CHAPTER XXIII--A MARVELLOUS LAKE IN A MARVELLOUS LAND--LA PAZ

"Mebbe," said Rodrigo, "if you knew the down-south Bolivians as well as I do, you would not respect them a great deal. Fact is, boys, there is little to respect them for.

"Brave? Well, if you can call slaves brave, then they're about as bully's they make 'em.

"I have mentioned the inland sea called Lake Titicaca. Ah, boys, you must see this fresh-water ocean for yourselves! and if ever you get married, why, take my advice and go and spend your honeymoon there.

"Me married, did you say, Mr. Bill? It strikes me, sir, I know a trick worth several of that. Been in love as often as I've got toes and fingers, and mebbe teeth, but no tying up for life, I'm too old a starling to be tamed.

"But think, _amigo mio_, of a lake situated in a grand mountain-land, the level of its waters just thirteen thousand feet above the blue Pacific.

"Surrounded by the wildest scenery you can imagine. The wildest, ay, boys, and the most romantic.

"You have one beautiful lake or loch in your Britain--and I have travelled all over that land of the free,--I mean Loch Ness, and the surrounding mountains and glens are magnificent; but, bless my buttons, boys, you wouldn't have room in Britain for such a lake as the mighty Titicaca. It would occupy all your English Midlands, and you'd have to give the farmers a free passage to Australia."

"How do you travel on this lake?" said Dick Temple.

"Ah!" continued Rodrigo, "I can answer that; and here lies another marvel. For at this enormous height above the ocean-level, steamboats, ply up and down. No, not built there, but in sections sent from America, and I believe even from England. The labour of dragging these sections over the mountain-chains may easily be guessed.

"The steamers are neither so large nor so fine as your Clyde boats, but there is a lot of honest comfort in them after all.

"And terrible storms sometimes sweep down from the lofty Cordilleras, and then the lake is all a chaos of broken water and waves even houses high. If caught in such storms, ordinary boats are speedily sunk, and lucky are even the steamers if shelter is handy.

"Well, what would this world be, I wonder, if it were always all sunshine. We should soon get well tired of it, I guess, and want to go somewhere else--to murky England, for example."

Rodrigo blew volumes of smoke before he continued his desultory yarn.

"Do you know, boys, what I saw when in your Britain, south of the Tweed? I saw men calling themselves sportsmen chasing poor little hares with harriers, and following unfortunate stags with buck-hounds. I saw them hunt the fox too, men and women in a drove, and I called them in my own mind cowards all. Brutality and cowardice in every face, and there wasn't a farmer in the flock of stag-hunting Jockies and Jennies who could muster courage enough to face a puma or even an old baboon with a supple stick in its hand. Pah!

"But among the hills and forests around this Lake Titicaca is the paradise of the hunter who has a bit of sand and grit in his substance, and is not afraid to walk a whole mile away from a cow's tail.

"No, there are no dangerous Indians that ever I came across among the mountains and glens; but as you never know what may happen, you've got to keep your cartridges free from damp.

"What kind of game? Well, I was going to say pretty much of all sorts. We haven't got giraffes nor elephants, it is true, nor do we miss them much.

"But there are fish in the lake and beasts on the shore, and rod and gun will get but little holiday, I assure you, lads, if you elect to travel in that strange land.

"I hardly know very much about the fish. They say that the lake is bottomless, and that not only is it swarming with fish, wherever there is a bank, but that terrible animals or beasts have been seen on its deep-blue surface; creatures so fearful in aspect that even their sudden appearance has turned gray the hairs of those who beheld them.

"But I calculate that this is all Indian gammon or superstition.

"As for me, I've been always more at home in the woods and forests, and on the mountain's brow.

"I'm not going to boast, boys, but I've climbed the highest hills of the Cordilleras, where I have had no companion save the condor.

"You Europeans call the eagle the bird of Jove. If that is so, I want to ask them where the condor comes in.

"Why, your golden eagle of Scottish wilds isn't a circumstance to the condor of the Andes. He is no more to be compared to this great forest vulture than a spring chicken is to a Christmas turkey.

"But the condor is only one of a thousand wild birds of prey, or of song, found in the Andean regions or giant Cordilleras.

"And at lower altitude we find the llamas, the guanacos, and herds of wild vicunas.

"You may come across the puma and the jaguar also, and be sorry you've met.

"Then there are goats, foxes, and wild dogs, as well as the viscacha and the chinchilla, to say nothing of deer.

"But on the great lake itself, apart from all thought of fish, you need never go without a jolly good dinner if the rarest of water-fowl will please you. Ducks and geese galore, and other species too many to name."

"That is a land, and that is a lake," said Dick musingly, "that I should dearly like to visit. Yes, and to dwell in or on for a time.

"I suppose labour is cheap?" he added enquiringly.

"I guess," returned Rodrigo, "that if you wanted to erect a wooden hut on some high and healthy promontory overlooking the lake--and this would be your best holt--you would have to learn the use of axe and adze and saw, and learn also how to drive a nail or two without doubling it over your thumb and hitting the wrong nail on the head."

"Well, anyhow," said Dick, "I shall dream to-night of your great inland ocean, of your Lake Titicaca, and in my dreams I shall imagine I am already there. I suppose the woods are alive with beautiful birds?"

"Yes," said Rodrigo, "and with splendid moths and butterflies also; so let these have a place in your dreams as well. Throw in chattering monkeys too, and beautiful parrots that love to mock every sound they hear around them. Let there be evergreen trees draped in garments of climbing flowers, roaring torrents, wild foaming rivers, that during storms roll down before them, from the flooded mountains, massive tree trunks, and boulders houses high."

"You are quite poetic!"

"But I am not done yet. People your paradise with strangely beautiful lizards that creep and crawl everywhere, looking like living flowers, and arrayed in colours that rival the tints of the rainbow. Lizards--ay, and snakes; but bless you, boys, these are very innocent, objecting to nothing except to having their tails trodden on."

"Well, no creature cares for treatment like that," said Roland. "If you and I go to this land of beauty, Dick, we must make a point of not treading on snakes' tails."

"But, boys, there are fortunes in this land of ours also. Fortunes to be had for the digging."

"Copper?"

"Yes, and gold as well!"

Rodrigo paused to roll and light another cigarette. I have never seen anyone do so more deftly. He seemed to take an acute delight in the process. He held the snow-white tissue-paper lovingly in his grasp, while with his forefinger and thumb he apportioned to it just the right quantity of yellow fragrant Virginia leaf, then twisting it tenderly, gently, he conveyed it to his lips.

Said Dick now, "I have often heard of the wondrous city of La Paz, and to me it has always seemed a sort of semi-mythical town--a South American Timbuctoo."

"Ah, lad, it is far from being mythical! On the contrary, it is very real, and so are everything and everybody in it.

"I could not, however, call it, speaking conscientiously, a gem of a place, though it might be made so. But you see, boys, there is a deal of Spanish or Portuguese blood in the veins of the real whites here--though, mind you, three-fourths of the population are Indians of almost every Bolivian race. Well, the motto of the dark-eyed whites seems to be Manana (pronounce Mah-nyah-nah), which signifies 'to-morrow', you know. Consequently, with the very best intentions in the world, they hardly ever finish anything they begin. Some of the streets are decently paved, but every now and then you come to a slough of despond. Many of the houses are almost palatial, but they stand side by side with, and are jostled by, the vile mud-huts of the native population. They have a cathedral and a bazaar, but neither is finished yet.

"Well, La Paz stands at a great altitude above the ocean. It is well worthy of a visit. If you go there, however, there are two things you must not forget to take with you, namely, a bottle of smelling-salts and plenty of eau-de-Cologne."

"The place smells--slightly, then, I suppose," ventured Dick.

"Ha! ha! ha!" Rodrigo had a hearty laugh of his own. "Yes, it smells slightly. So do the people, I may add.

"The natives of La Paz, although some of them boast of a direct descent from the ancient Incas, are to all intents and purposes slaves.

"Well, boys, when I say 'slaves' I calculate I know pretty well what I am talking about. The old feudal system holds sway in what we call the civilized portions of Bolivia. Civilization, indeed! Only in the wilds is there true freedom and independence. The servants on ranches and farms are bought or sold with the land on which they live. So, Mr. Bill, if you purchase a farm in Bolivia, it won't be only the cows and cocks and hens you'll have to take, but the servants as well, ay, and the children of these.

"Bolivian Indians, who are troubled with families that they consider a trifle too large for their income, have a simple and easy method of meeting the difficulty. They just take what you might call the surplus children to some white-man farmer and sell them as they do their cows."

"Then these children are just brought up as slaves?"

"Yes, their masters treat them fairly well, but they generally make good use of the whip. 'Spare the rod and spoil the child' is a motto they play up to most emphatically, and certainly I have never known the rod to be spared, nor the child to be spoiled either.

"Oh! by the way, as long as my hand is in I may tell you about the servants that the gentry-folks of La Paz keep. I don't think any European would be plagued with such a dirty squad, for in a household of, say, ten, there must be ten slaves at the very least, to say nothing of the pongo man.

"This pongo man is in reality the charwoman of La Paz. It is he who does all the dirty work, and a disagreeable-looking and painfully dirty blackguard he is himself. It is not his custom to stay more than a week with any one family. He likes to be always on the move.

"He assists the cook; he collects dried llama manure for firewood, as Paddy might say; he fetches water from the fountain; he brings home the marketing, in the shape of meat and vegetables; he cleans and scrubs everywhere, receiving few pence for his trouble, but an indefinite number of kicks and cuffs, while his bed at night is on the cold stones behind the hall door. Yet with all his ill-usage, he seems just about as happy as a New Hollander, and you always find him trotting around trilling a song.

"Ah, there is nothing like contentment in this world, boys!"

"Yes, Mr. Bill, I have seen one or two really pretty girls among the Bolivians, but never lost my heart to any of them, for between you and me, they don't either brush or comb their hair, and when walking with them it is best to keep the weather-gauge. And that's a hint worth having, I can assure you."

----

On the very next evening after Don Rodrigo spoke his piece, as he phrased it, about the strange customs and habits of the Bolivians, all were assembled as usual in the biggest tent.

Burly Bill and his meerschaum were getting on remarkably well together, the Don was rolling a cigarette, when suddenly Brawn started up as if from a dream, and stood with his ears pricked and his head a little to one side, gazing out into the darkness.

He uttered no warning growl, and made no sound of any sort, but his tail was gently agitated, as if something pleased him.

Then with one impatient "Yap!" he sprang away, and was seen no more for a few minutes.

"What can ail the dog?" said Roland.

"What, indeed?" said Dick.

And now footsteps soft and slow were heard approaching the tent, and next minute poor Benee himself staggered in and almost fell at Roland's feet.

The honest hound seemed almost beside himself with joy, but he had sense enough to know that his old favourite, Benee, was exhausted and ill, and, looking up into his young master's face, appeared to plead for his assistance.

Benee's cheeks were hollow, his feet were cut and bleeding, and yet as he lay there he smiled feebly.

"I am happy now," he murmured, and forthwith fell asleep.

Both Roland and Dick trembled. They thought that sleep might be the sleep of death, but Don Rodrigo, after feeling Benee's pulse, assured them that it was all right, and that the poor fellow only needed rest and food.

In about half an hour the faithful fellow--ah! who could doubt his fidelity now?--sat painfully up.

Dick went hurrying off and soon returned with soup and with wine, and having swallowed a little, Benee made signs that he would rest and sleep.

"To-morrow," he said, "to-morrow I speak plenty. To-night no can do."

And so they did all they could to make him comfortable, and great Brawn lay down by his side to watch him.