On the morrow the way, for the first two hours, led over grassy hills covered with flocks of sheep, with shepherd-lads playing on _pincullus_, or flutes, the sound of which came floating pleasantly on the air, from every direction far and near. We passed several blue mountain-lakes, with islands of rushes, and many ducks. From 10 A.M. until sunset the whole day was occupied in crossing a vast plain covered with sheep and cattle, and just after sunset we reached a small _estancia_ or sheep-farm. It was occupied by a large family of good-tempered Indians, whose eyes glistened when I offered them a _cesto_ of coca which I had with me, in exchange for unlimited supplies of milk and cheese. It was pleasant to see their happiness at the acquisition of this treasure, which was shared by the children and dogs. The place was full of guinea-pigs, which are considered great delicacies. The extreme hunger from which I had suffered since leaving Sandia was here relieved by plenty of milk, cheese, and parched maize. Every night I had wrapped the Russian mats, which enveloped the plants, in warm ponchos, and the tent. The crooked wriggling queñua-branches, which formed the roof of the hut, looked like snakes in the dim light after sunset. At sunrise on May 21st there was a white frost, and the deep blue sky was without a single cloud. Suddenly an immense flock of flamingos, called _parihuanas_[346] in Quichua, rose in a long column from the margin of the river of Azangaro, which flows through the plain. These birds, with their crimson wings, and rose-coloured necks and bodies, whirring up in a long spiral column, formed one of the most beautiful sights I ever saw.