the mountains, tired and hungry, after traveling all day without any
other companion than the arriero, to receive a warm-hearted welcome, the
best, perhaps the only chair or hammock offered to me, the fattest
chicken in the yard killed on my account, and more than once they have
compelled me by force to take the only good bed, because I must be
tired, and should have a good night's rest. A man may travel from one
end of the Andes to the other, depending altogether on the good people
he meets."

At Bodegas travelers take to mules or horses for the mountains, hiring
one set for Guaranda and another at that village for Quito; muleteers
seldom allow their animals to pass from one altitude to the other. These
_arrieros_, or muleteers, form a very important class in Ecuador. Their
little caravans are the only baggage and express trains in the republic;
there is not a single regularly established public conveyance in the
land. The _arrieros_ and their servants (_peons_) are Indians or
half-breeds. They wear a straw or felt hat, a poncho striped like an
Arab's blanket, and cotton breeches ending at the knees. For food they
carry a bag of parched corn, another bag of roasted barley-meal
(_mashka_), and a few red peppers. The beasts are thin, decrepit jades,
which threaten to give out the first day; yet they must carry you
halfway up the Andes. The distance to the capital is nearly two hundred
miles. The time required is usually eight or nine days; but officials
often travel it in four.

[Illustration: Equipped for the Andes.]

We left Bodegas at noon. It was impossible to start the muleteer a
moment earlier, though he had promised to be ready at seven. Patience is
a necessary qualification in a South American traveler. In our company
were a Jesuit priest, with three attendants, going to Riobamba, and a
young Quito merchant, with his mother--the mother of only twenty-five
children. This merchant had traveled in the United States, and could not
help contrasting the thrift and enterprise of our country with the
beggary and laziness of his own, adding, with a show of sincerity, "I am
sorry I have Spanish blood in my veins." The suburbs of Bodegas reminded
us of the outskirts of Cairo; but the road soon entered a broad savannah
instead of a sandy desert. At 3 P.M. we passed through La Mona, a
village of twenty-five bamboo huts, all on stilts, for in the rainy
season the whole town is under water. Signs of indolence and neglect
wer