it has
not fallen yet. An earthquake in 1928, a few months before
our arrival in Peru, shook the kitchen loose and it went pell-
mell into the canyon below, but it had no rock foundation,
it was built on stilts; it has not been replaced for we continue
to dine en famille with our unattached employees at Casa
Santo Domingo.

My front yard (save the mark!) has a clump of guava trees
(and gauva jelly is always delicious) whose tops barely reach
the railing, which protects us from walking off into space

THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP

(and landing ignominiously astride a guava tree), said space
just five feet from my porch; thus the trees do not obstruct
the view of the trail all the way to Casa Santo Domingo (and
the mule trains, the herds of llamas bringing in supplies, the
people traveling back and forth from Maldanado each and
every one is an "event"). From any one of the front win-
dows, one can see most of "Alta Lima" and but a wee bit of
the track and of the change-house; to see more of the track,
it is necessary to lean over the railing, as the steepness of the
hill precludes a fuller view. The side windows allow one to
see the swimming tank and a jumble of galvanized roofs be-
low, with the towering mountain side beyond, and so
"straight up" is this mountain and so close, that it throws its
shadow over the track at three in the afternoon, and from
my bedroom window sometimes it seems, by leaning out,
that I could almost touch the huge scar, many feet wide and
extending the full length, from top to bottom, of this mighty
mountain. There are three enormous scars, roughly parallel,
the biggest one nearest my window, caused by lightning dur-
ing one of the worst storms I ever witnessed. In a few years'
time, however, these scars will be obliteratedin fact, the
smallest one of these three is now almost covered with new
growth of trees. The back windows give an excellent view
of the trail until a sharp curve eliminates the vista. This
back view permits much more territory to be seen and the
cloud effects early in the morning, almost every morning, the
constantly changing, fleecy, half-transparent clouds floating
leisurely below and around and above the mountain tops
these cloud effects are something to rave about and nearly all
our friends do rave about this early panoramic "cloud-
world"; and after more than three years, I am still entranced
by this view from my bedroom window.

Our living room has a door opening on the back yard,
which extends just seven feet to the top of a rock-wall, ex-
tending twenty feet down and then losing itself in the rocks
of the canyon. There is no railing around the back yard
and in spite of the steepness, there are three groups of grace-
ful banana trees, rearing their broad leafy tops within a few
feet of the top of the high wall. On the swimming tank

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

side are three rose beds (rosaT) in terraces, each bed pro-
tected from ants by narrow troughs o corrugated iron; one
of these troughs became full of holes and before we were
aware of it, the ants had stripped the rose bushes as clean as
a hound's tooth. Friedrich Ritter in "Adam and Eve in the
Galapagos/ 7 Atlantic Monthly > November, 1931, describes
the ravages of ants very realistically: he says the ants cover
the green leaves in such numbers that the green disappears
completely beneath the black or red of their bodies. Every
leaf was stripped off our rose bushes without our even seeing
the black or red bodies then our doctor came to the rescue.
He cut back the naked limbs ruthlessly, down to less than a
foot above the ground, had the troughs filled with carbide
ash to kill the ants that might still be inside of the enclosure,
had more soil with fertilizer strewn on top, and in an incred-
ibly short timeI wish I could tell you exactly, but I forgot
to note in my diary the day that the doctor "operated on kad
treated" those rose beds but I could scarcely believe my own
eyes when I noted those bushes not only leaved out most
profusely, but dozens of blossoms nodding vigorously in the
breeze and one superb La France beauty in full flower.
However, it is a matter of ceaseless toil and eternal vigilance
to keep a garden "trim and lovely" in the tropics the weeds
grow like "Jack's beanstalk" and there are myriads of pestif-
erous insects to bother and plague; we do not have to irri-
gate, on the contrary, the superabundance of water has to be
drained off and there are so many beautiful wild flowers and
such marvelous foliage at any time and everywhere that I
sometimes think a cultivated garden is superfluous.

I told you that the Gringo homes were built of rock and
had cement floors but our living room, bedroom and bath-
room have frame walls, which I like much better as they dry
out quickly after a rain; and my cement floors cement, to
keep out bugs and all crawling things are covered with
native rugs of llama or sheep wool, in the brightest colors
imaginable; one would think the reds, purples, yellows,
green, pink and black would clash but they are surprisingly
harmonious and the colors do not fade and they "wash"
easily the laundress takes the rugs to the creek and beats

THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP

them on the rocks, dries them in the sun on other rocks and
brings them back, fresh and sweet as new-mown hay.

With the exception of a few American factory-made rock-
ers, all my furniture is homemade and I am sure you will
kindly envy my choice pieces, when you see them, and most
of them are "choice," for they are made of snakewood, mahog-
any, laurel, camphor, incense and other highly prized
tropical woods and most of our carpenters are really cabinet
makers and much prefer making furniture to the "ordinary"
work required at a mine. I have a beautiful snakewood type-
writer desk, with the body so deep and broad and long that
it holds not only my typewriter, but reams of paper, ink,
pencils and what not and has a compartment at one end for
unanswered letters and at the other for stationery, enough
to last for several weeks; it has movable supports at both
ends, one for "copy" and the one at the left for finished work;
when the top is propped open, the desk looks like a minia-
ture baby grand piano, for the legs are curved and the whole
thing has taken on a beautiful polish. When sitting at the
desk, at my left I have a small table for accumulated work
and directly above this table a small shelf, which holds all
my dictionaries, German, French, Spanish and an unabridged
English one, all within easy reach; the chair, matching the
desk and its "curved to fit" back all in one piece, extending
to the floor, has no legs but a triangular support, reminding
me of a cathedra I saw in Cologne, Germany; Mrs. Stacpoole,
the wife of our former Mine Superintendent, deserves the
credit for designing this chair, while her magazine, The
House Beautiful,, has been the source of many of our artistic
pieces of furniture. Directly at my left is a large window
and at my back is a five-shelved bookcase containing a hetero-
geneous collection of textbooks, novels and biographies. If
you have visualized this "study" corner, I can almost hear
you exclaim, "It is the last word' in convenience and no
wonder Jo always answers her letters so promptly." But,
my dear, if only the inspiration could so conveniently be
called upon!

In the corner diagonally from my desk is a seven-foot sofa
of camphor wood with artistic curved back and arm rests;

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

it is unusually wide, upholstered in the same material as the
window drapes and sometimes it is too much of an inspira-
tion to an afternoon siesta! It seats five people very com-
fortably, while seven have crowded on it to view a whole
evening's entertainment of "private movies," and it has made
a very comfortable bed. We have tables of many varieties,
both as to woods and design: the prettiest one is long and
narrow, of camphor wood, with a wide-based column at each
end, reenforced by a matched beam and 111 wager you
couldn't guess in a thousand years what I have for a "runner"
on this table of "elegant simplicity" a potato sack! The
Indians bring their potatoes in home-woven sacks of llama
wool, striped alternately in light tan and brown; they are
woven in one piece, sewed up on the sides, so when ripped
open and washed, you have a good-looking runner, which in
an art shop would bring at least ten dollars. Then there is
an octagon-shaped table of camphor wood to match the sofa.
I was supposed to have two of these but I felt the room
looked too crowded, for, besides what I have already de-
scribed, we have a reading table of cedar, which would be
called mahogany "up north," a telephone table also of this
cedar, a cabinet of cedar, trimmed with camphor wood, a
very large "used-to-be" buffet of cedar, camphor and snake,
which is now a "catch all" for whatever can't be stowed else-
where, a sort of "what not," which I hear is being revived at
home, and another five-shelved bookcase, and so you will
rightfully infer that our living room is colorful.

But the pride of my heart is a chest of drawers in our
bedroom four huge drawers, five feet long, three feet three
inches wide and varying from fourteen inches to twenty-two
inches in depth the whole thing stands five feet high, is
made of camphor wood and cedar (which no bug will ex-
plore) and trimmed with snake wood; the parts were made
in the carpenter shop, varnished and then assembled in the
bedroom; to clean underneath, the lowest drawer is removed
but as all our clothes and all our bedding need to be put in
the sunshine often, for, as I have written you many times, it
rains here almost every day, the annual rainfall averaging
considerably more than 250 inches, so removing the drawers

[,16]

THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP

o the chest to put them and their contents in the direct rays
of the sun is weekly routine, if the sun shines any one day
long enough to make it that often. Then I have a cedar box
for my best linens.

Our bed, too, is a huge affair, of camphor and cedar; the
headpiece has a lyre in the center with a series of curlicues
at either side, while the footboard matches with just the series
of curlicues it is almost impossible to get our carpenters to
make anything perfectly plain; they will follow a design
faithfully and then stick on a "do-dad" here and there, espe-
cially if the furniture is for the "Gerente" or for the mill
superintendent. Feature, if you can, a five-foot canopy of
ecru marquisette over this bed and you will at once be of
the opinion that the room must be for "over-sized'* folks;
however, the dressing table and bench to match, also of cam-
phor and cedar, are regulation size and the chairs are not
large.

The pity of it is that none of this furniture can be taken
out forty-six miles over a narrow muleback trail is prohibi-
tive of anything but essentials and one very soon learns how
very little is really essential. My accumulation of furniture
has been a gradual process it is only this last year that I felt
I could say, "Enough"; our carpenters are needed for more
"important" work and it is only during "slack" times that
any furniture is made. But one of our carpenters made six
very pretty picture frames for me of snakewood and I count
on bringing them home, if I have to smuggle them through!
The carpenter made them after and before "shift" and, much
to my regret, was soon after "sent down the hill" for high-
grading.

In going out or coming in, we cover our suitcases with
bolsas de goma^ bags of crude rubber, made at Maldanado,
else they and their contents, more than likely, would become
"sopping wet," but unless there is some special reason, we
dump everything directly into the rubber bags, which stay
"put" on the mules better than suitcases. Nearly all of us
have ponchos, too, made of the native rubber, but they are
too heavy to wear except when on a mule. I had a poncho
made of blue Japanese silk and then rubberized at Mai-

[2173

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

danado; it was much lighter in weight, hence more satis-
factory, but it did not wear well. Mrs. Brooke had a very
pretty one made of red silk but it was too heavy for comfort.
Some day I plan to have a silk cape rubberized and I think
that will solve the problem for a * 'raincoat' ' in camp. We
have never succeeded yet in getting an umbrella or raincoat,
either from the States or from here, that will withstand the
heavy downpours in "our" section of the tropics, but for-
tunately the weather is warm, hence wet clothes and wet feet
do not affect us adversely in fact, we all seem to thrive on
the super-humidity.

And our clothes? Four years' experience has taught me
that sleeveless linen or cotton frocks with long-sleeved coats
(ensemble, I think the salesladies call this combination) are
just the thing for day wear, with the same thing in light wool
for evening or an occasional cool day; a few light weight,
woolen sweaters are indispensable; the long-sleeved coats are
a necessity, unless you are willing to have your arms mottled
or even tattooed every time you leave the house by the thou-
sand and one insects that seem to be lying in ambush (flying
in a bush is really more accurate) with tattooing implements
ever ready. Evening frocks? Yes, a few but our formal
affairs are few and far between. Rubbers are impractical
the sharp rocks cut them the first time you wear them and
you know a leaky rubber is worse than none at all; just
make up your mind to have wet feet and to change shoes
and stockings when convenient.

Writing of clothes reminds one of vacations: in the high
altitudes of Bolivia and Peru, it is customary and sometimes
obligatory for the employees to have a two weeks* vacation
every six months and this is preferable to a month's "holi-
day" once a year, although the latter is often permitted.
Santo Domingo is not high, is about as high as Denver, but
the lack of sunshine makes a sojourn to a sunnier locality
almost as imperative as the excessive altitude to sea level;
but at Santo Domingo the executive staff is not large enough
to permit scheduled vacations, such as Cerro de Pasco or
Chuquicamata provide; here an employee takes his outing
when circumstances are favorable, when another employee

018]

THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP

can do the work of both. For example, when Mr. Othick,
the millman, leaves, Mr. Maycumber, the metallurgist, looks
after both mill and furnace and vice versa when Mr. May-
cumber is gone; Clarence and Lee interchange work in the
mine; our doctor is especially adaptable in all other depart-
ments, keeping books, tending store and even taking over
the housekeeping duties at Casa Santo Domingo, while if the
doctor is vacationing, Mr. Spitzer, the accountant, or Mr.
Maycumber or Mr. Nugent, the engineer, one or two and
sometimes all three of them will dress wounds or administer
salts. During the doctor's last "holiday" of more than two
months (he had all his teeth extracted, twenty-four and a
half, as he wrote, at one sitting and as a consequence his
gums were in a bad state and needed daily attention for a
long time, before his "store teeth" could be adjusted), Mr.
Nugent, with a penchant for medicine, took over all the
responsibility and the doctor's white cover-alls, pored over
the ponderous medical books in every spare moment,
and diagnosed every patient most conscientiously, but the
majority of the patients received iodine externally and salts
(usually an overdose) internally and they recovered surpris-
ingly quickly. Mr. Nugent really made quite a reputation
for himself and we all accosted him as "Dr. Nugent"; every-
thing went along splendidly but it was not until some time
after Dr. Hori's return that I learned that "Dr." Nugent
had officiated at eight births somehow, such contingencies
had not occurred to me; one child was stillborn but the other
seven are fine, husky tots; no deaths and seven births for a
substitute doctor in two months is a mighty good record, no?
Returning to clothes, it is, perhaps, unnecessary to add
that riding togs and hiking boots are a necessity, at least for
me, for I usually accompany Clarence on his trips to Oroya
or to Bella Pampa or to Tunquipata. We can go to Tun-
quipata and back easily in a half day one can "hike" it both
ways in that time but nearly everyone prefers to return en
mula, for from Tunquipata to the mine is the "stiffest" climb
of the entire Santo Domingo trail. One can make the round
trip to Oroya and Bella Pampa leisurely in one day and
men folks have made it in a half day, but that entails quite

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

strenuous riding. I recall a recent trip with Clarence to
Oroya, where he was called on urgent business but we took
the movie camera along, as we almost always do, and after
the business had been dispatched, we were told that among
the many men panning for gold in the Inambari River, there
was a group of fifty-two "panners" only un rato (a very short
time) on the way to Macho. So to Macho we went, over a
trail used only for men and burros that bring fruit and
vegetables to the mine; we rode and rode, seeing several
groups of men panning but not more than six or eight to a
group.

I have expatiated to you on the wonderful Santo Domingo
trail, but for real charm, you must go over one of these com-
paratively unused trails: the overhanging branches and vines
demand constant attention, and I really believe some of those
overhanging vines are strong enough to lift one out of the
saddle you clutch your hat repeatedly but keep it jammed
on, so the briers and brambles won't scalp you. Several times
we had to dismount, rather than take the chance of being
swept off our mules as we were about to enter an arbor of
interlacing vines and branches; a fallen tree, too large to be
removed by man power, and too high for a mule to nego-
tiate, was simply hacked with a machete until hollowed down
to a mule's reach; several times we leaned over to one side,
neck to neck, with our mules, to pass under a projecting tree;
the footing was always secure but the "overhead*' was de-
cidedly perilous, perilous to eyes, to unprotected hair, while
a fending arm saved the face from many a deep scratch.
But the intense stillness, the untamed luxuriance of the
vegetable life, the brilliant colors running riot, the utter
seclusion, the feeling that you must be miles and miles away
from any human habitation, from anything that even borders
on civilization, these disseminate an unforgettable charm,
and we felt more than compensated for not being able to
locate the big cuadrilla (crew), bending their backs to fill
the pans with gravel and then patiently and cautiously wash-
ing the gravel, with a constant shaking and twirling, which
throws out the gravel and leaves the precious little specks of
gold in the pan and always the panner is expecting, and

THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP

sometimes finds, nuggets as well as specks of gold in the
pan.

And, Iva, another interesting trip for you and especially
for "Wag" will be along the Inambari during the dry season
to see the chacras de oro or "gold farms"; along the banks
between the high- and low-water mark are hundreds of acres
of these "gold farms." They consist of riffles formed by
placing flat stones on edge and normal to the flow of the
river; the riffles are held securely between rows of large
stones, placed about six feet apart and wedged securely on a
bed of fine sand. During the rainy season the "farms" are
covered with water and fine particles of gold are caught in
the riffles; when the river subsides, the riffles are taken out
and the fine sand is panned, not with the customary miner's
pan but with wooden bateas, hand made, and very much
like our old-fashioned wooden chopping bowl, in which we
made hash, before the meat grinders came into vogue. Un-
doubtedly such "farms" were "cultivated" by the Incas long
before the Spanish Conquest and the fact that the work
continues year after year is indisputable proof that "there is
gold in them thar creeks" that feed the Inambari, as well as
in the main stream itself.

Clarence contented himself with taking some "shots" at
the small groups, working in the river, on our return. On
another trip, he lost a "perhaps never again" opportunity to
get a movie of an Indian wading the Quitun River; the
water reached his waist and when he climbed the opposite
bank, a magnificent exemplification of a bronze figure, an
Inca noble rather than a serf, he calmly turned his back,
donned his trousers, which he had carried in his llijilla on
his back, and then disappeared behind the rocks!

While Clarence never seems to have time to take
a vacation, per se, yet we have managed to coipjDine
a good deal of pleasure with a good deal of business
on every trip to Arequipa or Lima. On one such
occasion, I had my first airplane ride. It was in the Wash-
ington, the Bellanca airplane, pilot ship of the Shippee-John-
son Expedition to Peru (Robert Shippee was the historian
of the party and you may find a lot about their adventures

[221 ]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

down here in a coming National Geographic Magazine and
I am sure it will be illustrated with many wonderful photo-
graphs; one photograph of the vicinity of Cuzco, taken from
the air, will tell you more about the topography of the Inam-
bari section, for the two sections are almost exact replicas,
than a whole volume of written description). Their expedi-
tion consisted of five men and two Bellanca planes, the
Washington and the Lima; we had the pleasure of meeting
all five of these youthful exploring adventurers, almost on
the day of our arrival in Lima, and as we were all domiciled
at the Hotel Bolivar, we had many very, very interesting
"confabs": can you imagine anything more diverting, more
absorbingly interesting, more stimulating to two people who
have been in an isolated mining camp for many months than
the stories told by a group of aviators, the majority of whom
were barely out of their "teens"? That is, if they can be
persuaded to talk at all. At first Clarence did nearly all
the talking but gradually their tongues untied and how I
wish I had had a micrographophone (is that what "they"
call the little instrument that registers everything one says,
without the speaker being aware of its existence?) in order
that I might write you even half of the thrills! Each one
wore an identification tag securely fastened on his wrist
this alone would have "scared me stiff" but their bravery
seemed to amount to almost a contempt for "that last
enemy," death.

Messrs. Johnson and Shippee invited us to fly with them
and so, one Sunday afternoon of a cloudless day, we "hopped
off" from the aviation field, near the Country Club, Mr.
Shippee at the controls, Mr. Johnson sitting alongside of
him, Clarence and I occupying the two seats in the rear.
Clarence had flown several times before but this was my
first flight and I tried not to be afraid, but as we left "terra
firma" I planted my feet tensely on the floor, I held tightly to
the arm of ray chair with my left hand, while with my right
I fear I almost crushed Clarence's hand, but after a few
moments I relaxed and a quarter of an hour later was really
enjoying the swiftly changing, always interesting panorama
spread out below us. We flew directly from the aviation

THE SANTO DOMINGO GAMP

field to the ocean, circled back over Lima and far into the
interior, reaching a maximum height of 13,000 feet, most
of the time flying at two or three thousand feet, but they
wanted to show us how easily their machine could climb and
knew, too, that we were accustomed to high altitudes. Of
course, this plane has gone much higher than 13,000 I be-
lieve it had already been up 21,000 and had a "ceiling" of
more than 30,000 feet. Once we got into a pocket of air
and started down like a rocket that did make my heart stop
a beat or two but Shippee soon righted us, and when we
landed again at the same place we had taken off, we had been
gone exactly one hour and had seen more territory and
crowded in more "high pressure" excitement than a whole
day's motoring or any other means of locomotion could have
afforded us.

But, my dear, I have taken you a long way from the camp!
But I have told you about everything of the camp, except
the corrals for the sheep, pigs and cattle: the sheep and cattle
are herded beyond the store on that steep hillside of the last
range before we enter the Amazon Basin the pigs are kept
closer in for convenient feeding from Casa Santo Domingo;
when ready for slaughtering, the victim is brought to an
enclosure above the store. The "innards" that we consider
worthless, and are usually thrown away, are highly prized
by the natives and our sereno, who superintends the butcher-
ing, has become a master diplomat in apportioning out these
tidbits. The first year or two we were here, we almost never
had beef and were told the cows would not cross the swing-
ing bridges, but that must have been a fallacy or else the cows
have been "bred up" to cross suspension bridges, for now we
have our choice of beef, mutton or pork.

Just a few days ago we were all on the qui vive awaiting
the arrival of twenty-two Indians carrying a two-thousand-
pound cable from Huancarani; it took them eight days. The
weight of the cable had been evenly distributed in coils, each
Indian with a coil on his back, with approximately four feet
of cable between carriers. When notified by an "outpost"
of their appearance, we women hastened down to the mill
to get a "close up"; unfortunately, although it was only four

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

o'clock, it was already "nighting" in the canyon, so distinct,
good photographs were impossible. I thought the men
would be tired out but they stepped up in comparatively
lively, perfect rhythm, all the way up that last, excessively
steep curve; it reminded one of a monstrous prehistoric ser-
pent undulating its articulated body with all the rapidity of
which it was capable to a favorite haunt, an awaiting repast,
perhaps. Not apropos, these Indians were hungry and very
likely had been apprized that "breads" and hot coffee were
to be added to their daily wage.

Now, before I finish this letter, I am of the opinion you
will be interested in a neighboring camp, a gold placer
mining camp, about four hours on foot from Santo Do-
mingo, up the very high and steep ridge at our left, the most
strenuous part of the hike over there, but after you arrive,
you have the feeling of "wide, open spaces," for this camp
is located on a ridge and not, like Santo Domingo, in a
gravy boat, with the lip of the boat toward the incoming
trail, the buildings I have so faithfully described clinging
like bits of thick gravy on all sides but the westernthat side
is too perpendicular for even the tiniest drop of gravy to
stick and Santo Domingo creek is the little trickle of gravy
at the bottom of the dish. The view at Chabuca (Spanish
nickname for Isabel), as this camp is called, is truly mag-
nificent; on a clear day, one can see the multiplicity of knife-
like ridges for miles and miles and even get a glimpse far
down in the Amazon Basin. But far more interesting than
the view is the manner in which these hardy pioneers, who
own the mine, have thumbed their noses at "Old Lady De-
pression."

Mrs. Stacpoole, whom I have mentioned several times in
my letters, lives here and to her belongs much of the credit
for the charming home they have wrought out of what was
at hand: it is a comfortable, two-room house, which cost, all
told, in United States currency, just $25. The walls are
built of slabs from the large palm trees, tied together with
strips of bark no nails whatever in the whole house and
the roof is thatched with palm leaves. (The palm tree is
almost as fully utilized as the llama, for Mrs. S. serves her

[224]

THE SANTO DOMINGO CAMP

guests delicious salads, the base of which is the heart of the
palm, while the men are planning to scrape out the pulpy
insides of the trees and use the shell for pipe!) Mrs. S. has
lined the walls with soft-colored muslins and ceiled the roof
with unbleached muslin. All of the furniture is hand made
as yet, they have no sawmill and most of it is very attrac-
tive; in clearing out their placer ground for operations, they
have piled up an enormous amount of trees with their
gnarled roots and a surprising quantity of furniture has been
salvaged from these roots with but a minimum amount of
work. For instance, there are three-legged stools, that needed
only cutting down to required height; a towel rack, as
was, not even requiring polishing; chairs and tables, made
of slabs of wood with gnarled roots for legs, the ensemble
being rustic furniture, par excellence. The beds are frames,
also salvaged from the brush-heap, over which is stretched
canvas, and take it from me, a Simmons bed is not more
comfortable. The kitchen stove is made of two pieces of
sheet iron, built up on stone and clay, and occasionally it
smokes, too, just like a factory-made stove does, when the
wind is blowing the wrong way; to bake bread, Mrs. S. has
a fire built under the stove, in about three hours the stones
are hot, the fire is raked out and the bread baked between
the hot stones and "yum, yurn," no electric stove ever baked
better bread. The broom is a bundle of twigs, tied with
strips of bark, and answers very well for the hardened mud
floor. If a piece of rope or string is needed, bark is peeled
off a tree and twisted to the desired thickness. Even medi-
cine is at hand: if you burn or cut a finger, put the juice
of a certain fern on the wound and forget about it when
you look at it again, the wound is healed.

Mrs. S. has one servant, whom she pays the equivalent of
$2.50 per month he rises at 4:30 A.M., builds the fire (and
that is no light task in this humid country where the wood
is always wet), prepares breakfast, carries in all the wood and
water, takes the sheep to pasture, helps with the other meals
(makes the hominy by boiling corn in ashes, and is it good?
If you once have some of it, you will have no other kind
of hominy); in his spare time, he entertains Pancho, nine

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

years old, the only son and heir, by teaching him much of
the bird and animal life, telling him which of the wild
plants are good to eat and which are poisonous, teaching
him how to use the omnipresent machete and simply but
reverently giving the adolescent child fine ideas about his
"Tata Dios" (Father-God), all of whose manifestations of
nature are His revelations to him.

The Stacpooles are now planning a commodious six-room
house on the most wonderful building site you ever saw,
overlooking an immensely large lake of the deepest blue a
site for a million dollar home, and they expect their home
to cost them exactly two hundred American dollars; its only
cost will be labor, window glass and corrugated iron for the
roof. I know, Iva, you are saying, "But the rain pattering
down on a thatched roof is much more romantic than the
thumping on a tin roof." Granted, but a thatched roof is
an ideal haunt for worms and other crawling things, with-
out mentioning the fire hazard, and one must be much
younger and infinitely more romantic than either Mrs. S. or
I to prefer worms to a commonplace roof. However, the Cha-
buca camp is charming and it is a living monument to what
pluck, ingenuity and determination, highly flavored with
faith, can do. Here's hoping they make more than a million
to justify that faith!

It doesn't seem possible that I could have left out a single
detail in telling you about the camp; if it weren't for the
precipices and cliffs, I would suggest you could even find
your way around here blindfolded.

[2*6]

CHAPTER XI

BUTTERFLIES, MOTHS, BATS, INSECTS, SNAILS, BIRDS, SNAKES, ETC.

Santo Domingo Mine, Oct. 15, 1932.
DEAREST IVA:

I am writing this "sure-to-be" very long letter without
awaiting a reply to my last also very long letter, for it will
be about the longest "round robin" I have undertaken and
I fear you will have to treble the postage in sending it on;
and yet I know I could go on adding and adding to it in-
definitely, for scarcely a day passes that I do not see some-
thing unusual.

When we first arrived in Santo Domingo, I was so en-
thusiastic about the bewildering number and variety of beau-
tiful butterflies to be seen both day and night for the night
butterflies are as numerous and ofttimes even more beauti-
ful than those that flit around only in the sunlight that I
gave Clarence no peace until he had a butterfly net made
for me, and very soon afterwards, several more nets had to
be made to accommodate our visitors, who also, at once,
became enthused with the infectious idea of making a col-
lection of butterflies, or capturing a few anyway for butter-
fly trays. Now I have a collection of three hundred to four
hundred with but very few duplicates; each butterfly is in its
own "envelope" paper folded to hold the victim in place
and to keep out insects and all the envelopes compactly
arranged in a five-gallon tin can, well soldered. The can
is in Tirapata, where it will remain sealed until we come
home to stay and I am hoping the Customs officials will not
insist upon having the can opened, for I prefer to leave them
just as they are until we are ready to mount them in cases
along the north wall of the "dream home" we have planned
and replanned so many times; the north wall must extend the
full length of the house in order to give adequate space,

[227]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

not only for this collection of butterflies, but for skins,
blankets and "sech like" that we have gradually accumulated
in our decade south of the equator.

Among our hundreds of butterflies, we have six of those
gorgeous, blue and gold, iridescent ones, large as saucers; we
saw some exactly like these in the Museum of Natural His-
tory during our last visit in New York City and we saw quite
a few other "Santo Domingo" ones but I am sure we have
a great many that are not in this museum. I used to em-
broider butterflies on doilies and cushions when we lived
in Bolivia, which often gave occasion for Clarence or Lee to
say, "I have never seen a butterfly like that, you must have
taken those colors out of thin air." But since we are in
Santo Domingo, I could (but don't) embroider anything
and they would both swear it was from a living model.

We have butterflies of all sizes and colors and the largest
are not always the most beautiful; some of the daintiest,
laciest ones are not more than an inch or two with out-
spread wings; many are of solid colors, the yellow of the
California poppy predominating; several shades of blue, of
brown, of greennot many of green conspicuously few of
any shade of red, of black, of white, and then all the com-
binations of colors imaginable; they are dotted, they are
striped, they have bias bands, even all three combined, and
some have distinct numbers, 89, 88, 86 and 80, under their
wings, just as airplanes are numbered; some have geo-
metric figures, others conventional designs, or, what will you
have? I recall one butterfly in our collection which is like
an exquisite piece of black lace, so delicate, so dainty, I was
always surprised to see it still with all its beauty when the
paper was unfolded, as taking care of the butterflies after
their capture and instantaneous death (generally by the cya-
nide or chloroform route) is an art in itself sometimes merely
a touch on a wing, ever so light a touch, will spoil an
otherwise perfect specimen. We have small, dainty, silver-
white butterflies that, when all spread out, are no larger than
a quarter of a dollar; others so beautiful both "right side
up" and underneath that they just must be mounted "out-
side" and reverse!

[2S>8]

BUTTERFLIES, BATS, INSECTS, BIRDS, ETC.

I did not accumulate all this assortment myself, a large
part of it was given to me by Furuya San, a Japanese, in
charge of the electric plant at Tunquipata; the hum of the
machinery seemed to attract the butterflies and on a sunny
day Furuya San would net as many as fifty in a few hours,
but, of course, all would not be perfect specimens and many
would be replicas however, this gave us the opportunity to
select the best. I never forgot to send a box of fudge or
other homemade candy to Furuya with Clarence or whom-
soever was bound for Tunquipata and the rewards of dozens
of butterflies were so prompt! When the Bells or the Gray-
bills visited us, we invariably took at least one butterfly net
with us on all our rambles and even though the man of the
party usually did most of the capturing, yet on our return
to camp, the spoils were without exception most scrupu-
lously apportioned on a fifty-fifty basis. Mr. Bell has made
some wonderfully beautiful trays from butterflies of Santo
Domingo and the last time Clarence and I were in New
York we saw some butterfly trays on display in a shop win-
dow and we entered the shop to enquire the prices we de-
cided gathering butterflies for trays is better than a gold
mine. I have been able to label but a few of my specimens;
I am inclined to believe quite a few of them have as yet
never had a label, but I think my collection boasts a Red
Admiral, a Pearl Bordered Fritillary, a Marbled White, a
Purple Hair Streak, a Green Hair Streak, a Green Veined
White, Green Comma, Spring Beauty, Silver Studded Blue,
Zebra Swallowtail, Large Copper, Checkered Skipper and
Painted Lady. Aren't the mere names enchanting? Ah,
wait until you see the actualities.

Moths? Thousands and thousands and more thousands
of them. The natives call the moths night butterflies, which
seems to me much more appropriate, and these night butter-
flies are entirely distinct from the commonly known, de-
structive moth. These night butterflies seem to love to
foregather at the mill, attracted by the bright lights (the
mill, as I wrote you, has no walls) and also, I presume, by
the hum of the machinery; here, too, a box of candy judi-
ciously presented has brought most gratifying results. We

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

have some magnificent specimens: rich brown, velvety ones
with gold trimmings and large transparent spots in their
wings we have dubbed these our isinglass moths outspread,
one would almost completely cover a salad plate. In trying
to compare the day butterflies with the night ones, I would
say that richness o texture and subdued elegance more
nearly describes the night variety, while delicacy, daintiness,
gorgeousness, sometimes even garishness of color more aptly
belong to the "sun worshipers." The moths "come" in
browns, tans, blues, pale greens, blacks and whites subdued
colors, you will notice; but very rarely have we seen a night
butterfly of garish hue. The body of the moth is thicker
than that of the day butterfly, hence is more difficult to mount
and to deodorize. I have been able to label but a few moths:
Great Peacock, Brindled Beauty, Dark Crimson Underwing,
Goat, and Large Yellow Underwing; but we have named a
lot ourselves, such as Isinglass, Dowager, Lady in Mourning,
Altogether Lovely, Starry Night, Midnight Beauty, Dusky
Loveliness, Symphony in Brown, Graceful Gray, etc.

The tiny moths, the larvas of which are so destructive
to our clothes, our rugs, our blankets and to our "even
tempers/* if we so permit, we have in such plenitude, that
we meekly bow to the inevitable and bring to Santo Domingo
only those things which we do not plan to take out again.
Right now I am holding on to my temper, while trying to
rid the practically new mattress in our guest room of moths:
every sunny day the chico from Casa Santo Domingo carries
the four sections of the mattress out of doors, deposits them
on the railing and goes over them thoroughly with a brush
and every time he kills a few of the little loathsome worms
about to metamorphose into the winged pests; now we are
dousing every tuft with creosote and vamos a ver (we shall
see) if it "works." The creosote has spoiled the appearance
of the lovely mattress but que import a? (what difference does
that make?), if we can exterminate this damage-doer. We
have had all the mattresses for double beds made in sections
to expedite carrying them out and in, especially "in," as the
rains come sometimes as if by magic, with no warning at all.

Since bats prey on moths, we also have bats by the thou-

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BUTTERFLIES, BATS, INSECTS, BIRDS, ETC.

sands; in fact, the bat is our worst pest. On my way down
to South America, almost ten years ago, the captain of our
boat entertained (if little thrills of fear and horror up and
down one's spine can be called entertainment) us with stories
of the huge, hideous, filthy, fearsome, bloodthirsty vampire
bat, how it preyed on human beings as well as on beasts;
how, by gently fluttering its wings, it anaesthetizes its victim
more cleverly than any surgeon has as yet been able to do;
while drinking its victim's blood, it fans him with its wings
into dreamless sleep; how, after it has had its fill of blood,
it again closes the wound so gently that the "patient'* is
unaware that he has been operated on. The victim has a
feeling of weakness or even dizziness when he tries to arise,
and then when he sees the pool of blood at his bedside or
at the foot of the bed, he first knows that he has been attacked
by the dreaded, loathsome bat. This bat prefers to work
on the nose, his second choice is the big toe, but he will
drink the blood from any accessible part of the body and
the bat's digestive tract apparently is not complicated at
all, for the blood at the bedside or at its foot has already
been digested by the repulsive, nauseous night visitor.

Our barn at Bella Pampa is screened to keep out bats,
for our mules of the mule train spend the night at Bella
Pampa, both coming in and going out, and rarely do any
but the camp mules remain overnight at Santo Domingo,
more on account of lack of feed than the menace of bats.
However, we do have some vampires in Santo Domingo,
for during one of our "bat clean-ups," three rather large
vampires were slaughtered. We have a favorite mule, Chris-
tina, who was "mine property" when we took over the mine,
who remains in camp. She has not only learned to defend
herself from bats and how to keep "fat and fit" on the feed
which the steep mountain sides of Santo Domingo afford,
but apparently has taught three other mules how to do
likewise! When a "hurry-up" call comes from either of the
power plants, Christina is always the first one requisitioned;
the electrician would just as lief walk down, as far as Tun-
quipata anyway; indeed, almost everybody prefers to walk
down this far, but returning, climbing that steep trail, that

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

is another story, so everybody is appreciative not only o
Christina, but more so that she has made three other mules
also "bat proof/'

When, on the second night after our arrival in Santo
Domingo, a bat flew into our bedroom window almost
simultaneously with the extinguishing of the light, I was
terrified. Clarence turned on the light and killed the bat
with a broom, very easily, for bats are supposed to be blinded
by light, though we have seen them dodge a broom or other
weapon in a well-lighted room. But "blind as a bat'* may
not be a fallacy after all, for their sense of hearing is said
to be abnormally acute. I was too terrified to sleep for ever
so long and I absolutely refused to sleep in that house
another night until all the windows were securely screened;
all the doors and windows had been screened but the house
had not been occupied for more than three years and screen-
ing deteriorates very rapidly in this humid, one might almost
say saturated atmosphere. So, although many important
matters needed attention, yet Clarence himself put brand-
new screening, bought for the mill, on that window.

All the Santo Domingo houses are roofed with calamina
(corrugated iron) and the Gringo homes are ceiled with
tocuyo (native muslin), so in the Gringo homes, no matter
how firmly the calamina is fastened down, the bats "nose"
their way in; hence in our attics, they are born, creep, walk
or fly which would it be? they play tag, they have com-
mittee meetings, all kinds of conventions, "sing fests," many,
many quarrels, they marry and, I presume, they finally die;
at irregular intervals, depending upon the frequency of
their quarrels or conventions, we have a "bat clean-up": men
are sent up from the shops, they take off a sheet or two of
calamina and a wholesale slaughter of squirming, squealing
bats ensues. I invariably take a long walk and do not return
until I am sure the "party" is ended. Bats, you know, hang
head down from the rafters by claws on their hind legs;
always some of them escape but their "homing" instinct
must be very pronounced for in an unbelievably short time
we hear them above again and then in another few months,
another "clean-up" is necessary.

BUTTERFLIES, BATS, INSECTS, BIRDS, ETC.

Mr. O thick, our Mill Superintendent, rigged up a con-
traption with a fifteen-gallon carbide can and a pane o
glass; he put the glass in the center of the can perpendicu-
larly, filled the can half full of water and placed it at a
strategic spot, where the most bats had been seen leaving
the Casa Santo Domingo at dusk. The next morning, a few
were found in the half next to the house, while hundreds
were in the other division, proving the theory that bats
are guided more by sound than sight; as they flew home,
they collided against the pane of glass but were not able
to cling to the smooth glass, as they are to rough surfaces,
so they fell into the water and were drowned; and they
do not drown easily as a sizable number of squirming, wrig-
gling bats manifested that morning. This trap is being
used again and again and does help a lot in "keeping them
down" but their number is legion. We placed an electric
light in our attic and this helped enormously, only a few
in the remotest corners remained. I have an idea, which
I think will solve the bat problem: to build a house with a
solid, flat roof, then put a high, peaked roof of calamina
on top of the flat house, using the flat roof for a sun porch.
(We are trying out this idea now in Oroya, where we are
building a new home, but we will screen in the entire "sun
room" and may use it for sleeping quarters as well.)

The workmen, whose houses have the roofs unceiled, are
not molested with the noise nor the odor of bats, and the
odor, which is like that of mice, is even more disagreeable
than their noise; to me, the German word, fledermaus,
is much more expressive than bats, for a "mouse with wings"
is about as repulsive as the loathsome thing really is.

When I first heard the bats in our attic, I asked Clarence,
"What's that?" and there were so many "what's that's?" those
first few weeksand he replied, "It is only pieces of calamina
rubbing against each other," and he really thought I was
gullible enough to< accept that explanation and even now,
more than four years later, when the bats are unusually
noisy, I will say, "The calamina is rubbing dreadfully to-
night," and he will answer, "Yes, I must have the carpenter
come up to fix it," but instead of the carpenter, he sends

[*33]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

up the "bat catchers/' Oftentimes, when we are returning
from Casa Santo Domingo after supper, the bats fly un-
comfortably close to our heads, in their pursuit of the
myriads of moths, which hover about our "street lights,"
and the "silly moths" are "knee deep" at our windows, if
perchance, we have forgotten to turn out the lights and
we almost never forget to turn out all the lights, for painful
experience has taught us that bright lights attract not only
moths but many other insects, that sting or biteand many
a time have I seen a bat pounce upon a hapless night butter-
fly, and then I instinctively put my hand to my hair, try to
cover my whole head, for I have heard of bats getting into
a woman's hair and being extricated with difficulty those
detestable hind claws catching hold, I presume; I know I
would have hysterics if such a thing happened to me, yet I
never wear a hat, except during the hottest part of the day,
when I don a large Mexican sun hat, but I never leave the
house without an umbrella and even though I bring the
umbrella down close over my head, yet I still put up my free
hand to protect my hair!

I am quite convinced there is no "sech critter" as a shadow-
less bat, about which I have read and which sounds romantic
and poetical but the Santo Domingo bats, at least, are sub-
stantial, substantial enough to cast large shadows.

We have practically no flies and no mosquitoes; the moun-
tain sides are so steep and the rains so heavy that there is no
stagnant water where they can breed. But we have a pest
much worse than flies or mosquitoes, the mania blanca
("white shawl" so named, perhaps, because it has white
wings, but it takes a microscope to see the wings), an insect
so tiny, so diminutive, it can scarcely be seen with the naked
eye, but ye gods! how it can sting! Vicious? The mosquito
bite is but a "love pat" in comparison.

We had our first experience with this minute black (with
white wings) gnat a few days I should say nights after our
arrival: we were awakened early in the night by the most
agonizing, burning pain on the backs of our hands, at the
back of our necks and in our hair about the forehead; in-
voluntarily one scratches as one would a flea bite but scratch-

[234]

BUTTERFLIES, BATS, INSECTS, BIRDS, ETC.
ing intensifies the pain, increasing the original burning like
fire to ' 'liquid fire'* if there is any such a thing. Turning
on the light we discovered our hands and each other's faces
literally covered with moving, little, tiny, black specks, which
we immediately slapped to death; they are easy to kill for
they cannot jump like a flea, but there were thousands of
them; no matter how many we killed, battalions of them
were eager to take their places. I suggested to Clarence
that he try to sleep (for I could sleep in the daytime), while
I fanned them off, but I might as well have tried to stay
Niagara with my two puny hands, so we sat up in bed and
whipped at them until daylight, when, "k> and behold/*
that entire army spread its wings and disappeared! It seems
they keep union hours, working only on moonlight nights
and then, from nightfall until daybreak; they do not fly high,
so the people occupying the second floor of Casa Santo Do-
mingo have not been introduced to Sefiora Manta Blanca
and her numerous progeny, unless, perchance, some romantic
swain may have taken a stroll by moonlight along Santo
Domingo Creek, an experience which the most lovelorn
would not care to repeat.

The following day I rigged up a "makeshift* ' canopy of
mosquito netting, enough to cover our heads and hands, and
we retired early that night, more than ready for a night's
untroubled sleep and did we get it? I'll tell the world,
and did tell our little world the next day, that we did not
sleep a wink! Those exasperating white-winged demons
were right on the job and they came through that mosquito
netting, fine mesh though it was, as easily as water runs
through a coarse sieve. Someone had told us that a weak
ammonia solution would relieve the itching and reduce the
swelling (one of those bites would swell as big as a dime,
and oh, boy! how each bite hurts!), so I prepared a generous
supply of ammonia diluted with water and we used it all
night long; there was no swelling, if you didn't scratch, but
did you ever try to earn a gold tooth by keeping your tongue
out of the cavity left by a recently extracted tooth? Like-
wise, it is absolutely unthinkable that, there exists a person
so strong-minded that he will refrain from scratching. How-

[235]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

ever, I must add that one does finally become immune to
the swelling, after a year or so of intermittent persecution,
but to the pain, never! The following day I took down the
marquisette curtainsthose cherished curtains that were the
pride of my heart from the living room windows and out
of those curtains fashioned a real canopy, five feet high, and
covering the entire bed, with enough to tuck in securely
all around. And this the mania blanca could not penetrate;
tired out as we were, we purposely turned on the light and
fairly gloated over their vain efforts to reach us, and then
slept the clock around.

We have all kinds and sizes of spiders, gray, black, brown
and pure white and from the size of a pea to a saucer the
"after dinner" variety and one day, while walking along the
track with Clarence, we saw a piece of gold about the size
of a peanut; Clarence picked it up and it was a live spider!
a really beautiful spider. And the miners then and there
told us that a golden spider presages unusual good luck. We
have tarantulas and centipedes, horrid things, which I have
seen only as specimens pinned in a box, for our cement floors
tend to keep out crawling things, but both Mrs. Stacpoole
and Mrs. Brooke have encountered them in their homes in
the bathroom, of all places and how they ever got in is still
a mystery.

In October, our spring here, we have myriads of cater-
pillars; the ground seems to be literally covered with them,
and I most carefully keep my screened doors tightly closed.
Caterpillars of various sizes and almost any color; one, about
three inches long, of a bright green color, the color of grass
at home in early spring, and all over its upper body are
tiny green Christmas trees, about a quarter of an inch or
so in height; we have dubbed this one our "Christmas-tree
caterpillar"; and once, Clarence inadvertently brushed his
hand on one never again, if he sees it in time and his hand
smarted as if he had thrust it into cactus spines. I have
seen a black caterpillar, four inches long, with the same
tiny green trees adorning it. Early one morning I saw a
brown one, two and one half inches long, with long black
hairs, and among these hairs, between every two hairs, it

[236]

BUTTERFLIES, BATS, INSECTS, BIRDS, ETC.

seemed, were diamond-like spangles, glistening and shining
like dewdrops in the sun. What an exquisite trinket a jew-
eler could fashion from this caterpillar as a model! If only
I could overcome my repugnance to handling the wormlike,
crawling things, it would be interesting to find out what
kind of a butterfly would emerge from these multitudinous
varicolored caterpillars.

In another one of my early morning walks along the track,
I observed what looked like a very thin, long snake; I care-
fully walked around it, hurried down to the mill, where
Clarence was panning samples from the mine, and told him
about this anaemic snake. He said, "Wait until I have
finished this sample then we'll go look at your snake." He
picked it up with a stick, measured it, and found it to be an
angleworm., two feet and two inches long! What a fish Izaak
Walton could have caught with such a worm! What a
treasure trove for "hick" youngsters who dig fish bait for
city-dwellers! But I am glad to say that to date we have
not had "showers" of angleworms, such as I have seen after
a rain on the University campus at SeattleGod forbid! A
shower of two-foot angleworms! All the gold in the world
could not keep me here.

Plenty of snails! I have often heard Frenchmen spoken
of as "frog eaters" but not until we came to Santo Domingo
did I hear such phrases as, "What a paradise for snail eaters;
if Frenchy had picked up the snail I saw this morning, he
would have had enough to eat for the whole day." Four
inches seems to be the average length of our "everyday"
variety and I know a teacup is too small to hold one; yester-
day on my way to breakfast I saw a snail whose length was
too much to go into a mush bowl.

Grasshoppers? Yesv but not in such abundance as snails
or caterpillars, but their size makes up for the scarcity; three
inches long would be considered a runt. I never see a grass-
hopper but what I am reminded of my "turkey days" on our
California farm, how I used to herd them in the alfalfa
fields for them to gobble up the grasshoppers a twofold
purpose, for while the turkeys were filling themselves to
repletion, they were saving the alfalfa crop. While Santo

[237]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

Domingo would be a "turkey heaven" as far as grasshoppers,
angleworms and such are concerned, yet the heavy rains
preclude any notion of going into the turkey business; we
do not even try to raise any for our own use.

We have many small lizards, from three to seven inches
long, and I have never seen a very large one; they are as
quick as chain lightning and devour ants, bugs, etc., so one
should not consider them a pest but rather a help, yet I do
not like them in my home. After I had seen several one
in the living room, two in our bedroom and another in the
bathroom (it may have been one and the same visitor)
and I could not figure out how they had gotten in, the car-
penter was sent up; he went over the house thoroughly and
found the cement flooring cracked in a corner of the bed-
room you remember I wrote you that our house is built on
a rock foundation, but uncemented and those "cute" little
lizards had edged their way between the rocks, through the
crack into our bedroom. Since then, I inspect our floors
myself. My last experience with a harmless lizard is not a
pretty story I wish I could forget it but there was a lizard
In the washbowl in the bathroom and I called to Mrs. Stac-
poole, who was visiting me at the time, and we poured
boiling hot water on that helpless creature, and it shriveled
up before our eyes, just as I imagine Rider Haggard's "She"
did-Ugh.

One evening at Bella Pampa, Clarence, Lee and I, all
three of us, noted at the same time an unusual lightning
bug or glowworm or some such creature; on closer examina-
tion, we found we had a bug, about one and a half inches
long, and which, apparently at will, switched on a green
tail light, a red head light and yellow lights on its sides!
We at once named it our "street car bug." I am aware of
your incredulity, that it is something for "Believe it or not"
Ripley, but we hope to bring a live one home with us, for,
obviously, a dead one could not switch on lights. To cor-
roborate this testimony of our "street car bug," I herewith
add the name and address of two other witnessesreliable,
inasmuch as they are missionaries, whose word should not
be doubted: Dr. and Mrs. M. B. Graybill, 145 Grand Ave.,

[338]

BUTTERFLIES, BATS, INSECTS, BIRDS, ETC.
Escondido, California. While on their way home from
visiting us, they saw one of these bugs, captured it, put it in a
box with some leaves to feed on, took it to Juliaca with them
and kept it for several days and then it mysteriously disap-
peared.

Birds, birds and more birds! Almost everyone coming to
Santo Domingo for the first time is disappointed that there
are so few birds but this is just a "seem so/' for we have
myriads and myriads of birds, but the heavy foliage makes it
difficult for any but the practiced eye to see them. Mr. M.
A. Carriker, of the Museum of Natural History of Phila-
delphia, who specializes in birds, spent some two months
with us and in our vicinity last winter (your summer) and
he took back to the museum three thousand specimens, all
from here, and some, perhaps a dozen or more, that had
never been classified beforea thrush, a curlew, and a grouse,
peculiar or restricted to this locality; I do not remember the
others. He receives a bonus for each unclassified specimen
he brings to the museum, so we rejoiced with him at every
new "find/' He and his assistant, a Peruvian, whom he had
trained on previous excursions, left very early every morn-
ing, brought in their trophies at noon, and devoted the after-
noons to preparing the birds for stuffing and mounting: not
only were the "innards" taken out but the craw was care-
fully emptied and its contents noted; the description of the
bird, the locality and altitude of its habitat, what it feeds
on, these make up the scientific data. They usually brought
in from thirty to forty birds, quite a "bag," which kept them
quite busy. We, too, have a small collection of birds, but
they were "cured" by an Indian, a former assistant of a
biologist who "did" the Maldanado section several years ago;
they are not nearly so well done as Mr. Carriker 's, hence not
so life-like. Our doctor, who has an aptitude for that sort
of thing, learned a lot from Mr. Carriker and now does very
creditable curing and mounting.

We have the tiny humming bird and the huge condor,
with all gradations between. We have seen both the hum-
ming bird and condor at 16,000 feet high in Bolivia. I
have never seen a condor at Santo Domingo but we often

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

see them at Limbanl and at higher altitudes on our way
out and have even seen them at the seacoast, both at Mol-
lendo and at Arica. Once when Clarence and I were riding
muleback from Chojfiacota to Laramcota, we counted twenty-
eight condors in one flock; a gigantic, white-headed and
white-backed one was leading the group and I told Clarence
I was very sure they were headed for a convention, very
likely to decide what to do about man, their most ruthless
enemy. I have seen many beautiful humming birds here;
most of the birds are of bright plumage but there are "drab"
ones as well.

One of the most interesting birds we have seen has very
long legs, long neck and bill, a slight body, weighing about
one half pound, with the most varied and gorgeous plumage,
and we at once named it the "butterfly-stork" ornithologists
would perhaps place it in the bittern or crane family. We
have orioles, large black and yellow ones, in abundance,
about half as big as a crow, but they make much more noise;
their nests are of woven grasses, hanging from a tree, and
I have seen them hanging from the cross pieces of a tele-
phone or telegraph pole, the baglike nests about eighteen
inches long. Along Santo Domingo Creek, we have seen
egrets, herons and ternsin fact, we see most of "our" birds
while riding from Santo Domingo to Bella Pampa.

The most beautiful of all the birds here, and unquestion-
ably the most gorgeously attractive bird that I have ever
seen, is the tunqui, a fiery, tomato-red bird, about the size
of a blue pigeon; besides its coat of flame, it has a crest, like
a fancy helmet, from the tip of its beak to the back of its
head, reminding one of a feather fan, wide open, and a
contrasting colored band of downy feathers all along the
edge; like the golden spider, it also is a "sign of good luck"
and although an excessively shy bird, yet I have seen at
least a dozen of them and if you are fortunate enough to
see one in flight, you will have seen an unforgettable, flam-
ing streak of red. Tunquipata, where our first power plant
is situated, was named for this marvelous bird, Tunquipata
signifying "resting place of tunquis."

Another bird out of the ordinary is the so-called night-

BUTTERFLIES, BATS, INSECTS, BIRDS, ETC.
bird, brown, about the size o a pigeon, too, with two beauti-
ful tail feathers, each more than two feet long; Lee brought
one home from one of his trips "out/' This bird has a
singular cry, a peculiar call, which we hear occasionally very
early in the morning, usually followed by the noise of its
pouncing on a returning bat more power to the night-bird!
There are wild chickens, called gallinas de la montana,
which are about the size of our Leghorn hen, and which
are mighty good eating; and wild turkeys, called paujil,
delicious eating, but extremely difficult to "pot'* as they
fly high and in the densest foliage, making them almost in-
visible.

In our camp and all along most of the trail almost to
Quitun, there is a small bird, very numerous throughout
the year, which to me distinctly says, "Be quick, be quick";
every morning as I go to breakfast, from one to a half dozen
of these little birds call out to me, "Be quick, be quick," and
if I retort, "Be quick, yourself," quick as a flash the reply
comes back, "Be quick, be quick." While visiting us on two
different occasions, Mrs. Bell, born optimist, insisted the
bird said, "Why kick, why kick?" and Mrs. Graybill, a nurse,
declared the bird said, "Why sick, why sick?"; Fraulein
Krause, our capable housekeeper, asserts that it says, "Sei
flink, sei flink" (be active). I presume to a short-sighted
person, it would say, "Why blink, why blink?" and to a
flighty passer-by, "Why think, why think?"; anyway, there
is a large variety of choices to take from the imagination-box.

We frequently see a smallish bird with seven different
colors: red, blue, green, yellow, orange, black and white.
We are supposed to have a bell bird we have heard the bell
call many times, but have never seen the bird.

One afternoon while gazing out into a downpouring rain,
I saw fourteen swallows I counted them perched at even
distances apart on the telephone wire in front of our house;
their little heads were bowed to the driving, drenching rain
and they made me think of Wilson's "Fourteen Points," how
they, too, had been buffeted about by the fogs of suspicion
and the mists of prejudice. Then the rain slackened and I
saw the white spots on their heads and these, with their long,

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

shining, black coat tails, made them look absurdly like
Pringle's Minstrels and when one of the "end men" saucily
cocked his head to one side and seemed to say, "Gome on
out, the weather's fine," I lost my meditative mood and,
hastily donning slicker and grabbing umbrella, I sallied
forth, but not for longagain, the rain came down in
"bucketfuls," and we have not yet found slicker nor um-
brella that will withstand these heavy, tropical rains. And
as I stepped, dripping wet, on the porch those fourteen swal-
lows, as if fearing a scolding, flew away in orderly formation,
one at a time, disappearing like question marks in the satu-
rated, half -flu id air.

Of course, there are many parrots macaws with their long
hooked bills and very long wedge-shaped tails, the cockatoo,
parrakeet and charming love birds, all brilliantly colored;
the gaudy (blue, yellow, red and black) toucan with his
absurdly immense beak. The parrots and their cousins are
much oftener heard than seen; almost every day we hear
great flocks of parrots such a tremendous chattering but
it is not easy to see them as they persistently keep up very
high in the densest foliage.

Shortly after we arrived, Muto San gave me a pair of
handsome young parrots, presumably the talking kind; they
had been brought in from the "inside" (Maldanado) by a
friend of his. I delightedly planned to teach that good-
looking, promising young couple Spanish, English; German,
French and perhaps a little Quechua an ambitious linguis-
tic program! I had them exactly two weeks and had merely
taught them to grasp a slender pole or stick when taking
them to their roost for the night; they had the run of the
kitchen and dining room (we ate at the Gasa Santo Domingo)
and also of the patio in the rear. At the end of two weeks,
I, myself, personally returned that now "out-of-my-good-
graces" young couple with a full explanation: the corn which
I fed those parrots brought a horde of mice! I do not like
spiders, nor snakes nor bugs, but for downright, senseless
fear, that feeling cannot be compared to my aversion, my
dislike, my abhorrence, of mice; you remember quite well,
Iva (and Marie, Leah, Gracie, Katharine, Sue, Rose, Ollie,

[ 242 ]

BUTTERFLIES, BATS, INSECTS, BIRDS, ETC.
Adelaide, Ethel, et al.) the several instances o hysteria, oc-
casioned not only by a live mouse but by a dead one as well!
As a child I could not bear to look at a picture o a mouse
and eat a chocolate mouse? Ugh, I'd starve first. Whenever
we move into new quarters, the first thing Clarence must do
is to make the house as mouse-proof as is humanly possible
and we had no mouse in this, our first home in Santo
Domingo, until the advent of those parrots. One morning,
about the tenth day after I had begun my parrot school, I
started to pick up my sweater from the couch and there,
comfortably ensconced on my sweater, was a big mouse! I
gave one terrified yell and fled, slamming the door behind
me; I hastened to the track and indignantly paced back and
forth until Clarence came out of the mine. When I related
the outrage to him, he at once accompanied me home to
chase out the intruder but It could not be found; he sug-
gested my scream had sent the mouse up the chimney of the
fireplace, but where did that mouse get in? If it could escape
by the fireplace, then It could enter the same way, so a
carpenter was sent up to seal the fireplace so tight that an
ant couldn't find ingress. But that first mouse was but the
beginning of the invasion the "Pied Piper of Hamelin" had
nothing on those parrots, or rather on the corn that fed
them; I became afraid to open a door, afraid to stay in the
house, afraid to open a drawer, and then, when it dawned
upon my frightened senses that those to-be Spanish, English,
German, French, Quechua-speaking parrots were to blame
for all those mice, then those birds never stood a ghost of
a chance to become linguists under my tutelage. Muto San
sent them to friends in Arequipa and I presume they are
now speaking Spanish and Japanese. I had the kitchen and
dining room thoroughly scrubbed and disinfected; a car-
penter looked the house over, inside and outside, sealing
any aperture large enough to permit a flea's entrance, and
we have had neither mouse nor parrot in our home since.

Monkeys lots of them but, like the birds, they are heard
rather than seen; they manage to keep pretty well out of
sight but if you hear their chattering and watch very care-
fully, you may see an occasional one as the bough of a tree

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

bends with its weight more often you will merely note the
bending of the bough. Dr. Graybill killed five, three of
them at Tunquipata; he cured and stuffed one, placed it in
the outside window sill of our living room, and when Clar-
ence came home he was so startled by its resemblance to a
human baby that to this day the very thought of eating
monkey nauseates him.

Snakes? What color and size do you prefer? The "stock"
size is about four feet long and the color a vivid green but we
can accommodate you in under- and over-sizes and in various
solid colors, as well as spotted, mottled, etc. The first snake
I "met" in Santo Domingo was on the track to the mine,
where I take my daily walk; the snake was lying full length
between the two rails and I thought it was the stalk of one
of the giant-leaved plants which abound throughout the
montanait was the identical color of the huge hualusa
(Japanese potato) that grows wild along the track and which
is also cultivated in camp. Mr. Maycumber, our metal-
lurgist, measured the leaf of one of these hualusas for me
it was twenty-five inches long and twenty inches at the widest
part, this being just an "average" leaf. The Othick girls
brought one to the house for measurement that was thirty-
two inches long and twenty-four inches wide, and not to be
outdone. Mrs. Nugent brought an espandona, a leaf four
feet long and seven inches wide. I stopped to look at this
"seem-so" stem but when it began to wriggle I made a mighty
quick "get away"; it was killed by an ore car, was four and
a half feet in length and about the diameter of common
garden hose. This species is not poisonous.

Our doctor, who has been in the tropics more than twenty-
five years, is our authority on snakes, bugs and 'most every-
thing that grows down here. He says the dark green snake
is exceedingly venomous but that we have very few poison-
ous snakes at this altitude; that between Tunquipata and
Sagrario (you will recall that Oroya and Bella Pampa are
between these two places) there are many poisonous snakes,
even the dread "bushmaster," a huge, exceedingly venomous
snake that no one that I know has seen in that vicinity, but
many that I know have asserted there must be a bushmaster

[44]

BUTTERFLIES, BATS, INSECTS, BIRDS, ETC.
farther back in the jungle from the trail which has attacked
and killed two mules recently; their carcasses what was left
of themgave grim evidence of a horrible death, but at my
suggestion that a searching party ferret out this terrifying
serpent, I was invariably told, "But I have lost no bush-
master/'

Three natives, including one woman, have been bitten
by snakes in our camp but there have been no fatalities a
"shot" of potassium permanganate makes the victim quite
ill for an hour or two and then he is all right again. Yet at
Chabuca, a neighboring mine, considerably higher than
Santo Domingo, quite a few extremely venomous snakes have
been killed and day before yesterday an Indian died there.
Fortunately, our doctor had gone up there to vaccinate any-
body and everybody who feared smallpox and this Indian
shouted that he had been bitten by a snake, that he had cut the
snake into three pieces; the doctor attended him, put him to
bed and at frequent intervals was told that the man was resting
quietly; at two the following morning he was called and told
that he was dead. The man had two bad cuts or bruises on
his head, one as though he had cut himself on a sharp rock
in falling face downward and the other on the back of his
head; the snake bite wound was clean and not swollen, so
the doctor concluded he did not die from the snake bite
but from hurting himself during the night the walls of the
house are of sharp rock; but I presume the story will always
be that the Indian died from snake bite.

My second and most thrilling experience was at my own
home: I opened the front door and there, right on the thresh-
old, was a terrifyingly big snake, a long, dark green one, it
seemed to me at least ten feet long. I slammed the door,
myself inside, but evidently he did not intend to let the
slamming of a door disturb him from the fine sunning-place,
for I watched him fully ten minutes from my window, hop-
ing that Clarence or somebody else would come along to
kill it; and then a chico (small boy) came from the hotel
with a message and when he saw that snake he jumped 'way
up in the air and yelled, "Vibora, vibora!" Forgetting all
about the message, he turned and fled, and I did not blame

[245]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

him a mite for he was barefooted; but that strong, vigorous
yell frightened the snake and quick as lightning it disap-
peared into the canyon at the side of the house. This same
snake, at least we think it was the same one, came out to sun
himself in the same vicinity several times, until it was finally
killed by a workman; it measured five and a half feet long
and was somewhat thicker than the one I had encountered
on the track.

In all, I have seen fourteen snakes in our more than four
years in Santo Domingo and I know we saw more than twice
that many in the six months we were in Arizona and a
majority of those were the deadly sidewinders and other
species of rattlers. Of course, I keep on the well-trodden
paths and then, too, we keep the underbrush and high grass
all along the trails in camp cut down. The first cutting gave
forth seven snakes just between our home and Casa Santo
Domingo, fifteen in the entire region thus denuded; each
cutting has produced less and less until the last few have
yielded no snakes at all. We are just within the border or
edge of the montana or "Green Hell," so we do not have the
enormous snakes, the anacondas and boa constrictors and
such, that one hears and reads about farther down in the
Amazon Basin. In common parlance down here, vibora
means a poisonous snake, culebra, non-poisonous, while
jergon is used almost exclusively by the Indians to denote
any poisonous snake and juegeton (playful) for the bright-
green and non-poisonous ones.

Now, shall I tell you a few choice snake stories, all vouched
for, merely to give you pleasant dreams?

i. Mrs. Stacpoole says a native at Chabuca told her those
long, light-green snakes are very playful (hence their name
of jueget6n) and that they love to wrap themselves about a
person's ankles and then unwrap themselves quickly and
run away as if it were a game how would you like to play
tag with a snake?

21. An Indian, whose job it is to keep the toma (intake)
of the pipe at Tunquipata power plant clear of debris (after
heavy rains the screen becomes covered with leaves, pebbles,
etc., and it must be cleaned to let the water through) this

[246]

BUTTERFLIES, BATS, INSECTS, BIRDS, ETC.
Indian, barefooted (he had saved enough money to have a
pair of "store" shoes but was taking care of them for fiestas),
stepped on what he thought was a slippery log, but when it
began to wriggle from underneath his feet, he let out a
terror-stricken yelp and ran for dear life back to his house,
put on his shoes, and has gone shod ever since, and we were
without lights or power for more than a half hour, when
usually fifteen minutes suffices for the wheels to turn again.
The Indian swears the snake was as big around as a stove
pipe.

3. Mr. Maycumber, while directing the work of remak-
ing a trail that had slid into Santo Domingo Creek, about
two kilometers below the mill, ran across three young snakes
baby snakes only about eight inches long, light green on
top with three of the prettiest gold stripes you ever saw (his
own words), and yellowish underneath; the trail makers had
evidently disturbed a nest of snakes. This species, related
to the cobra family, is extremely poisonous. What with gold
spiders and "pretty gold stripes" on snakes, you will begin
to think this country is "lousy" with gold and Clarence says
it is.

4. Mr. Maycumber killed a stubby snake about three feet
long while the trail was in the remaking; the snake had a
brick-red head and its body was spotted black, red and yel-
low, considered very venomous.

5. Yesterday, while walking along the track, I saw a dead
snake, which had been thrown to one side of the track; it
was two feet long but very slender, had black and tan spots
on the upper part of its body, white underneath, had a
diamond-shaped head and I was told it belonged to the
cobra family, whose relatives, numbering more than twenty,
are like the cobra extremely poisonous.

6. Mr. O thick, our millman, while in the Beni district
(the Beni River occupies the same relative position in the

Amazon Basin to the Madre de Dios River as our Inambari
River does), was walking along a timber path and he almost
stepped on an enormous, yellow snake; he had a Cuban
machete, a kind of sword that the Cubans used in the Revo-
lution, and with this, he slashed down with all his might

[247]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

and cut the snake completely in two. He did not wait to
see what would happen but kept right on going but he could
hear the part with the head threshing furiously through the
brush. He said the part he cut through was as thick as his
thigh and it was not the thickest part. An Indian who came
along a little later told him it was a yellow constrictor, that
lives on monkeys, and attains a length of twenty to thirty
feet, and that the part cut off measured four and a half feet.

7. "Swiftwater Bill" Gates tells of a trip down the Inam-
bari River in a forty-foot canoe with twenty Indians paddling
and they met a titanic snake, twice the length of the boat;
Gates hit it with a pike pole and wanted to stop to kill it but
the Indians were so terrified that they paddled furiously
several kilometers beyond the agreed camping place, al-
though a few minutes before meeting this huge snake they
had almost mutinied, because they were too tired to go on.

8. Mrs. Nugent, the Chilean wife of our Peruvian engi-
neer, related this and the following story: In the Province of
Chiquitos, Department of Santa Cruz, three youths went
hunting; one of them, named Caillaux, a friend of her
mother's. The youthful hunters went to one of the oases
of vegetation in the pampa; in this oasis was a large swamp
and they decided to separate to see who could get the most
ducks and turkeys, agreeing to meet at a designated place
three hours later; his two companions arrived at the meeting
place but no Caillaux and they waited a half-hour, then fired
their guns several times, calling to him between times. Re-
ceiving no response, they started out to hunt for him, and
on the opposite side of the swamp they saw Caillaux in the
act of discharging his gun but rigid as a statue, absolutely
motionless, unable to move, paralyzed with fear- for but
four feet distant was a monstrous, swaying snake, its enor-
mous head, with tongue sticking out and glittering eyes,
raised five feet above the ground, the rest of its body lost to
view in the brush. The two boys also remained immovable
and did not shoot until the snake made the gesture of throw-
ing itself on its victim. After its death struggles had ceased,
they measured him: thirty-six feet long and four feet in cir-
cumference! Its head was the same shape as that of a gray-

BUTTERFLIES, BATS, INSECTS, BIRDS, ETC.

hound, but much, much larger. This snake, called the
sicuriu, is amphibious, is found only in these pantanos
(swampy places in the cattle-raising regions of Bolivia and
Argentina), lives on horses and cows and sleeps from three
to four months at a time. It is the most dreaded of all
snakes, is black on the upper part, has a yellow belly, and
reaches as much as forty feet in length and from three to six
feet in circumference. When Caillaux found himself free
from the paralyzing, supposed-to-be magnetic spell under
which the hideous serpent had "charmed" him, he, although
a young man, burst into tears and cried hysterically for two
full hours, so terrible had been his nervous tension. The
doctors who had been called in to attend him when he was
brought home said that but for his uncontrollable weeping
he would have died from fright or gone insane.

9. In the same locality, a servant on horseback was sent
out to bring in the cattle; at noon, when the heat became
almost unbearable and he was near a swampy place, his horse
gave a sudden lurch, almost unseating the rider; looking
around to see what had caused the horse's fright, he saw one
of these huge, repulsive sicurius, its body raised as high as
the horse, its hisses almost stupefying with terror both horse
and rider; but with a cut of the lasso, the horse bounded off
and the snake started in pursuit. The horse stumbled and
fell but the man jumped off, and ran and ran until he came
to a very fragrant tree, the jacaranda, under which no snake,
no animal, no insect will go its fragrance is supposed to put
one asleep forever. From this tree, the man saw the snake
wind itself around the horse, crunching the bones from head
to hoofs; when the horse lay still, the snake began throwing
out saliva with which it covered the dead animal, and the
reptile swallowed the entire horse up to its head, the saddle
slipping off in the process; then, exhausted, it fell asleep. It
was thus the rescuers found the snake when they came to
investigate the servant's delay. They killed the snake, which
measured twenty-two feet in length and, distended by the
horse, its circumference was six feet. Undisturbed, the sun
would have rotted off the horse's head and the snake would
have digested that mountain of horse-flesh at its leisure.

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

10. Mr. Maycumber tells a similar story of a friend of his,
who was taking a mule train from Santa Cruz, Bolivia, to
Argentina: a mule became mired in the pantano and it
seemed impossible to extricate it; as it was getting dark, he
decided to go to the next camp and return with more men,
ropes, etc. He, with his assistants, returned in five hours
and instead of the mule, found a gigantic, gorged snake,
that had swallowed all of the mule except its head.

1 1 . Mr. Nugent, while on a surveying trip, riding along
the trail about an hour's time this side of Quitun, saw a huge
snake in the trail just ahead of him. What to do? He had
a gun but was afraid to shoot at the snake, for fear the shot
would scare the mule, precipitating him and itself down into
the steep canyon, for the trail is narrow here; the snake
looked too enormous to tackle with a stick, being more than
two meters (more than six feet and a half) long and at least
four inches in diameter; it was mottled, black, brown and
white, had a diamond-shaped head, slender neck and tapered
off with a very slender tail, hence it was undoubtedly a
jergon, so called from the loosely woven native material of
wool in those colors. Mr. Nugent, in his uncertainty what
to do, whistled, and the whistling startled the snake and it
slipped hastily over the precipice. This is the first first-hand,
direct evidence of so large a snake in our vicinity.

I have told you of thousands of mania blancas } millions of
bats, so now of ants I'll have to use billions, that now familiar
word when speaking of war debts or treasury deficits; yet
I believe the loss caused by the destructiveness of ants far
exceeds the billions of war debts and treasury deficits com-
bined. I recently read in the Header's Digest an article taken
from the Scientific American which states that there are 6000
kinds of ants but only four do the most damage; I feel sure
we have all 6000 varieties here and unquestionably have the
four destructive ones; of the latter four, probably the termite
and the chacuri (Quechua for pack ant) are the most in-
jurious. The termite is a tiny, white ant of a soft-bodied,
sluggish type and it cannot stand exposure to the sun or
direct light. In Bella Pampa a complete 600 H. P. hydro-
electric plant was stored in a warehouse for five years before

[250]

BUTTERFLIES, BATS, INSECTS, BIRDS, ETC.
the plant was Installed. The insulated electrical equipment
was stored in zinc-lined boxes; every box, which contained
equipment insulated with a special kind of insulation (for
excessive humidity), had been perforated and the insulation
destroyed the termite with Its billion associates had eaten,
bored, or in some manner made its way into those zinc-lined
boxes and banqueted on that especially-designed Insulation
with so much appreciation that when, finally, the plant was
ready for the coils, "no hay" there were none, or at least,
they were absolutely worthless. A telegraphic order to the
United States for replacement was necessary, involving a
direct loss of several thousand dollars and an Indirect loss,
due to delay, that totaled much more.

At Santo Domingo a large 75 H. P. motor was put out
of commission by the termites: one morning the motor re-
fused to start and fire broke out behind the switchboard; on
examination it was found that the termites had built a nest
of wood pulp, which they had cemented with a sort of
mucilage, excreted from their own bodies; the nest was on
the three rubber-covered wires that carry the current to the
motor; where the wires passed through the nest, the termites
had destroyed the covering and had eaten up almost all the
copper as welll I think they must have a sort of saliva which
is not only destructive to wood but to copper and zinc as
well. We have had the same difficulty with termites In the
sawmill and in the shops.

A first cousin of the termite in Bella Pampa preferred
books to machinery and a relatively large, well-chosen library
housed in the same building with the drug-store and doc-
tor's office was thoroughly gone over and digested; most of
the books were too far gone to be even recognizable and
these were thrown into the Quitun River, while the few that
were salvaged looked like tatterdemalions. I was particu-
larly anxious to save the five volumes of a biography of
Mark Twain but two of the five were hopelessly riddled and
there are many missing paragraphs, even whole pages, in the
other three. Don't you think these book-termites are the
real "book-worm"? Here at Santo Domingo we varnish the
cover of every book, which helps a lot to keep these voracious

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

"readers" out, but sunshine and air, that is, using them, is
the best remedy.

The chacuri or pack ant (our crews of outside laborers,
those that carry timber for the mine, those that bring in
wood for the hotel and bakery and those who work on the
trail, are locally known as chacuris; I have not heard them
called anything else, and for more than a year I thought
the ants, carrying blades of grass, were called chacuris after
our carriers of wood, rather than vice versa) is a medium-
sized, red-bodied ant with the head of a little darker shade;
they occur in large colonies and apparently are efficiently
organized; they travel long distances from their nests and
when they find a leaf to their taste the vanguard proceeds to
climb the tree or bush and the rearguard picks up the leaves;
at the command, the chacuris start for their nest.

Once, while walking along the track, I looked down and
the whole earth seemed to be moving. I looked up and
everything around and above seemed normal. I looked
down once more and, lo and behold! the whole earth was
moving again. I was not dizzy nor did I have a fever; in
fact, I was feeling unusually fit, but on closer observation,
what seemed to be moving earth was an army of ants, each
with a blade of grass ten times its length, in military forma-
tionthe "wops" carrying the leavesand plenty of officers,
who were easily distinguished by their larger size and, of
course, they were carrying no burdens. Many people walk-
ing along the track, the ore-cars with their heavy loads pushed
laboriously to the mill and returning empty, did not seem
to hold up the march, march, "right foot, left foot," at all;
I watched them nearly an hour and no matter how many
were crushed under the feet of men or under the heavy car
wheels, there seemed to be an inexhaustible reserve to re-
place their dead comrades. Where they were going and
whence they came, I was unable to find out, nor has my
curiosity ever been satisfied; always they travel single file
and apparently have a definite goal; I have also noted the
returning file, that is, those who have delivered their load
and are coming back for another one these workers return-
ing from the nest occasionally stop as if to smell the loaded

BUTTERFLIES, BATS, INSECTS, BIRDS, ETC.
workers and then hurry on, perhaps assuring themselves they
have not erred in finding the right road. I have watched
them many times not only on the track but on the way to
Casa Santo Domingo; Mr. Maycumber says he has traced one
band for five hundred feet before he found its nest. Here
in our camp, the chacuris are especially destructive to our
roses or to anything we try to grow.

We have, of course, the ubiquitous house ant but as we
have no kitchen nor dining room this ant has not bothered
me much. Whenever I have forgotten to cover a fruit dish
or bonbon receptacle, almost invariably I have accumulated
an enhancement of these tiny ants but if I cover all food-
stuffs I never see one. However, I do not think this ant
would be included in the "Big Four."

The Readers 9 Digest mentioned the carpenter ant as one
of the destructive four. I do not know it per se but there is
something that resembles an ant that is boring holes in the
walls of our bedroom, bathroom and living room. One day
I was driving a nail in the wall, when it went in so suddenly
that I feared the nail, hammer and myself, all three, were
about to be precipitated right through the wall! I'll admit
that is hyperbole, but you may imagine my surprise when
the nail went through the wood as if it were butter. In
spots, the walls are fairly honeycombed with tiny holes and
some of the holes are not so tiny either, for I pointed out
one to Clarence the other day and he plugged it with a
match. We shall have to have a new home some day; this
one must be at least fifteen years old, but its location is so
attractive and pleasing that I have suggested to Clarence we
merely replace the house, board by board, but innovate the
flat roof, with the second corrugated iron roof extended a
story above.

The fourth kind of ant lives in the palo santo tree; the
local palo santo tree is a species of palm, ten inches to twelve
inches in diameter, and shoots up to fifty to sixty feet high
without any branches, having merely a circular bunch of
leaves on top. It is hollow but is divided inside into com-
partments, "apartments or flats/* by partitions about a half
inch thick, and these dry divisions make ideal homes for

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

ants. The bite of this ant is very painful and it does not
hesitate to attack any living thing that comes near its tree.
One can always recognize the palo santo tree, for underneath,
the full circumference of its top, there is not a blade of
grass, not a living thing; you may, perhaps, see the bones
or skeleton of some poor hapless creature which wandered
too close within the unholy circle and could not get away.
Recently Mr. Maycumber had to clear off a piece of ground
for the chimney of the calcining furnace and there were
about twenty of these palo santo trees within the area; the
Indians complained bitterly of the ants, which attacked their
bare feet and "Marathoned" up their legs; in fact, I think
they were compelled to run for Santo Domingo Creek to
take a rare but this time a welcome bath. Mr. Maycumber
had all the wood from this area cut in firewood length and
sent to Casa Santo Domingo and we came very near losing
the cook, the baker and all the kitchen help!

Now I will tell you a gruesome tale of the ant of the
famous, or rather infamous, palo santo tree: a white priest
had angered a community of Indians beyond endurance, so
during the night a committee of the Indians seized the priest,
carried him to a palo santo tree, tied him securely to the
tree and left him to the implacability of the ants, having
first removed all his clothes. The nights in the tropics are
cold and the Spaniard shivered from the temperature but
he shivered more from the dread of the ants, for he knew,
unless succor came before sunrise, what his awful fate would
be; he was tortured by the thongs that bit into his flesh,
frightened by the calls and howlings of wild animals through-
out the night but he was terrified at the certainty and fright-
fulness of being eaten bit by bit by these voracious, stinging
ants, until death released him from his intolerable suffering.
At daybreak the entire community of Indians, men, women
and children, adamant to his shrieks of pain and terror,
came to scoff and mock him, but by ten o'clock the ants
had so thoroughly done their hideous work that only the
skeleton of the hapless priest remained. Ugh!

We had heard of the notorious palo santo tree (made no-
torious by its terrifying tenant, for the tree itself is graceful

[254]

BUTTERFLIES, BATS, INSECTS, BIRDS, ETC.
and pretty) while still in Bolivia, where we also heard similar
frightful, shocking tales, hence we needed no warning to give
every palo santo a wide berth.

A very bothersome pest is the zapacala or winged cock-
roach, which gets into everything, literally everything; there
will be colonies under the insulators of the high tension
power line, in apparently well-sealed boxes, in crevices and
crannies from the "parlor to the kitchen," but while there
may be many in the parlor, they are in battalions in the
kitchen. It varies in size from a grain of mustard seed to
giant ones, an inch or even two inches long; it has been
known to eat holes in silk neckties, carefully folded and
placed in books for pressing and to keep the dresser drawer
neat; to eat holes in the leather band of a hat, to practically
riddle a leather coat and to eat wads out of a loaded shotgun!
The front width of a brown silk dress of mine, hanging in
the closet, was perforated with holes; I put some brown cloth
underneath the damaged width and embroidered conven-
tional designs, here, there and everywhere, and never have
I had a dress that brought forth such audible expressions
of admiration! One time the electric bell, used at the table
in the dining room of Casa Santo Domingo, began to ring
at two o'clock in the morning and it rang intermittently
throughout the night; an investigation at breakfast time
showed that across the terminal connections of the bell was the
great-great-granddaddy of cockroaches; he measured almost
two inches in length and had got across the wires leading from
the battery to the bell, thus making a short circuit, the
current passing from one wire through his body ringing the
bell. The cockroach was still alive and was waving his legs
frantically but he was too weak to crawl away. The batteries
had been completely discharged and the chemical solution
had to be renewed. We trap the zapacalas by placing tall
oatmeal cans baited with a little lard, which they especially
enjoy, in the places where they are the most abundant.
Sodium fluoride is recommended by the United States De-
partment of Agriculture to get rid of them but sodium
fluoride is exceedingly difficult to procure in this man's
country; Arequipa yielded none, while we were able to get

[255]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

only a two-ounce bottle in Lima. We have tried sprinkling
boracic acid plentifully at night on tables, shelves, etc., and
it does help to eliminate them. We can only continue to
keep everlastingly after them and thus prevent their carrying
off the entire camp.

Did you ever see a leech? Recently a friend and I were
returning from a walk below the mill and as we ascended
the steps under the platform, where the ore is dumped into
bins, we saw what looked like a baby snake, a horrid, re-
pulsive thing. Mr. Maycumber happened along and he,
too, at first thought it was an infant snake but on closer
examination, told us it was a leech. It was about eight inches
long, about a half inch in diameter in the middle and tapered
off somewhat at both ends; a slimy, abhorrent creature,
whether of the medicinal or common variety none of us
knew.

It seems too bad to end this letter with such an unpleasant,
odious object as a leech; I should have started out with
snakes and leeches and ended with the birds and butterflies,
but the mail leaves in the morning and I certainly haven't
the time, even though I had the inclination (which I haven't),
to rewrite such a lengthy narrative and I hope the reading
will not be so exhausting as the writing has been, for, frankly,
I am tired. My next will be a mere hodge-podge copies of
the "round robins" which you have asked for.

CHAPTER XII

MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS' '

Santo Domingo Mine, November 23, 1932.
SWEET MARIE:

Iva says to send this letter to you first this time as a "sop"
for her not having sent the last installment more promptly.
I have just answered your recent letter but this is the usual
"bunch" chronicle, which will be a sort of "hodge-podge "
of the "round robins" sent to our folks, but were not sent
to "you all" at the same time, for some reason or other, but
which Iva heard about from my sister Annie and she has
asked me to "round up" the copies, in order that you will
not miss any of the doings that were considered worth "writ-
ing home about."

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day and our fourteenth Wed-
ding Anniversary. We always celebrate the former by a
dinner to the staff and their families but this time, due to
the enormous number of recent landslides and the conse-
quent almost impassability of the trail, a good many "trim-
mings" for the turkey may be lacking; Clarence says it will
be a sort of "Valley Forge" Thanksgiving, but while we may
not have a great variety of "eats," yet we have an abundance
of other things to be thankful for. Now for the round
robins:

"PATIENCE"

Tirapata, February 23, 1930.
DEAR FOLKS:

The Anglo-Saxon needs to come to South America to learn
patience and if he does not learn it here, he is hopeless. I
am writing this at Tirapata after being here three days to
rest up from one of the most strenuous trips of my life.
Usually when leaving Santo Domingo to come "out," we feel

[*57]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

that after we arrive at Huancarani the worst is over, that is,
as far as physical discomfort is concerned, but we made the
trip to Huancarani quite comfortably, without untoward
incident and in record time. The "we" were Muto San,
Carmen Christen, her sister Leonora and myself. We left
S. D. early in the morning of February 14th and arrived at
Huancarani the following day, expecting the truck or car
to be waiting for us, but not only was there neither truck
nor car, but Sr. Olivari, "mine host" of this hostelry, gave
us no encouragement when a car would arrive; there had
been no truck since the previous Thursday (this was Satur-
day) and there was no prospect of one arriving for several
days, perhaps not until Carnaval, early in March, and we
just must have patience! However, he served us hot soup
and the inevitable spaghetti, which made us a little more
receptive to patience. He heated rocks for our feetyou
remember I wrote you the floors are of rocks and that the
altitude is 13,625 feet above sea level, so Huancarani is not
exactly a place one would choose for a vacation, nor one in
which to exercise the virtue of patience. With his spaghetti
board for a table on our laps, the four of us huddled around
those hot rocks, played bridge, told fortunes, demonstrated
card tricks or just sat until supper time, which was also bed-
time; and at frequent intervals, "Signor" Olivari did not
forget to advise us to have patience.

Muto San and Olivari went viscacha hunting Sunday
morning, while the girls and I took a walk up the auto road,
hoping to meet the car or truck, but when it began to rain
we scurried back to the hot rocks and spaghetti board. The
men returned with no spoils, and as the weather was not
inviting for outdoor sports we dittoed the previous day's
proceedings, nor did Olivari forget to ditto the "have pa-
tience." Monday was foggy and rainy and we had about
reconciled ourselves to another's day hovering over heated
rocks, when we heard the honking of an automobile and the
blankets over our knees were hurriedly flung aside and I
fear no care was manifested for the precious spaghetti board,
as we all rushed out of doors to have our eyes gladdened by
two trucks coming down the hill; Cuadros, Head of Trans-

[2583

MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS"

portation from Tirapata to Huancarani, was driving one
truck and Germdn, his helper, the other. Cuadros was taking
a mule train to Santo Domingo, so we were confided to
German's care. But the two girls' mother and youngest sister
had come from Tirapata, too, to meet us; Mrs. Christen had
not understood that I was coming out with the girls and she
would never, never permit her daughters to travel un-
chaperoned a hundred miles, the distance from Huancarani
to Tirapata. The mother and sister had had very trying
experiences, having left Tirapata very early Saturday morn-
ing and by dint of much hard work, that is, of hoisting the
truck out of mired stretches, crossing almost impassable
rivers, skidding (they say skating here) along watery roads,
etc., they reached Triunfo that night; repeating with but
slight variations the experiences of the day before, they man-
aged to get as far as Crucero; leaving Crucero early in the
morning, they arrived in Huancarani about noon, Monday,
tired, cold and hungry. Knowing with fear and not a little
trepidation what was before us, yet we were unanimous in
deciding to be on our way as soon as possible, so banqueting
on hot soup and spaghetti, but omitting the speeches, we
then hastened away to face whatever difficulties presented
themselves. Mrs. Christen and I sat in the enclosed cab
with the chauffeur, while the three girls, Muto San and two
belated passengers sat on improvised seats made of boxes,
suitcases and what not under a tent in the rear.

It snowed all the way to Crucero and Mrs. C. and I took
turns at wiping the windshield; we arrived at Crucero earlier
than we had hoped to do, so decided to push on. Here at
Crucero we took on a sergeant and his woman. Mrs. C.,
knowing the customs of the country, laid in a supply of
coca and alcohol to give to the Indians, in case we should
need their help, and an Indian will work for coca and
alcohol when all kinds of money would not make the least
impression. About a league and a half from Crucero, we
had another extended lesson in patience: from the time we
had left Crucero, the road was almost continuously covered
with water and the chauffeur had to "smell his way*'; at the
end of the league and a half, we had to cross a stream that

O59]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

ordinarily is but a rivulet but had become a swollen, angry
river; we succeeded in getting about two thirds across, when
the truck mired in the mud; the muddy water rushed over
our feet and ankles, but German confidently said, "Just a
little patience and well soon be across." He stepped on
the starter again and again but the truck would not budge,
except to tilt a little more dangerously; in the meantime the
helper had rolled up his trousers, plunged into the icy water
and was frantically digging under the rear left wheel; the
water came pouring in higher and higher, for the river was
rising, and then Muto said the women must be carried out.
German and his helper staggeringly carried us six women
to the shore, and it was no light task, for none of us were
"feather weights" and there was the strong current to contend
against as well, but fortunately the distance was not great.
As each one of us scared women was deposited on the cold,
wet ground and in a cold, driving rain, each one of us was
advised to have a little patience and the car would soon
be out.

But it is hard to be patient with wet feet, wet clothes,
unprotected in a cold rain and unprotected from a bitterly
cold southern wind and all that one could do was to watch
the apparently hopeless efforts of the five men to get the
truck out of the rut, indeed, their efforts seemed but to make
the truck sink still deeper; and all five of these men were
above their knees in that cold, swirling, mad, muddy water.
Carmen called our attention to a group of Indian huts about
a kilometer down the road and a little to the left, so we six
bedraggled women concluded it would be better to seek
refuge from the rain and wind while waiting, especially
since we could do nothing to help; we attempted to run
races in order to get warm but running races at 13,000 feet
altitude "just isn't done." Eight big, gaunt dogs came yelp-
ing and snarling to meet us but two Indian women called
them off, while an old Indian man came to meet us and
courteously and kindly invited us to enter his hut, which,
fortunately, did not include a kitchen, hence there were
no chickens, guinea pigs nor other animals to share the

O 6 ]

MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS"
room with us. Our host brought two boxes and these with
a bed on one side of the wall gave seats for all of us.

Our refuge hut was about six feet by ten feet, made of
rocks and mud, with a thatched roof, a mud floor and with
but one small opening, through which we stooped to enter-
there were no windows. A bench about two feet wide, built
of rocks, running the full length of the six-foot wall, was
the bed; on the opposite side a few sheepskins were piled
on the floorthese comprised the furnishings; but it was a
shelter and a king in his palace could not have made us
feel more welcome. An Indian woman brought us hot tea
made of native herbs in an earthen urn and with but one
tin cup and each of us took a "swig," profoundly grateful
for its warmth, nor did one of us grimace at the dirt. Our
host brought more sheepskins for our feet and a couple of
native-woven ponchos for wraps. He spoke practically no
Spanish but Mrs. C. and the sergeant's woman spoke Quechua
and thus we learned that "his house was ours," that we were
welcome to all he had and that he was sorry he had no more
to offer us a genuine Chesterfield was he. Early in the eve-
ning he brought us a light, made of fat and a rag, but it
did not last long; fortunately, Mrs. C. had a flashlight, which
we used every few minutes throughout the nightfor we
stayed there all night; I distinctly recall once thinking it
must be nearly day, and my watch said but ten-thirty.

Sleep was out of the question in spite of the fact that
the sergeant had brought all our extra wraps, rugs and
blankets from the truck; we tried huddling together, with
our backs to the wall and our feet stretched out in front of
us on the sheepskins, but there was quite a drop from the
bench to the floor and the wall at our backs was cold, al-
though we stuffed innumerable wraps and blankets between.
We were all hungry, for we had had nothing to eat since
the disparaged spaghetti at noon but, happily, we were all
good-natured and tried to make the night pass more quickly
with funny stories and all sorts of contrivances. At one an
Indian, who had been helping to extricate the truck in
vain came into our hut, shut the door and stretched him-
self out on the pile of skins opposite us; Carmen opened the

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

door, the Indian arose and shut it; again Carmen opened
it and again the Indian got up and shut it; the third time
Carmen opened it, then the Indian gave up, wrapped himself
in his poncho and went sound asleep, verified by his sten-
torian breathing. I am quite sure we comfort-loving Gringos,
for the first time in our lives, kindly envied the Indian, who
has never known any comfort.

At the first break of day we arose from our cramped posi-
tions, but the Indian had already preceded us; breakfastless
but grateful for the shelter and with renewed hope, for it
was not raining, we hurried to the camion to discover only
German and his helper, but we learned that our men, aug-
mented by twenty Indians, whom the sergeant had "rounded
up" and it was fortunate we had the sergeant with us, as
the Indians will obey an officer when they might have re-
fused a civilian, the coca and alcohol notwithstanding that
our men had worked continuously from four in the afternoon
until one in the morning, when they gave up. Muto and
fellow-sufferers returned to Crucero, where the accommoda-
tions are not so very much better than what we had, but at
least they had shelter and also were able to get something
to eat. At seven-thirty Muto, the sergeant and the twenty
Indians appeared on the scene; Muto had thoughtfully
brought crackers and a little native cheese, buying out the
entire stock at Crucero, and these, with a few bananas which
Mrs. C. had in reserve, made an acceptable and "with heart-
felt thanks'* breakfast. Mrs. C. apportioned each Indian a
handful of coca and a "swig" of alcohol, much diluted with
water, and promised them more when the truck was again
on the road, so they worked with a will and in less than an
hour the truck was on our side of the river, but it was
nine-thirty before all the cargo was again stored in place.
(The cargo had been carried out immediately after we women
folks had been carried across, deposited on the road and
covered with canvas.)

As we started out, German facetiously remarked, "Now
we'll go all the way to California." (I think I wrote you in
a previous letter that California and New York are the only
states in the United States as far as Bolivia and Peru are

MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS"

concerned.) But we skidded a little more than a league
when we mired in the mud; we women got out and walked
ahead until the truck overtook us, but this occurred so many
times that we did not arrive at Puerto Arturo until noon.
Sra. Victoria de Gutierrez, the hospitable owner of this big
farm, invited us to stay for almuerzo, which we were only
too glad to do, and had she but known it we needed no in-
sisting but were rather expecting the invitation.

Immediately after luncheon, German went on horseback
to Rosario to get more gasoline and to report to us the feasi-
bility or even possibility of crossing the now extremely wide
river at Rosario. At three, German had not yet returned,
and as Rosario is but two kilometers from Puerto Arturo we
decided to see the river ourselves, but Muto "chauffeur ed"
only a half kilometer when we came to a bad, muddy stretch
and we did not care to risk another miring, so we returned
to the haven of Puerto Arturo and were reluctantly per-
suaded to remain over night, but with the definite under-
standing that we were to leave at five the following morning
without breakfast, as we wanted to cross the river before
the sun "had got in his licks" to make the river still higher;
but Sra. Victoria would not consent to our leaving without
breakfast and promised that we should have breakfast in
plenty of time to get off at five.

I awoke at four-thirty but all was as silent as the grave;
at five-thirty Leonora came to my room, so I arose and
hastily donned what few clothes I had removed the night
before; we went out to the patio, on outside and we saw only
German's helper tinkering with the truck. German had not
returned at all but his helper pleaded for just a little more
patience and German would soon return! Meanwhile Mrs.
Christen, Muto, the three girls and I were standing first on
one foot, then on the other, freezing, waiting, "looking and
listening" for some signs of breakfast, for we had concluded
that Muto should drive the truck to Rosario and we would
not wait for German. At six-thirty the daughter of the house
appeared, asking us to have just a little patience, that break-
fast would soon be ready. At seven, nothing doing, but at
seven-fifteen the doors of the spacious dining room, opening

[263]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

out on the patio, of course, were thrown wide open and, with
all due appreciation of the kindness and hospitality of Sra.
Victoria, we were all extremely surprised at what was set
before us: with this almost interminable delay, we had looked
forward to fried chicken, hot bread and all the accessories
and what did we get? The regulation South American break-
fast of cold bread and cafe con leche! To be sure, we were
grateful for all that our hostess had done for us, and she was
hospitality itself, but oh, that patience-trying waitl It was
almost eight before the final "Feliz viaje" (Happy journey)
was said, but in a few minutes more, we were at the river-
and a wild and turbulent river it was; on the opposite shore
was the Government mail-carrier with the mail for Mai-
danado, afraid to risk the crossing to our side, while we were
likewise afraid to cross to his side.

German gave the plausible excuse for his non-appearance,
that he could not re-cross the river, but a bevy of pretty
"Cholitas" at Rosario gainsaid that pretext. After much
palavering and parleying back and forth across the river,
Moya, the mail-carrier, was persuaded to take us and our
baggage to Tirapata, while German would take the mail and
Moya's passengers to Huancarani; but first we had a refresh-
ing "tea" of bread and butter and fried eggs. Horses were
loaned us from Puerto Arturo and we tried "doubling up/*
a woman to ride behind a man on each horse, but the horses
balked at the arrangement so each of us women closely fol-
lowed the horseman in front of her, and we were told to
keep our eyes glued to the man in front and not to look
down at the racing, muddy water. The current was so swift
that we were carried far below the regular landing and we
all had difficulty in climbing up the bank, but the crossing
was made safely wet feet and ankles were too trivial matters
to fuss about after such a harrowing experience; it was eleven
before passengers and baggage were duly transferred and
then we were off for Palmera, the river at which place we had
been dreading ever since we had left Huancarani; at normal
times, it is a wide but shallow river, meandering over much
territory, but when swollen, there might be deep pits, into
which the truck could blunder with disastrous results.

MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS"
Due to many mirings we did not arrive at Palmera until
five-thirty, and while the river looked frightfully wide, the
waters had subsided considerably since morning, hence a
crossing was decided upon; all passengers got out so if the
truck mired, we, at least, could spend the night under shel-
ter, as there had been a continuous, cold drizzle and to spend
the night in midstream, with a possibility of the river rising,
was not an alluring prospect, to say the least. However,
the truck with the baggage waded through with no difficulty
whatsoever and then with two horses and a mule, obtained
from the Palmera farm, we made the crossing much more
quickly and infinitely less fearfully than at Rosario, and
with not a single wet ankle.

We arrived at Asillo about seven-thirty and it was con-
sidered unwise and unsafe to proceed. The Asillo Inn. was
not so bad; my bed was a cement bench in one corner of the
room but there were plenty of covers, and though the "mat-
tress" (a few sheepskins) was a little thin, yet this bed was
beyond compare so much better than the one we six women
had shared two nights before that I did not even notice there
were no sheets! We were promised dinner at once but we
had to patiently (?) wait until nine-thirty. We were supposed
to leave at six the following morning but at seven we were
advised that Moya, the chauffeur, had a cold, was still in
bed and that we would not leave until eight. So Muto
cavaliered us to the really imposing church, almost grand
enough to deserve the name of cathedral; it has thirteen
altars, the main one having decorations of pure silver, while
the woodcarving of the twelve others is superlatively good;
it still contains some splendid paintings but most of the works
of art have been looted it is a wonder there is anything left
at all; it is a church well worth visiting.

We were two full hours getting to Tirapata it is only five
leagues and in the dry season it rarely takes more than a half
hour, but this time the truck "skated" about four leagues of
those five, the road was indescribably rutty and muddy-
it was atrociousand we walked fully a third of the distance.
But, with "patience/' we finally arrived at Tirapata, the
Christens' destination, but which is two laps behind mine,

[265]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

as I am headed for Mollendo to enjoy a month's sojourn
there with the Graybills; but the Graybills and I will spend
a few days at Arequipa first.

P. S. Nov. 23, 1932. What became of German? Such a
cheerful, optimistic youngster and yet the worst "rattle
brain" I ever met; that he brought us safely as far as Palmera
was really the luckiest hairbreadth escape of the whole trip;
he did finally reach Tirapata with the truck still holding to-
gether, but shortly afterward, he went to Arequipa, imbibed
too much "firewater," shot and killed both his father and
mother and then killed himself.

RETURNING TO PERU AFTER SEVEN YEARS IN SOUTH AMERICA

(I really can't see why you so urgently request this letter,
there is so little about South America but here goes:)

Santo Domingo Mine, Oct. 22, 1930.
DEAR FOLKS:

Clarence and I left the States with such a glow of happi-
ness, for all the old contacts renewed and for the new ones
made; a little saddened by the passing on of those whom we
should have liked so much to see again, yet we whole-
heartedly agreed that our vacation had been superlatively
enjoyable.

The trip on the S. S. California from Los Angeles to
Panama was delightful and each one of our party of five
distinguished himself in one or more of the tournaments:
races, swimming, shuffleboard and bridge; the five consisted
of Mr. and Mrs. Brooke, mining engineer and wife, of Port-
land, Ore.,' Mr. Rifat, assayer, of Rolla, Missouri, Clarence
and I. We regretted leaving the hospitable S. S. California,
but as we had never stopped on the west side of the Canal,
we enjoyed the two days there in sight-seeing: an auto trip
to the old ruins, a monument, or rather a scar, to the pirate,
Morgan; through old Panama and through new Ancon,
where the Government employees live, and we did a little
shopping, but mostly we just sat on the verandah of our hotel,
for it was too hot to do much else.

We embarked on the Santa Barbara late Wednesday night,

[266]

MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS"

October ist, and were agreeably surprised to meet old friends
from Lima and from Ghuqukamata. The boat seemed like
a toy compared to the huge California, yet the Santa Barbara
is a staunch craft, one of the best boats plying on the western
coast of South America. We soon adapted ourselves to the
rolling of the ship and to the daily program of the now * 'old-
timers/ 7 for most of the passengers had embarked in New
York. Strange as it may seem, it grew colder as we neared
the equator, due to the Humboldt Current.

On the 3rd we crossed the equator. Old Neptune, his
wife and his band of pirates arrived "with bells on" to ini-
tiate those who had never crossed the line; led by the band,
old Neptune and his party paraded the decks, rounded up
the victims, instilling with terror the hearts of the more
timid ones; woe to him, who attempted to escape! The stage
was set in the after part of the boat, including a high plat-
form adjoining the swimming pool. The candidates were
called separately, accused of some crime, such as endangering
the life of his fellow-passengers by consuming more than his
rightful share of the ship's food, being too attentive to his
own wife or to. her own husband (this was usually the crime
of the newly-weds), faking a passport, or some other mis-
demeanor of the high seas; after the accusation had been
solemnly delivered, the accused was taken to the doctor, who
made a thorough examination, especially of the heart, with
a huge bellows, to ascertain if the culprit was physically fit
to undergo the ordeal ahead of him. (I never knew of any
malefactor to escape by reason of the doctor's pronounce-
ment, but I know of several "femalef actors" who were ex-
emptedone, even before she was taken to the "medico," on
account of extreme nervousness.) But if any young man at-
tempted to get off, he was given the whole ritual, with a
few little accessories added for good measure. Once the doc-
tor pronounced the victim fit, the doctor's assistant gave him
a liberal, very liberal, dose of castor oil, mixed with some
evil-smelling liquid, to enhance the flavor; if refractory, the
culprit was given an electric shock by the doctor's "electricity
expert" (generally a ship's officer, rather than a "bird" of
passage) and then doused with cold, ice-cold, water; his face

[267]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

was then smeared with pumpkin pie and he was conducted
to the court barber, who shampooed him generously with
none too fresh eggs, lathered him with whitewash and shaved
him with a razor two feet long and fully three inches wide;
the ritual ends with "baptism" in the swimming pool, and
ofttirnes the baptismal chair, the two baptizers and the victim
go tumbling into the water together. If there has been an
unusually large number of initiates, it behooves Mr. Jupiter,
Mrs. Jupiter, the doctor, his assistants, the barber and other
functionaries to make a quick "get away," else in the "rough
housing" that follows the initiators are likely to be man-
handled even more roughly than the initiates were.

Following the Neptune demonstration, the swimming
pool was taken out and the canvas hung up to dry, for it
became too cold for aquatic sports; also most of the deck
sports were abandoned, for the weather was now too chilly
for anything but brisk promenading.

We arrived at Callao, Lima's harbor, Sunday afternoon,
October 5th, but were not allowed to disembark until Mon-
day morning; Peru is still under martial law, hence all pas-
sengers had to go through a lot of red tape to land and any
traveler returning to the boat was warned to be at the dock
before six P.M. Our party went at once to the United States
Consulate, where Mr. and Mrs. Brooke were registered, then
they, with Mr. Rifat, went to Police Headquarters to get
ff carnets" a carnet is a certificate required of all foreigners
(and now of natives as well), giving name, birthplace, age,
reason for being in the country, etc.; we think carnets should
be instituted in our own U. S. A., for they would certainly
eliminate many undesirables.

Clarence and I went to the United States Embassy, where
we were cordially received by Ambassador Dear ing; thence
to see our lawyer, who has been trying to secure a concession
for Clarence, a large section of territory in southern Peru,
to prospect and exploit for gold; Dr. Fernandez, figuratively
and almost literally, embraced us with tears of joy, as he was
about to cable Clarence to return as soon as possible; with
him, we went to the Minister of Mines, the only member of
the Leguia Cabinet who survived (his office) the Revolution,

[268]

MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS"

and while visiting here, there came a telephone call that the
President would receive us. So the three of us hurried to
the President's Palace and were ushered into an elegantly,
richly furnished room, into which almost immediately en-
tered a dapper, well-groomed, short, very dark-complexioned
forty-two-year-old, but younger-looking, alert soldier, dressed
in a Lieutenant Colonel's uniform; I was introduced to His
Excellency, Sanchez Cerro, President of Peru, who kissed my
hand in true Spanish fashion. The three men, with cour-
teous apologies to me, began at once to discuss the concession
to which I was a most interested listener and in a little more
than a half hour the interview ended, and the President
again kissed my hand. So now I have talked with two Presi-
dentsyou remember I wrote you about sitting at the right
of President Saavedra of Bolivia at a memorable banquet.

As it was six o'clock while we were still in conference with
the President, and Callao is seven miles from Lima, the
military "Comandante" gave us a written permit to leave
the dock and he stated in the permit that we had been de-
tained by President Sanchez Cerro. Arriving at the dock,
the officials said we were too late and under no circumstances
could we leave the dock; then Clarence presented the permit
and what a "Presto Chango"! Every available facility was
put at our disposal, so we boarded the Santa Barbara in time
to dine, and much to the relief of our friends, particularly
a relief to the three members of our little party, who, know-
ing no Spanish and with but little cash, were wondering
what would become of them; however, when we explained
the cause of our tardiness, we received congratulations and
had a round of cocktails (Bryan) to celebrate.

The sea was not unusually rough at Mollendo, hence our
landing was not especially exciting, although all the "tender-
feet" got quite a kick out of being hoisted in the chair and
Clarence obligingly took movies of the proceeding. The
aduana (customs) did not delay us much and we left the
same afternoon for Arequipa through miles and miles of
pampas, reddish brown, hot and rainless. The sand dunes,
constantly shifting but always retaining a perfect crescent
shape, are of never-failing interest; they often measure one

[269]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

hundred feet from tip to tip and some of them gain a height
of six feet or more; they consist of fine grains of sand, moving
grain by grain, the trade wind driving the whole dune im-
perceptibly but relentlessly on, ever with the tips ahead.
What seemed like foothills became the giant Andes and one
of their majestic peaks, El Misti, the Fujiyama of Peru, the
pride of Arequipa, with two other snow-capped peaks, stood
out clearly, but before we arrived at Arequipa, the sun had
sunk behind the mountains and soon the peaks and every-
thing were obscured.

We spent two quiet, restful days at Quinta Bates, the haven
of all Gringos, "showing off/' of course, the Plaza de Armas,
which we consider the most beautiful, the most artistic plaza
which we have seen, in all South America. Friday night we
left for Juliaca (night trains have been since taken off due
to lack of patronage) and it is a toss up which is worse, the
night ride from Arequipa to Juliaca, ascending from 8000
feet to 15,800, down again to 13,000, with its consequent
many curves and jolts, the latter sometimes so severe that
you frantically clutch to anything within reach to keep from
being hurled out of your berth, or to spend the night at
Juliaca in a cold, cheerless hotel; but if you have any friends
in Juliaca, who will take you in, by all means avoid the night
ride,

We stayed in Tirapata only long enough to repack our
baggage for mule transportation and to take inventory of
the Company's properties, for we had now ceased to be
optionistas; our trip home served the double purpose of
visiting all our relatives, a large number of our friends, and
the taking over the Santo Domingo mine, the latter an ex-
tremely happy consummation of our two years' option.

We found the mine in good shape, not at all affected by
the Revolution; everybody here well and happy, happy to
see us again and we, in spite of the wonderful time we had
so thoroughly enjoyed in the States, we, Clarence and I,
were happy to be in our own home again.

[270]

MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS"

LOSING A GOLD BRICK

New York, Jan. or Feb., 1931.
DEAR ' 'BUNCH' ':

I am constructing this letter from memory, for unfortu-
nately I have lost the copy of the letter telling about a hectic
trip out, but I know we left the mine, that is, Miss Krause,
Mrs. Brooke and I did, on December 2$rd; there was a
general clean-up of the mill on that day and on the following
day, December 24th, the gold was smelted and refined; due
to the large amount of amalgam to be distilled and smelted,
the two bars of gold were not ready for transportation until
after eleven that night, Christmas Eve. Clarence, accom-
panied by Mr. Brooke, left Santo Domingo about midnight,
using carbide lamps to light the way; they expected to over-
take us three women on the way from Oconeque to Huan-
carani. The two men rode all night just imagine going
over Bandarani at night! had breakfast at Oconeque,
changed mules, and, without resting, continued the journey
to Huancarani, where they arrived at five in the afternoon,
three hours after we had dismounted there. Without a mo-
ment's rest or a bite to eat, the two of them and we three
climbed into the truck bound for Tirapata.

Clarence and I were in the cab with the chofer (Spanish
spelling), the two gold bricks resting at our feet. Dead tired,
sitting between the chofer and me, Clarence fell asleep.
Shortly after as we were descending from the summit, about
a half hour from the summit, Clarence awoke with a start,
felt with his feet for the gold bricks and discovered that one
was missing! How that bar ever slipped out of the truck,
with my two feet firmly planted alongside of the door, will
ever remain a mystery; as if touched by an electric current,
each and every occupant of the car was at once awake. The
chofer turned the car around, Mr. Brooke, with a flashlight,
stood on one running board and Clarence on the other and
thus we slowly, oh so slowly, retraced our road; a few kilo-
meters from whence we had returned, there lay the box with
a thousand ounces of gold inside, worth $20,000, a wonderful
find for a passer-by but would have been a serious loss to us.

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

Too thoroughly awake now to care for sleep, we rode on for
several hours but finally succumbing to weariness, most of
us were nodding drowsily, a few sound asleep, when the car
stopped with a sudden lurch and we were all wide awake
again we were out of gasoline!

It was now midnight; the houses along this road are very
few and extremely far between and what few Mr. Brooke
and the chafer's helper were able to find had no occupants;
it was Christmas Day and everybody had left home to cele-
brate. There was nothing else to do but try to get a wink
or two of sleep until daylight, which always brings hope
and our hope this time was gasoline! Fortunately the weather
was not cold December is our warmest month but none of
us were too warm by any flight of imagination. We were
buoyed up with the sanguine expectation, that not arriving
at Tirapata on scheduled time, Cuadros would start out to
meet us.

Vain expectation! We waited until ten o'clock not a
single car, not a soul appeared! Remember we had had noth-
ing to eat since leaving Huancarani either, and a menu of soup
and spaghetti is not a bountiful Christinas dinner. At ten,
Mr. Brooke started out to walk to Asillo for help (gasoline)
and in a half hour he met two cars, both Fords; the rest of
us, our "Merry Christmas" party, were idly watching the
road, when to our utter amazement and horror that first
Ford, without any apparent rhyme or reason, turned a com-
plete somersault, cleared the highway and then lay upside
down in the gutter; Clarence, followed by the others, hurried
to the scene of disaster I tried to persuade Mrs. Brooke to
remain with me, for I, like everybody else, thought Mr.
Brooke was in that car, but she was not to be persuaded.
Most happily, except for minor cuts and bruises, not one of
the four occupants was injured, and Mr. Brooke was not in
the car; he came in the second one and from whose chofer
we were able to borrow enough gas to take us to Asillo,
where we could get all we needed.

We arrived at Tirapata just an hour and a half before
train time just an hour and a half to clean up, and, for
Clarence and me, to pack trunks and suitcases for an indefi-

MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS"
nite stay in New York, whither we were bound; however,
we made the train and eventually our boat, but at Juliaca
we had another adventure: The Graybills met us with their
car, Clarence and I with the two gold bricks, to go to the
Clinica while the rest of the party put up at the Gran Hotel.
(Every city and hamlet in South America has its Grand
Hotel.) At Tirapata, the two gold bricks had been trans-
ferred to two suitcases and Clarence asked me to keep one
of those suitcases in sight, while he looked after the other.
There is always a tremendous crowd at the station in Juliaca
and in spite of all our efforts to keep all our luggage for
the Graybill car, a runner for the Gran Hotel took possession
of one of the suitcases containing the ingot, and it was the
one entrusted to my care, so I promptly followed him and
not until we arrived at the hotel, was I able to convince him
that we were not putting up at the hotel but at the Clinica.
It is but three short blocks from the hotel to the Clinica,
but do you think I could persuade that chico to take the
suitcase to the Clinica? With my hand full of coins and my
purse at hand, he refused to carry that heavy suitcase a step
farther- said he must fetch and carry for the hotel only.
So with my foot on the suitcase I hailed another chico., who
valiantly tried to tote the heavy load, but he gave out at
the beginning of the second block; happily a man came along
who obligingly carried it the rest of the way. In the mean-
time Clarence and the Graybills were frantic about my dis-
appearance; Dr. Graybill hurried to the hotel but I was not
there, nor could he get any information of my whereabouts.
Returning to the station, where Clarence and Mrs. Graybill
were anxiously awaiting his return, the three decided to
drive quickly to the Clinica, then with the one ingot safely
stored away, to continue their search for me and the other
ingot. It was a great relief to all four of us to thus meet
at the Clinica, for I, too, was anxious about their delay in
arriving.

Miss Krause had said that we would have no luck, starting
out on a trip at Christmas time, and it began to look as if
her prophecy would be fulfilled, but Clarence and I arrived
in New York without any other untoward incident.

[273]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

"BOOTLEGGING" AND REVOLUTION

Santo Domingo Mine, July 8, 1931.
DEAR FOLKS:

Mrs. Stacpoole, our Mine Superintendent's wife, and I left
Santo Domingo June aoth, destined for Arequipa, both of
us to see a dentist and I to meet the Stretters of California.
My dental work was presumably of short duration, so I
planned to leave with the Stretters by the next train. We
had had a "clean-up" of the mill the previous Friday, the
gold retorted, smelted and poured into bars Saturday, but
we women folk left Saturday morning, with an Indian to
take care of our mules, in order to stay all night at Sagrario,
thus making an easy journey to Oconeque the following day
and where Mr. Brooke, who takes out the gold and brings
back the payroll, would overtake us. Mrs. Stacpoole and I
arrived at Oconeque at three in the afternoon, after a
leisurely and very comfortable trip. Mr. Brooke, accom-
panied by Mr. Arnold, salesman for the Ingersoll-Rand Ma-
chinery Co., who had been the mine guest for a week, arrived
at Oconeque after six, already dark.

We left Oconeque at six A.M., arriving at Limbani at ten,
a record; here we had tea and sandwiches and fed the mules,
realizing that "a little rest and refreshment are good for man
and beast" and thus fortifying both man and beast for the
steady climb ahead. At Huancarani the hot soup and spa-
ghetti, also the truck, were awaiting us and we pushed on
to Tirapata, arriving at nine-fifteen P.M., thoroughly chilled,
nor did we become really warm until the sun's benignant
rays on the morrow penetrated to our "bones and marrow."
No wonder the Incas were sun worshipers! At four-thirty
we boarded the train for Juliaca, where we spent the night
at the Gran Hotel Ratti (the latter pronounced with either
a flat or broad "a" and the hotel is concisely described).
Immediately after dinner Mrs. S. and I called on Dr. Reed
and his wife, in charge of the Glinica Americana, where we
spent a very agreeable evening, enjoying the grateful warmth
of the open fireplace, and on leaving were most cordially
invited to "make the Clinica our home" whenever we passed

[274]

MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS"

through Juliaca. And little did they or I realize how soon
and how glad we were to avail ourselves o this invitation.
Our train left at eight-forty Wednesday morning and at
five-thirty in the afternoon we were at Arequipa: 40 miles by
mule, 100 miles by auto, part of a day and another whole day
by train (225 miles) in order to get one tooth filled!

The Stretters and Mrs. Brooke met us at the station; Mrs.
Brooke had been vacationing at Guzco and its environs and
was now at Arequipa to await her husband. The station had
its usual throng of barefooted Indians, picturesque Cholos,
insistent vendors, tenacious beggars, mixed with gente who
just came "to see the mail come in"; but we did not tarry
here, as Mr. Stretter told us Arequipa was suffering from an
epidemic of smallpox. (Tia Bates later told me that Are-
quipa was almost never without smallpox, but because two
Gringos had contracted the malady, it became an epidemic.)
Mr. Brooke, of course, gave his whole attention to the trans-
porting of the gold the same "cabby" and the same chicos
(our "red caps" but not in uniform and not so reliable) met
him and speedily, without flourish, conducted him and all
his baggage to the waiting car and thence to Quinta Bates.
So far, so good. We had a "family table" at the Quinta- I
had brought some perdices (almost identical with our par-
tridge), which I had purchased from the conductor on the
train, who always bought all the perdices he could get from
the Indians at the "high" stations along the way and then
resold them to the Gringos. So we ate perdices, along with
other good things, and gossiped until very late, for dinner
is rarely served before nine and often later.

At eleven that night the Brookes were disturbed by a loud
hammering on their door and two men were admitted, who
said they had been sent by the Prefecto, the Head of the
Department of Puno, the Department in which Santo Do-
mingo is situated, and that the Prefecto had passed the order
along to the Prefecto of Arequipa to search the baggage of
Seiiora Woods and of Senor Brooke for contraband gold!
Mr. Brooke and I accused of bootlegging gold out of the
country! The Brookes permitted their personal baggage to
be searched but the gold was hidden and Mr. Brooke had

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

his automatic ready to defend it. As a side light on the
morals of the country, the Brookes found it difficult to make
the intruders understand that the woman in the room was
really Mrs. Brooke, and evidently, they were not so con-
vinced, for I was not awakened nor did I hear of the thrilling
occurrence until six in the morning, when Mr. Brooke came
to the room that Mrs. Stacpoole and I were occupying and
related the details, concluding by saying that he and Mrs.
Brooke would try to make a "get away*' by auto to Mollendo.

I was too astonished and surprised to think clearly but at
once after Mr. Brooke had gone, I felt that any attempt to
get away would only end in disaster and at the same time
strengthen the suspicion that we were really trying to dispose
of contraband gold; so hastily donning slippers and Mrs.
Stacpoole's fur coat (she is taller than I, so her coat covered
more of me than mine could have done), I hurried to over-
take Mr. Brooke and found him already in deep parley with
the same two visitors of the night beforethey were taking
no chances that Mr. Brooke might leave on the morning's
train for Mollendo. I was introduced as Sra. Woods and
then they, for the first time, believed the other woman was
Mrs. Brooke! What a scandal may have been averted! After
much discussion, they extracted a promise from both of us
that we would not attempt to leave Arequipa until the affair
was settled. Then Mr. Stretter was a'wakened and he and
Mr. Brooke decided to lay the matter before Grace 8c Co.,
who have done all our transporting of gold from Mollendo
to the United States since we came to Peru. We women,
in the meantime, were "watch dogs" over the gold. The
manager of Grace & Co. called his lawyer and an interview
was arranged with the Prefecto, who, when he understood
that our gold had always been transported in exactly this
same way, became quite profuse in his apologies, assured
us it was all a mistake and reassured us that it would never
happen again. The Brookes, of course, missed the train and
left that afternoon by auto for Mollendo in order to meet
the Grace boat bound for the United States.

The Brookes were to wire me of their safe arrival and that
"all was well," for it was understood that I was to bring back

MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS"

S./ 10,000 ($4000) for the next pay day, as Mr. Brooke would
be detained by dental work in Arequipa for several days. The
banks in Arequipa close at three and at a quarter of three I
had received no word from Mollendol Mr. Stretter and I
went to the bank anyway, assuming that all was well and,
luckily, it was so, for my check was honored without delay.

By meeting appointments with the dentist in all his spare
time, twice after nine at night, my work was finished another
tooth needed filling so the Stretters and I left Arequipa
Saturday morning. Mr. Stretter had brought an aneroid
from the States and we found it very interesting to check
up on the altitudes as given at the different stationsand
they checked up remarkably close; we go over a summit of
nearly 15,000 feet from Arequipa at 7650 to Juliaca at 12,800.
Dr. Reed was at the station and we were comfortably domi-
ciled at the Clinica that night. The train for Tirapata is
scheduled to leave at eight forty-five but usually doesn't get
started until after nine, so we were unhurriedly enjoying a
real American breakfast this Sunday morning, when Sr.
Bellido, the accountant at the Clinica, rushed into the dining
room, after a mere preliminary knocking, and fairly shouted,
"There's a revolution on, all trains are stopped, the Plaza
is full of soldiers!"

We looked at each other in blank amazement a revolu-
tion! And then the men hurried out to the plaza, only three
short blocks away and, returning in a few minutes, they
confirmed our worst fears. What to do? The Stretters had
an enormous amount of baggage checked from Arequipa, but
some of it they would need at the mine; I had the payroll
with me, but had checked one suitcase. We decided to hire
a truck, gather up our baggage, and drive to Tirapata.

The doctor and Mr. Stretter went to the station to see
about the baggage, while Mrs. Reed, Mrs. Stretter and I, in
feverish excitement, began gathering our few belongings to
be ready for a speedy flight. The men returned with the
news that the regiment of soldiers from Puno, in taking
over the train the night before, refused to allow any baggage
to be removed at Juliaca, hence all our checked luggage was
in Punol There is always such a mob at Juliaca when any

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

train comes in, that even though we had seen soldiers, it
would not have occurred to me that anything untoward was
brewing, but I do not recall seeing a single soldier. It was
Sunday and a religious fiesta besides, St. Paul's Day, so it
would have been impossible to get a chofer to drive a truck
and impossible to do any business at Puno but the doctor
did succeed in persuading a truckman to start at seven the
following morning, Monday, with Mr. Stretter for Puno to
get the baggage. Later, Mr. Stretter and I went to the station
through a cordon of armed soldiers, almost filling the plaza,
and received permission from an officer to go upstairs to
the telegraph office to try to get a message through to Tira-
pata; the officer gave us no encouragement that a message
would be even accepted but the telegrapher did take the
message, but it had to be in Spanish and was first censored
by a Captain. The array of machine guns, the bristling
guns stacked at short intervals along the track, the swarm of
officers and soldiers pacing up and down the platform and
overflowing on the tracks were disquieting, to say the least,
and I, particularly, was so grateful that we were being taken
care of at the Clinica, for I knew the Hotel Ratti could offer
but little protection, if there should be a barrage of shooting
directed that way. The Clinica, just being a hospital, made
it safer, but flying the American flag along with the Peruvian,
not only made us feel safer, but we were safer. How com-
forting those stars and stripes were to us, only a * 'stranger
in a strange land" can fully appreciate.

On our way back to the Clinica we met an official of the
railway, who told us a special troop train was scheduled to
arrive in a half hour and it would leave almost at once for
Cuzco. Here was a chance to get to Tirapata, so we returned
to the station and I asked the "Comandante" if he would
please, please allow three Gringos to ride on that troop train
as far as Tirapata; he politely but most emphatically said,
"No, senora/' and went on to say that there might be shoot-
ing anywhere along the line and when I ventured to suggest
that we would not mind sitting or even lying on the floor,
he replied that we were very valient e (brave), but under no
circumstances would he permit us nor any civilian to board

MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS"
that train. He courteously added that we would not be
molested while in Juliaca nor in leaving by any other means.

The truckman, who had been engaged to come at seven
sharp Monday morning, actually did come at seven, but with-
out gasoline, without oil and all four tires needed pumping
up! It was considerably after eight before they got started;
Mr. Stretter spoke almost no Spanish, so we gave him a
letter of introduction to Mr. Baker, a missionary in Puno,
and through their combined efforts, the baggage was even-
tually given over to their keeping: how they trailed the bag-
gageman ten or twelve miles around Lake Titicaca, how
they prevailed upon him to return to Puno with them, the
fiesta notwithstandingall this would make a good story in
itself; he was the only man who had a key to the baggage
room and when Mr. Baker asked him what would happen
if the baggage room caught fire during his absence, he
replied that if the door wasn't chopped down, the building
with all its baggage would just have to burn!

We expected Mr. Stretter back in Juliaca about noon and
when he had not yet arrived at four, Mrs. Stretter and I
made our way through the soldier-crowded plaza to the tele-
graph office to send a message to Mr. Baker, but he never
received it. While returning to the Clinica we met Mr.
Christen, our agent at Tirapata; he had gone to Puno on
business the Saturday previous and had been caught in the
Revolution; he hired a car in Puno and expected to take the
Stretters and me with him to Tirapata but both his car and
chofer were commandeered in Juliaca by army officers. At
five I received a telegram from Cuadros, our transportation
agent, advising he would be in Juliaca about eleven the fol-
lowing morning. He came in the Buick car as he feared the
truck would be commandeered. Mr. Stretter did not arrive
from Puno until after six, so we decided to wait until next
morning. At eight Tuesday morning, the truck still filled
with the baggage from Puno and the Buick filled with the
Stretters, Mr. Christen, Cuadros and myself, set out for Tira-
pata; the streets everywhere were filled with soldiers and we
were a little dubious about getting away, but, fortunately,
neither truck nor car were even stopped.

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

It is about a three hours* ride to Tirapata but we had
planned to stay there all night, not leaving until noon the
ensuing day, thus giving the Stretters ample time to repack
their belongings, but we had scarcely removed our wraps,
when Mrs. Christen entered the room, almost out of breath,
and excitedly told us that all cars and trucks were being con-
fiscated in Ayaviri, the next station above Tirapata, and
that a troop train was expected to arrive from there shortly;
she advised us to hurry the packing and to leave Tirapata as
soon as we possibly couldand we were not slow in acting
upon this advice. The Christens in the meantime hid their
car, first removing two wheels, and were busy hiding their
valuables. The Stretters, with the help of three or four serv-
ants, packed fast and furiously; two troop trains passed
through and we all figuratively held our breath until they were
out of sight; and in three hours, we were ready to go.

At six we were in Triunfo, where we felt secure, with no
soldiers in sight, and here the Stretters had their first taste
(and smell) of primitive wayside inns. All three of us had to
sleep in one room, which had but one small window, and
Cuadros slept in an adjoining room without any window and
with but a calico curtain separating the two rooms; the beds
have no springs and the mattresses are not Simmons* and you
are lucky if you draw two clean sheets; there are always
plenty of covers, mountains of blankets, which have lots of
weight but no warmth. However, we were too relieved from
past excitements to be "picayunish" here and we all managed
to sleep a little. We left at seven the next morning and
arrived at Huancarani at eleven; the Aricoma summit meas-
ured 15,750 feet, Huancarani 15,625. We were somewhat
late in getting away from Huancarani, hence did not arrive
in Oconeque until seven-fifteen, darkness overtaking us at
six; I was terrified, for aside from knowing that a good part
of the trail near Oconeque is terrifying enough in the day-
time, I also felt responsible for the safety of our guests. An
Indian from Oconeque met us with a lantern at six-fifteen, as
I knew one would, but when he tried to light the lantern, he
discovered there was no oil now, what about the foolish
virgins? And we had but one match, as there were no smok-

[280]

MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS"

ers in our party. (Our flashlights were in Huancarani with
unneeded things!)

Fortunately the Indian who accompanied us from Huan-
carani had a small piece of candle and, "take it from me,"
we guarded that tiny piece of candle as if it were the last
hope of our lives. We led our mules until we were out of
the canyon and then I was too exhausted to walk a step fur-
ther; a short distance out of the canyon is an Indian hut,
where Mr. Stretter was able to get a tin can with a candle
inside, which made a very satisfactory lantern. I mounted
my mule and an Indian led it, while Mr. Stretter led the one
with his wife. Mrs. Stretter had the thrilling experience of
crossing her first suspension bridge by candlelight.

We came down leisurely from Oconeque Thursday morn-
ing, arriving at Bella Pampa about three in the afternoon;
Clarence met us here and we all stayed overnight as it would
have been dark before we could reach Santo Domingo, had
we attempted to go on. At ten the following morning, we
were in Santo Domingo. The Stretters have overworked
their adjectives and superlatives, "wonderful, marvelous,
grandest, most gorgeous/' etc., in their exclamations over the
scenic beauty and the grandeur and the thrills of the Santo
Domingo Trail. And I I was mighty glad to be home again
after two of the most hectic weeks of my life and I delivered
the S/ 10,000 intact.

THE BIG STORM

Santo Domingo Mine, Dec. 7, 1932.
DEAR FOLKS:

Just three weeks ago today, about two in the morning, we
were awakened by a frightful peal of thunder, which shook
the whole house; then, continuing at least three hours, the
deafening claps of thunder and the almost constant flashes
of lightning were terrifying; these, with a never-ceasing
downpour of rain, made it seem like a cataclysm. At seven
the rain held up for a few minutes and our rain-gage showed
five and one half inches of rain; five and one half inches of
rain in five hours! The electric plant was put out of com-
mission, the water pipes burst and parts of pipe were car-

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

ried away by the flood, but it was not until twenty-four hours
later that the full extent of the storm's disastrous conse-
quences became known. We are still undecided whether
the great number of derrumbes (landslides) was due to an
earthquake almost everyone in camp felt, or swears he felt,
a distinct shaking or was due to the storm alone.

There were fifteen derrumbes, two very serious ones, be-
tween the mine and the Tunquipata bridge; eighteen der-
rumbes, three calamitous ones, between the Tunquipata
bridge and Oroya, while the ace of all was on the Bella
Pampa side of the Oroya bridge; this "worst of all" one was
described as if a huge charge of dynamite had been placed
on top of the ridge and the resultant explosion had brought
down tons and tons and more tons of rocks, trees, etc. This
mountain of debris snapped one of the cables, one of the
suspension cables of the Oroya bridge, as if it had been a
thread, thus throwing the weight of the bridge to one side,
causing another cable to break; Flores, the trail rider, who
luckily was in Bella Pampa, came to Oroya at daylight,
clambered up on the disabled bridge and began dismantling
it of the heavy plank flooring, thus minimizing its resistance
to the ever-rising flood. "They say" that the mad, rushing
torrent came within six inches of the cables on which Flores
was standing, while desperately ripping off the boards
Horatius at the bridge had nothing on our Flores for su-
preme heroism. Fortunately, the main cables withstood the
impact, else the time for repairing would have been three
times as long. Flores, with his crew working overtime, was
two full weeks making repairs on the bridge before a mule
could pass over it. Mr. Othick was the first to cross it while
it was still a string of cables; Clarence crossed it thus, hand
over hand, several times; I shudder still to think of, to see
mentally, men crossing on a few loosely slung cables over the
Inambari River, even under normal conditions, but now it
was deep, muddy, swirling water on a rampage, but a few
feet below the daring cable hangers, for there was no footing.
Many people consider it a feat to cross this bridge under the
most favorable circumstances, with good, solid flooring.

Very early on the same morning of the storm, Mr. Othick

MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS"
left camp, first for Tunquipata, then to Oroya; it took him
until five in the afternoon to get to Oroya usually one can
walk to Oroya in two hours and it has been done in an hour
and a quarter. Sometimes Mr. Othick had to climb two
hundred feet up to a ridge and then, often on all fours,
clamber or slide down again to the trail; once he climbed
down to a ledge about twenty feet above the trail and he
could neither get down nor return, so the accompanying In-
dians threw a rope to him and he * "shinned" down. It is an
unwritten law that no one attempts to go over these trails
alone after a violent storm. Many times Mr. Othick was in
water and muck up to his waist and the footing at such times
was never secure. He sent word back to Clarence, a note
by an Indian, the following day, that it would take at least
fifty men a full week to clear out the d rubbish.

The house at Tunquipata was swept into the raging,
towering Tunquipata Creek, normally as placid and gentle
as a murmuring brook; the two men and a little boy oc-
cupying the house had, fortunately, hastily left the house a
few minutes before the deluge, and they were frightened
nearly out of their skins. The plant itself seemed endan-
gered but there is still a meter to spare between the "rock
upon which it was built" and the river. The two bridges
at Tunquipata were completely demolished.

Fortunately, the water pipes were repaired within a few
hours but we were twelve whole days and twelve long nights
without light, except candles, and we had to conserve candles
for we were short of them and of course did not know how
long we would have to depend on them for light; twelve days
and twelve nights without heat, as our homes are heated by
electric stoves, not so much for the heat as for drying, as the
excessive moisture causes everything to become damp and
moldy in a very short time; twelve days without telephone
service, and with but one mail in these twelve days, we were
cut off completely from outside communication. Luckily
our recua (mule train) was in the day before the storm with
supplies of flour, rice, sugar, fresh vegetables, etc., hence we
were in no danger of a famine, and luckily, too, the recua
had returned to Bella Pampa, where the storm did no

[s8 8 ]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

damage, so the mules were able to go on to Oconeque, where
there is much better feed for them than at the mine or even
at Bella Pampa. There was a comerciante (merchant or ped-
dler), with five or six mules laden with salt bound for
Maldanado, held up on a ridge halfway between two very
bad landslides this side of Tunquipata; the second day, he
unloaded his mules, covered the cargo with canvas, and by
dint of hard work, succeeded in bringing his mules back to
Oroya, where he waited until the trail was passable I think
he had to wait ten days. A train of llamas came over the trail
first and as we heard them coming we Gringas rushed out
of our houses to give them three cheers.

It rained almost incessantly Wednesday following the
storm but we were so thankful that there had been no fatali-
ties; Thursday it continued to rain but not so hard; fifty
men were sent out in small groups to clear out the land-
slides. About ten in the morning I was typing letters, when
suddenly I heard the terrifying, stupendous, crashing noise
that portended another landslide. I felt sure the whole mill
had toppled over into Santo Domingo Creek, but by the
time I had reached a vantage point in my back yard, all I
could see was the long, huge, bare streak denuded of trees,
as if a gigantic razor had cut it clean. There were four men
working at this place it was considered the safest spot to
work of all the bad landslides on the trail and as the trees
above started to sway, a group of women, who were watching
the men shovel the debris away, screamed and one of the
group had presence of mind enough to motion to the four
men, indicating the moving earth above. Two of the men
ran toward Santo Domingo, the other two in the opposite
direction, but unhappily the rear one of the latter two, with
a long poncho on, stumbled, and before he could right him-
self was hurled with the oncoming avalanche fifty feet into
Santo Domingo Creek below. His body is buried under
tons and tons of huge boulders and debrisits recovery is
impossible. This tragic occurrence, naturally, affected the
whole camp and for several dark, dreary, rainy days the men
worked on the trail but half-heartedly. Clarence came up
over that fatal place but ten minutes previous to the disaster

[284]

MISCELLANEOUS "ROUND ROBINS"

and he had just reached the office when the terrible, clatter-
ing roar of the landslide caused him to hurry back the doc-
tor running ahead of him but there was nothing to be done.
This is our second fatal accident in our four and a half years
in Santo Domingo.

If only the sun would shine to dispel some of the gloom!
But it continued to rain heavily for three more long days.
Looking out of my window to the south, I could see six
beautiful waterfalls; the fourth day, I could see but one,
"Cascada Blanquita," named for Blanche Stretter because
she admired it so much when she was here last year; the
first three of the six, including "Blanquita," were especially
beautiful, for the Wednesday's storm mowed the surrounding
trees down for at least twenty feet on both sides of the water-
falls as "slick as a whistle/* affording an unobstructed view
of the cascading water, tumbling, I should guess, eight hun-
dred feet from close to the top of the ridge, in white, feathery
spray to become part of the foaming, tumultuous Santo
Domingo Creek rushing madly headlong, as if it, too, was
bent on destroying everything in its path.

When Clarence returned from his first inspection trip all
the way down to Oroya Saturday, I think and it took him
the whole day, he said all the gulches, and there must be at
least twenty of them, each and every one, was swept as clean
as a hound's tooth; some of these larger gulches had accumu-
lations of immense boulders and debris with small forests
of trees growing among the boulders, accumulations of many,
many years; all this rubbish was swept into Santo Domingo
Creek or heaped up on the trail, leaving the bed rock of the
gulches exposed. One narrow canyon, a short distance below
the Tunquipata bridge, was filled with water its stream had
risen sixty feet! He said many places along the trail looked
as if dynamite had been tamped into the rock high above,
then detonated, leaving a wide swath, cleaner than a miner
could have done, hurtling tons and tons of boulders, trees
and earth into Santo Domingo Creek or piling it up on the
trail. This storm left the most serious damage and greatest
havoc in its wake of any catastrophe since the trail was built.
Mr. Tuss, who is mining at Alta Gracia, close to Santo Do-

[285]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

mingo, returned from "outside" ten days after the storm,
accompanied by Lee, who was returning from the States.
The two had to cross the 350 feet of cables (the Oroya bridge
without flooring) and Mr. Tuss said the trail from Oroya
to Santo Domingo looked as if nothing of the original was
left, as if the entire trail had been rebuilt.

The storm seems to have struck the Santo Domingo ridge
and the one directly north of us, confining itself to a large
area eastward in the Amazon Basin, for no damage was in-
flicted west of Bella Pampa the telephone line from Bella
Pampa to Huancarani remained intact; but the big bridge at
Huacamayo, three days "inside" on mule from Santo Do-
mingo, was swept into the Huacamayo River. Many land-
slides on the trail to Maldanado have been reported.

I will add Mr. Maycumber's weather report for November:

Total rainfall 37.75 inches.

Average temperature 64.

Sunny days: 6.

On the morning of Nov. 16 at two A.M. an earthquake followed
by a cloudburst.

Five and one half inches of rain in five hours.

Road out in thirty-three places between Santo Domingo and
Oroya.

Bridge at Oroya badly damaged.

Two bridges out at Tunquipata.

Tunquipata power plant in great danger.

Rebuilt four miles of telephone line, putting in one mile of
new wire.

Power off for twelve days.

One man killed.

We suffered a complete shut-down in mine and mill for
two weeks; all the men from the mine, the mill and the shops
were put on the road to repair the trail, the transmission
lines, etc. With the exception of the two days following the
fatal accident, everybody worked with a will and the morale
of the camp was excellent. If this disastrous storm had oc-
curred during our first year here, we would have had to walk
out with our blankets on our backs, so we are thankful that
we have been able to withstand the calamity.

[286]

CHAPTER XIII

THE STORY OF THE SANTO DOMINGO MINE

Santo Domingo, January 15, 1933.

MY VERY DEAR

I am glad you considered the "hodge-podge" of round
robins interesting and I confess the "rehashing" was just a
little interesting to me as well, for I enjoyed some of the
thrills in retrospect, while the mere copying brought back
memories, the pleasant ones heightened, the others mellowed
by time. You say the storm was "awful" and it was, but,
my dear, that travail of the very foundation of the earth (so it
seemed to us) gave us a dear little girl, who has brought and
is continuing to bring much joy into our home: her father
was the unfortunate victim of the cruel landslide and we at
once took the motherless, eight-year-old waif into our hearts
as well as our home; she calls Clarence "daddy" and her
"mammie" means more to me than all the degrees or titles
I have ever had conferred upon me; she more than compen-
sates for any fear, worry or loss we have suffered and we both
regard her as South America's most precious gift to us.

You want me to tell you the story of the Santo Domingo
Mine your request is timely, for I have just received some
notes on the mine by Mr. Paul Yungling, who was the first
American engineer at this mine, (Clarence always wanted
me to collect data on the Pulacayo mine, for if ever a mine
has had a hectic history, Pulacayo is certainly the one to
carry off the prize; but I procrastinated too long and lost a
golden opportunity to give my friends an absorbingly inter-
esting story,) This time I shall not put it off but am begin-
ning the very next day after the receipt of your letter.

Early in June we were most agreeably surprised by a
wholly unexpected and quite unheralded visit from two men
directly from Los Angeles; I say unheralded, for we usually

[2873

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

know from Huancarani, at least, when anyone is coming to
Santo Domingo, but these two men, Mr. Yungling and Mr.
Jones, had stopped at Sagrario several days and I presume
had not mentioned at Huancarani that they were later com-
ing to Santo Domingo. Mr. Yungling was a member of the
group of Americans that came to Peru in 1894 to take over
the Santo Domingo mine; he was assayer, surveyor, doctor
and general-utility lad, for he was only nineteen. He has a
flair for languages and was soon able to speak the Quechua
with the Indians, the Spanish with the Cholos and gente
decente, and being a "medicine man" as well (he had studied
medicine for two years and has the successful amputation of
a man's leg and several other surgical feats down here to his
credit), the Indians soon had confidence in him and before
long, an Indian showed him some gold gold that duplicated
the Santo Domingo goldand told him in a general way
where this gold had been discovered. So Mr. Yungling
spent his vacations scouting around, looking for this mine,
but his vacations were never long enough to give him the
time necessary to find the outcropping from which this
"float" came.

At the expiration of his contract, three years, Mr. Yung-
ling returned to the States; his mother was not very well and
she exacted a promise from him that he would not return
to Peru during her lifetime. But now, after thirty-seven
years, he is here again; his mother, still living and more
robust at eighty-four than she was at that time, has released
him from that promise. She feared the "Chuncos" (savage
Indians), who were but a few kilometers from Santo Do-
mingo; the extreme roughness of the country and the un-
known dangers of the unexplored wilderness frightened her.
In the meantime Mr. Yungling has been in nearly all parts
of the globe but the dream of finding this "El Dorado" in
Peru has ever been with him.

Mr. Jones, a younger man, but not one whit more vigorous,
whose more than six feet of brawn and muscle and "the cut
of whose jib" shows that he usually gets what he goes after,
has been fired with the same enthusiasm and now the two
men are actually on the trail of this mine in the Inambari

[288]

THE STORY OF THE SANTO DOMINGO MINE
Gold Concession. It Is scarcely necessary to say that the
entire staff at Santo Domingo devoutly hopes for their suc-
cess in even greater measure than they themselves are hoping
to obtain.

Mr. Yungling held us spellbound with his graphic descrip-
tions of the adventures and experiences of this first Ameri-
can expedition into this trackless montana (Green Hell) nor
did we want to interrupt him, but later in the evening I
asked him for some notes of the "high spots" and these are
the notes just received. While waiting for these notes, I
interviewed, just talked, with as many "old-timers" as I could
and one of these "old-timers" was here when Mr. Yungling
first arrived and still remembered him! I have gathered
quite a little more information in this way of the "romantic
history of the Santo Domingo mine" and shall now pass on
to you what, to us, is. an absorbingly interesting story and
if you find it one-tenth as interesting, I shall feel that my
efforts at transcribing these data are well repaid.

In 1890 one Mariano Quispe, an Indian from the village of
Macusani, sixty miles from Santo Domingo, was with a party
collecting bark of the cinchona tree, our source of quinine.
Quispe made his way alone up Santo Domingo Creek, turned
into a small creek joining the Santo Domingo Creek on the
left and stopped to survey a small waterfall that blocked his
way; deciding that he could not proceed, he turned to re-
trace his steps to the main stream and was astonished to see
a dim reflection of himself on a slab of metal, which seemed
as if plastered to the surface of the rock wall of the box
canyon in which he found himself; the canyon was but seven
feet wide. This metal he at once saw to be solid gold and
he broke it loose with the small hatchet he carried for peeling
the bark from cinchona trees. This side trip occurred on
Sunday, "Domingo."

When Quispe returned to his village he showed this slab
of gold to Francisco Velasco, who, naturally, became very
much excited and he immediately sent for Manuel Estrada,
a wealthy (relatively speaking) man of the village, to whom
the Indian explained again in detail where he had found the
gold; the two men offered him four head of cattle, if he

[289]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

would conduct them to the place and he accepted the offer.
A party was organized, and ten days later Quispe showed
them the exact spot where he had chipped off the gold.
There was no delay, for the Indian had remembered every
ridge and every gully.

The vein was cut by the creek, the outcroppings o rich
gold were exposed on both sides of the narrow gorge; this
spot was named "El Suche," from a fragrant yellow flower
that grew here in abundance and it is so called by the old-
timers yet today. The thrilling part to us is that it is directly
below this "El Suche," undoubtedly a continuation of the
same ore shoot, where Clarence took out the bulk of the ore
with which we paid for Santo Domingo! The Velasco-
Estrada party set monuments, posted notices of denounce-
ment and returned home via the high ridge down the Macho
Creek to Oroya (you remember our last Christmas Greetings
shows a picture of the swinging bridge at Oroya); here the
Indian, Mariano Quispe, the discoverer of this slab of gold,
fell over a cliff and was drowned. His body was never recov-
ered nor were the four head of cattle ever delivered to his
heirs. To find the heirs of Mariano Quispe now would be
like trying to find the heirs of a John Smith in the States-
there would be thousands of claimants.

Mr. Yungling saw this slab of gold, called "Espejo de Oro"
(Mirror of Gold) , at Velasco's home in Macusani; it weighed
forty-seven Spanish ounces, was worth approximately $900;
he said it was a beautiful, massive nugget, an alluring speci-
men of nature's handiworkno wonder he wants to find
more like it!

The following dry season Velasco and Estrada installed a
small four stamp mill on the creek, on an artificial flat,
which can still be seen just around the bend from our present
camp; this mill was driven by a small overshot water wheel;
they saved an average of fourteen ounces ($280) per day,
grinding only selected ore, the very richest, and losing at
least 40 percent of the values in the tailings.

Four years later United States citizens come into the pic-
ture: in 1894 Mr. W. L. Hardison, President of the Union
Oil Co. of Santa Paula, California, came to Peru to investi-

[290]

THE STORY OF THE SANTO DOMINGO MINE

gate the oil fields; while in Lima, he was shown some very
rich samples of gold ore by a Dr. Alejandro, the samples
being owned by a Sr. Pando, who claimed the specimens
came from his mine on Maco Tacuma, just across the ridge
from the very rich Santo Domingo mine. Mr. Hardison
agreed to go with Pando to inspect the mine with the idea
of purchasing it. Mr. Hardison was accompanied to Peru
by Mr. Chester Brown, now a retired capitalist of Los Ange-
les; these two men, with Pando, traveled five hundred miles
by sea from Lima to Mollendo, then by rail from Mollendo
to Tirapata as men travel today, but there was no road then
from Tirapata to Huancarani nor any canyon trail from
Huancarani to the mine as now. These men made the
hazardous, difficult trip into the montana (Green Hell) via
Macusani and Coaza, following Indian trails on the almost
knife-edge tops of the ridges between the canyons, and some-
times the trails led into the canyons, wading or swimming
the rivers, sleeping in Indian huts or in the open. It is sixty
miles from Tirapata to Macusani, thirty from Macusani to
Goaza and another thirty from Coaza to Santo Domingo; all
this way on mule or on foot, very likely two-thirds of the
way on foot; today, with a good trail from Coaza to the mine,
it takes an Indian with llamas six days to bring us potatoes.
The three men spent a day and a night at the Velasco-Estrada
camp, crossing the divide the next day to Pando's mine; they
found the tunnel in the mountain but no mine, no ore in
sight.

Mr. Hardison made up his mind that the samples shown
him were from Santo Domingo, so he negotiated with Velasco
and Estrada to purchase the Santo Domingo mine for $210,-
ooo, paying $10,000 cash and an option for ninety days to
pay the balance. Returning to the United States, he formed
a company consisting of Senator Emery of Bradford, Penn-
sylvania; Joseph Seep, Charles Collins and others; this com-
pany" supplied the funds for the purchase of the mine and
what was considered necessary for expenditures to develop it.

A few days after giving the option, the owners struck an
extremely rich zone in two of their four tunnels; in their
eagerness to work it out before the option expired, they

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

gutted the ore body, putting in a stick of timber only when
absolutely necessary for their work, with disastrous conse-
quences to the American company later. (Now the timber
gang ranks in importance with that of mill or mine; about
one hundred Indians are constantly employed in cutting
down the huge logs and transporting them down to the mine
on their backs, for only men have the skill to bring the logs
along the precipitous canyon sides. Some parts of the mine
smell like an old-fashioned drug store, for the mine is tim-
bered with camphor wood, laurel, mahogany and rosewood,
valuable woods that sell by the pound in the United States,
yet being indigenous here, they grow all up and down the
canyon slopes, as common in our canyons as the willows
along streams in the northern hemisphere. But, of course, I
have not smelled these woods in the mine, for, as I have
written you previously, women are not allowed in any mine
in South America as the Indians believe there will surely be
a fatal accident if a woman enters the mine, and in some
localities the same superstition holds for a priest.) On the
eighty-seventh day of the option, arrived Mr. Hardison with
his son, his nephew, Chester E. Brown, Theodore Gray and
Paul Yungling. Mrs. Hardison, her two small children and
the accountant's wife arrived a few days later. At that time
there was no trail along the Santo Domingo Creek. Feature
if you can, two women and two children following the creek
bed, climbing over huge boulders, crossing the stream one
hundred and thirty-two times, first one side, then to the
other side, fighting their way through thick bushes, improvis-
ing ladders out of trees when necessary to climb precipices
a difficult enough feat for a hardy man these women were
certainly heroic, even though Indians helped them over the
worst places and occasionally carried the children.

At once after the arrival of the six men, Velasco and
Estrada informed Mr. Hardison that they had changed their
minds and did not care to sell; they would return the
$10,000 deposit, but they would not give up the mine! Each
and every one of the six Americans was armed with a Win-
chester carbine and a Colt 44 revolver; the six, with Velasco
and Estrada, were seated on the porch of the building used

[292]

THE STORY OF THE SANTO DOMINGO MINE
as office, store and home of the Peruvian owners; some chick-
ens were feeding on the ground about fifty feet away. Mr.
Hardison, who ordinarily was an execrable shot with a
revolver, drew his .44, shot the head off of a rooster, and
calmly replaced his gun, as if that were not an unusual occur-
rence, while the other five did all they could to give the
impression that they could easily do likewise. Looks of
astonishment appeared on the faces of Messrs. Velasco and
Estrada, they withdrew and in a few moments returned with
the announcement that upon reconsideration they had de-
cided to fulfill their agreement. And so, although Santo Do-
mingo came by its name because the "Espejo de Oro" was
discovered on Sunday (Domingo), its name might as appro-
priately have been changed to the less euphonious one of
"gallo" (rooster).

The original owners, however, were so resentful of being
dispossessed that they told the miners and Indian laborers
that the "Gringos'* were robbers, little better than murderers
and that anyone who remained in camp did so at his own
risk; with the result that there was a general exodus, leaving
but the handful of Americans in camp. Before they were
able to secure other laborers, the rains were upon them.
And such rains! (We have a record of nine feet, one hun-
dred and eight inches, in two months, March and April,
twelve times a rainfall record in the United States, and we
have another record of five inches in two hours! Muto San
tells of a recorded rainfall of ten inches in one hour at Bella
Pampa, but that, of course, like any unpleasant weather in
California, is unusual.) This small group put in a miserable
existence for nearly eight months, their supplies gradually
giving out until they subsisted on rice alone, and were even
without salt for two whole months. Mr. Yungling made
several hunting trips up the Quitun canyon and was able
to send back a few monkeys, a few parrots and other birds by
Indians he met, whom he cajoled or forced by threats to
do his bidding. When at last the wretched, half-starved but
indomitable small group did receive supplies and had per-
suaded a few miners to work, they found all the tunnels
caved in, due to improper or almost entire lack of timbering,

[*93]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

hence they were absolutely useless for mining. Two new
tunnels were started, the Inca and the "Dos de Mayo" (May
2nd), but in the whole three years Mr. Yungling was with
the company, not a ton of ore was taken outl

Estrada told Mr. Yungling that he and his partner had
taken out more than $300,000 worth of gold in the
eighty-seven days of the option; Mr. Yungling himself met
the train of llamas carrying out their last shipment of gold-
six llamas, each with fifty pounds of gold, in all approxi-
mately $90,000 worthand not a llamero (llama herder) nor
a guard in sight 1 Mr. Yungling waited around a half hour
or so, every moment expecting to see the man in charge of
all this gold, but not until he arrived at Quitun, an Indian
village of a few huts (now a coffee plantation), late the fol-
lowing day, did he find the official guard, and this guard
was dead drunk and remained so for several days. Thus the
six llamas were wandering along the trail all this time, with
those heavy burdens, with all that gold on their backs. I
believe no flight of imagination could make us see $90,000
worth of gold being carted around anywhere in the good
old U. S. A. without someone to look after it; in our cities
there would be the armored car plus mounted police, while
the smallest village would have a constable or so to guard
the gold. But aside from the danger to the gold, it was cruel
to treat the llamas so: a good llamero unloads his llamas
every evening and shifts loads in such a manner that each
llama carries a load only every alternate day and he drives
them but six to twelve miles a day, the llamas feeding as
they go. And do you know that only the Indians can manage
llamas? A Cholo or a white man can do nothing with them
they simply "do not understand the language" of any but
a pure Indian. Some time later the Inca Mining Company,
while never so careless as in the above instance, did have a
"hold-up," which I will tell you about subsequently, and
we take the utmost precaution with our shipments the gold
is carefully guarded from the time it is cast into bars until
it is aboard the ship en route to the United States mint.

Thus endeth the tale of the time Mr. Yungling was here;
the information until our arrival has been supplied by "old-

THE STORY OF THE SANTO DOMINGO MINE

timers" who are still employed here. Felipe, a one-armed
man, whose arm was amputated by our doctor three years
ago, was fishing at Maldanado with dynamite and did not
let go of the fuse soon enough. When he arrived at the
mine, the bone of the forearm was protruding and the flesh
at its extremity putrefied; our doctor amputated his arm a
few hours after he arrived, and he now looks after a little
chacra (farm) where he raises fruit and vegetables for us; the
farm is called Miraflores, meaning "Look, flowers/' and is
close to Oroya. I feel sure every city and large town in
South America has a suburb called Miraflores, so Santo Do-
mingo had to have such a suburb, too. Felipe remembers
much of those stirring times and a good many of his "they
says" and of the other oldsters, through much repetition, now
pass as authentic.

Mr. Hardison as manager was relieved by Chester Brown,
under whose capable management, the mine produced about
$12,000,000; fully five and a half of these millions, and very
likely much more, were spent here in Peru for machinery
and buildings at the mine and at Tirapata, in mills, in build-
ing roads and trails; the trail from Huancarani to the mine
is said to have cost a million alone. Later huge sums were
spent in rubber lands and in building a trail to these rubber
lands; Mr. Wilson, one of our employees* had charge of the
building of this latter trail and he relates many interesting
and hair-raising tales of his encounters with the "Chuncos,"
the savage Indians; he and his workmen were always armed
and had to be constantly on the alert for attacks from am-
bush.

And until 1905 the very location of Santo Domingo was in
dispute; its discoverer was a Peruvian and all connected with
the mine later had come in by way of Peru but Bolivian
money was the only currency used, the workmen receiving
their pay in Bolivian silver pesetas, and, until Santo Do-
mingo was discovered, the boundary between Peru and Boli-
via was indefinite, the Inambari River being considered by
some as the boundary. Then in 1905 an English Commission
was appointed to fix the boundary between Peru, Bolivia
and Brazil; Col. P. H. Fawcett, whose disappearance many

[295]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

years later in the Brazilian jungles is still perplexing his
friends, for whom efforts are still being made to locate him,
was made Head of this Commission. The boundary between
Peru and Bolivia is now the Tambopata River.

From about May, 1912, the mine did not produce so well
and there occurred a bewildering change of personnel, from
manager down to peons, but even during Mr. Brown's
regime and on down to 1914, when the Company was reor-
ganized, Santo Domingo had more than its share of bad men,
high-graders (those who steal high-grade ore) and lawless
desperadoes; Mr. Spencer, inspector at the change-house, told
me the mountain sides were dotted with the tents of the
comerciantes (merchants or peddlers), who brought in alco-
hol with other things, and fighting affrays were frequent. So
bad did the conditions become, that the management decided
to put in a cantina (barroom) to try to regulate the drinking.
Many are the amusing stories of the "bootlegging" that fol-
lowed: bottles of alcohol cleverly tucked away in bundles of
coca leaves and even in cans of rice or sugar. But there was
an improvement for the apprehended bootlegger was not
allowed to return. We have a dry camp with drinking trou-
bles almost nil. Mr. Spencer told me most of the following
stories:

1. A Gringo, named Smith, entered Botine's, the cashier's,
office and began abusing him, calling him vile names for
some fancied offense; Botine drew his .44 and shot him dead.
Smith was buried without ceremony and there was no in-
quiry, no investigation of any kind whatsoever.

2. Mr. Brown, the Manager, at irregular intervals, would
call the employees together to make a raid on the workmen's
houses for gold; armed with rifles, the twelve Gringos would
search every house during the search no other person was
allowed to enter or leave one of these houses under penalty
of being fired upon; always the searchers found gold, and
once they found a workman grinding ore in his house in
his own mill! These "secondary" clean-ups invariably paid
well.

3. Doroty, an assayer, went for a walk while waiting for
the mail to arrive and mail at that time must have been

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THE STORY OF THE SANTO DOMINGO MINE

even more of an event than It Is today; when he had not re-
turned that night, a search party was organized to hunt for
him but to no avail. Some two weeks later a group of men
getting out timber found his body leant against a tree; so
badly mutilated was the body, that it had to be brought to
camp in a sack for burial; the cause of his horrible death
remains a mystery but suspicion naturally points to "Chun-
cos/' the savage Indians.

4. The "Hold-up": An American (of course), named
Howard, and an Englishman, name forgotten, both former
employees of the mine, decided to hold up the shipment of
gold. They were, naturally, familiar with the modus oper-
andi; they stopped several parties going out but somehow
missed the one with the gold; they finally decided they would
take the payroll coming in, since the conveyor of the gold
had "outsmarted" them; so they held up the postman at
Aricoma, the summit, but again they were out of luck, for
he had only the mail. So they came on down to Agualani
and compelled the foreman In charge of the road work there
to accompany them, with his sack of silver pesetas, almost as
far as Oconeque, then merely a camp; but the bandits had
been hanging around so long, had stopped so many people,
that the whole countryside was aroused, soldiers had been
sent for and now the pursuers were hot on the bandits*
trail. Many shots were exchanged and the robbers, becom-
ing frightened, took the sack from the road boss and "beat
it" into the brush at Oconeque, where they buried the
money. That money has not been found to this day. How-
ard, after killing four or five men, made his way to Bolivia,
where he is still living; Mr. Othick, our millman, knows him
and says this attempted hold-up was his last misdeed; he did
send a man to Oconeque for the sack of pesetas but his envoy
failed to find the cache. Since Oconeque provides most of
our fruit and all our vegetables, It had been pretty well dug
over, yet there is always the chance that our trail rider, who
is the Jefe (Chief) at Oconeque, may find that cache of silver.
The Englishman's whereabouts are unknown.

5. A man killed In the mine was brought out by his fellow
workers, who first stuffed his pockets with gold for, of

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

course, a dead man would not be searched and later the
corpse bearers divided the spoils!

6. An Italian shift boss was seen coming out of the mine
with a heavy load of gold; when he saw he was discovered,
he disappeared in the brush, hid the gold and made his way
to Macusani, where he died. He was heard to say many
times that if he could only get back to Santo Domingo, he
would have enough to keep him in luxury the rest of his
life. So here is another hidden treasure,

7. So brazen were the high-graders, so flagrant became the
thefts of gold, that in 1905 a change-house was built. (By
smuggling out ore, these high-graders often made more in
one day than they earned as miners in a month or even two
months. A piece of ore, half gold and half gangue, about
the size of a quarter pound cake of chocolate, would weigh
two or three pounds and would bring the high-grader $200
or $300. He would never get the full value, for he would sell
it to a bootlegger-peddler, but even so, it was many times
more than he could earn legitimately.) The change-house
was looked upon as a gold-trap by the miners, as they had to
change their clothes on entering the mine and again on leav-
ing, they and their clothes under inspection. When the
change-house was first put to use, a big strike occurred and
many lawless acts were committed; dynamite was freely used
but, fortunately, no serious damage was done. Several years
later the change-house was burned down to the ground-
unquestionably incendiaryand we had to rebuild it shortly
after our arrival but this time there was no indication of a
strike.

8. Hugh McDermott, working in the cyanide plant, sent
a "raw" Indian to get him a glass of water; the Indian turned
on the tap of a cyanide tank and brought this water to Mr.
McDermott, who drank it all and dropped dead with the
glass in his hand. (I remember from my pharmacy experi-
ence that the only antidote for cyanide poisoning was to send
for the undertaker.)

9. The telephone line from Tirapata to the mine was
completed in 1901. The Indians, wholly ignorant of the need
of the line being entire in its 140 miles, would cut off as

THE STORY OF THE SANTO DOMINGO MINE
many feet of the shiny copper wire as they might want to
use for their immediate needs. One day a line repairer saw
an Indian with his machete bound with copper wire, so he
took him and his machete to the "Governador" at Limbani.
The Governador had the Indian's home searched and there
a whole roll of the Company's copper wire was found; the
Governador summoned all the Indians of his district, pub-
licly flogged the thief in the plaza and this ended wire steal-
ing for a long time. We are occasionally annoyed by having
our telephone line tampered with and our line repairer is
positively hankering for a chance to mete out a similar pun-
ishment to the miscreant.

10. Another scheme of high-graders was to wrap the gold
in an old rag or tie it to bits of wood, then drop the bundle
in the stream of water pumped out of the mine into the
drainage canal; to stop this the canal was emptied daily at
irregular intervals and the inspector was paid a commission
on the gold recovered from the canal; one month, Mr.
Spencer said, his commissions amounted to S./4OO, at that
time $160.

11. An Italian barret ero (miner), who always wore a
jaunty yachting cap to work and who was accustomed to
coming out earlier than his fellow workers, was stopped by
the inspector, who merely wanted to ask him the time; the
miner looked so scared that the inspector reached over and
jerked off his capand out fell more than a pound of gold!

12. For some time the lower-grade ore from the mine was
concentrated by grinding it and flowing the ground-up ore
over vibrating tables in a stream of water so that the heavy
high-grade particles settled at one end of the tables; these
high-grade concentrates were dried, sacked and sent out by
pack train to the railroad and thence sent to the smelters
where the gold was separated. Once a mule with two sacks
of concentrates fell over a cliff on the trail between Ocone-
que and Limbani; Mr, Spencer, the "light-weight" of the
party, was let down over the cliff by a rope into the canyon,
but he saw no sign of the mule and but one sack of the
concentrates; the mule and the other sack had been carried
down the swift stream, perhaps even into the Inambari.

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HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

(Later the management gave up sending out concentrates;
the crushed ore was amalgamated with mercury in mills and
the residues containing the chemically combined gold stored
in tanks. These residues are to be treated by the "cyanide
process" and roasted in a furnace, now in the building; we
have thirteen huge tanks, containing approximately 5,000
tons of concentrates with an estimated value of from $80 to
$100 per ton and, of course, the mills are adding to these
tanks every day.)

13. Not all the high-graders were Indians or common
workmen: an assay er, who analyzed samples of ore and con-
centrates to estimate their value, made thin sheets of gold in
his laboratory and sent them to his family in flat packages,
labeled "photographs."

14. One manager blew up the old mill (the so-called new
one is the one we are now using) with dynamite, appro-
priated S./ 10,000 ($4,000) and left for Bolivia "without
leave."

15. One engineer came to Santo Domingo with but one
book, Rickert's Fire-Assay., and he departed with an immense
library, several large, heavy boxes labeled "books" he took
out at least a ton of rich ore or of gold.

Thus endeth these tales; which do you think the best?
To me, No. 5 is the most shocking. High-grading is always
a serious problem in any gold mine and constant, unremit-
ting vigilance is necessary. Just the other day Clarence
found a beautiful gold specimen near the track It contained
at least three ounces of gold ($60). He thinks It must have
been thrown off by a carman during the night and a confed-
erate was to have picked it up; but Clarence, always an early
riser, made his usual rounds somewhat earlier this morning;
and it was in this way that he found reason to suspect Ma-
mani, a carpenter, one of the "original thirteen" who were
here when we arrived. Clarence met him on the track sev-
eral times, too early to be reporting for work; his house was
searched and, sure enough, more than $300 worth of ore
was found under the kitchen floor. This collusion between
carmen and outside workers is, of course, the most difficult
to ferret out: the track from "la boca de la mina" (the mouth

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THE STORY OF THE SANTO DOMINGO MINE
of the mine) to where the ore is dumped for the crusher, is a
quarter of a mile long, curves somewhat, and although a
string of electric lights illuminates the entire distance, yet,
at night, a carman can "take a chance" that he will not be
caught. The underbrush and all vegetation are cut close
to the ground on both sides of the track; a window in the
change-house gives an unobstructed view for fully two-thirds
of the distance, while a window in the surveyor's office at the
other end of the track gives a view of the other third, so
there is not much possibility that a carman would risk throw-
ing off pieces of high-grade ore during the day shift.

About 1912 the price of rubber dropped to less than the
cost of transportation from Astillero to Tirapata, let alone
the added cost of production. While the Inca Rubber Com-
pany was a separate unit, yet that company and the Inca
Mining Co. had the same stockholders; at one time more
than 500 mules were carrying rubber over the Santo Do-
mingo trail. At this time the mine's production could not
keep pace with the high-graders and there is a colorful inter-
lude of about two years when the men in authority were
often worse high-graders than the miners! Be it known that
the men most interested in Santo Domingo financially were
not mining people at all, they were oil men, who almost
never gave Santo Domingo personal supervision.

In 1914 with a reorganization, the name of the Company
was changed from the Inca Mining Company to the Inca
Mining and Development Company, which appellation it
retains to this day. Senator Emery became chief stockholder
and he took an active and personal interest in Santo Domingo
up to the time of his death in 1925; he was an oil man also
and the only oil man who, in defiance of Rockefeller, was
able to keep his refineries operating and to maintain an oil
line from his Pennsylvania oil fields to the Atlantic coast;
you will remember that Senator Emery was one of the origi-
nal promoters who sent the first American party down here,
of which Mr. Yungling was a member.

A multimillionaire and at an age when most men retire,
Senator Emery spent a great deal of his time at the mine;
he had great faith in the gold possibilities of this region, he

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HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

believed it to be another Rand, and whether Santo Domingo
paid or not, he continued to devote his time, his energy and
his money to this, his "pet" project. He spent $200,000 for
a 540 H. P. hydro-electric plant at Bella Pampa, which was
never completed in his lifetime. (We have just finished its
installation at an additional cost of $10,000. It has been
functioning since the first of June and now we can really
enjoy what little sunshine we have before this plant was
operating, we were always fearing a shortage of water if the
sun shone more than a day or two in succession. The Tun-
quipata power plant has given sufficient power for all pur-
poses except in extremely dry weather, but with the Quitun
River now supplying the power at Bella Pampa, we are not
dependent on the rains. And we now have excess power for
other mines.) Mr. Emery spent another $200,000 for an
all-slime cyanide plant, which gave but 10 percent extrac-
tion: in his many trips back and forth to the States, he met
engineers from South Africa, who expatiated on the low cost
of extracting gold by the cyanide process, so he was eager
to try out the process here. "Pop" Ridgeway, his metallurgi-
cal engineer, advised him that the Santo Domingo ore was
not amenable to the cyanide process but he insisted upon
installing such a plant nevertheless, and when told that he
would be wasting his money, he replied, "It is my mine and

my money and I'll do as I d please." Of course, Mr.

Ridgeway resigned. We are now using this plant by in-
stalling a roasting furnace. There were many other heavy
expenditures but the Bella Pampa power plant and the
cyanide plant are the two outstanding ones.

However, aside from being the chief stockholder, Mr.
Emery really enjoyed living in Santo Domingo; he liked the
climate, spoke of it as perpetual spring, and he preferred to
live in the house in which we are now living, to his luxurious
home in Bradford, Penn., or to his palatial summer home in
the Jamaica Islands. At eighty years of age, he would trot
his mule over the dizzy heights of Bandarani and other scary
places on the trail, where young men of twenty or thirty
would dismount and lead the mule. Many are the stories
recounted of his eccentricities: he would pick up old, rusty

THE STORY OF THE SANTO DOMINGO MINE

nails and tin cans, insisting they be used again, yet he was
most generous in his benefactions; he spent money freely on
any big idea but he could not bear to see the slightest thing
wasted. He wore overalls, fraternized with the laborers and
even worked right along with them as stone mason or car-
man, collecting his two soles (at that time about eighty cents)
at the cashier's window, and then he would spend his wages
for cigarettes or candy to distribute among the workmen.

Mr. Emery made no attempt to learn Spanish and many
amusing anecdotes are related of this linguistic lack: the
cockroaches were so numerous at the Casa Santo Domingo
that he had the kitchen walls lined with tin sheets from the
empty five-gallon cans and there are plenty of cans, for all
flour, rice, sugar, etc., must be brought in in well-soldered
five-gallon tin cans on account of the heavy rains; the tin
walls were then painted and when finished, he went in to
inspect the work. Tornella, a big, fat Italian cook, in charge
of the kitchen, could speak no English. Mr. Emery said,
"Now, see, Tornella, you will not see any more cockroaches."
Tornella, with the customary Latin politeness, doffed his cap
and said, "Si, si, Senor." (Yes, yes, sirbut the "si" is pro-
nounced "see.") So Emery answered, "But, damn it, man, I
tell you you won't see any more." Then there is the story
of a telegram sent to his home from the office which read:
"No hay de esta en Tirapata" (There is none in Tirapata),
referring evidently to some supplies ordered. Mr. Emery sent
back word to the office that he knew positively that there was
plenty of hay in Tirapata, for he had but recently purchased
enough to last a month! "No hay" (pronounced i, long),
meaning there isn't any or there are not,, is used almost as
much as manana down here; "no hay" is a provoking refrain
of the servants, for it is so much easier to just say, "no hay"
than to look for something. Once in Lima he wanted to
order ham and eggs for breakfast and told the waiter to bring
him "jabon and huecos" soap and holes.

In teaching the Indians to use wheelbarrows (I saw an
Indian just yesterday carrying a wheelbarrow on his shoul-
ders instead of pushing it), Mr. Emery would hit them on
the elbows with a big stick; yet all the laborers liked the "old

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

man" or "tata" (father) as they affectionately called him; one
of the old-timers told me last week that Mr. Emery once
asked him for a cigarette, the only time in his life that a
millionaire had asked him for a cigarette, and he is still so
proud of the honor! Mr. Emery "fired" a Gringo, then made
him take a gold brick to the United States mint for him!

Shortly after Mr. Emery's death, the mine was closed
down as his heirs were not interested in mining. Mr.
Emery's faith in the Inambari district, an unabated faith
until the day of his death, was based on his own observation
and its early history as well: more than $200,000,000 worth
of gold taken out from the time of the Spanish Conquest in
1535 to the time of the expulsion of the Jesuits in 1775, and
this more than $200,000,000 of gold put the world on the
"gold standard"; from 150 to 200 mines in operation, the
largest of which, the San Juan del Oro, shows a pit from
which 50,000,000 cubic yards of gravel have been worked,
with untold millions of cubic yards still remaining, for this
old river channel is known to extend to the mouth of the
Inambari River, many, many miles below; and there is no
doubt that a great part of Atahualpa's ransom came from
this region. Mr. Emery might have seen this faith justified,
had he been permitted to live a few years more, for "rich
strikes" are being reported, a thousand Indians are working
the streams of the Inambari today and many mines are in
the process of being opened up.

Aren't you tired? Better leave the rest for another day and
again make yourself comfortable, for It will be a long recital
of how we happened to come to Santo Domingo and then
some of the "high spots" in our life down here.

You remember that our home at Chojnacota (tin mine) in
Bolivia was very, very high: our home was 15,6253 above the
level of the sea and the mine was a thousand feet higher;
the entire Quimse Cruz (Three Crosses) section, of which
Chojnacota was a part, has the rest of the world, in my opin-
ion, "backed off the map" for scenic beauty; I still rave over
Chojnacota's towering peaks, capped deeply with everlasting
snow the ever-changing but always interesting and fascinat-
ing glacier in our back yard, and the three large, sometimes

[ 304]

THE STORY OF THE SANTO DOMINGO MINE
small, wonderful, now sapphire, now emerald, lakes in our
front yard. But when you bear in mind that we were ac-
tually living at an elevation much higher than Mt. Rainier
or Mt. Shasta, more than a thousand feet higher even than
Mt. Whitney, the highest peak in the United States, you will
agree with me that we were really 'living high." Unfor-
tunately the excess of grandeur and scenic beauty could not
make up for the lack of oxygen; I think I still hold the record
for living the longest period of time, three years, of any
white woman, at such an altitude, yet I seemed to thrive on
it; but it was too much for Clarence and at one of our
enforced vacations at the seacoast, where he always recuper-
ated so rapidly, we decided to seek a lower level for our
next abode at the first opportunityand that opportunity
presented itself while on this vacation.

All mining people had heard of Santo Domingo from its
very inception on account of the richness of the "strike,"
and later on account of the "high-grading," which has been
notorious, and which still persists in spite of every precau-
tion; just yesterday Clarence had to "send down the hill"
two miners for quarreling, and always when sending a work-
man "down the hill" he is searched and one of these belliger-
ents had high-graded nearly a half ounce of gold. When
Clarence carne to Bolivia, nine years ago, he met an engineer,
a Mr. Rand, on the boat, who was "ticketed" for Santo Do-
mingo, and he entertained the group of mining people on
the ship with stories of the wonderful richness of the Santo
Domingo ore and of tb.e clever high-graders. One of the
shift bosses working for Clarence in the Huanchaca mine,
that once fabulously rich silver mine at Pulacayo, told Clar-
ence that in his last month of employment at the Santo Do-
mingo mine he took out enough gold to get 800 Peruvian
($3,200) cash for it and this same shift boss had the nerve
to ask Clarence for a job here shortly after our arrival! At
Chojnacota there were several workmen who boasted of how
much they had high-graded at Santo Domingo and they, too,
later applied for jobs her el

Returning from the coast to Chojnacota, we took a side
trip to Cuzco, the ancient capital of the Incas, and while

[305]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

on this train, an army officer and Clarence "passed the time
of the day" and were soon discussing the mining possibilities
o Peru; in the meantime I was quite interested in the offi-
cer's wife and their eight children, the eldest fourteen and
the youngest a babe in arms; such a young-looking, happy
mother and such well-brought-up children, the older ones
looking after the younger ones; it was a joy just to watch
them. The officer knew Santo Domingo and as we neared
Tirapata he said to Clarence, "Let's get off here, perhaps
there will be someone from Santo Domingo at the station."
And, sure enough, there was an ex-shift boss to whom the
officer said, "How's Santo Domingo?" and the shift boss
replied, "The mine is all right, is good, but the manager was
crazy." There was time for no more as the train stops at
Tirapata only long enough for passengers to get on and off
but the shift boss's remark made an indelible impression on
Clarence, and shortly after our arrival at Chojnacota he
wrote the Emery heirs for permission to examine their mine.

The permission was granted and at our next regular vaca-
tion in January we were expected to take a vacation every
six months to get out of the high altitude Clarence came to
Santo Domingo, while I visited with our good friends, the
Bells, in La Paz. Clarence at once recognized this section of
the country as of gold formation, very closely resembling the
"mother lode" section of California, and even if Santo Do-
mingo had been a "washout," he would have, very likely,
come over here to prospect. He was pleased, however, with
the possibilities he saw in Santo Domingo and he made as
thorough an examination as his time allowed and saw three
places where possible ore shoots might have been overlooked;
he took seventy samples; in fact he was so well pleased that
he immediately wrote the heirs, before he assayed the sam-
ples, that Santo Domingo had a possible value and if given
an option for two years, he would take the mine at the
price offered.

Clarence then sent his report on the Santo Domingo mine
to the company by whom he was employed at Chojnacota,
telling the company that the mine had no cash value but that
it had wonderful possibilities; that if it were located in the

[306]

THE STORY OF THE SANTO DOMINGO MINE

United States and with this option, he would stake his repu-
tation as an engineer that he could pay for the mine with
but thirty days' credit. But, due to the mine being in a
foreign country and it having been shut down for some time,
he would need $15,000 cash and a credit of $10,000 more
to draw on, if necessary. He included in his report that the
Santo Domingo mine was the biggest monument to ineffi-
ciency that he had ever seen. But the company was not
interested.

Clarence received a telegram from the Emery heirs that
his offer was accepted and as the Chojnacota Company had
turned the proposition down, we decided to take it over "on
our own." Mr. J. A. O thick, an experienced millman, for-
merly with this same Chojnacota Company, and also "fed
up" with high altitudes, agreed to come with us, and the day
before we left, Charley Patra, whom Clarence had known
years before in the Idaho mines, and who had had charge of
the electric plant at Chojnacota, returned from an extended
vacation, and he asked if he might go with us, too. So, on
Friday , the xjth of July, 1928, the four of us said "Adios"
to this lofty aerie in the rugged Andes, which had been Clar-
ence's and my home for three years, but Othick and Patra
had lived there much, much longer.

We were several days in La Paz, finishing up business af-
fairs, getting our passports visd, etc. (So it is almost four
years now since I sent you a detailed account of our trip,
with special emphasis on the wonderful, beautiful and
"scary" famous Santo Domingo trail.) I still remember how
we left Bolivia with mingled feelings of regret and joy;
regret to leave our friends, joy in the anticipation of new
adventures ahead and joy to leave the excessively high alti-
tude; we left Bolivia with high hopes in our hearts and with
but an even thousand Peruvian pounds ($4,000) in our
pockets! We arrived at Santo Domingo Friday, July 20 th;
Muto San, a Japanese electrician, who had had charge of the
mine most of the time since it was closed down, and who had
placed every facility possible at Clarence's disposal for exam-
ining the mine the previous January, met us at the turnstile
his far-famed broad smile and conducted us to our
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HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

home; here in a conspicuous place, he had perched a stuffed,
beautiful blue bird and had put a slip of paper in its bill
with the typed Inscription: "Mr. and Mrs. Woods, WELL-
CAME.*' It was a pretty conceit, and the blue bird for
happiness with its yellow breast signifying gold, was taken
as a happy augury for the future.

Muto San had thirteen men working for him, keeping
water out of the mine, as carpenters, or on what repair work
was absolutely necessary to keep the mine from becoming a
complete wreck. Of these "original thirteen," eight are
still here; two were "canned" for high-grading and the other
three will return soon from vacations. We four and Muto
are still here but "Don Carlos" (Charley Patra) is just now
placer-mining on Santo Domingo Creek "on his own" and
is making good. The executive staff has increased to ten.
I was the only white woman in camp for just a little more
than a year. Was I lonely? Not at all -I had thus been
alone in Chojnacota and for about the same time but with
this difference: here we were "on our own" and each daily
incident became much more significant. Still, you remem-
ber these lines: "Loneness lacks but one charm to make it
half-divine a friend, with whom to whisper, 'Solitude is
sweet/ " And, you, Iva, I would have chosen as that friend.
On July 25th a year later, and the 25th is Clarence's birthday,
again Miss Krause arrived to make it two white women in
camp; but this time Clarence and I met her in Juliaca and
the three of us came to Santo Domingo just in time to cele-
brate, for Muto surprised us with an elaborate birthday cake
of his own making.

With these thirteen men as a nucleus, we started to work:
Clarence took charge of the mine, Othick of the mill, Muto
of the store and bookkeeping, and Patra of the electric plant
at Tunquipata, while I, I cheered them on. Our Gringo
men did all kinds of work wherever and whenever neces-
sary, pushing cars, laying track, mending pipe line, mucking
anything that had to be done until sufficient men had
come to relieve them of the most onerous labor.

Clarence found conditions much better than he had hoped
for and on August ist, just ten days after our arrival, the

[308]

THE STORY OF THE SANTO DOMINGO MINE

mill was grinding ore, which was being brought out regu-
larly, although day shift only, from the mine. On Friday,
August 3ist, we had our first clean-up, 132.7 ounces
($2,641.40), and never, never will another clean-up look so
big to us. Remember we came here with only $4,000 cash
and the second week here Clarence had to pay $1,800 to
the Government for water rights at Bella Pampa! But our
first clean-up yielded more than enough to meet our payroll
and we were all jubilant. Our second clean-up, September
3Oth, was 256.08 ounces and the third, 607 ounces and the
production continued to increase until, after twenty-two
months, we had enough to pay for the mine and $60,000
surplus in the bank. Were we happy? Triumphantly so.

There were, of course, some setbacks, it was not all smooth
sailing. On March 20, 1929, eight months after our arrival,
we had a terrific electric rain storm lasting but one half hour,
yet what a calamitous half hour. The lightning burned out
our hydro-electric plant at Tunquipata; the floods washed
out half of the flooring of the warehouse, causing the loss of
9,000 caps, all the dynamite and all the fuse and other mate-
rials, amounting to a direct loss of $10,000, but an even
greater Indirect loss In the time consumed for replacing the
dynamite; 300 feet of the flume to the mill were washed
out; six huge landslides and many small ones obstructed the
trail all this took place between five-forty-five and six-fifteen
P.M. It was raining slightly when Clarence and I started to
Casa Santo Domingo for supper but before we arrived,
merely three blocks, the rain was actually pouring through
my umbrellawe thought it another deluge; before we had
half finished supper, reports began to come in of the damages
inflicted. We had lighted candles in the dining room when
the light was so suddenly extinguished but it was pitch-dark
outside and the rain was gushing down in torrents; from the
porch it came down in sheets, while from the embankment
opposite, the stupendous, roaring waters looked and sounded
like a real Niagara; the storm lasted a brief half hour but It
was an awe-inspiring thirty minutes. The men, carrying
carbide lights, bringing the news of the various disasters,
made me think of giant fireflies coming out of the Stygian

[309]

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

blackness to the only illuminated spot in the whole camp.
Also carrying a carbide lamp, Clarence brought me home;
we had to wade knee-deep in the mud and to climb over
high piles of slippery, muddy rocks, for there were three
derrumbes (landslides) between Casa Santo Domingo and our
home. Clarence put on hip rubber boots and went out to
inspect the extent of the calamity but, of course, nothing
could be done until daylight. And at daylight, every avail-
able man was at work: at one-thirty P.M. the electric "juice"
was again on; at one-forty-five the flume was repaired, and at
two o'clock the mill was running; at five, the trail was ready
for regular transportation. To me, the trail-repairing job
was the almost miraculous thing when I saw the stupendous
slice cut out of the road, I was sure it would remain impas-
sable for at least a week and yet, in less than twelve hours,
mules could and did pass over it. Our workmen do need
much supervision, but in time of stress one could not ask for
more loyal workers. The following day, the new flooring
for the warehouse was laid three feet higher than the one
that had been wrested from its foundation and in splinters
was carried away with its costly cargo, also in shreds, pellmell
down the raging, rampant Santo Domingo Creek; not even a
foot of insulated wire was salvaged. The new flooring up to
date has withstood all floods.

On September 9, 1929, we had our first fatal accident: a
miner was killed instantaneously by a falling rock in the
stope in which Lee and three other workmen had just en-
tered; the two preceding workmen miraculously escaped,
while Lee, bringing up the rear, sustained severe bruises
from falling fragments of rock. We were all saddened by
the tragic but unavoidable misfortune and yet we were grate-
ful that Lee escaped death and the two workmen escaped
injury.

We have had our share of high-graders; their names are
on the "black list" and, of course, no high-grader is allowed
to return, but you would be surprised to know how many
beg to come back; after being absent six months or so, they
plead that they have been punished enough 1

On January 3ist, 1929, in smelting the gold after the

THE STORY OF THE SANTO DOMINGO MINE

regular monthly clean-up, our son, Lee, was helping for the
first time; Mr. Othick and Clarence, "old hands" at the
process, forgot to give Lee detailed instructions and in lifting
the red-hot crucible from the furnace, instead of setting the
crucible back on the circular pouring device, as they should
have instructed him to do, he started toward the mold with
his half of the tongs, while Clarence tried to put the crucible
back on the device, with the result that the entire mass of
liquid gold, more than $11,000 worth, was spilled on the
ground! Dr. and Mrs. Graybill were visiting us at the time
and they and I were witnesses of the catastrophe; we were all
too stunned by the mishap to move and most fortunately no
one was burned by the spattering nor was the tense silence
broken until Clarence, who, ordinarily, is not given to swear-
ing, said, "Damn everything an inch high!" And this made
Dr. Graybill laugh so heartily that the tension was broken;
then each and every one of us got down on our hands and
knees and helped to dig for that buried gold, and this "seem-
so" disaster was not a setback at all, for we actually recovered
more gold than was spilled! The smeltery is the same one
that has always been used and, no doubt, gold has been
spilled on various occasions, and we recovered some of this
in addition to our own.

Two more stories, which I forgot to include among the
previous fifteen, and then 111 add "Finis" to the Story of
Santo Domingo. These are to illustrate the stupidity of the
Indian and why such constant supervision is necessary. Mr.
Yungling told this: An Indian was sent up the steep moun-
tain side to cut down certain specified trees, and as the de-
clivity was almost vertical he was told to tie himself to a tree
while chopping this is still being done here but this In-
dian, instead of tying himself to an adjacent tree, tied himself
to a tree and chopped down the same tree below where he
had tied himself! He and the tree came hurtling down the
precipitous mountain side into Santo Domingo Creek,
scarcely enough of the Indian left for burial. Clarence and
I climbed to the top of this ridge recently it is the road to
Chabuca, a neighboring placer mine and Clarence showed
me the exact spot of this tragic occurrence.

HIGH SPOTS IN THE ANDES

Mr. Maycumber, our metallurgist, tells this less tragic one:
he was directing the work of several Indians, one o whom
was working inside o a large box; the box had to be moved,
so he told the Indian inside where to move it. He left with
the other Indians but returned in a few minutes, to find the
Indian, still inside the box, making strenuous efforts to move
it! Mr. Maycumber yanked him out and "booted" him to
the end that needed to be shoved; this Indian, perhaps, will
never try again to move a box with himself inside, but
Quien sabef

Now, in conclusion, I presume you, like so many other of
our friends, wonder why we remain in the tropics, down here
amid the mules and the Indians, that are as much a part of
the "landscape* ' as the mountains and the rivers themselves;
why we still remain in such isolation, 140 miles from a rail-
road; why we bother about tjfae Inambari Concession, when,
with Santo Domingo, we have apparently "chained the wolf/*
Ah! we, too, have great faith in this region and Quien sabef
perhaps it will be Peruvian gold that will restore the gold
standard to the world. Besides, it is just stacks of fun to day
dream and have visions of helping to relieve the distress of
the world, be it ever so small a contribution; to dream dreams
of sending the promising young men and young women of
this country (and there are many such as I know from my
teaching experience in La Paz and in Cochabamba and from
observation of the children in our camp here) sending these
young people to our Alma Maters, that they may become the
future engineers mining, hydraulic, agricultural, sanitation,
and household engineersof this vast territory, full of re-
sources and, as yet, practically untouched. Visions? Yes.
But, "Where there is no vision, the people perish/' hence,
we are living abundantly.

[8**]

GLOSSARY: OUR OWN MAKE

Accidentado One hurt in an accident.

Acelgas First cousin of spinach.

A duana Government Custom House.

Aji Indian pepper.

Almacen Store, warehouse or shop.

Almuerzo Noon meal.

Altiplano High plain, plateau.

A rriba Above.

A rriero Muleteer.

Asilo -Asylum.

Autocarrit Automobile adjusted to run on railroad track.

Azul Blue.

Balsa Canoe-like boat made of reeds. Also a tree.

Balsero One who manages a balsa, a canoeist.

JJarn/Ja Literally, a little bar; tin concentrates.

Batea Wooden bowl for panning gold.

B ay eta Hand- woven woolen cloth.

JBz>n0sar Welfare; well-being.

Blusa Blouse.

Boca de la mina Mouth of the mine.

UoHwano Bolivian coin, "dollar," worth normally 33 cents.

Bolsa Purse, pouch.

Botica Drug store; pharmacy.

Caballero Gentleman.
Ca/<s? con J<2C/Z Coffee with milk.
Calamina Galvanized iron.
Cafte Street.
Camion Truck.
Camote Sweet potato.

Canc/za Field, such as football field; yard or area.
Cantina Canteen, bar.
Car eel Prison, jail.
Ca$a House.

Castilla Heavy cloth usually of wool for Chola skirts.
Casucha Small shop, usually where chicha is sold.
Centavo Cent.
Gen tenor io Centenary .
Cinema Movie.

Coca Plant extensively cultivated in Peru, Bolivia and other parts of South
America; source of cocaine; its leaves are chewed for their narcotic effect.
Coca? Coca plantation.

[313]

GLOSSARY: OUR OWN MAKE

Cache Parlor car.
Comadre Godmother.
Comerciante Peddler, or merchant.
Cometa Comet; kite.

Copa Cup.

Costumbre Custom, habit.

Guadrilla Crew.

Culebra Non-poisonous snake.

Cura Cur6, priest.

Chacra Small cultivated area, small farm.

Chacuri Pack ant (Quechua).

Champana Champagne.

Chancadora Ore crusher.

Chicha Fermented drink of corn, peanuts or grapes.

Chico Small boy.

Chafer Chauffeur.

Cholo Mixed breed.

Choza Hut.

Dar d luzTo give light, to give birth.

D errum b e La ndslide.

jDesaywno Breakfast.

Despedido Farewell party.

Despensa Dispensatory; pantry; storehouse, or store room.

IHre&Zor Director, superintendent, principal.

Domingo Sunday.

Dos de mayo Second of May.

Dos en punta Two o'clock sharp.

Ekeko Dwarf (Quechua).

Empleado Employee.

EspandonaA tropical plant with giant leaves.

Especerias Groceries.

Espejo Mirror.

Espejo de oro Mirror of gold.

Far do Bale, parcel.

Feliz viaje Happy journey.

Fiesta Feast, holiday.

Finca Land, a small farm.

Fresco Fresh, non-alcoholic beverage.

Fundicion Smeltery.

Ga llina Hen.

Gallina de la montanaWild chicken-

Gallo Rooster.

Gente decente Literally, decent people, the upper class.

Gerencia Manager's home.

Geren te Manager.

Get a Drop.

GLOSSARY: OUR OWN MAKE

Goma Gum, rubber.
Gringo A foreigner.

Haba Bean.

Hacienda -Estate, large farm.

Kay There is, there are.

Hombre Man.

Hualusa Japanese potato.

Huelga Strike.

Internado -School boarding house for boys.

JacarandaA tree of great fragrance.

J<?/e Head, chief.

Jergdn Literally, a coarse cloth used by the Indians: a poisonous snake so

called from its resemblance to this cloth.
Juegetdn Playful, non-poisonous, green snake.

Leche-Milk.

LejiaLye.

Llama South America's most utilized animal, cousin of the camel.

Llamero -Llama herder.

Llijilla Shawl for carrying burdens on one's back (Quechua).

Loco -Crazy.

Lomita Sirloin steak.

Maestranza Work shop.

ManiaShawl.

Manta >/anca Pestiferous insect, like a gnat, with white wings.

Mayor domo Major domo, boss.

Medico Doctor.

Minero Miner.

Mozo Youth, servant.

Mu la Mule.

Mulero Muleteer.

Muneca Doll.

Muy Very.

NznoChild, boy.

Oficina Office.

OZZa Pot.

OptionistaOne, to whom an option is granted.

Panadero Bread vender.
Pantano Swamp.
Papa Potato.
Pase libre Free pass.
Paseo Walk, excursion.
Patita Counter.
PatinarTo skate.
/7 Wild turkey.

GLOSSARY: OUR OWN MAKE

Pave Turkey.

Pave real Peacock.

Perdiz Partridge.

Permiso~I? ermission.

Picante Literally, pricking; hot, peppery food.

Pifia Pineapple.

Pinal Pineapple plantation.

Pisco Grape brandy.

Platanal Banana plantation*

Platano Banana.

Pollera Chola skirt.

Poncho Hand-woven Indian blanket with slit for head.

Forte Portage.

Porteviande Dinner bucket of three to six stories.

Postre Dessert.

Quebrada Ravine.

Que import a? What does it matter?
Que remos'We want, we wish.
Quien sabef Who knows?

Rato A short tiuae.
Recova \Varehouse.
Hecua Mule train.
Xtesidencia Residence.
JKosaZ Rose garden.

Sala Hall, reception or drawing room.

Salit reSaltpeter.

Salud.'To your health.

Si Yes.

Sin -falta Without fail.

Soroche Mountain sickness.

Specialista Specialist.

TtfZfen Shop.
Tocuyo Muslin.
To ma^Int ake.

brave.

Vamos d -jc/erAVe shall see, let us see.
Vibora Poisonous snake,

Zapacala ^Winged cockroach.

INDEX

Agualani River, 173

"Alacitas," festival of, at La Paz, 56-58, 59

Alpacas, 163, 164

Altiplano, the, 35, 77, 87, 96, 142, 148, 161

Altitude, effects of high, 42, 115, 134-136,
137-139, 162

American Institute, Methodist Mission
School, at Iquique, 32; at La Paz, 84-
87; at Cochabamba and its garden, 87-
92, 94

American Museum of Natural History, New
York, 228

American teachers in South America, 84-85

Anderson, Mr., Pulacayo, 73, 74

Angleworm, giant specimen, 237

Anglo-Chilean Nitrate Corporation, the, 32

Animal sacrifices at fiestas, 55-56; in con-
nection with house building, 155

Antofagasta, Chile, 24, 25, 34, 79

Ants, 214, 250-255

Apples, American, in South America, 86

Araca, Bolivia, 115

Araca mine (tin), the, 78, 96

Arequipa, 270, 275-277; hospital in, 140,
150

Arica, Chile, 31-32, 78

Arica-Tacna Dispute, the, 31

Aricoma glaciers, 162, 163

Aricoma Lake, 163

Aricoma-Limbani stream, 170, 171

Asillo, Peru, 145, 146, 265

"Asilo de la Gota de Leche," La Paz, 82-83

"Asilo Jose," La Pass, 83

Asterillo, Peru, 200

Atahualpa, Inca Emperor, 304

Autocarrils, 36, 148

Avalanches, see Landslides

Balsas, Indian boats, 159

Bananas, 181

Bandarani heights, 170, 183-185, 271

Baptismal customs, 200-202

Bates, Tia, 150, 275

Bats, 230-234; vampire, 231

Bay eta, native woolen cloth, 43, 80

Bell, Mr. and Mrs., 120, 123, 124, 161,

229, 241, 306
Bella Pampa, Peru, power station of Santo

Domingo mine, 169, 170, 186, 187, 219,
^23 1, 302, 309; fatal landslide at, 187-188
Birds, 162, 239-243; "guano," 33
Borax, 35
Breads, native, 103
Bricker, Mr., 137-139
Brooke, Mr., 266, 268, 271, 272, 274, 275,

276, 277
Brooke, Mrs. 218, 236, 266, 268, 271, 272,

275, 276

Brown, Chester E., 291, 292, 295, 296
Bushmaster snake, the, 244-245
Butterflies, 227-229

Calama, Chile, 34, 35
Callao, Peru, 28-29, 268

Canaries, use of, for detecting gas in mines,
49

Caracoles tin mine, the, 96

Camaval, fiesta of, 51-54, 118-119

Carriker, Mr. M. A., 239

Casa Santo Domingo, boarding house at
Santo Domingo, 193, 196-198, 202, 204,

^ a ?Sf 2I9 ' 22 3> 233, 234, 235, 303, 309

Castillo., native dress material, 47, 79

Caterpillars, 236-237

Caxata, Bolivia, 96

Centipedes, 236

Cerro, Sanchez, President of Peru, 269

Cerro de Pasco, Peru, 61, 218

Chabuca, gold placer mining camp, 224-
226, 245

Chalona (dried mutton), 56, 79

Chicha, alcoholic drink, 34, 46-47, 52

Children, native, 28-29, 48; games of Bo-
livian, 152

Chirimoya tree, the, and its fruit, 89

Chojnacota, Bolivia, 96, 98 ff., 113 ff., 151,
157, 304-305; fiestas at, 54-55; scenic
beauty of the road to, 96-97, 115, 117-
118; carnaval at, 118-119

Chojnacota Glacier, 97, 98, 119-121

Chojnacota Lake, 97, 98

Chojfiacota peak, 98, xor

Chojnacota tin mine, the, 96, 100-103

Cholos and Cholas (native men and women
with foreign blood), 43, 44, 45, 47-48,

_ 50-51, 59-6i

Christen, Mr. and Mrs., Tirapata, 147, 148,

259, 280

Chuncos (uncivilized Indians), 200, 201,
288, 295, 297

Chuno (dried potatoes), 56, 79; preparation
of, 125-126

Chupe (soup), native, 103, 141

Chuquicamata, 95, 218; copper ore at, 35;
hospital at, 68; number of miners em-
ployed at, 193

Clinica Americana, Juliaca, 274, 277, 278,
279

Cliza, Bolivia, market at, 130-133

Clothing for South American use, 24, 218,
219

Coca, the habit of chewing, and its effects,

Cochabamba, 87-94, 4 129-130; Ameri-
can Institute at, 87-92, 94; museum at,
129-130; markets, 130

Cockroaches, 255-256

Coffee plantation at Quitun, Peru, 181-182

Collins, Charles, 291

Condors, 239-240

Conquistadores, the, 60, 160

Convent of Santa Teresa, Cochabamba, 92-
93

Cooking at high altitudes, 65-66

Copocabana, native baskets from, 81

Copper ore at Chuquicamata, 35

Corry, Mr., Arequipa, 147, 148

Costumes, native, 35, 43, 47-48

INDEX

Crosses on South American trails, 172
Crucero, Peru, 142, 143, 162
Cuzco, 79, 160

Dancing at high altitudes, 114

Danskin, Miss, Direktora of Girls' School at

Cochabamba, 88, 89, 91, 92, 93, 129, 130,

131, 133, 134

Dearing, Ambassador, to Peru, 268
Disembarking from shipboard at ports on

South American west coast, method of, 27, 29
Dolls and toys, Indian, 56, 57
Dreams, native beliefs regarding, 156-157
Dress, see Costumes
Dyes, native, 79

El Misti peak, Peru, 270

Emery, Senator, 187, 291; chief stockholder

of Santo Domingo mine, 301-304
England, tin mining and smelting in, 113-

Equator, ceremonies aboard ship on cross-
ing, 267-268

Estrada, Manuel, one of original owners of
Santo Domingo mine, 289-293, 294

Eucaliptus, Bolivia, 96

Fawcett, Col. P. H., 295-296

Fernandez, Dr., Lima, 268

Ferns and mosses, 176

Fiestas, 50-58, 118-119

Flowers and foliage, South American, 29, 49>

80-81, 88-89, 171-176, 180, 181
Ford, Mr., of Grace & Company, 32, 33
Fruits and jelly and jam making, 66

Gareys, the, 42

Gates, "Swiftwater Bill," 137, 248
Gente decente (pure blooded whites), the,
and racial distinctions in South America,

59-6i

Gnats, 234-236

Gold: an ancient mine, 39-40; the process
of extracting gold from the ore at Santo
Domingo mine, 2o8ff.; panning for, 220-
221; "gold farms," 221; losing a gold
brick, 271-273; accused of bootlegging
gold out of Peru, 275-277; the story of
the discovery and development of the
Santo Domingo mine, 287*1.

Granadilla, the fruit, 180

Grasshoppers, 237-238

Gray, Theodore, 292

Graybill, Dr. and Mrs., 229, 238, 241, 244,
266, 273, six

Guano and guano birds, 33

Guaqui, Bolivian port on Lake Titicaca, 81,
158-159

Hardison, W. L., head of American company

that purchased the Santo Domingo mine,

290-291, 292-293, 295
"High-grading" (theft of gold ore), 40,

305; stories of, 296-301
Horton, Mr. and Mrs., Cochabamba, 92, 93
Howell, Mr. and Mrs., 139
Huancamayo, 286
Huancarani, Peru, 140, 142, 164, 169, 170,

171, 172, 358, 280, 295
Huanchaca, Bolivia, 62-63
Huanchaca Company, the, 24, 74
Huanchaca House, Antofagasta, 34
Huanchaca mine (silver), Pulacayo, Bolivia,

37 ff.; strike at, 69-76
Huayatani, Lake, 122-123, 137
Humming birds, 239, 240

Illimani, Mount, 78, 101, 115, 5
Inarabari Gold Concession, the, 288-289
Inambari River, the, 159, 170, 179, *86,

188, 200, 220, 221, 248, 282, 295, 304
Inca Empire, remains of, 160
Inca Mining Co., 294, 3Ot
Inca Mining & Development Co., the, 160,

210, 301

Inca Rubber Co., 295, 301
Indians, loads on their backs the badge of

servitude, 48-49; fear of water, 159;

stories illustrating the stupidity of, 311-

312; see also Cholos
Iquique, Chile, 32, 84

Jdcaranda tree, the, 249
Jellyfish, myriads of, 33-34
Jesuits, expulsion from Peru, 304
Juana Potosi peak, 78, 159
Juliaca, Peru, 148, ^ 149, 161, 270, 273,
274; in Juliaca during a revolution, 277-279

Karatieff, Mrs., X34-*3S, *36 2 152
Knitted and woven native articles, 79
Krause, Miss, 116, 1x7, 118, 134, 135-136,

137, 152, 241, 271:, 273, 308
Kundt, Herr, head of the Bolivian army, 63

Lambert, Mr,, Pulacayo, 67, 74, 7S, 76

Landslides, 124, 187-188, 282, 484-285

La Paz, one of the two capitals of Bolivia,
77 ff., 95, 157-158; annual fiesta of
"Alacitas" at, 56-58, 59; the Sunday In-
dian Market, 79-80, 158; the Plaza
Murillo, 80; the Flower Market, 80-8 r;
Market of San Agustin, 81-82; the "Baby
Home" and the San Jos Orphanage, 82-
83; the American Institute, 83-87

Laramcota Lake, 98

Laramcota peak, 98, 101

Laramcota tin mine, the, 96

Lead, 40

Leaves, huge, 244

Leche de tigre, alcoholic drink, 52

Leeches, 256

Lightning bug, an unusual, 238-239

Lima, Peru, 30-31, 267, 268

Limbani, Peru, 142, 143, 169, 170, 171, 172

Limbani River, 181

Lizards, 238

Llamas, 38, 140, 163, x63 > 294

McCray, Miss, 121-122, 123-124
McGurk, Mr., U. S. Consul, 137
Macusani, Peru, 289, 290
Maldanado, Peru, 187, 200, 217
Manco-Capac, founder of Inca Empire, 160
Manta, blanca (gnat), the, 234-236
Manias f or shawls, 52, 79
Markets: at Pulacayo, 44-47; at La Paz,

79-82, 158; of Cochabamba, 130; at

Cliza, 130-133

Mather, Miss, 26, 28, 39, 30, 31, 32
Maycumber, Mr., 112, 244, 247, 250, 253,

254, 256, 286, 313
Meat, use of, in South America, 45
Mice, 242-243

Millikan, the physicist, 123
Mollendo, Peru, port for Santo Domingo,

78, 269; difficulties of landing at, 27-28
Monkeys, 243-244
Montana (or "Green Hell"), 162, x8* 186,

246, 289, 291

Monte Blanco, 98, iot, 12 1-124
Monte Blanco Glacier, 123
Monte Blanco mine and camp, 121, xaa

INDEX

Moths, 229-230

Mountain sickness (soroche"), 42, 115, 134-

136, 137-139, 163

Moving pictures, the natives and, 197
Mururata peak, 78
Muto San, Japanese electrician, 187-188,

191, 194, *95> 242, 243, 258, 293, 307-

308

Nitrate pampas and the export of nitrates,

34-25

Nugent, Mr., 219, 250
Nugent, Mrs., 244, 248

Oconeque, Peru, 140, 141, 164, 169, 179-

181, 280-281

Oranges, South American, 66, 81-82
Orchids, Peruvian, 175-176
Ore stealing, 101-102; see also High-grading
Oroya, Peru, 188, 189, 219, 220
Oroya suspension bridge, 188-189
Oruro, Bolivia, 87, 96
Othick, Mr., 126, 157, 158, 208, 233, 247,

282, 283, 297, 307, 308, 311

Paita, Peru, 28

Palo santo tree, 140-141, 253-255

Pampa Mina, Bolivia, 96, 115

Panama, 266

Parrots, 242-243

Patina, the Bolivian "tin king," 114

Patra, Charley, 158, 307, 308

Per dices (partridges), 104, 275

Pershing, General, 3 1

Peru and Bolivia, boundary dispute be-
tween, 295-296

Pisco, Peru, 34

Pisco, alcoholic drink, 34, 55, 118

Piura, Peru, 28-29

Pizarro, 31, 38

Potter as, Chola skirts, 47, 79

Potato, Bolivia the birthplace of, and some
of the varieties of, 126-127

Potosi, Bolivia, 38

"Potosi District," the, 38

Pottery, Indian, 79, 130

Pressure cooker, the, 66, 105

Pulacayo, Bolivia, 24, 36, 59 ff.; the
Huanchaca silver mine at, 37 ff.; market
at, 44-47; fiestas at, 50-54, $5", strike
at the Huanchaca mine, 69-76; number
of miners employed at, 193

Punatuma, Bolivia, power plant of Huan-
chaca mine at, 68; labor trouble at 75-76

Puno, Peruvian port on Lake Titicaca, 160,
161

Quechua Indians, 38, 43
Quimse Cruz range, 78, 96, 101, 304
Quinta Bates, Arequipa, 270, 275
Quispe, Mariano, Indian discoverer of the
Santo Domingo mine, 289-290

uitun, Peru, 140, 141, 170, 181-182
uitun River, 183, 186, 187

Racial and social distinctions in South

America, 59-61
Rain at Santo Domingo so heavy that no

raincoat or umbrella will withstand it,

218, 242, 309

Rainfall records at Santo Domingo mine, 293
Recreo, Peru, 144

Reed, Dr. and Mrs., Juliaca, 150, 274, 277
Revolution in Peru, a, 277-280
Ritter, Friedrich, 214
Rosario, 143

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Rose, a green, 180-181

Rugs, Cochabamba (or Cliza), 132-133

Saavedra, President, of Bolivia, 64, 75, 269

Sagrario, Peru, 170, 185-186

Sagrario Creek, 179, 185

Salaverry, Peru, 29

San Juan del Oro mine, 304

San Pablo Mountain, 38

San Pedro Mountain, 38

Santo Domingo Camp, location and altitude,
162; description of, 193 ff., 223-224; rain-
fall at, 194; account of a big storm at,
281-286; damage by electric storm, 309-
10

Santo Domingo Creek, 179, 189, 190, 207,
235, 285

Santo Domingo mine (gold), Peru, 162,
204; numbers employed at, 193; the
process of extracting gold from the ore,
208 ff.; the story of the discovery and
development of the mine, 287 ff.; stories
of "high-grading" and other incidents,
296-301; taken over by Mr. Woods, 270,
305-309; spilling a crucible of gold, 310-
311

Santo Domingo Trail, the, a description of
its scenic beauties, contrasts, and dangers,
168 ff.; flowers and foliage on the trail,
171-176, 180-181; declivities, 172, 173,'
183-185, 190; dizzy heights and precipices,
177, 184; suspension bridges, 178-179, 181,
185, 188-189, 189-190, 282-283, 286; the
most awe-inspiring part of the whole trail,
*83

Scarfs, native, 80

Seep, Joseph, 291

Servants, native, 49-5, 107-112, 136-137

Shippee, Robert, 221, 222, 223

Shippee- Johnson expedition to Peru, 221-222

Silver, the Huanchaca mine, Pulacayo, Bo-
livia, 37 ff.

Snails, 237

Snakes, 244-250; some snake stories, 246-
250

Social distinctions in South America, 59-61

Sorata peak, 78, 159

Soroche (mountain sickness), 42, 115, 137,
138, 163

South America, "topsy-turvy" nature of
many things in, 166-168

South American hotels and the food at, 162-
163

Spencer, Mr., Santo Domingo, 296, 299

Spiders, 236

Stacpoole, Mrs., 215, 224-226, 236, 246,
274, 276

Storm, a big one at Santo Domingo, 281-286

Stretter, Mr. and Mrs., 177-178, 274, 275,
276, 277, 278, 279, 280. 281, 285

Strike at the Huanchaca mine, 69-76

Students' interest in politics and political
"strikes" of, 91-92

Sucre, one of the two capitals of Bolivia, 77

Superstitions, Indian and Cholo, 152-157

Talara, Peru, 26, 27, 28

Tambopata River, 200, 296

Tanapaca, "rest home" of Araca mine em-
ployees, 125

Tarantulas, 236

Times, the New York, 114

Tin mines, 78, 96, 100-103

Tin, smelting of, 113-114

Tirapata, Peru, 15, 147, 161, 257, 265, 270,
280, 295

INDEX

Titicaca, Lake, 79, 81, 159-161; fish In, 159

Tocuyo (native muslin), 195, 232

Todos Santos, fiesta of, 51, 54

Travel under difficulties at unfavorable sea-
sons, 127-129, 140-150, 257-266

Triunfo, 144, 280

Tunqui, brilliant plumaged bird, 240

Tunquipata power plant of Santo Domingo
mine, 190, 219, 229, 240, 283, 302, 309

Tuss, Mr., 285, 286

Uyuni, Bolivia, 35-36, 40-41, 74-75

Vacations in high altitudes, 218-219

Vampire bats, 231

Velasco, Francisco, one of original owners

of Santo Domingo mine, 289-293
Vickery, Mr., of Grace &! Company, 150-151
Vicunas and vicuna rugs, 163-164
Viscachas, 104, 164

Washburn, Mr., Direktor of the American

Institute at La Paz, 87
Washburn, Mrs., 87, 88, 136
Washington State College, 16, 17

Washington, University of, 17

Whittaker, Mr., 137

Women, not allowed in mines owing to
superstition of the natives, 64-65, 101,
204, 206, 292

Woods, Clarence, marriage, 17; offer to go
to Bolivia and departure, 19-20, 23-24;
attack of soroche (mountain sickness), 25;
accident to, at Punatuma, and subsequent
operation, 68; acting manager of Huan-
chaca mine, 74-76; leaves Pulacayo, 77;
manager of the Chojnacota tin mine,
99 ff.; illness with typhoid, 140, 150-
151; acquirement of the Santo Domingo
mine, 270, 305-309

Woods, Lee, 157, 172, 173, 228, 241, 286,
310, 311

Yungas valley, Bolivia, the, 78, 82
Yungling, Paul, 184, 287, 288, 289, 290,
292, 293, 294, 301, 311

Zapacala, or winged cockroach, the, 255-256
Zinc, 40

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