A SNOW-STORM IN THE TROPICS.

“Father,” said George Moore, one stormy winter’s night, “won’t you please tell me of some one of your adventures?”

SEAL FISHERMAN.

“You seem never to tire of my adventures,” said his father, smiling.“Did I ever tell you how nearly I was lost once, in a snow-storm, in the tropics?”

“A snow-storm in the tropics! How could that be?”

“It happened when I was quite a young man, that, for several months, in the course of business, I had to stay at a lonely place on the coast of Peru. I was in a town, but it was a dull one, and only showed signs of life when some trading vessel would lie there for a day or two. My only amusement was seal fishing; but I soon tired of that, for I was not very successful. It was a sport that required more practice than I was able to give it. The boats are nothing but two bags of skin, connected by a narrow deck, and I did not consider them altogether safe, for me, at least.

“At last I thought I would vary the monotony of my life by a little trip up the Andes mountains. I could not go alone, of course, but a small sum was sufficient to hire a guide, and two men besides, and four mules. There were no hostile Indians to fear, and the guide was all that I needed, but I knew he would be better contented with some companions, and I felt, myself, that it would be a lonely sort of journey for two.

“It was my intention to make an early start, but it was quite late in the morning before I could get the lazy natives on the road. The first part of our march was across a sandy, stony desert, with the rays of a hot sun beating on our heads. My broad-brimmed Panama did not prevent my face from blistering, and the white cotton cape I wore did not seem to be much of a protection.

“We halted twice to take some refreshments, and short rests; and, before sunset, we arrived at a miserable sort of inn, where we remained for three hours, and rested ourselves and the mules; and both men and beasts ate hearty suppers. Then we continued our journey, for it was more pleasant to travel at night than in the day. It was evident that we were reaching higher ground, though the ascent was so easyas scarcely to be perceptible. But the air gradually became fresher and cooler, and, at last, a woolen cloak was comfortable.

“When day came we found ourselves in a region almost as barren as the desert we had left the day before. We were on a rocky plain, high up on the hills, or, more properly, small mountains. No plants grew on this plain except a few species of cactus, which flourish in the poorest soils: there were no signs of life, but flocks of turtle-doves.”

CACTUS PLANTS.

“That must have been a pretty sight, though, father! I should like to see a great many turtle-doves together.”

“You would not, if you were a Peruvian farmer, for these poetical birds are the very mischief in the grain-fields. They only troubled us by their melancholy wail. Their sad notes made this dreary solitude still more awful.

“But I had a consolation. Before me rose grandly up the high peaks of the Andes. Their white tops seemed to touch the sky.

“After a time, to my surprise, we began to descend. In a few hours more we were in a lovely valley, filled with villages, and farms, and trees, and flowers. I staid there two days enjoying the valley, and inspecting its curiosities, which I will tell you about some time.”

“Was it warm in the valley?”

“Yes, but not oppressively hot. It was high up on the hills; and then it was the month of August, and the winter season.”

“Winter season in August?”

“Of course. I was south of the equator, where the seasons, you know, are just the reverse of ours. We commenced the ascent of the mountains in high spirits. The wind was cool and bracing; and the vegetation all around us was of great interest to me. But it began to change rapidly; and, before night, we were among huge stones, and jagged rocks, where only evergreens were seen.”

“How could you find the way?”

“There was a rough kind of road over the mountains. In many places I should never have been able to find it at all, but the guide knew all the landmarks.

“The first night we spent in an Indian cabin; and the next morning continued our journey, but we were not so gay as on the preceding day. It was bitter cold, and we needed all the wraps we had with us. I do not know how our two companions managed to wander away from the road, as they afterwards insisted that they did. I thinkthe cold was too much for their courage, and they grew tired of their bargain, and made up their minds to fall back of us, and watch a chance to turn around and go home. The guide and I soon missed them, and we rode about in various directions, calling them, and searching for them. But it was easy enough for them to conceal themselves behind a rock, or in a ravine, and we could not find them. We gave them up at last, hoping they would find their way back again.

“But we soon discovered that, in looking for them, we had lostourway. For hours we wandered about, and my guide could not find a trace of the road. This was serious, for we had but a small stock of provisions, as there were Indian huts scattered all along the regular route, on which we had relied for supplies. We could not travel over this rough country at night; and a night’s exposure to the cold was not to be thought of without a shudder. And besides, we might never find our way out of this frightful solitude.”

“Was there nothing anywhere about to show that any kind of people lived there?”

“No. It seemed to me we were the first human beings who had ever set foot there. In the midst of our perplexities my guide pointed silently to the sky. There were several small, thick, white clouds floating there. They did not look very terrible, but the guide said we would soon have a storm, and we must try to find shelter. Soon more white clouds floated into sight, and they increased until they hid the sun from us. We were now on smoother ground, and pressed forward as fast as we could, but there was no place of shelter to be seen, not even an overhanging rock.

“Soon the wind came with a rush; and then the thunder and lightning. Our mules broke into a gallop. We enveloped ourselves in the folds of our great woolen wrappers, calledtapacaras, lifting our heads once in a while to see where we were going. Next we were treated to a shower of hail-stones. Fortunately they were not verylarge, but we were rather severely thumped with them. The poor mules fared the worst.

“And then came the snow. The arctic regions could not furnish a better example of a snow-storm than this tropical place! It fell so thick and fast we could not see twenty steps in advance. My heart failed me then. I thought we were lost, and would be buried in snow drifts.

“But just then a dark object loomed up before us. ‘An Indian lodge!’ I cried in joy.

“The guide said nothing, but rode on before me, and called to me to dismount. I was glad enough to do this, and he pointed to the open doorway of the building. It was so low I had to crawl through it, but I was thankful to get in, in any fashion.”

“I wonder, father, that you were not afraid of finding something dreadful in there!”

“I did not stop to think about the matter. And then I knew there was something dreadfuloutside. So, in I went, and found the place entirely empty. The guide followed me as soon as he had covered the mules, and made them as comfortable as he could.”

“It was a deserted house, I suppose.”

“No, it was a tomb.”

“A tomb! Out in that lonely place!”

“Yes, but then the place had not always been lonely. I found out afterwards that that region was once inhabited by a tribe of Indians. They all perished before their country was discovered by Europeans, but some of their dwellings, and many of their tombs remained. These tombs were large stone buildings, with one room, lighted by a single window. This room was capable of holding ten or twelve dead bodies, placed in a sitting posture. These bodies were first embalmed—made into what we call mummies. When the tomb was full the door was sealed up. The Europeans opened these sepulchres thathad been sealed up for centuries; and carried the mummies away to put into museums.

A REFUGE FROM THE STORM.

“The tomb in which we had taken refuge had been despoiled of its mummies long before. The room inside was about ten feet square. It was built of very large stones, and had sloping walls. It was a cheerless place enough, but seemed sumptuous to us, after what we had passed through.

“In half an hour the storm ceased, and we proceeded on our journey, hoping to recover the road. But we could not, and night was approaching, with no prospect of a shelter. So we retraced our steps to the sepulchre once more, lighted a fire within, consumed the last of our provisions, gave the mules what was left of their provender and slept soundly all night.”

“Were you not afraid of wild beasts?”

“There were none in that region, or at least the guide knew of none. There were too many settlements among the mountains. And the guide still insisted upon it that we had not wandered far from the regular route. I had my doubts on the subject, but they did not prevent me from sleeping soundly, for I was very tired.

“The next morning was bright, and we set off in better spirits, and with renewed hope, though rather hungry. Our hunger became so great after a time that it quite conquered our spirits, and we stumbled about the rocks, sick and dispirited. We spared our mules all we could, for the poor beasts were nearly worn out and half starved. If they failed us we would indeed be in a bad plight.

“Finally, utterly exhausted, we all laid down, beasts and men together, to keep warm, and to rest. I was just dropping into a doze when I heard the sound of music. The guide heard it also, and we both started up, and felt new life in our veins. So suddenly did hope spring up in our hearts, that all fatigue dropped from us as if by magic. The mules too pricked up their ears at the sound. We sprang upontheir backs and were soon traveling towards the point from whence the music came. It was not long before we came upon the musician.

THE MAIL CARRIER.

“A bare-legged Indian, in a gay striped cloak and broad Panama hat was running along at a rapid pace, and playing upon a mouth-organ. He led a bony horse which trotted gently after him. Across its back was a leathern bag.

“This man was a mail carrier, and was on his way from the sea-coast to some mountain town. So it turned out that the guide was right, and we had not been at any great distance from the settlements. Nevertheless, had it not been for the music of this poor little mouth-organ we might have wandered off in a contrary direction from the highway, and have lost ourselves in the forest, and perished there. Indeed we might never have awakened from the sleep into which we were falling when we heard the strain of music.”

“Did you go with the mail carrier, father?”

“No. He was not going to the place for which we were bound. But he told us that just behind the spur of the mountain we would find an Indian village. And there we rested for a day and refreshed ourselves, and filled our provision bags, and procured a guide to the road we wished to take. The rest of my journey was made in safety.”

“But, father, I don’t think that was a tropical snow-storm, when it happened in so cold a place. I always think of tropic as meaning hot.”

“It was a tropical snow-storm George, certainly, for we were in the tropics, only a few degrees south of the equator. The weather was cold because we were so high up in the air.”

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