make any satisfactory arrangements. After two weeks of skirmishing,
the Tejada brothers appeared, two arrieros, or muleteers, who seemed
willing to listen to our proposals. We offered them a thousand soles
(five hundred dollars gold) if they would supply us with a pack train
of eleven mules for two months and go with us wherever we chose,
we agreeing not to travel on an average more than seven leagues
[2] a day. It sounds simple enough but it took no end of argument
and persuasion on the part of our friends in Arequipa to convince
these worthy arrieros that they were not going to be everlastingly
ruined by this bargain. The trouble was that they owned their mules,
knew the great danger of crossing the deserts that lay between us
and Mt. Coropuna, and feared to travel on unknown trails. Like most
muleteers, they were afraid of unfamiliar country. They magnified the
imaginary evils of the road to an inconceivable pitch. The argument
that finally persuaded them to accept the proffered contract was my
promise that after the first week the cargo would be so much less that
at least two of the pack mules could always be free. The Tejadas,
realizing only too well the propensity of pack animals to get sore
backs and go lame, regarded my promise in the light of a factor of
safety. Lame mules would not have to carry loads.

Everything was ready by the end of the month. Mr. H. L. Tucker,
a member of Professor H. C. Parker's 1910 Mr. McKinley Expedition
and thoroughly familiar with the details of snow-and-ice-climbing,
whom I had asked to be responsible for securing the proper equipment,
was now entrusted with planning and directing the actual ascent
of Coropuna. Whatever success was achieved on the mountain was
due primarily to Mr. Tucker's skill and foresight. We had no Swiss
guides, and had originally intended to ask two other members of the
Expedition to join us on the climb. However, the exigencies of making