THE ROAD TO BOLIVIA 217 



There are no tunnels and only one bridge the entire distance, but the 

 heavy construction is continued, the roadway being actual!}' carved out 

 of the rocks with shovels and picks and dynamite. The train creeps 

 along at the rate of 10 miles an hour — an engine and two cars, the first 

 a combination of second-class and baggage, and the other neatly up- 

 holstered for the use of the first-class passengers. At the stations ])iles 

 of freight are awaiting shipment and droves of patient, melancholy 

 burros, with monstrous heads and legs like pipestems, gaze indiff'er- 

 ently at the train, as if unconscious of its competition. 



At every station there is a long wait, and the passengers alight to 

 buy food of the Indian women, who cook it on the spot. About half 

 wa}' to Arequipa appears a group of splendid mountains — Carachani, 

 which is 20,800 feet; Coropuno, one of the highest peaks in South 

 America, which measures 22,000 feet, and Misti, a slumbering vol- 

 cano that rises from the desert like a stately dome. 



At frequent intervals crosses have been erected where men have 

 died, and there is a ghastl}' shrine hung with ribs, thigh-bones, skulls, 

 and other melancholy reminders of the uncertainty of human life 

 upon these awful deserts ; some of the victims died of disease during 

 the construction of the railway, others perished of thirst or exhaus- 

 tion while crossing the pampas; all of them were once buried in the 

 sand, but the wind uncovered their bones, which kindly hands have 

 collected and hung about the emblem of the crucifixion. 



Upon the desolate pampas of Peru is found an extraordinary phe- 

 nomenon known as medanos — crescent-shaped piles of white crystals 

 rising to a height of sometimes twelve and sometimes twenty feet at the 

 center of the arc, and molded with. perfect symmetry. The arms of 

 the crescents are of equal length, and alwa3's point to the north. The 

 medanos move continually, making an average distance of about 10 

 feet a month ; but each pile keeps its own sand, and in a mysterious 

 manner they never mix, nor do they increase in numbers. Veterans 

 who have been passing over the desert for half a century claim that 

 the number of medanos is no greater now than it was twenty-five or 

 thirty years ago. 



The valley broadens as you approach Arequii)a, and its fertility is 

 shown b}' an emerald ril)))on tliat illuminates the gloomy gramleur 

 of the scenery. Irrigating ditches creep around the mountain sides 

 and empty their contents over the slopes. Farmhouses are built of 

 loose boulders, witliout mortar, and are thatched with roofs of straw 

 in the shape of j)3'ramidH, over which a coating of cia}' has been placed 



