feet above sea level. Yet to my surprise and delight I found that it
was relatively as easy to run here as anywhere, so accustomed had my
lungs and heart become to very rarefied air. Had I attempted such
a strenuous feat at a similar altitude before climbing Coropuna it
would have been physically impossible. Any one who has tried to run
two hundred yards at three miles above sea level will understand.

We were still in a very arid region; mostly coarse black sand and
pebbles, with typical desert shrubs and occasional bunches of tough
grass. The slopes of Mt. Solimana on our left were fairly well covered
with sparse vegetation. Among the bushes we saw a number of vicuñas,
the smallest wild camels of the New World. We tried in vain to get
near enough for a photograph. They were extremely timid and scampered
away before we were within three hundred yards.

Seven or eight miles more of very gradual downward slope brought
us suddenly and unexpectedly to the brink of a magnificent canyon,
the densely populated valley of Cotahuasi. The walls of the canyon
were covered with innumerable terraces--thousands of them. It seemed
at first glance as though every available spot in the canyon had been
either terraced or allotted to some compact little village. One could
count more than a score of towns, including Cotahuasi itself, its long
main street outlined by whitewashed houses. As we zigzagged down into
the canyon our road led us past hundreds of the artificial terraces
and through little villages of thatched huts huddled together on spurs
rescued from the all-embracing agriculture. After spending several
weeks in a desert region, where only the narrow valley bottoms showed
any signs of cultivation, it seemed marvelous to observe the extent
to which terracing had been carried on the side of the Cotahuasi
Valley. Although we were now in the zone of light annual rains, it