After Mr. Tucker finished his triangulation of the lake I told the arrieros to find the shortest road home.  They smiled, murmured “Arequipa,” and started south.  We soon came to the rim of the Maraicasa Valley where, peeping up over one of the hills far to the south, we got a little glimpse of Coropuna.  The Maraicasa Valley is well inhabited and there were many grain fields in sight, although few seemed to be terraced.  The surrounding hills were smooth and well rounded and the valley bottom contained much alluvial land.  We passed through it and, after dark, reached Sondor, a tiny hamlet inhabited by extremely suspicious and inhospitable drovers.  In the darkness Don Pablo pleaded with the owners of a well-thatched hut, and told them how “important” we were.  They were unwilling to give us any shelter, so we were forced to pitch our tent in the very rocky and dirty corral immediately in front of one of the huts, where pigs, dogs, and cattle annoyed us all night.  If we had arrived before dark we might have received a different welcome.  As a matter of fact, the herdsmen only showed the customary hostility of mountaineers and wilderness folk to those who do not arrive in the daytime, when they can be plainly seen and fully discussed.

The next morning we passed some fairly recent lava flows and noted also many curious rock forms caused by wind and sand erosion.  We had now left the belt of grazing lands and once more come into the desert.  At length we reached the rim of the mile-deep Caraveli Canyon and our eyes were gladdened at sight of the rich green oasis, a striking contrast to the barren walls of the canyon.  As we descended the long, winding road we passed many fine specimens of tree cactus.  At the foot of the steep descent we found ourselves separated from the nearest settlement by a very wide river, which it was necessary to ford.  Neither of the Tejadas had ever been here before and its depths and dangers were unknown.  Fortunately Pablo found a forlorn individual living in a tiny hut on the bank, who indicated which way lay safety.  After an exciting two hours we finally got across to the desired shore.  Animals and men were glad enough to leave the high, arid desert and enter the oasis of Caraveli with its luscious, green fields of alfalfa, its shady fig trees and tall eucalyptus.  The air, pungent with the smell of rich vegetation, seemed cooler and more invigorating.

We found at Caraveli a modern British enterprise, the gold mine of “La Victoria.”  Mr. Prain, the Manager, and his associates at the camp gave us a cordial welcome, and a wonderful dinner which I shall long remember.  After two months in the coastal desert it seemed like home.  During the evening we learned of the difficulties Mr. Prain had had in bringing his machinery across the plateau from the nearest port.  Our own troubles seemed as nothing.  The cost of transporting on muleback each of the larger pieces of the quartz stamping-mill was equivalent to the price of a first-class pack