with triumph, and demonstrated beyond a doubt the sagacity of Don
Santo Domingo in organizing the expedition.

The purpose and intention of the journey was now abundantly fulfilled.
Had the travelers rested satisfied with the liberal indications they
had found, and consented to place themselves between the haunts of
the savages and the abodes of civilization, with a tendency and
determination toward the latter, they might have returned with safety
as with glory. The estimate made by Eusebio, however, of the trend or
direction of the calisaya groves, induced him to forsake the bed of
the Cconi, and strike south-eastwardly, so as to cross the Ollachea
and the Ayapata.

"But the mountains are disappearing," hazarded Mr. Marcoy. "Will not
the cinchonas disappear with them?"

"Oh," answered the majordomo, like a pedagogue to a confident
school-boy, "the señor knows better how to put ink or color on a sheet
of paper than how to judge of these things. The plain, the _campo
llano_, is far enough to the east. Before we should see the
disappearance of the mountains, we should have to cross as many hills
and ravines as we have left behind us."

"What do you think of doing, then?" naturally demanded Marcoy, who had
long since begun to feel that the expedition had but one chief, and
that was the sepia-colored cascarillero from Bolivia,

"Everything and nothing," answered Eusebio.

These enigmas always carry the day. The apparatus of march was