Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
I crossed by the cable and continued the journey, but my adventures for the day were not
yet over, for on reaching an
hacienda
where I intended to pass the night I found the
peones
(workers)inanuproar.Indiansandmestizosweregesticulatingingroups,andIheardthatone
had attempted to kill another. There being no doctor within miles I was asked if I could do
anythingforthewoundedman.Ifoundhimlyinginahut,fairlysoakedinblood.Hewasobvi-
ously wounded deeply, and his lungs were damaged, for he was coughing up blood. I washed
thewound,andastherewassomelaudanuminthemedicinechestIgavehimasolutionofthis
to drink. The man who had attacked him was in a small hut that served as prison, and when I
went to have a look at him I found him with both legs fixed in strong wooden stocks. He was
an Indian, and with his long hair and savage looks was anything but attractive.
During the night my host came to call me, saying that the prisoner was attempting to es-
cape. I hurriedly dressed, took my electric torch and a revolver, and went to see what was
happening. When I approached the prison door a stone hit me in the chest, whereupon I made
readyforroughwork.PlayingmytorchintothehutIsawtheIndianwithadaggerinhishand,
and it was easy to see that he had dug around one of the posts that held down the stocks. The
man was roaring like a wild beast, and it was obvious that he was ready to make a fight for
freedom. The only thing to do was to disarm him and then make him safe for the night. Ac-
cordingly I picked up a board, and holding it in front of myself rushed at the man and kicked
him so as to make him lie down, but he managed to injure my right hand slightly. As soon
as he was down Indian men and women rushed at him, some kicking him, whilst others tore
his hair. To make him safe he was taken out of the stocks and bound with a rope. I could hear
him moaning and complaining, and when I came out in the morning he was still lying in the
courtyard surrounded by Indians who had kept an eye on him throughout the night. He was
stillinthesamepositionaswhenIhadlastseenhim,andwhenIrequestedhisguardtoloosen
the ropes a little they told me he was no longer bound. When I examined the man I could not
help feeling sorryforhim, forthe ropes had cut in deep and he was bleeding in several places.
His eyes were bloodshot and he was more dead than alive, the only sign of life he gave being
a faint moan every now and again.
I was glad when I was on my way again, and often wondered later what happened to both
the assailant and the victim; I do not think I shall ever forget the Rio Santa.
Religious processions are often held and I shall always remember the one I saw in one
small village. Longfiles ofmiserably dressed people came slowly along the uneven anddusty
road.Everypersonheldacandle,thelightofwhichcaststrangeshadowsonthefaces.Infront
several men carried a bed on which lay a figure representing Christ. Never have I seen any-
thingsohorrible;forthesheetshadbeensplashedalloverwithredpaint,orthebloodofsome
animal, and the face of the figure was also smeared in the same way. Every now and again the
processionstopped,andabandoffourmusiciansplayedamournfultunetowhichamansang
in a loud, wailing voice.
