iend. He first called loudly, but there was no reply. He
then stole forward with his long knife, or "_machete_" in his hand; and
having lifted the skin that covered the low doorway, peeped in. The hut
was empty.

CHAPTER SIX.

THE WILD BULL OF THE PUNA.

Guapo was not much troubled at this. He knew he could take the liberty
of using his friend's roof for the night, even should the latter not
return to grant it. He crawled in. Of course his friend was only
temporarily absent--no doubt looking after his flocks of sheep and
alpacos; and as he was a bachelor, there was no wife at home, but there
were his furniture and utensils. Furniture! No--there was none. There
never is in the hut of a Puna shepherd. Utensils! yes--there was an
earthen "olla," or pot to cook soup in, another to boil or roast maize,
a jar to hold water, a few split gourd-shells for plates, two or three
others for cups--that was all. This was the catalogue of utensils. Two
stones set a little apart formed the fire-place, in which the shepherd,
when he makes a fire to cook with, makes it out of dry dung (_taquia_).
A couple of dirty sheepskins lay upon the ground. These were the bed.
Nothing more was to be seen. Yes, there was one thing more, and this
gladdened the eyes of Guapo. In a bag that hung against the wall, and
on which he soon laid his hands, he felt something--a collection of hard
round objects, about as big as large chestnuts. Guapo knew very well
what these were. He knew they were "macas."

What are _macas_? you will ask. Macas, then, are tuberous roots that
grow in the elevated regions of the Puna, where neither ocas, ullucas,
nor potatoes, will thrive. They are cultivated by the inhabitants, and
in many parts constitute almost the only food of these wretched people.
They have an agreeable and rather sweetish flavour, and, when boiled in
milk, taste somewhat like boiled chestnuts. They can be preserved for
more than a year, by simply drying them in the sun, and then exposing
them to the cold air, when they become hard and shrivelled. They thrive
best in this high region, for although they will grow in the lower
valleys, they are there very insipid and worthless. The Indians prepare
them for food by boiling them into a soup, or syrup, which is taken with
parched maize-corn.

Guapo knew that he had got his hands upon a bag of dried macas, and
although their owner was absent, he had already come to the
determinatio