xx Chile

Port sub-con Far at the world then, strains fascinating lands beckon us, bid us rebel and their exotic spenders, come with us as we head for ports of call.

Lashed by the pounding Pacific, they taught by dry, copy-quins from the north, the Republic of Chile extends along the west coast of South America like a narrow sword with a curved point. the long, ragged coastline, our ship arrives at Dalparaiso, a gay, busy metropolis built on varying levels, which are connected by corkscrew roads and electric elevators. Here, we leave

the ship to join it to Santiago, the capital of Chile. We speed to Santiago in clean electric cars, and gazing from the window we see vast vineyards, cactus parting its spines into walls of tiled adobe, round mud ovens, men in bright-colored ponchos, toiling by the roadside. Here, fifteen In 1943, little delage of Santiago nestles in the hot fertile valley of Quiota.

Before the Comandante's hut, Sam's don't Pedro de Valdivia, clad in bright armor. By his side, her chestnut hair shimmering in the morning sun is a woman. A beautiful woman with eyes green as polished emerald.

She is Donia Iné's sorese, who with don't Pedro, two years before, had founded Santiago. day as coming as I must depart for the seacoast will you be gone long perhaps several months but you will return or cannot forget the joyful wife in Spain oh my darling how can you doubt me but I must build a ship so that we may transport

gold to Peru that is the king's command what if there should be trouble how you are gone Indians may try to take advantage of your absence the Indians will cause no trouble I have thrown seven of their chiefs in prison they will be kept in prison until I return and my friend Felipe will watch over the village while I am gone.