When the cart arrived at the Cerro with the poor old man lying full length in it, I saw at once that he was very ill. We got him out of the cart and into the kitchen, where we laid him down in front of the fire and started rubbing his hands and feet, for he really seemed in all but a comatose condition. After a while he somewhat recovered, and I got him to swallow two or three spoonfuls of mutton broth made strong and quite plain. Towards evening he seemed better, and said he wished us to get him up into his bedroom above the kitchen. He could not speak above a whisper, but I understood him to say he felt cold, and would rather be in his own room above the kitchen stove than in one of the larger rooms on the ground floor. For two or three days he seemed to mend, and then one afternoon he sank into an unconscious state, and I knew it would not be long before all was over. He could take nothing whatever, but he lasted through the night, and passed peacefully away about eleven o'clock next morning. I sent down at once to tell Don Frederico, and he sent me word he would have a shell coffin sent up as soon as possible. During the afternoon we got the remains down from the bedroom and laid them on a "quatre," or wooden camp bedstead, in the last room but one at the far end of the house, which had a door in it, opening into the courtyard, covering the body over with a white sheet. Late in the evening the wooden shell arrived, and we reverently laid him in it. I put a couple of screws in half way down, just to hold on the lid for the time being. The Indians said they would light a candle and watch by the coffin, and Correo said he would like to take a turn also. It was a fine clear night, calm and still, with the moon now in its second quarter, and about nine o'clock I went to bed. I was awakened some three hours later by a loud knocking at my door. I jumped up, hastily putting on some clothes, and took up my revolver, which was lying by my bedside. When I opened my door, leading into the covered archway, there was Correo, his face an ashy grey colour, gesticulating violently outside, and begging me to come at once to the room where we had placed the coffin. He said the Indians who had been on guard were terribly frightened, because while they were on watch the ghost of the "finado," or dead man, had appeared, and was then to be seen passing like a shadow up and down the room. As I went out into the courtyard "Napoleon" came and put his cold nose in my hand, and the rosillo who was shut in there for the night, gave a little neigh. I went to the door, opened it, and entered the room, followed by the negro, who was almost in tears. Of course, there was nothing, and I showed him the two screws half way down in the lid, exactly as we had left them. Meanwhile the Indians had fled and hid themselves in the galpon; the candle they had left lighted was flickering down in its socket, and the room was in semi-darkness. I with