tretched from stake to stake, at the height of between
two and three feet from the ground, and over this rope are hung the
coloured rags provided for the occasion, and which keep fluttering in
the wind. A sort of scare-crow fence is thus constructed in the form of
a ring, except that on one side a space of about two hundred yards is
left open to serve as an entrance for the game. The Indians then, most
of them on horseback, make a grand detour, extending for miles over the
country; and having got behind the herds of vicunas, drive them within
the circle, and close up the entrance by completing the ring.

The hunters then go inside, and using the _bolas_, or even seizing the
animals by their hind-legs, soon capture the whole. Strange to say,
these silly creatures make no attempt to break through the sham fence,
nor even to leap over it. Not so with the guanacos, when so enclosed.
The latter spring against the fence at once, and if, by chance, a party
of guanacos be driven in along with the vicunas, they not only break
open the rope enclosure and free themselves, but also the whole herd of
their cousins, the vicunas. It is, therefore, not considered any gain to
get a flock of guanacos into the trap.

The hunt usually lasts several days, but during that time the enclosure
of ropes is flitted from place to place, until no more vicunas can be
found. Then the ropes, stakes, &c., are collected, and the produce of
the hunt distributed among the hunters. But the Church levies its tax
upon the "chacu," and the skins--worth a dollar each--have to be given
up to the priest of the village. A good round sum this amounts to, as
frequently four or five hundred vicunas are taken at a single _chacu_.

A good hunter is sometimes able to "approach" the vicuna. Guapo's friend
was esteemed one of the best in all the Puna. The sight of the herd out
on the plain, with their graceful forms, and beautiful reddish-orange
bodies, was too much for him, and he resolved to try his skill upon
them. He said he had a plan of his own, which he intended to practise on
this occasion.

Don Pablo and his party--even Dona Isidora and the little Leona--were
all outside the hut, although the morning air was raw and chill. But the
domicile of the worthy vaquero was not empty, for all that. It was
peopled by a very large colony of very small animals, and a night in
their society had proved enough for the travellers. The chill air of the
Puna was even more endu