lace was inhabited, for great
trees and parasites had grown up in the midst of the cultivated plants.

After the first transports of delight had to some extent subsided, a
consultation was held as to future proceedings. They were not long in
coming to a conclusion. It was resolved that a house should be built in
the middle of this wild garden, which should be, for a time at least,
their home.

The poor llamas had made their last journey. They were to be killed.
Guapo, although reluctant to part with his old favourites, knew that
they could not live in the warm climate of the valley, and therefore
consented. Their flesh, it is true, is none of the best, but it would
taste the better that no other was to be had; and their wool and skins
would be found useful. The llamas were killed.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

THE GUACO AND THE CORAL SNAKE.

It was Guapo himself that killed the llamas, and, having skinned them,
he cut the flesh into thin strips, and hung it upon the branches to dry
in the sun. This, of course, was necessary, as they had no salt to cure
it with; but meat well dried under a hot sun will keep good for a long
time. It is curious, that in all Spanish-American countries they
preserve most of their meat in this way, whereas in North America, among
the people of our own race, "jerked beef" (for that is the name we give
it) is very rare. Now, in Spanish America there are vast depositories
of salt--both in mines and on plains, with salt lakes--called _salinas_;
yet, for want of a proper commercial activity existing among these
people, in many places the valuable article, salt, is both scarce and
dear. In Mexico dried or "jerked" beef is called "tasajo." In Peru, as
we have stated, it is "charqui;" but mutton cured in this way is
distinguished by the name "chalona." Now as the llamas are a species of
sheep, it was "chalona" that Guapo was making out of their mutton.

The others were not idle; Don Pablo, assisted by Leon, was clearing a
place on which they intended to build the house, while the Dona Isidora,
with her soft slender fingers (for the first time in her life, perhaps),
was acting as laundress, and the little Leona assisted her as much as
she was able. Where did they get their soap, for they had not brought
so much as a single cake along with them? But Don Pablo was too good a
botanist not to know the nature of the trees that grew around, and the
uses to which they could be applied. Near by g