Each family owns a flock of sheep, which apparently replace the llamas of olden days, although flocks of the latter animals are still to be seen frequently; also a few pigs and burros. They have likewise taken to cultivating wheat, oats, and rye. We decided to spend a week at Cuchicancha and succeeded in persuading an old Quechua man to rent us his hut for that length of time. He spoke not a word of Spanish, or at least pretended that he knew nothing whatever of that language, so all conversation had to be carried on through an interpreter. As our coming was a complete surprise to him, he asked if he could occupy the habitation with us for a few nights until he had time to find sleeping-quarters elsewhere; to this we, of course, consented. One night I was awakened by loud talking, and much to my astonishment found that the aged Indian, who had evidently taken too much _chicha_ during the day, was restlessly tossing on his pile of sheepskins and blankets, and talking in his sleep--in excellent _Spanish_. After that we conversed with him without the aid of an interpreter, and he understood every word of it, too. The weather at Cuchicancha was splendid; it was autumn, and while the nights were cold, the days were always comfortably warm. The Indians were friendly and brought us eggs, goats’ milk, chickens, and bread. Each morning the children took the flocks to the narrow river-bed to feed on the sparse vegetation, and at night they brought them back to the stone corrals; they took a few boiled potatoes with them for lunch, and also their spinning for pastime. All spin except the men; and every one had an abundance of blankets and _ponchos_; even the bags for grain and potatoes are made of homespun wool. The harvest had been gathered and every one seemed contented. One day a party of Indians collected to thresh wheat; from a distance I could hear the boom of a drum and the shrill wail of reed flutes; as I approached, a strange sight met my eyes. Bundles of grain had been piled in a high mound, on the top of which sat the musicians; a dozen mounted Indians were driving a herd of mules and burros around the base. Around and around they went at a frantic pace, keeping perfect time with the music; as the animals circled the stack a man on top cast armfuls of wheat down in their path, so that in running over it repeatedly they naturally trampled out the grain. About a hundred men, each holding to a long rope, formed a circular fence around the racing mob and prevented any of the animals from escaping.