or
inhabitant to be met with for hundreds of miles. This bleak land, up
among the mountain tops of the Andes, as I have already said, is called
the `Puna.'

"The Puna is the favourite haunt of the vicuna, and, of course, the home
of the vicuna hunter. I had directions to find one of these hunters,
and an introduction to him when found, and after spending the night at a
shepherd's hut, I proceeded next morning in search of him--some ten
miles farther into the mountains.

"I arrived at the house, or rather hovel, at an early hour.
Notwithstanding, my host had been abroad, and was just returned with
full hands, having a large bundle of dead animals in each. They were
chinchillas and viscachas, which he had taken out of his snares set
overnight. He said that most of them had been freshly caught, as their
favourite time of coming out of their dens to feed is just before
daybreak.

"These two kinds of animals, which in many respects resemble our
rabbits, also resemble each other in habits. They make their nests in
crevices of the rocks, to which they retreat, when pursued, as rabbits
to their burrows. Of course, they are snared in a very similar manner--
by setting the snares upon, their tracks, and at the entrances to their
holes. One difference I noted. The Peruvian hunter used snares made of
twisted horse-hair, instead of the spring wire employed by our
gamekeepers and poachers. The chinchilla is a much more beautiful
creature than the viscacha, and is a better-known animal, its soft and
beautifully-marbled fur being an article of fashionable wear in the
cities of Europe.

"As I approached his hut, the hunter had just arrived with the night's
produce of his snares, and was hanging them up to the side of the
building, skinning them one by one. Not less than half a score of
small, foxy-looking dogs were around him--true native dogs of the
country.

"Of the disposition of these creatures I was soon made aware. No sooner
had they espied me, than with angry yelps the whole pack ran forward to
meet me, and came barking and grinning close around the feet of my
horse. Several of them sprang upward at my legs, and would, no doubt,
have bitten them, had I not suddenly raised my feet up to the withers,
and for some time held them in that position. I have no hesitation in
saying that had I been afoot, I should have been badly torn by the curs;
nor do I hesitate to say, that of all the dogs in the known world, these