animals suffer greatly. Consequently, most caravans travel, so far
as possible, by night. Our first desert, the pampa of Sihuas, was
reported to be narrow, so we preferred to cross it by day and see
what was to be seen. We got up about half-past four and were off
before seven. Then our troubles began. Either because he lived in
Arequipa or because they thought he looked like a good horseman,
or for reasons best known to themselves, the Tejadas had given
Mr. Hinckley a very spirited saddle-mule. The first thing I knew,
her rider, carrying a heavy camera, a package of plate-holders, and
a large mercurial barometer, borrowed from the Harvard Observatory,
was pitched headlong into the sand. Fortunately no damage was done,
and after a lively chase the runaway mule was brought back by Corporal
Gamarra. After Mr. Hinckley was remounted on his dangerous mule we
rode on for a while in peace, between cornfields and vineyards, over
paths flanked by willows and fig trees. The chief industry of Vitor is
the making of wine from vines which date back to colonial days. The
wine is aged in huge jars, each over six feet high, buried in the
ground. We had a glimpse of seventeen of them standing in a line,
awaiting sale. It made one think of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves,
who would have had no trouble at all hiding in these Cyclopean crocks.

The edge of the oasis of Vitor is the contour line along which
the irrigating canal runs. There is no gradual petering out of
foliage. The desert begins with a stunning crash. On one side is
the bright, luxurious green of fig trees and vineyards; on the other
side is the absolute stark nakedness of the sandy desert. Within the
oasis there is an abundance of water. Much of it runs to waste. The
wine growers receive more than they can use; in fact, more land
could easily be put under cultivation. The chief difficulties are
the scarcity of ports from which produce can be shipped to the outer