THE GREAT CORDILLERA. 



165 



be seen, or a word upon the walls. Those who 

 had died in them were too intent upon their own 

 sufferings; the horror of their situation was un- 

 speakable, and thus these walls remain the silent 

 monuments of past misery. 



As the air was very cold, and the wind very 

 high, we slept in this hut, and before day-break 

 we were once again upon our poor jaded mules, in 

 order to cross the Cumbre, while the surface of the 

 snow was hard from the night's frost. After climb- 

 ing a little but very steep hill, we came upon a small 

 flat landing-place, which was the most dreary look- 

 ing spot I think I ever saw. I asked the peon 

 what the wooden cross before us meant.? After 

 looking over each of his shoulders, he told me that 

 the spot for many years was haunted by the ghost 

 of a mulish-looking sort of man who used to terrify 

 all the arrieros and peons who passed, and that 

 they, therefore, had been absolutely obliged to get 

 a priest to put up the cross before us. " And has 

 that driven the ghost away.?^' said I, laughing. 



Si," said the peon, with a look of confidence and 

 courage which had rather deserted his face while he 

 was describing the shape of the spectre; and he 



