perish in the night. For himself, he expressed his intention to climb a
ledge, and sleep upon the naked rocks; and he earnestly entreated the
others to follow his example.

Don Pablo listened to the admonitions of his retainer with incredulity,
though not with any degree of disdain. He knew the devotedness of the
old Indian, and therefore treated, what he considered a mere
superstition, with a show of respect. But he felt an inclination to
cure Guapo of the folly of such a belief; and was, on this account, the
more inclined to put his original design into execution. To pass the
night under the shade of the molle trees was, therefore, determined
upon.

All dismounted. The llamas were unloaded; their packs, or _yerguas_,
taken off; the horse and mule were unsaddled; and all were permitted to
browse over the little space which the ledge afforded. They were all
trained animals. There was no fear of any of them straying.

The next thing was to prepare supper. All were hungry, as none of the
party had eaten since morning. In the hurry of flight, they had made no
provision for an extended journey. A few pieces of _charqui_ (jerked or
dried beef) had been brought along; and, in passing near a field of
"oca," Guapo had gathered a bunch of the roots, and placed them on the
back of his llama. This oca is a tuberous root, of an oval shape and
pale red colour, but white inside. It resembles very much the Jerusalem
artichoke, but it is longer and slimmer. Its taste is very agreeable and
sweetish--somewhat like that of pumpkins, and it is equally good when
roasted or boiled.

There is another sort of tuberous root, called "ulluca" by the
Peruvians, which is more glutinous and less pleasant to the taste. This
kind is various in form, being either round, oblong, straight, or
curved, and of a reddish, yellow colour outside, though green within. It
is insipid when boiled with water, but excellent when dressed with
Spanish peppers (_Capsicum_). Out of the _oca_, then, and _charqui_, the
supper must be made; and for the purpose of cooking it, a fire must be
kindled with the wood of the molle.

For a long time there was a doubt about whether it would be safe to
kindle this fire. The sun had not yet gone down, and the smoke might
attract observation from the valley below. If the pursuers were on their
track, it might be noticed; as upon this lonely route a fire would
indicate nothing else than the camp of some one on a journey. But the