It was far up the summit of the Peruvian cordillera, at the very foot of the last wild peaks that stand 18,000 feet in the sky.[44] Where the panting mules7 trudged9, 3,000 feet below the peaks, was low, green herbage; and 500 feet lower yet the little torrent10, white as its mother snows, roared and chuckled11 alternately to the uneven12 wind. But up yonder all was so white and still; their eyes kept lifting up to it, forgetful of the dangerous trail—the mules could take care of that. They, poor brutes14, seemed ill at ease. They breathed in short, loud gasps15; and every forty feet or so they stopped and rested for a few moments, unmindful of the spur. Then, when they were ready, they started up again of their own accord, sighing heavily. They would not last much longer, at this rate.
“I think I’ll get off and walk awhile,” said the younger of the two, a bronzed, sinewy16 man of twenty-five. “It spoils even this scenery for me, to see the suffering of the mules. One wouldn’t think they’d play out so, on such a good trail.”
“It is not the grade,” remarked the Professor, quietly, “as perhaps you will learn. I am sorry for the mules, too; but it is better to risk them than something more important.”
“Why, you speak as though there were some danger about it!” said the younger man, who was now striding sturdily along,[45] leaving his animal to follow. Many a time he had climbed Pike’s Peak and its brother giants of Colorado, and once had stood on the cone17 of Popocatépetl. A peak was nothing to him; and as for this excellent path—pooh! It was mere18 child’s play.
The Professor watched him without a word, but with an expression half quizzical, half grave. After a hundred yards he spoke19:
“You don’t seem quite so springy, Barton. I never saw you heavy-footed before.”
“Well, the truth is, Professor,” gasped20 Barton, rather shamefacedly, “I feel most remarkably21 queer. My knees ache as they never did before—though I wouldn’t mind that so much. But I cannot seem to breathe well. Here my heart and lungs are pounding away, as if I’d been sprinting22 for the 220-yard record! It’s enough to make a man ashamed of himself.”
“No cause at all for shame, my dear boy; you are simply learning what everyone has to learn who tempts23 great altitudes. Now get on your mule8.”
“No, I’ll wear this thing off!” cried the athlete, impatiently. “I’m no puny24 boy, to give up just because I feel a little wrong. I’ll just keep at it, and beat it yet!”
[46]
“Barton,” said the older man, in a tone his companion had never heard him use before, “you get on that mule, and let us have no more nonsense. I like your pluck; and it is because you have more real ‘sand’ (as they say in our West) than any young man I know, that I picked you out for this journey. But courage is a dangerous thing unless you mix it with brains. You must learn that there are some things pluck cannot overcome—and this is one of them. Mount, then!”
Barton obeyed with rather an ill grace, and promptly25 got angrier with himself at realizing what a relief it was to be perched again in the ridiculously comfortable Peruvian saddle. He could not get over a feeling of shame that the muscles which had borne the cruelest tests of the frontier should now have “played the baby,” as he put it; and he rode on somewhat sulkily.
It was here that Ramon Ynga stumbled into their lives; and, as I have said, all by the doing of the llamas. As the travelers rounded a sharp turn in the trail the mules stopped suddenly almost face to face with the two strangest animals that Barton had ever seen. Shabby, grotesque26 figures they were, with splay feet, long, awkward legs, and bodies looking like long tussocks of dry[47] grass. But their necks were the worst—tall and ungainly as stovepipes covered with hair. Their backs were hardly so high as those of the under-sized mules; but on these unspeakable necks their heads were quite on a level with Barton’s. And such heads! They were disproportionately small and ludicrously narrow, with pointed27 ears, malignant28 little faces, and lips wickedly drawn29 back.
“Why, I never saw anything, except a rattlesnake, look so vindictive30!” cried Barton. “What on earth are they?”
“That is the national bird of Peru,” replied the Professor roguishly. “We are apt to see many up here. In fact, if we had had any daylight in Casapalca you would have noticed many hundreds of them; for they bring all the ore to the stamp mills, and do most of the freighting besides. Lower than 10,000 feet you will hardly ever find them; the llama[13] is a mountain animal, and soon dies if taken to the coast.”
“So that is the llama! But I thought that was called the ‘Peruvian sheep;’ and these look no more like sheep than my mule does.”
“It got that foolish name from the closet naturalists31. No one who ever saw a llama[48] could fail to recognize it for a camel—smaller and longer-haired than the Eastern beast, and without a hump; but a true camel.”
“It’s a funny-looking brute13,” laughed Barton. “It seems to put in its time thinking what a grudge32 it has against everybody. Hi! Get out of the way, you standing33 grievances34!”
The Professor and the young frontiersman had thus far enjoyed the pause of the mules; but now the need of pushing on recurred35 to their minds, and Barton’s exclamation36 was meant as a signal for advance. But the llamas stood stolidly37, blocking the trail. He drummed his spurs against his mule; whereat the animal took two steps forward and stopped, bracing38 back, unmindful of the rowels. The llamas did not take a step. Only they seemed to drop their bodies a little, upon those long legs.
“Why, they’re not such fools as they look!” cried Barton, whose sharp eye understood the trifling40 motion. “See! They are going to give us the edge!”
The trail was two feet wide—an endless thread of a shelf hewn along the mountain wall. On the right, the great, dark slope ran up to the very clouds; on the left, one[49] could snap a pebble41 into the white torrent, 500 feet below.
“I have heard that they always take the wall,” the Professor rejoined, “and that when two llama trains meet on one of these trails it is almost impossible to make a passing. Sometimes they even shove each other off the cliff.”
“I guess we’d better not force the right of way—a tumble into the Rimac there is more than I care for!” And Barton jumped from his mule and advanced upon the blockaders, waving his arms threateningly.
“Look out!” cried the Professor; but before the words were fairly off his tongue, the foremost llama opened its ugly mouth and spat42 at Barton in fury. At this unpleasant salutation he retreated hastily.
“That is their weapon of defense,” said the Professor. “And their saliva43 is wonderfully acrid44. It’s as well you didn’t get it in the face. But I wish they would get out of the way—we have no time to spare.”
Just then there was another surprise. A figure hardly less remarkable45 than the camels slid down from the overhanging hillside, and stood in the path, looking at the startled travelers. It was a dwarfish46 creature, not four feet tall, with a large, round head, a broad, strong body, and very[50] short legs, peculiarly bundled up in unfamiliar47 clothes. A boy—what in the world was he doing on that impossible slope? What a goat he must be!
“Hulloa!” cried Barton, as soon as he could find a voice.
“God give you good day, sirs,” answered the lad gravely, in thick Spanish. “Wait me so-little, and I will get you by.”
With this he called “U-pa!” to the llamas, lifting his finger as if to point them up the trail. Ordinarily they would have obeyed; but the aggressive manner of Barton had roused their obstinacy48, and they did not budge49. The boy put his shoulder to the ribs50 of one, and heaved hard, but the brute stood its ground.
“Well, it is to wait!” said he; and ran about the path, gathering51 up very small pebbles52 until his shabby hat was full. Then he sat down on a boulder53 that jutted54 from the bank, settling himself as if for a long rest, and threw a mild and measured pebble at each llama. They turned their heads a little and wrinkled their disagreeable noses. He waited a moment and then pitched two more pebbles—which had the same effect. So he sat, slowly and mechanically tossing his harmless missiles upon the dense55 hair of his charges. Evidently he[51] was in no hurry; and the two travelers, impatient as they were, had too much wisdom of experience to try to push him. They sat quietly in their saddles, watching the droll56 scene. It was very ridiculous to need deliverance from two stupid beasts, and to get it from such an owlish little tatterdemalion. His ragged57 clothing was of very thick, coarse cloth; and upon his feet were the clumsy yanquis, or rawhide58 sandals of mountain Peru, and he wore thick stockings rising to his knees. Over his trousers was a curious garment, half apron59 and half leggings; and oversleeves of the same material, hung with a cord about his neck, came up over the elbows of his coat. These two garments were knit in very strange patterns, amid which were square, brown llamas wandering up and down a gray background. Around his waist was a woven belt, now very old, but of beautiful colors and workmanship. And his face—what a brown, round riddle60!
“How do you call yourself, friend?” asked the Professor in Spanish. “And have you ten years or a hundred?”
“Ramon Ynga, se?or. And the other I do not know. I have been here a long time—ever since they built the mill at Casapalca.”
[52]
“You must be about fifteen, then. And where do you live?”
“There, above,” answered Ramon, tossing another pebble.
“A curious habit of the mountaineers,” said the Professor. “These Indians, instead of living in the valleys, climb to the very tops of these peaks, and build there their squalid stone hovels. They seem to think nothing of the eternal clambering up and down.”
An hour crawled by, and the stones in Ramon’s hat were running low. Suddenly the brown llama turned with a snort of disgust, and strode off up the trail. The white one hesitated a moment, snorted, and followed. “That way they get tired, sirs,” said the boy, emptying his hat and pulling it down upon his thatch61 of black hair.
“I’d take a good club to them!” growled62 Barton, who had great confidence in the Saxon way of forcing things.
“No, the boy is quite right. It is another case wherein you must not try to be smarter than nature. The llama is the stubbornest brute alive—a mule is vacillating compared to him. If you put a pound too much on his load, he will lie down, and you might beat him to death or build a fire beside him, but he would not get up. Nobody but a Peruvian[53] Indian can do anything with a Peruvian camel, and Ramon has just shown us the proper tactics. Hurt the animal, and he only grows more sullen63; but the pebbles merely tease him until he can bear it no longer. And really he repays patience; for he is the only animal that can work effectively at these altitudes, where horses and mules are practically useless. But adelante! (forward!)”
“Is your Excellency going to Cerro de Pasco?” asked the little Peruvian, running alongside the mule and looking up at the Professor with unusual animation64 in his non-committal face. He had never spoken with “Yankees” before, and indeed for any stranger to notice him kindly65 was a new experience. He liked these pale men; and a dim little wish to please them warmed in his heart. That big young man—why, he was taller than any Serrano in the cordillera!—was good. Ramon had seen money a few times; but that round, shiny sol,[14] which the stranger had tossed him when the llamas moved, was the first he had ever held in his hand; and it was almost a worry to be so rich! But the other man, with a little gray above his ears, who only looked at him so, and spoke as if he knew[54] him—he, surely, was very great; and it was to him that the ragged boy had said “Exceléncia.” His face was kindly; and there were little smiles at the edges of his mouth, though he did not laugh.
“No, hijito (little son),” he answered, “we are not bound to the mines. We are going to climb the Chin-chán, to look at the ice cornices and to measure them.”
Even Ramon looked astonished at this. If a Serrano had said it, every one would know he was crazy. Or if it were the young man—well, what could you expect of one who would give away a whole sol? But this one—whatever he did, it must be right. He certainly was not crazy. Still——
“But the Soroche, your Excellency,” ventured the boy. “For all strangers have it; and many die, even in crossing the slope. Only we who were born here can go so high.”
“We have to go, my boy; for I must look at the snow fields and the cliffs of ice, and measure them,” said the Professor, kindly. “I know well of the mountain sickness, and we will be very careful. Besides, we are both very strong.”
THE HOME OF THE SOROCHE
“It is not always of the strong,” persisted Ramon. “Sometimes the sick cross in safety, and those who are very large and[55] red—even larger than your Excellency’s friend—fall suddenly and never rise again; for the Soroche is stronger than any.”
“You are quite right, my wise friend. It is terrible. But all do not fall victims, and we must brave it.”
“At the least, Excellency, let me go also! For I know these hills very well, and perhaps I could help. As for the llamas, my brother Sancho comes even yonder, and he will herd66 them.”
“You won’t really take the little rat up there, will you, Professor?” broke in Barton. “It would be the death of him.”
“M-m! I only hope we may be as safe as I know he will be! Está bien, my boy! Vamos!”[15]
At nine the next morning the three were entering the edge of the snow fields. They had camped for the night in a deserted67 hovel at the head of the valley; and there the mules could be seen grazing, pulling as far down bill as their ropes would allow. The hut was not a mile behind; but the travelers had been ever since daylight coming thus far. The Professor looked old; and Barton’s big chest was heaving violently. As for Ramon, he clambered along[56] steadily68 and soberly, stopping only when he saw the others had stopped.
By noon they were at the foot of the last ridge69, in a great rounding bay flanked by two spurs of the upper peak. The curving rim2 far overhead was a savage cliff of eternal ice—a cliff of 1,500 feet sheer. At the top a great white brow projected many yards, overhanging the bluish precipice70.
“It is—a—noble—cornice,” gasped the Professor, as they sank upon the snow to rest for the hundredth time since morning. “But I fear—we—made—a mistake. We—should—not have—tried this—without—waiting a—few weeks—in Casa—palca—to get—acclimated.”
“It’s awful!” groaned71 Barton. “My head—feels—as if—it would—burst. But I’ll be hanged—if I—give up!” And the resolute72 young man fairly snatched himself to erectness73, and started toward the spur. But with the third step his tall form swung half around, and swayed an instant, and fell as a dead pine falls in the wind, and lay heavily upon the snow. His face was black; and a bright red stream trickled74 from each nostril75 as the Professor sank on his knees beside him, crying huskily, “My—poor boy! I have—killed—you!”
[57]
The Professor’s face had a strange look, too. His eyes were very red and swollen—but that was from the merciless glare of the snow—and in his cheeks a gray shadow seemed to be struggling with the unnatural76 purple. And he was so unlike the Professor of yesterday. He seemed so dull; even stupid!
“Come, Excellency!” Ramon was shouting in his ear. “It is the Soroche, the mountain sickness, and none can fight it. We must be gone from here, else very soon you are both dead. Come!” The small brown fist was tugging77 at the old man’s shoulder, and in the quaint78, boyish voice was a strange thrill. The Professor understood. Dazed as he was, the way in which Ramon said that one word “Come” roused and cheered him like the far bugle79 call which tells of reinforcements to the besieged80. He was not alone. Here was help—the help of a dwarfed81 Indian boy of fifteen! But that is often the very sort we need—not muscle so much as the elbow-touch of a staunch heart.
“But—Barton?” said the Professor. He could no longer think clearly; and instinctively82 he turned to Ramon as superior. “Barton? We—cannot—leave—Barton!”[58] The Serrano lad looked at the prostrate83 figure and then at the Professor.
But even in those bloodshot eyes Ramon read something that decided84 him. It was very hard, and it was more dangerous so; but the Friend-man loved the other. The other must be tried for too!
Ramon unwound his long woven belt and passed it under Barton’s back. The ends he drew up under the armpits and crossed them at the back of the neck, giving one end to the Professor and keeping one himself. Then, when they pulled apart, the crossing of the belt supported Barton’s head. “Now!” cried Ramon; and pulling strongly the two dragged the heavy form along the snow to the edge of the steep slope. The Professor’s face was purple, and drops of blood beaded his finger tips.
“Let me, se?or!” said the boy; and taking both ends of the belt over his shoulder, he went plunging85 down the declivity86, Barton’s limp head bumping against his legs, and Barton’s body and heels dragging in the soft snow just enough to act as a brake. As for the Professor, he stumbled after as best he could, with vague eyes and bursting veins87 and treacherous88 legs. Sometimes he fell forward and plowed89 a rod in the snow, and once he was beginning to[59] roll, but Ramon leaped and stopped him just in time.
And so at last they came to the end of the snow. The boy laid his burden upon the matted grass, with head up-hill, and piled a little drift of snow about the head. “Put it so, also, to your head,” said he, “and I will bring the mules.”
With that he was racing39 off down the hill in knowing zigzags90, though it looked too steep for a goat.
In half an hour a very tired boy was getting two helpless men upon two almost helpless mules. Perhaps if the latter had been able to object, he could not have succeeded. But by the help of the slope, and hauling with his belt over the saddle from the down-hill side, he presently had both up. Barton’s feet he tied together under the mule, and Barton’s hands around its neck. The Professor could sit up, in a stupid way, and Ramon tied only his feet. “Hold well!” he cried loudly and sternly, but with the same little quiver in his voice; and taking both bridle91 reins92 in one hand, he plunged93 down the hill, his weight thrown forward upon the hard bits, so that the reluctant mules had no choice but to follow.
The only one who remembers much of that grim journey is Ramon, and as he is[60] not much given to talking, no one knows just what he does think of it. The Professor’s clear recollection begins with finding himself on board the train at Casapalca—a train of that most wonderful railroad in the world, the railroad above the clouds, that clambers up and burrows94 through the cordillera of Peru. Before that are only hazy95 memories of a vast mountain wall leaning over to crush him; a winding96 path in the air; a queer, boy’s voice, coming from nowhere, with little Spanish words of cheer. And now a round, brown face from the opposite seat was watching him seriously—even tenderly, the Professor fancied—while the burly conductor was saying:
“I never seen it come any closer! How ever the boy got you in, beats my time. And I saw he hated to leave you, so I says to him, says I, ‘Just get in, sonny, ’n’ go down to Lima with us, ’n’ I’ll fetch you back if I lose my job!’ He’s the right sort, he is! An’ you’ll be all right, as soon as you get down there—that’s the only medicine for the S’rochy.”
All right they were next day in the capital. Even Barton was able to sit up; and he nodded weakly as the Professor said to Ramon:
[61]
“My boy, I would like you to go with us. We have to travel much in Peru; and if you will accompany us you will earn good wages. And you shall be as my son. For neither of us would be alive now if we had not had a little hero with us. Will you come?”
Joy flashed over Ramon’s face. But then it faded, and tears started in his eyes as he said simply:
“You are good, Excellency! I would go anywhere with you. But in the Chin-chán is my mother, with the babies; and since father died, I must be the man, for Sancho is too young. Adios!”
And he ran out, so that they should not see him crying.
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1
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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glaciers
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| 冰河，冰川( glacier的名词复数 ) | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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sinewy
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cone
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| n.圆锥体，圆锥形东西，球果 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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remarkably
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sprinting
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tempts
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puny
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promptly
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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pointed
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malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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drawn
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vindictive
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naturalists
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| n.博物学家( naturalist的名词复数 )；（文学艺术的）自然主义者 | |
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grudge
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standing
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grievances
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recurred
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exclamation
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stolidly
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bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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saliva
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| n.唾液，口水 | |
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acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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dwarfish
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| a.像侏儒的，矮小的 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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48
obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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51
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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boulder
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| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
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54
jutted
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| v.（使）突出( jut的过去式和过去分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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rawhide
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| n.生牛皮 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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thatch
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| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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erectness
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| n.直立 | |
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trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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nostril
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| n.鼻孔 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dwarfed
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| vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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declivity
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| n.下坡，倾斜面 | |
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87
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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89
plowed
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| v.耕( plow的过去式和过去分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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zigzags
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| n.锯齿形的线条、小径等( zigzag的名词复数 )v.弯弯曲曲地走路，曲折地前进( zigzag的第三人称单数 ) | |
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91
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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93
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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94
burrows
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| n.地洞( burrow的名词复数 )v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的第三人称单数 )；翻寻 | |
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95
hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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