"The vicuna is polygamous--fights for his harem with desperate fierceness, watches over its number while they feed or sleep, chooses the ground for browsing and rest--defends them against enemies--heads them in the advance, and covers their retreat with his own `person'-- such is the domestic economy of the vicuna. "`Now, senor,' said the hunter, eyeing the herd, `if I could only kill him (he pointed to the leader) I would have no trouble with the rest. I should get every one of them.' "`How?' I inquired. "`Oh!--they would!--ha! The very thing I wished for!' "`What?' "`They are heading towards yonder rocks.' He pointed to a clump of rocky boulders that lay isolated near one side of the plain--`let us get there, comrade--_vamos_!' "We stole cautiously round the edge of the mountain until the rocks lay between us and the game; and then crouched forward and took our position among them. We lay behind a jagged boulder, whose seamed outline looked as if it had been designed for loop-hole firing. It was just the cover we wanted. "We peeped cautiously through the cracks of the rock. Already the vicunas were near, almost within range of our pieces. I held in my hands a double-barrel, loaded in both barrels with large-sized buck-shot; my companion's weapon was a long Spanish rifle. "I received his instructions in a whisper. I was not to shoot until he had fired. Both were to aim at the leader. About this he was particular, and I promised obedience. "The unconscious herd drew near. The leader, with the long white silky hair hanging from his breast, was in the advance, and upon him the eyes of both of us were fixed. I could observe his glistening orbs, and his attitude of pride, as he turned at intervals to beckon his followers on. "`I hope he has got the worms,' muttered my companion; `if he has, he'll come to rub his hide upon the rocks.' "Some such intention was no doubt guiding the vicuna, for at that moment it stretched forth its neck, and trotted a few paces towards us. It suddenly halted. The wind was in our favour, else we should have been scented long ago. But we were suspected. The creature halted, threw up its head, struck the ground with its hoof, and uttered a strange cry, somewhat resembling the whistling of a deer. The echo of that cry was the ring of my companion's rifle, and I saw the vicuna leap up and fall dead upon the plain. "I expected the others to break off in flight, and was about to fire at them though they were still at long range. My companion prevented me. "`Hold!' he whispered, `you'll have a better chance--see there!--now, if you like, Senor!' "To my surprise, the herd, instead of attempting to escape, came trotting up to where the leader lay, and commenced running around at intervals, stooping over the body, and uttering plaintive cries.