and now warped upward to form a part of the summit arch of the western part of the great Andean chain.
The pastures of Caya, to which | have referred, lie at the head of one of the deep canyons that cut across the tabular western portion of the cordillera from their sources in volea- noes and high volcanic masses to the eastward that form the crest line and watershed of the Western Cordillera of the Andes. The trail from Caya at first climbs up to the summit of a minor watershed, then passes over a knifelike ridge so nar- row that there is room at the top merely for the foot-wide trail. At one point one can look down over the flank of one’s riding mule a full 1000 feet to the foot of a precipice and steep talus that form a part of the canyon wall. The slightest mis- step would precipitate beast and rider down this great preci- pice, and it can be a question of only a short time until the ridge itself is attacked by weathering agencies and a new trail must then be located. Farther down, the trail makes the steep descent of the valley or canyon by caracoles, or zigzags, and shortly after reaching the canyon floor leads to the oasis of Chacarilla. The settlement is on the northern side of the valley at a point where a small tributary stream comes down from the altos, or heights, and where the waters of the Que- brada de Chacarilla can be led out through irrigating canals to the gardens of the oasis dwellers. It is near the now abandoned copper mines of Victoria, which were for a time the scene of some mining interest. “There were only a few people about at the time of our visit, and in all there could not have been more than forty or fifty separate habitations. From one of them a woman came running out to the edge of a terrace that over- looks the trail and inquired if we were Englishmen from the coast and if we were, if we had any condensed milk with us. Speaking in Spanish she told us that she had a very young baby and that her breasts had dried up and she was unable to feed it. When we told her regretfully that the last of our condensed milk had been used that morning and that we were practically without any food ourselves, she said, ‘‘Then if you have no milk my baby must die.’’ The tragedy seemed to strike us more deeply than it did her, for she immediately
