DESCENDING THE MOUNTAINS. 



177 



frightful steps, where trees stand so close together that the baggage 

 catches on both sides. I have constant fear that the instruments will 

 be ruined, or that some of the animals will break their necks or our 

 own. The water in the mountain streams being very low, we cross 

 some of them by wading. The rapid ones we pass on miserable bridges 

 made of long poles thrown over, and then covered with the branches of 

 trees. Their wide dry beds indicate great floods in the rainy season. 

 The arriero mentioned having lost half his train, with all the baggage, 

 in an attempt to cross during the wet season. 



Our route from Tarma to Oruro was south. We travelled ahead of 

 the sun. In December, when we arrived in Cochabamba, the sun had 

 just passed us. As soon as he did so, the rains descended heavily 

 on this side of the ridge ; it was impossible to proceed. The roads 

 were flooded, the ravines impassable, and the arrieros put off their 

 journey until the dry season had commenced. After the sun passed 

 the zenith of Cochabamba, and had fairly moved the rain-belt after 

 him towards the north, then we came out from under shelter, and are 

 now walking behind the rain-belt in dry weather, while the inhabitants 

 are actively employed in tending their crops. 



After travelling all day through the woods, we encamped near a 

 house owned by a white man, with a wife and large family of children. 

 The place was called Llactahuasi. On the road we shot a wild turkey, 

 which was fortunate, for the woman declined selling us the only old 

 hen she had, as her brood of little chiekens were too young to do with- 

 out parental attention. The only other living things about the house, 

 bqpdes the children, were two dogs. The question first asked by our 

 people on arriving at a house is for provisions, so as to forestall the same 

 question from the poor settlers, who are found along the road at uncer- 

 tain distances. The country may be said otherwise to be uninhabited 

 even by wild Indians. 



May 15. — At 4 p. m., thermometer, 73®; wet bulb, 71°; clear and 

 calm. An increase of 15° of heat since this time yesterday. Tempera- 

 ture of a stream, 56° Fahrenheit. As the mountains dwindle into hills, 

 the trees increase in size and the undergrowth thickens. Thousands of 

 creepers are tangled in the most confused manner. The branches of 

 the woods are loaded with a thick growth of moss, and immense masses 

 are heaped up on the tops of the trees. The creepers run up the trunk, 

 coated with moss on the south side, crawl out on the branches, and 

 thence grow down to the ground from the end, on which another 

 creeper ascends, until the branch becomes so loaded that it breaks down 

 with the weight. The tops of the trees grow up, and then are pulled 



