The pass of the Cumbre is one of the most dangerous passes because of its fearful storms. Every few miles there are the dome-shaped _casuchas_, which have been built for shelter, with their doorways perched up high above the ground as a precaution against being snowed under. In one of the most dangerous parts is a little graveyard by the roadside, with numerous little wooden crosses in various stages of decay which bear eloquent testimony to the toll which has been demanded by the storm king. The _arrieros_, or mule drivers, that one may engage, never set foot on the ground if they can avoid it. It would, I suppose, be a loss of caste to walk, and they would rather ride their horses over a precipice than humiliate themselves by getting off and walking. The general appearance of these _arrieros_ is decidedly picturesque, is certainly distinctive and gives them a rather striking appearance. They ride an old-fashioned Mexican saddle with a number of sheepskins strapped over the top of it. They generally have their feet encased in soft slippers made of a square piece of rawhide strapped on the foot by leather thongs, which would certainly make walking over stones decidedly uncomfortable. They are fond of silver trappings and gaudy accoutrements, and the more jingling these accessories make the better pleased is the rider, for he declares that this noise encourages the animals. Aconcagua is distant a dozen miles from the Cumbre. The ascent of this peak has been made up a valley which runs over toward it. Vegetation gradually disappears on the upward journey, and the most of the streams contain water unfit to drink. Soon the giant cliffs and crags of Aconcagua tower over the traveller, a great mass of rock rising like the battlements of some stupendous castle. Its vast proportions are bewildering to the pygmy onlooker. Amidst this amphitheatre of peaks and valleys it would seem was the arena of one of the early-world dramas ages and ages ago. The cold becomes greater and more acute as more lofty heights are reached, especially so just before daybreak. The wind is biting. The loose round stones make a footing difficult. What looks like a mere step from one part of the mountain to another often means hours of toil to the venturesome climber.