I was in the heart of the Cordilleras, weary, footsore and alone. Iwas descending a rocky cliff a few hundred feet from a plateau, whilethe thunders roared with terrific crash. The rain fell in sheets,plunging in wild fury in cataracts down the mountain side. There wasdesolation and terror unutterable. I leaned close to a shelving rock,and as I thought of once happy days in Aberdeen, of the love bestowedupon me by my dear mother--gone forever from this world--my owncondition, now a homeless wanderer in a foreign land, perhaps to soonmeet death and my body be devoured by condors, I laid my head on myarms and wept bitterly.
I am not superstitious, neither do I believe that my condition at thattime caused my mind to wander; a peaceful calm came over me; itseemed as if some loving one was near, fear vanished, and I looked upbut beheld nothing. The storm raged with even greater fury. I walkedand even began to sing the "Garb of Old Gaul." I ignored the elementsin their war and had almost reached the plateau when the storm ceasedand the sun suddenly appeared. Calm and warmth came from what a fewminutes before had seemed death and destruction.
A sudden turn in the trail and I beheld a child seated beneath thethick, spreading branches of a tree, her white apron filled withalpine flowers. "How came she here," I wondered. Her dark bright eyesgazed questioningly into mine, eyes through which one could see thechildish spirit and feel the witchery of her magic look; her ravenlocks fell in clusters over her fair temples and ended in ringletsabout her shoulders; on her cheeks were the glowing tints of youth andhealth. As I spoke she rose and handed me a flower of delicate tint. Igallantly pinned it on the lapel of my coat, which won from her apleasing look and smile. I could speak a little Spanish and she seemedto understand that I was going her way. Together we walked along thetrail. Her childish grace appealed to me. A spirit of infinitegoodness seemed to radiate from within and stirred my noblestimpulses. A feeling of content settled upon me.
Near by, I saw some Indian huts and the tambo or tavern where FrankDunn and I had stopped on our way to Puno. The child ran ahead,leaving me to follow.
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The first sight of Puno had satisfied me that we had come to the mostdesolate spot in the world, Nature's remains seemed to have beenbrought there and left without burial. The ground was thickly coveredwith a short, wild grass and appeared to be the natural dwelling placeof the alpacas and wild vicunas.
I had been in Puno but a few days when I was offered work on board oneof the steamers, but I longed again for Arequipa and friends. Dunnhad secured work on one of the steamers and refused to return. Ithought this was hard, as it was my money that had helped him from thetime he left Arequipa until he secured employment. My money was almostgone, but I had gone to the Amaras market and bought what edibles Ineeded, and without hesitation had started alone to return toArequipa, over those fearful heights and dread solitudes of theCordilleras, when I found her.
When we were entering the tambo an elderly gentleman and the Indianhost were speaking in Spanish, and even from my limited knowledge ofthe language I knew they were talking about me.
No doubt but my appearance in the heart of the Cordilleras wet,forlorn looking and alone aroused his sympathy. After a difficultattempt at opening a conversation, the beautiful child I had metlooking on all the time, I was given to understand that he desired meto eat with them. Of course I consented, but I did not do justice tothe meal as the dark eyes of the young girl were constantly upon me.
The gentleman gave me his name, Julian Maldonado, and that of hisdaughter, Felicita Maldonado. He was a well-to-do merchant of elderlyyears. I learned that his wife was dead and that their home was inLima. The servants made me a bed in the room adjacent to my host. Thenext morning I was aroused by one of them who said his master wantedto see me. I went to him and after telling him I was on my way toArequipa, and when there I would be among my friends, he offered topurchase a mule for me, but the only one to be had was lame. However,I told him I was young and would soon reach my destination. Felicitathen came in and announced breakfast, after which the mules werepacked and, everything being in readiness, we bade each othergood-bye. Felicita came toward me, and as she extended her hand in herchildish fashion, she placed in my own a Peruvian twenty-dollar goldpiece, saying: "Adios mi amigo."
I was almost speechless. I started forward to return the money, but Ihad to retain it, as they quickly mounted and were gone before I couldmaster my feelings.
Roll on, relentless Time. Felicita, fairest flower of the Cordilleras,we shall meet again, when love's young dream shall awaken amid theclash of arms and tragedies!
Nine days later I arrived in Arequipa, sick, footsore and weary. Myfriends had sent out searching parties believing that I had beenmurdered. Their astonishment was great when they found where I hadbeen and that I had spent many nights alone amid the dangers of themountains. Many were the admonitions I received from older heads.
I laughed at their words, and when I thought of the beautifulFelicita, I dreamed of love and felt an indescribable content with mysurroundings and all the world.