7 
Camping in South America 
By FRANCIS C. NICHOLAS, Ph.D. 
VIII.—Antiquities 
W E were soon to make our excursion to 
the upper mountains, and had gone out 
to camp to get our. things, bring in 
specimens and just take a final look about. The 
men were busy, and the boy Manuel was 
amusing himself with a clay figure of curious 
appearance. 
“What is it, Manuel?” I asked. 
“A grave digger’s head.” 
“A what?” 
“Just one of those heads out of a grave. 
Want it?” and the boy brought the clay object 
to me. 
It was an image of uncouth appearance, yet 
telling of antiquity, and I was much interested. 
Lopez looked on in disdain. “Does the 
Doctor want children’s playthings? What 
next?” 
“No,” I said, “I don’t want children’s play¬ 
things. Who makes them?” 
“Make them? Nobody makes them. The 
people who lived here before had nothing to 
do but make them.” Then the old man went 
on with his work. 
“Lopez, tell me about those clay images. I 
want to know what they are.” 
The old man was always ready to tell what 
he knew, and informed me that all through the 
mountains there were burial places, and that 
from the graves many curiosities were taken, 
but usually they were thrown aside, or per¬ 
haps a few were brought home for the children. 
He told me that sometimes they found a grave 
in which all the clay images were filled with 
gold, and on rare occasions a little jar would 
be found filled with beautiful emeralds; and if 
one liked the work, and had luck, quite a little 
fortune might be secured, but usually the graves 
contained only stone beads and charms, with a 
few clay figures, so the people grew tired of 
digging and usually did not keep up the search 
very long. 
“Lopez, I want to see some of those graves.” 
The old man put his work down, looked at 
the sun and said, “The Doctor ordered that we 
should be through with the camp and go to 
Dibulla to-day.” 
“Oh, well, there will be time enough for that. 
Pack up the things and let’s hunt some graves.” 
“It isn’t worth while here,” Lopez replied; 
“the graves are all poor. But up the Arroya 
Juliana there is a place, a terrace cut out against 
the mountain. There the rich Indians lived. 
We could go, but it will take almost a week if 
you want to dig much. Oh, yes, gold is there 
and stone beads, idols, big pavements. No 
one has ever seen it all; it was a big city in the 
mountains.” 
“No, Lopez,” I answered With regrets, “time 
will not permit that excursion. But we can 
look around here for a few hours. The things 
are all packed up; come, let us go.” 
The men readily consented, though it would 
make them late when we started for the little 
seaport of Dibulla. A more willing crowd of 
men I never had working for me at any time 
in the woods. “Come on,” was the word. “Get 
the tools. He wants to see things in the 
graves.” 
Off through the woods we went, Lopez peer¬ 
ing about under the trees. Every little while he 
would stop to show me a heap of dirt and shells 
or a pile of stones, saying, “There is a grave. 
Thousands, yes hundreds of thousands, are in 
these mountains. No, don’t stop to dig there; 
these are only poor graves. We must find one 
with stones set up around it. That means a 
chief arid we might get something.” 
So on we went, but no important graves were 
found, though in the course of an hour we 
passed a great many examples of the ordinary 
type. There was not time to search further, so 
selecting a well appearing pile of stones and 
shells, we all set to work digging with intense 
interest. The mound of shells, stones and earth 
was soon removed, then we found a flat stone 
imbedded in the earth. A shout followed the 
disco'.-ery. Eargerly the stone was removed. 
Here there might be a treasure. Now the stone 
had been forced to one side, soft dirt and ashes 
were found below it, and among these, dug 
out with eager hands, were found a few clay 
ornaments, and an earthen jar of fair size and 
curious workmanship. 
“Take care! Don’t break it!” I cried. Crash! 
Too late; at the instant I had spoken the jar 
was smashed. My disappointment was not 
greater than that of the men, for the contents 
of the jar were of no interest to them. No 
gold or emeralds were found, only a few red 
stone beads of cylinder shape, three or four 
black clay figures, some shell beads, a few frag¬ 
ments of bones and a quantity of dust and dirt. 
Nothing more was in the grave, but we would 
try one more, this time one of the poorer ex¬ 
amples. To open such a grave was the work 
of but a few moments. Quantities of shell and 
ashes were removed and then we came to some 
rough white stones, and with them two or three 
clay images of inferior workmanship. That 
was all; even the bones had disappeared. 
Did I want to see more? Certainly I did, but 
it was time to go. Other places must be 
visited, to explore all the vast regions of the 
Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta required con¬ 
stant activity, and we were due in Dibulla that 
evening. So reluctantly taking up the few speci¬ 
mens, we went back to camp, Lopez pointing 
out dozens of burial mounds on the way, and 
assuring me that all through the mountains 
there were burial places, and ruins innumerable. 
In a little time we reached the camp. For¬ 
lorn looking and old it appeared now, dis¬ 
mantled and about to be abandoned. We 
would move to other places, and go higher up 
among the mountains, but first we must re¬ 
turn to Dibulla. 
It was late and Lopez said that night would 
overtake us on the way. Did the Doctor fear it? 
We could sleep again at the camp. No, I 
wanted to go on and thought there could not be 
much danger, but Manuel crept close to my 
side and whispered, “The crowned lion and the 
tigers, and then the snakes.” 
For a moment we hesitated, then Viejo said, 
“Come, let’s go. For one I want to see the 
girls.” 
So did the others. But Lopez scolded. 
Couldn’t they talk to girls any day. Oh, yes, 
but then—well, we would go. Packs were slung 
on our backs, and the march through the 
jungles was begun. After a time we came out 
on a well worn path, and it appeared as if all 
danger must be over; but no, the men went 
carefully and seemed to desire that I should 
lead. 
Why should that be? Oh, yes; plainly enough 
my stout boots were a protection against 
snakes, and now I could see in the shadowy 
light of approaching evening that plenty of 
them were about. Sometimes a whole bunch 
of the ugly fellows were sprawling together on 
the well worn path. The snakes were not very 
large, and as my boots were heavy and well 
made there was no danger. Most of the snakes 
were sluggish, apparently expecting to be given 
ample room, and I had an opportunity to crush 
a number of them with my heel. Others I 
kicked out of the path, much to the delight of 
my men, who praised the boots and praised the 
United States whence they had come and found 
everything most appropriately satisfactory. 
Night came quickly after sunset, and before we 
expected it, darkness had closed around us. 
Then it was not so easy to make our way. 
For a few moments we traveled cautiously, 
then one of the men set up a shouting which 
was taken up by the others, accompanied by a 
