their route, nearly 14,000 feet above the level of the sea! Here they
emerged upon an open plain which stretched far before them. Above this
plain towered mountains of all shapes to a height of many thousand feet
from the level of the plain itself. Some of these mountains carried
their covering of eternal snow, which, as the evening sun glanced upon
it, exhibited the most beautiful tints of rose, and purple, and gold.
The plain looked bleak and barren, and the cold which our travellers now
felt added to the desolateness of the scene. No trees were in sight. Dry
yellow grass covered the ground, and the rocks stood out naked and
shaggy. They had reached one of those elevated tables of the Andes known
as the _Puna_.

These singular tracts elevated above the level of cultivation are almost
uninhabited. Their only inhabitants are a few poor Indians, who are
employed by the rich proprietors of the lower valleys as shepherds; for
upon these cold uplands thrive sheep, and cattle, and llamas, and flocks
of the wool-bearing alpaco. Through this wild region, however, you may
travel for days without encountering even a single one of the wretched
and isolated inhabitants who watch over these flocks and herds.

On reaching the Puna, our party had made their day's journey, and would
have halted. The llamas already showed signs of giving out by stopping
and uttering their strange booming note. But Guapo knew these
parts--for, though a descendant of the Incas, he had originally come
from the great forest beyond the eastern slope of the Andes, where many
of the Peruvian Indians had retired after the cruel massacres of
Pizarro. He now remembered, that not far from where they were, was a
shepherd's hut, and that the shepherd himself was an old friend of his.
That would be the place to stop for the night; and, by Guapo's advice,
Don Pablo resolved to continue on to the hut.

Guapo fell upon his knees before the llamas, and, after caressing and
kissing them, and using a great variety of endearing expressions, he at
last coaxed these animals to proceed. No other means would have availed,
as beating would not make either llama budge an inch. The leader, who
was a fine large animal and a great favourite with its master, at length
stepped boldly out; and the other, encouraged by the sound of the small
bells that tinkled around the head of the leader, followed after, and so
the travellers moved on.

"Come, papa!" cried Leon; "you are tired you