way altogether. I had
water right up to my waist while riding, and the mule showed only its
head above the water. We were thrown with great force against some rocks,
where, fortunately, my muleteers came to our help and got us out again.

[Illustration: Inca Steps carved in a Dome of Rock, Cuzco.

Fortress noticeable in the distance.]

The trail--about half a metre wide--wound its way up to a great height
above the foaming river. There were beautiful ferns of immense height,
some of which had finely ribbed, gigantic leaves. Graceful yellow
flowers, or sometimes beautiful red ones, were to be seen on tall trees
with white, clean stems. We passed a coffee plantation, owned by English
people, near a charming settlement of whitewashed houses on the opposite
side of the river. When we came to cross the Rio Las Palmas--heavily
swollen--we were once more nearly swept away in riding across with water
up to our chests. The baggage naturally suffered a good deal in those
constant immersions. This was, unfortunately, the wrong season for
crossing the Andes; but I could not help that, as I was anxious to get
through, and could not wait for the fine weather to come.

Farther on we crossed the river Paucartambo near the Pueblo Pardo. We
next followed the Rio Chanchamayo, which afterwards became the Rio
Perene, along which extensive English farms had been established. We were
now getting near to civilization. I felt that my work was entirely
finished, as the country hereabouts was well known.

We came to the Colorado river, a tributary of the Chanchamayo, and passed
S. Luiz de Shuaro, a charming little village of whitewashed houses. The
scenery was beautiful on nearing La Merced. The river basin showed
luxuriant grassy slopes and immense sugar plantations.

La Merced was situated on the left bank of the Rio Chanchamayo, formed by
the meeting of the Rio Tulumayo and the Rio Tarma, which joined near the
village of S. Ramon. It had two modest hotels and various commercial
houses. In a way I was sorry to get to a town again, because in those
places you had all the trumpery illusion of civilization without any of
its real advantages. One met, however, with the greatest civility from
everybody, and, indeed, with the greatest honesty. So that travelling in
those regions was quite a pleasure.

To my amazement that evening a burly Italian came into the hotel. Who was
he?--Garibaldi's grandson, the son of General Canzio and Garibaldi's
d