ACROSS THE ANDES 149 



accidents and no trouble except once in cross- 

 ing a sand belt. The landscape was parched 

 and barren. Yet its look of almost inconceiv- 

 able desolation was not entirely warranted, for 

 in the flats and valleys water could evidently 

 be obtained a few feet below the surface, and 

 where it was pumped up anything could be 

 grown on the soil. 



But, unless thus artificially supplied, water 

 was too scarce to permit any luxuriance of 

 growth. Here and there were stretches of fairly 

 good grass, but on the whole the country was 

 covered with dry scrub a foot or two high, 

 rising in clumps out of the earth or gravel or 

 sand. The hills were stony and bare, some- 

 times with flat, sheer-sided tops, and the herds 

 of half -wild horses and of cattle and sheep, and 

 the even wilder riders we met, and the squalid 

 little ranch-houses, all combined to give the 

 landscape a peculiar touch. 



As evening drew on, the harsh, raw sun- 

 light softened. The hills assumed a myriad 

 tints as the sun sank. The long gloaming fol- 

 lowed. The young moon hung overhead, well 

 toward the west, and just on the edge of the 

 horizon the Southern Cross stood upside down. 

 Then clouds gathered, boding a storm. The 

 night grew black, and on we went through the 



