156 



EL ALMA PERDIDA. 



We had a visit from the governor of Pachiza, which town is situated 

 on the right bank of the river, three miles above Lupuna. I asked him 

 why he had carried away prisoners nearly all the population of 

 Challuayacu. He merely said that they had been rebellious, and 

 resisted his authority, and therefore he had taken them to Juan Juy, 

 where they could be secured and punished. I thought it a pity that a 

 thriving settlement should be broken up, very probably on account of 

 some personal, quarrel. 



The district comprises the pueblos of Pachiza, of eighty matrimonios ; 

 Valle, eighty; Huicunga. thirty; Sion, thirty; Archiras, sixteen ; Lu- 

 puna, fifteen ; Shepti, twelve ; Bijao, four ; and Challuayacu, three. 

 The number of souls in a village, proportionate to the number of matri- 

 monios, or married couples, is- generally estimated at five for one. This 

 would give the population of the district thirteen hundred and fifty. 

 The people are indolent and careless; and although there could not 

 well be a finer or more productive country than all this district, yet 

 they barely exist. 



After we had retired to our mats beneath the shed for the night, I 

 asked the governor if he knew a bird called El alma perdida. He 

 did not know it by that name, and requested a description. I 

 whistled an imitation of its notes ; whereupon, an old crone, stretched 

 on a mat near us, commenced, with animated tones and gestures, a 

 stoiy in the Inca language, which, translated, ran somehow thus : 



An Indian and his wife went out from the village to work their 

 chacra, carrying their infant with them. The woman went to the 

 spring to get water, leaving the man in charge of the child, with many 

 cautions to take good care of it. When she arrived at the spring she 

 found it dried up, and went further to look for another. The husband, 

 alarmed at her long absence, left the child and went in search. When 

 they returned the child was gone ; and to their repeated cries as they 

 wandered through the woods in search, they could get no response save 

 the wailing cry of this little bird, heard for the first time, whose notes 

 their anxious and excited imagination " syllabled " into pa-pa, ma-ma, 

 (the present Quichua name of the bird.) I suppose the Spaniards heard 

 this story, and, with that religious poetic turn of thought which seems 

 peculiar to this people, called the bird " The lost soul." 



The circumstances under which the story was told — the beautiful, 

 still, starlight night — the deep, dark forest around — the faint-red glim- 

 mering of the fire, flickering upon the old woman's gray hair and earnest 

 face as she poured forth the guttural tones of the language of a people 

 now passed away — gave it a sufficiently romantic interest to an imagi- 



