The Argosy, Vol. XXV, No. 1 — page 1: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

PRE ARGODSY, VoL. XXV. AUGUST, 1897. No. I. A PERUVIAN PARADISE. The find of three adventurers among the Andes—A quest for treasure that brought to light a strange community—Exciting experiences among the descendants of the Incas. (Complete in This Issue.) CHAPTER I.—AN UNEQUAL COMBAT. = foe narrow trail wound up the mountain side like a brown ribbon, writhing in and out among the huge boulders and clumps of sturdy timber, now skirting the verge of a sheer precipice, anon following the dry bed of some torrent. Far above toward the azure arch towered the snow clad peaks of the Andes; below, the depths of the verdant valleys were almost lost in the haze of distance. The tinkle of a silver bell was all that disturbed the silence of the day. Around a rugged spur of the mountain came a pack train, the like of which can be seen nowhere but in the Peruvian Andes. First appeared the awkward, camel-like face of the leading pack animal— a great llama, with a silver bell fastened to a strap about its throat. By the odd creature’s side trotted a half naked Indian lad, with the leading strap in his hand. ‘Then one by one followed nearly a dozen smaller llamas,-each with a pack strapped on its back. ‘Two Indians walked beside them, while the rear of the procession was brought up by three individuals dressed in the half native, half European costume of white travelers. Two were young men, both sturdy of limb and of pleasing presence ; the other was short, ‘‘squatty’’ fellow with flabby cheeks and little, twinkling, pig-like eyes, almost hidden in layers of flesh. He was well along toward fifty and when he removed his broad brimmed hat to wipe his perspiring forehead, showed a well developed bald spot on top. ‘“This tramp hits you where youlive, eh, Fitch?’ laughingly inquired one of the younger men, a brown haired, sunny faced fellow. *“ Hi’m getting to hold for it, Hi am, Mr. Kinsale,’’ replied the short man, puffing like an asthmatic donkey engine. ‘‘This trading business is too bloomin’ hactive, an’ that’s no lie. Hi’d better be back in Lunnon than ’ere in this blessed ’ole. Hit wasa sorry day for Bob Fitch w’en’e leaved a civilized country for a ’eathen land.’’ (A) Eomichook (E@)