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Wanderings in Patagonia; Or, Life Among the Ostrich-Hunters

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Title: Wanderings in Patagonia; Or, Life Among the Ostrich-Hunters

Author: Julius Beerbohm


        
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WANDERINGS IN PATAGONIA.

       *       *       *       *       *

Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each. THE WANDERER'S LIBRARY.

=The World Behind the Scenes.= By PERCY FITZGERALD.

=Merrie England in the Olden Time.= By GEORGE DANIEL. With Illustrations
by Robert Cruikshank.

=The Old Showmen and the Old London Fairs.= By THOMAS FROST.

=The Wilds of London.= By JAMES GREENWOOD.

=Tavern Anecdotes and Sayings=; including the Origin of Signs, and
Reminiscences connected with Taverns, Coffee Houses, Clubs, etc. By
CHARLES HINDLEY. With Illustrations.

=Circus Life and Circus Celebrities.= By THOMAS FROST.

=The Story of the London Parks.= By JACOB LARWOOD. With Illustrations.

=The Lives of the Conjurers.= By THOMAS FROST.

=The Life and Adventures of a Cheap Jack.= By One of the Fraternity.
Edited by CHARLES HINDLEY.

=Low-Life Deeps.= An Account of the Strange Fish to be found there. By
JAMES GREENWOOD.

=Seven Generations of Executioners.= Memoirs of the Sansons (1688-1847).
Edited by HENRY SANSON, late Executioner of the Court of Justice of
Paris.

=London Characters=: Illustrations of the Humour, Pathos, and
Peculiarities of London Life. By HENRY MAYHEW. With Illustrations by
W. S. GILBERT, and others.

=The Genial Showman=: Adventures with Artemus Ward, and the Story of his
Life. By E. P. HINGSTON. Illustrated.

=Wanderings in Patagonia=: or, Life among the Ostrich-Hunters. By JULIUS
BEERBOHM. Illustrated.

⁂ _Other Volumes are in preparation._

CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY, W.

       *       *       *       *       *


  [Illustration: AN INDIAN CAMP.      p.96.]




  [Illustration: AN INDIAN CAMP.      p.96.]


WANDERINGS IN PATAGONIA

Or

Life Among the Ostrich-Hunters

by

JULIUS BEERBOHM

[Illustration]

A New Edition, with Illustrations







London
Chatto and Windus, Piccadilly
1881




WANDERINGS IN PATAGONIA.




CHAPTER I.


In the month of August, 1877, I found myself on board ship, bound from
Buenos Ayres for the coast of Patagonia, in company with a party of
engineers, who were going to survey that portion of the country which
lies between Port Desire and Santa Cruz.

After leaving the River Plate we encountered adverse winds and heavy
weather, which kept us tossing about for three weeks, without making
any material progress on our course. At last we got a fair wind,
however, which soon brought us close to our destination, the port of
St. Julian (lat. 49° 20' S.); and one morning, together with my five
o'clock coffee, the cabin-boy brought me the welcome news that land
was in sight. I jumped out of bed and ran on deck, careless of the
hail and rain which were falling in blinding showers, and of the wind
which blew off the land, far colder and sharper than we had hitherto
experienced. On looking to leeward, I could at first see nothing but
a thick bank of clouds; but presently the horizon got clearer, and I
descried a dark, lowering line of coast, of fierce and inhospitable
aspect, rising abruptly from the sea to a considerable height.

I had not long to examine it, for a sudden shift of the wind shrouded
the whole coast in mist, and it did not become visible again till the
afternoon, when the weather cleared up, and the sun shone out
brightly. The wind, however, slowly increased in violence; by the time
St. Julian came in sight we were plunging along under reefed topsails,
and the captain began to think that we should have to stand off the
port till the force of the storm had abated--a prospect which threw us
all into dismay, as we had already been looking forward with vivid
expectations to the pleasure of stretching our legs on _terra firma_
the next morning--a luxury which those who have made a long sea voyage
can fully appreciate.

While the captain was yet doubtful what course to take, the matter was
summarily decided by the weather itself. The wind, which had hitherto
been blowing from the north-east, shifted to the south-east, and
redoubled its fury; and rather than run the risk of standing off the
port for the night, under a lee shore and with a strong current
setting in to the land, the captain elected to face the lesser danger,
and enter the port.

The necessary orders were accordingly given; a man was sent aloft to
look out for banks or rocks, and all preparations were made for any
emergency. An anxious time ensued for all on board, as we steered
slowly in under the northern headland of St. Julian, menaced on either
side by steep and rugged cliffs, falling vertically down to the
water's edge; the sea dashing at their base with an angry roar, and
hurling the white spray almost to their very summits. The gale howled
through the rigging, and a thousand sea-birds, startled at such an
unusual apparition, circled round the ship, white and silent, seeming
to eye us with an unpleasant curiosity.

Suddenly we heard a shout, "Breakers ahead!" and everyone turned pale
and looked anxiously forward. Right in front of us, and forming a belt
across the entrance of the port, stretched a line of breakers, boiling
and foaming like a cauldron; while to the left a long ledge of black,
jagged rocks pierced through the waters, promising certain
destruction, should we drift upon them. For a moment the captain was
irresolute; but it was too late to go back; in any attempt to put the
ship round we should have gone on the rocks, and there was, therefore,
no alternative but to continue our course and dash through the
breakers, leaving the rest to fate. On we went, with beating hearts
and strained nerves, as the threatening roar of the foaming rollers
became louder and louder. In another second we were in their midst,
and everyone held his breath in suspense. Suddenly there was a shock;
the ship quivered, and I was thrown violently on my face. By the time
I got to my feet again, all danger was over. We had crossed the
harbour bar, and were now sailing slowly up the bay, in comparatively
smooth water, and congratulating ourselves on our escape from what had
looked a most serious peril. The wind, too, had lulled, and by the
time we let go the anchor all was still and calm. The sun was just
setting; one by one the gulls, albatrosses, and other sea-birds, which
had hitherto been continuously sweeping round the ship, disappeared;
and not a sound was heard from either side of the broad bay.

On arriving in port, after a long sea voyage, the sudden change of
scene and associations, the bustle and the noise of commercial
activity--the steamers, lighters, and other small craft, plying from
shore to shore; the ships moored alongside the wharves, taking in or
discharging cargo, the busy hum arising from the distant town, the
sight of new faces, and the sound of strange voices--all combine to
excite and bewilder one, contrasting forcibly with the dull, quiet,
and drowsy sameness of the life one has just been leading during
several weeks of dreary navigation.

But none of these accustomed sights and sounds gladdened our hearts in
the desert harbour where we had just safely come to anchor, after our
stormy passage. The silence of death reigned everywhere, and its
mysterious effect, joined to the wild character of the surrounding
country, whose bold, bare hills were now looming gigantic and black in
the gathering dusk, impressed me with a vague sense of awe and wonder.

And not out of harmony with the gloomy spirit of solitude which broods
over St. Julian, are the tragic memories connected with the three
famous nautical expeditions which have visited its inhospitable
shores.

We were anchored between two islands--Justice and Execution Islands.
These names were given to them by Sir Francis Drake, who visited St.
Julian in 1578. On the former he caused one of his party, a Master
Doughty, to be put to death for alleged insubordination. Sir Francis
found a gibbet already erected on one of these islands, which had been
left there by Magellan, who passed the winter of 1520 at St. Julian,
and who, during his stay, had also to quell a formidable mutiny which
broke out amongst his little fleet; and which, but for his timely
energy, foresight, and courage, might have ended fatally for him. The
ringleaders were executed. In more modern times, another fatality
occurred during the expedition of the _Adventure_ and _Beagle_, 1832.
A Lieutenant Sholl, a young officer of much promise, died there, and
was buried on a point overlooking the bay which now bears his name.
The spot is marked by a small cairn, bearing an inscription recording
the date, etc.

As I looked over the bay, for all the change that has happened there
since, either in the rugged outlines of its shores or in the spirit of
silence and desolation that hangs over them, it seemed that it might
have been but yesterday that Magellan dropped anchor there, with his
quaint, high-pooped craft:

     'The first who ever burst into that silent sea.'

Peering into the darkness till a mist rose into my eyes, I gradually
fell into a half-dreaming, half-waking state, and presently I seemed
to behold some strangely rigged vessels lying close to me in the bay.
Magellan's own ships! There was the tall, spare figure of the intrepid
commander himself, standing on the poop of the largest vessel, dressed
in a brown leather jerkin, the cross-hilted sword at his side; and I
could plainly mark the expression of dauntless enterprise on his
weather-worn brow, and the determined gleam of his sharp grey eyes,
whose glance now wandered over the far shore and now rested
reverentially on the high cross fixed on the poop. I could see the
quaintly-costumed sailors busy at work on deck, repairing rigging,
mending boats, or making sails, talking and shouting the while in a
strange tongue. Hardy, noble figures these men, who, in the frailest
of craft, braved a thousand dangers in the wildest countries, and
fearlessly carried the symbol of their religion to lands which
mariners of today with all the advantages of modern instruments and
superior vessels, approach with the utmost mistrust and dread. Soon a
bell rang, and all was silence; the men left their work and gathered
round the commander, who, I thought, seemed to be addressing them. And
then floating over the waters came the sound of the 'Ave Maria!'
weirdly sweet and plaintive.

But at this juncture somebody shook me, and I woke up, to find it was
all a dream, and to remember that Magellan had been dead and buried
for centuries, and that I, a son of the nineteenth century, had come
to that spot, not to plant the true Cross, but to find what the
country was capable of--and that, finally, it was time for supper.




CHAPTER II.


The next morning we were up betimes. The weather was fine, and, as
there was no wind, not too cold, though the taller hills were covered
with snow, and the thermometer stood considerably below zero. Plenty
of sea-birds were flying round the ship, or disporting themselves in
the water, heedless of our presence; but on shore there were no signs
of animal life stirring anywhere. Preparations were made for getting
the horses on shore as quickly as possible, as their long confinement
was beginning to tell injuriously upon them. In the meantime a boat
was lowered, and, taking our guns, a few of us started off for the
shore, to find some suitable spot to land the horses, and to have a
general look round.

A short pull brought us in sight of a little cove, with a strip of
sandy beach leading up to the mainland, which fell steeply down on all
sides, so as to form a kind of natural corral, where the horses would
be quite safe and conveniently sheltered from the wind. There we
accordingly landed, roughly waking the echoes, which had doubtless
been comfortably sleeping for many a long day, with a loud hurrah, as
we jumped on shore and climbed up the bluff which shut in the cove.
There the first object which met our sight was the little cairn,
already mentioned, commemorative of Lieutenant Sholl. It was standing,
probably, just as it had been left by the hands which reared it, as
the Indians seldom, if ever, come so near to the port. The letters of
the inscription were still tolerably visible, for the stones suffer
little from the action of the atmosphere, and gather but few mosses or
lichens in that dry climate, where, during nine months of the year,
hardly any rain falls, and where all vegetation is stunted and scanty.

The view we obtained from our present standpoint was very limited, the
horizon being bounded by a chain of conically shaped hills, flattened
at the top, and generally similar in outline and height. The country
which they enclosed appeared to consist of a series of irregular
plains, broken up by glens, or 'cañons,' as they are aptly called in
Spanish, with here and there an isolated hill and an occasional plain
of short extent. There were plenty of bushes of a thorny species
scattered everywhere, and in the glens the grass seemed to flourish in
tolerable luxuriance, though on the higher-lying land it was less
plentiful, the ground there being covered with pebbles of porphyry,
worn round and smooth by the action of water at some remote period.

After our long cooping-up on board, we were not equal to any prolonged
exertion, and soon got tired of climbing up the steep hills and
escarpments, especially as there was no employment for our guns,
either in the shape of beast or fowl. We therefore went back to our
boat, to get at which, as the tide had already fallen considerably, we
had to wade knee-deep through a long tract of black, slimy mud. As
there is a tide-range at St. Julian of from thirty to forty feet, the
ebb and flood tides rush in and out with great rapidity, and we often
had great difficulty in pulling back to the ship, even with four oars,
when the wind and tide happened to be against us.

The rest of that day was employed in getting the horses on shore, a
task which was successfully accomplished before the tide commenced to
rise again, so that they had comparatively little distance to swim to
the cove. The poor animals seemed as glad as we had been to find
themselves on land once more, and testified their satisfaction by
neighing and frisking about with great vigour. In the evening we made
a short excursion to Justice Island, close alongside of which we were
anchored. Whilst exploring it we startled a large covey of shag,
numbering quite a thousand, which, to judge by the accumulation of
guano, appeared to roost there habitually. They did not fly up
immediately at our approach, but waddled clumsily down to the beach,
holding their bodies quite erect, and flapping their wings in a
ludicrous manner. The sailors killed several with sticks, and
subsequently cooked and ate them, notwithstanding the strong fishy
taste of the flesh.

Early the next morning, together with two of my companions, I started
on an expedition towards the interior, with a view to discover what
kind of country lay beyond the range of hills which bordered the
horizon. We took some provisions with us, as we did not expect to be
home till the evening, thinking it prudent not to rely on our guns for
our dinner, after the experience of the previous day of the absolute
absence of game; indeed, we left them behind us, as being rather
irksome on horseback.

Mounting the three freshest horses we could find amongst our stock, we
struck off at an inspiriting gallop. We had not gone far, however,
before it came to an abrupt ending. The plain over which we were
riding suddenly terminated, descending into a deep ravine, which
seemed to wind from the hills down to the port. The descent was rather
steep, but we got down somehow; and then our horses had a hard climb
up the opposite side, rendered still more arduous by the loose nature
of the pebbly soil, which afforded no reliable hold, giving way under
their feet. On reaching the top, we found ourselves on another plain,
intersected a little further on by a ravine similar to the one we had
just crossed and so we continued, now scrambling up and down these
cañons, now leisurely trotting over short plains, whose level surfaces
gave our horses time to get breath and to prepare for tackling the
next ravine, until gradually we got nearer to the hills, beyond which
we hoped to meet some more pleasant variety of landscape.

Presently we came to a very broad cañon, on the surface of which we
observed some irregularities, which, on inspection, proved to be the
remains of some human habitation. Portions of wall, about three feet
high, were still standing, and here and there lay several pieces of
timber; but, excepting a millstone, half embedded in the soil, there
were no other vestiges of those who had once attempted to create a
homestead in this lone spot.

The colony, on the site of which we were now standing, was founded in
1780 by Antonio Viedma, under commission from the Viceroy of the River
Plate Provinces, and was abandoned in 1784, in accordance with a royal
order, chiefly on account of the sterility of the soil, which rendered
agriculture impossible. The colonists also suffered severely from
scurvy, and were further troubled by the Indians, whose hostility they
seem to have incurred. The Spaniards, whatever grave faults they may
have committed in the administration of their South American
possessions, developed great energy and spared no expense in their
endeavours to colonise Patagonia, and numerous expeditions were
despatched from Buenos Ayres with this object. Settlements were
established at Port Desire and other spots on the coast, all of which,
sooner or later, came to share the fate of the colony of St. Julian.

And indeed it is not to be wondered at. Unless some very cheap manure
be discovered, by means of which sand may be profitably fertilised, or
unless some new source of riches at present hidden be discovered
there, it is much to be apprehended that Southern Patagonia is
destined to remain almost entirely unpopulated and uncultivated till
the end of time. In the cañons, where there is a little alluvial soil,
some scanty crops might be harvested, or a patch of potatoes might be
cultivated; but the spring and summer months are so dry, that even
these limited attempts at husbandry might not always be attended with
favourable results. Sheep might be reared in the valley of the Santa
Cruz River, though not in great numbers, as the pasturage there is
rather limited, and the grass itself is coarse and long, and not
particularly adapted for sheep, for which it is preferable that it
should be short and fine.

The coast is extremely rich in fish, however, and a dried-fish trade
might, perhaps, be successfully carried on with the Brazils, where a
good market exists for this article, which forms the staple diet of
the poorer classes in that country. An attempt to start an industry
of this kind was made by a Frenchman, M. E. Rouquand, who established
himself, in 1872, at Santa Cruz, with all the machinery, boats, etc.,
necessary for such an undertaking, under a concession granted to him
by the Argentine Government. He built several houses and sheds there,
the materials for which were conveyed at great expense from Buenos
Ayres; and when everything was ready, and he was about to go
practically to work, a Chilian man-of-war steamed into Santa Cruz one
day and signified to him that he was trespassing on Chilian territory,
and would be required to leave immediately. Chili, it appears, claims
jurisdiction over Patagonia as far as Santa Cruz River, and could
therefore not permit anyone to attempt to benefit that country whose
authorisation to do so came from the Argentine Government. The latter
country does not admit Chili's claims to possession over the territory
in question, but contented itself in this case with a diplomatic
protest against the act of violence committed in defiance of the
Argentine flag, under whose protection M. Rouquand had laid out his
capital and his energies. In the meantime, M. Rouquand is of course
ruined, as neither Government has granted him any compensation for the
losses he has sustained by his arbitrary ejection. After such an
example, and as the settlement of the territory dispute seems to have
been indefinitely shelved by the easy-going countries concerned, it
is easy to understand why no one has hitherto been found disposed to
risk his time and capital in an endeavour to establish any industry on
the Patagonian coast.

Turning our backs on the 'Glen of the Spaniards,' as it is still
called in Indian traditional nomenclature, we again continued our
journey towards the hills, which were in reality much further than
they had appeared at first sight, being, by the rather roundabout road
by which we had come, about fifteen miles from the port. Another
hour's ride brought us to their base, and as the keen morning air had
made us all rather hungry, before going any further we dismounted, and
having made a good fire with the branches of some of the thorny bushes
which abounded everywhere, and which proved an excellent combustible,
we discussed a hearty breakfast of cold meat and biscuit.

After a short rest we remounted and rode slowly up a glen which led
between the hills, craning our necks expectantly as we climbed the
escarpment which bounded its further end, from the top of which we
should have a good view of the surrounding country. We emerged on the
summit, and behold, there was nothing but an immense plain, stretching
away in dreary uniformity to the far horizon. The scene was not a
cheerful one. Down in the cañons the grass is long and green, and
clumps of underwood, growing at intervals, lend a pleasant variety to
the landscape. But on the plains, which often extend uninterruptedly
for thirty or forty miles, all is different, and nothing more dull and
dreary can be imagined than the view presented by these immense tracts
of land, where, by reason of the sterility of the soil and the fierce
winds which sweep continuously over them, no vegetation can possibly
flourish. The soil is sandy and covered with stones, with here and
there an isolated tuft of grass, withered and grey, whilst a peculiar
gloom is further added to the melancholy of the scene by the sombre,
melancholy hue of a straggling, stunted bush, the jume, which grows
there in considerable quantities--in its blackness and ugliness, the
fit offspring of such an uncongenial soil.

The plain we were now standing on was no exception to the general
rule, and we found but little inducement to remain immersed in a long
contemplation of its charms; so, turning our horses' heads, we
followed the course of the hill range, which trended in a semicircle
towards the port. After having ridden for some distance, the plain
terminated, and we descended into a broken country again, marked with
the usual peculiarities of glen and plateau. We presently came in
sight of a large lake, which we thought might contain fresh water, but
on coming closer we found that the shores were covered with salt
crystals, and that the soil in the vicinity was impregnated with salt
too. The lake measured about two leagues long, by a league and a half
broad at the widest part, but the water was very shallow everywhere.
We could see a herd of guanacos standing in the centre, and the water
did not reach to above their knees. I have frequently observed these
animals standing in the salt lakes which abound everywhere in
Patagonia, but whether they actually go to drink I am not prepared to
say, though it is hard to account in any other way for their presence
there. We looked with some curiosity at these guanacos, as they were
the first animals we had met with as yet on the mainland, but they
were too far off for us to be able to observe them with accuracy. I
shall describe the species at another opportunity.

In the meantime it was getting late, and our horses, which had been
severely tried by the nature of the ground we had gone over that day,
were beginning to show signs of fatigue. My horse, in particular, was
completely done up, and it was with great difficulty that I managed to
keep up with my companions.

At sunset we were still a long way from the ship. Dusk came on apace;
the hills around us first grew indistinct and hazy, and then gradually
settled down into a dark, solid mass, blackly defined upon the lighter
background of the sky, over which the stars were now glittering in
the frosty air. It was getting cold, too, and I began heartily to wish
myself on board, especially as every moment it became more apparent
that my horse was in imminent peril of collapsing altogether.

Still he stumbled on, occasionally shying wildly at the glimmering
whiteness of some heap of bleached guanaco bones, or startled at the
fanciful shapes assumed by the bushes in the deepening shadows of
night.

Presently, as I was riding up a rather steep escarpment, my horse's
saddle-girths slipped back, the saddle rolled over, and I fell with a
heavy thud to the ground. The moment he felt relieved of my weight,
and before I could jump up and seize the reins, the horse turned round
and leisurely trotted back to a glen we had just left, where there was
some fine grass, which had evidently taken his fancy in passing. I ran
after him as fast as I could, but he gently, though firmly, refused to
be caught, pausing now and then, whenever he had distanced me, to
snatch a few mouthfuls of grass, and then starting off again as soon
as I came near to him. This kind of thing went on for a long time, and
when I had at last caught him, and had picked up the various
saddle-belongings, I was completely done up. Not more so, however,
than the horse, for when I remounted him he refused to budge an inch,
and at the first touch of the whip, quietly lay down. I was now in a
pleasant plight. I shouted, in the hope that my companions would hear
me, but no answer came. They had evidently not noticed my mishap, and
had continued their route, thinking I was coming up behind.

Reluctantly I had to make up my mind to stop where I was till the
morning, though the prospect was anything but cheerful. I was too
tired to go on on foot, and no persuasion would induce my horse to
stir. I was very hungry, and, unfortunately, one of my companions
carried what remained of the meat and biscuit; and though it was
extremely cold, I had no other coverings for the night but my
saddle-cloths, having neglected to bring my fur robes with me.
Luckily, I had a box of matches; and having broken off a sufficient
quantity of dry branches from the bushes, I soon managed to have a
good fire burning, whose warm glow afforded me no little comfort. As a
substitute for supper, though it was not a satisfactory equivalent, I
smoked a pipe, and then, wrapping myself up as well as I could in the
saddle-cloths, I lay down by the fire and tried to go to sleep. This I
could not accomplish; for although I fell into a half-doze at first,
as soon as the fire got low, the cold thoroughly woke me again, and I
had to set off and look for a fresh supply of firewood--by no means a
plentiful article. I soon made the fire burn up again; but, do what I
would, I could not get to sleep, and finally had to abandon the
attempt as hopeless.

The night seemed interminable. Occasionally I would get up, and walk
to and fro to pass away the time quicker, but the cold soon drove me
back to the fire. I confess I should have liked some companion to
enliven my weary vigil. All alone in the wild desert, surrounded by
the dark night, I felt quite an uncanny feeling come over me as I
listened to the strange whisperings which seemed to creep through the
grass and hover in the air, as the wind rose and swept down the narrow
glen where I was camping. The more I listened the more these noises
seemed to multiply, till at last there was quite a Babel of confused
sounds and vague murmurings. Now and then I would start to my feet,
fancying I heard voices close to me, or something would rustle
mysteriously past, and a sound as of faint laughter would seem to ring
from out the depths of the darkness around me. For a time I was kept
in quite a state of nervous agitation; but it gradually wore off, and
soon I became stolidly indifferent to everything except the fire, to
replenish which from time to time I had to make an excursion in search
of wood.

The hours went slowly by, as I sat watching the stars creeping over
the heavens, longing wearily for daybreak. At last, worn out with
fatigue, I fell into a troubled slumber, and when I opened my eyes
again the sky was already grey with dawn. My fire had gone out, and my
limbs were stiff with cold. On a bush near where I was lying four
carranchos, a kind of hawk, were perched, eyeing me with a
complacent, watchful look, as if they expected shortly to make a meal
of me. Feeling quite uncomfortable under their unholy gaze, I flung a
stone at them; but they merely flew up a little, circled once or twice
round me, and then lighted again on another bush, as much as to say,
'Never mind; we can wait.' They abound in the pampas, and assemble in
great numbers whenever a puma slays a guanaco, as the former often
contents itself with merely sucking the blood of its victim, leaving
the rest to these birds and the vultures, who soon pick the bones
clean.

I rekindled the fire, and after I had warmed my stiffened fingers, I
saddled the horse, which I had tethered to a bush during the night,
and rode off towards the port. I arrived at the cove after about an
hour's sharp riding, and found that my companions had also been
obliged to pass the night in the open air, as their horses had
eventually succumbed, under the fatigue consequent on their hard day's
work.




CHAPTER III.


During the next few weeks we were busy examining the country in the
vicinity of St. Julian, without finding anything of special interest
to reward our pains. Near the salt lake alluded to in the last chapter
we discovered some extensive deposits of phosphate of lime, but as
they are very far from the port, they must be considered to have
practically no commercial value. Perhaps, however, when all the guanos
and nitrates of more accessible regions have been exhausted, the
phosphates of Patagonia may be utilised for manuring purposes, but in
the interests of agriculture it is to be hoped that that day is as yet
far distant.

St. Julian is a far superior harbour to either Chubut or Port Desire,
but there is a dearth of fresh water in its vicinity during the months
from October to June, which is of course a great drawback, and
neutralises its other advantages. Indeed, the whole country is but
sparsely watered. South of the Rio Negro, which must be considered as
the dividing line between Patagonia and the Argentine Provinces,
there are only small rivers, the Chubut, the Desire, and the Santa
Cruz. Coy Inlet and Gallegos rivers during nine months of the year are
unimportant streams, and the former at certain periods frequently
dries up altogether.

The river Chubut has never been followed to its source by any
trustworthy traveller, but Dr. Moreno, an Argentine explorer, from
personal observations and from information obtained from the natives, is
inclined to place its source as taken from a lake, called Coluguapé by
the Indians, which lies somewhere between lat. 44° to 45° S., and long.
68° to 69° W., Greenwich. Thence it flows in a north-north-easterly
direction till within about sixty miles from its mouth, and then,
having received near this point the waters of several small streams
from the Cordilleras, it flows from west to east, and finally empties
itself into the Atlantic in lat. 42° 20' S. The depth of the river at
forty miles from its mouth varies from five to eight feet, according
to the time of the year. Its current is not so rapid as that of most
Patagonian rivers, but its extremely tortuous course makes it
difficult to navigate. Its estuary forms a tolerably safe harbour for
craft of light draught.

The Welsh Colony at Chubut, which numbers at present about 700 souls,
was founded by the Argentine Government in 1865. It is not, and never
has been, in a flourishing state; but this is due not so much to the
unfertility of the Chubut valley as to the fact that most of the
people sent out from Wales by the Government agent to form the
proposed agricultural colony were miners, who of course knew nothing
about farming matters. For a great many years the colonists were
supported entirely by the Government, and on several occasions when
accidents had happened to the vessels which were bringing stores for
them from Buenos Ayres, they were saved from starvation by the
Indians, who supplied them with guanaco and ostrich meat. At present
the prospects of the colony are rather more hopeful: about 15,000
bushels of wheat were harvested last year; but even now the colony is
not self-supporting, and costs the Argentine Government large sums
annually for provisions and other assistance afforded the colonists.

South of Chubut lies Port Desire, formed by the estuary of the river,
or rather stream, of that name. The Desire does not rise in spring and
summer, like Gallegos and the other Patagonian rivers, to any great
extent--a circumstance which makes it probable that it does not take
its source in the Cordilleras, but rather from a chain of hills,
which, according to Dr. Moreno, traverses the centre of Patagonia,
running south-southwest from the Sierra de San Antonio, near the Gulf
of San Matias. The Spaniards formed a colony at Port Desire, which,
after having existed for a few years, was officially abandoned in
1807. The remains of a fort and some houses are still standing near
the port, as well as some apple and cherry trees, with which the
climate of Patagonia seems to agree very well.

I pass over the incidents of the rest of my sojourn at St. Julian, as
having no relevancy to the object of this work. Suffice it to say that
by the little Government schooner which makes two or three voyages
annually from Buenos Ayres to the Rio Negro and Santa Cruz, and which
on this occasion put into St. Julian to bring us our correspondence, I
received some letters, conveying important news, which made my speedy
return to Buenos Ayres imperative. About the same time a party of
ostrich-hunters, attracted by the smoke of our fires, came to St.
Julian from Santa Cruz, partly out of curiosity to see the unusual
visitors, and partly to trade for biscuits and tobacco. They did not
stop long; and as they were going back to Santa Cruz, and from there
to Sandy Point in the Straits of Magellan, where I should be able to
take a steamer for Buenos Ayres, I embraced this favourable
opportunity, and packing up a few things, started off with my new
acquaintances.

We had not gone far, however, when it commenced to rain; and there
being no particular object in getting wet, we halted for the day, and
took shelter under our tent, hoping that by the next morning it would
be fine again. In this hope we were disappointed; it rained
incessantly for about four days, during which we of course remained
where we were, and very tired I soon got of it. The ground was as damp
as could be, and so loosened by the moisture that the stakes of our
tent gradually gave, and the slack canvas being no longer water-tight,
little pools of water gathered round the furs and saddle-cloths which
served us in lieu of bedding, permeating them with a general dampness,
which made our nightly slumbers rather uncomfortable. The daytime we
passed cowering round the fire, with some covering thrown over our
backs to keep off the rain, the front part of the body requiring no
extra covering, for as fast as it was wetted it dried by the fire,
which for this purpose was allowed to assume formidable dimensions.
Under such unfavourable circumstances, conversation rather flagged, as
may be imagined, being limited to occasional prophecies and
conjectures as to when the weather might be expected to change for the
better. But in revenge, the tobacco-pipe and the maté-pot went round
the circle without any intermission, and during the days of forced
inaction consequent on the rain, we consumed startling quantities of
those two almost indispensable commodities of pampa life.

Yerba-maté is a kind of tea in great repute throughout South America,
especially amongst the country people, who drink it at all their
meals, and whenever they have nothing particular to do, which is very
often. It is the leaf of a shrub (_Ilex Paraguanensis_) extensively
cultivated in Paraguay and the Brazils, constituting, in fact, the
chief article of commerce of the former country. The powdered leaf is
steeped in boiling water, and imbibed through a thin pipe
(_bombilla_), perforated with holes, so as to prevent the fine herb
from being sucked up with the fluid. It has a bitter, aromatic
flavour, and though usually taken with sugar, many find it equally
palatable without the latter adjunct. Its restorative powers are
marvellous, and frequently, when thoroughly exhausted after a hard
day's ride, I have taken a cup or two of maté, and found myself
immediately revived and invigorated. It is decidedly a better
stimulant than either tea or coffee, and as it does not seem to lose
its flavour by exposure to the air and damp as quickly as those
articles do, it is naturally preferred by those whose profession
forces them to take these qualities into account in the selection of
their victuals. Maté, as I have already said, is indispensable to the
hunter in Patagonia. For months it is often the only addition he can
make to his otherwise exclusively meat diet. In fact he is never
without it, except when in the saddest plight, and for its sake he
would forego any other luxury, such as sugar, biscuit, or rice.

It is surprising that hitherto no attempt has been made to introduce
yerba-maté into Europe as an article of domestic consumption. It has
only to be known to be appreciated, and as it could be imported
_pure_, far cheaper than tea or coffee, it might in time prove a
formidable rival to those beverages, especially among the working
classes, to whom its invigorating qualities would particularly
recommend it.

Whilst the rain is pouring down upon us, I may as well take the
opportunity of introducing my four companions to the reader. But first
a few words as to their common profession, that of the ostrich-hunter.

In the plains that stretch from lat. 40° to 53° S., and from the
sea-coast to the Cordilleras, the ostrich and the guanaco roam in
immense numbers, their procreativeness being such as to more than
neutralise the ravages caused among them by their numerous enemies,
such as the Indians, the pumas, and the foxes. The Patagonian ostrich
is much smaller than his African cousin, and the feathers are not
nearly so valuable, the price usually paid for them at Sandy Point
being from $1 to $2 per lb. The trade of the ostrich-hunter is not,
therefore, very lucrative; but his wants, on the other hand, are very
modest. Besides, he follows his profession more from a love of the
wild pampa life, with its freedom from irksome restraint and awkward
social obligations, than from any desire to amass wealth; more from a
necessity to satisfy his vagabond instincts, than from any impulse
derived from some definite aim in life. His hunting-ground extends as
far as he chooses to gallop. His stock-in-trade consists of ten or
twelve hardy horses, five or six dogs of a mongrel greyhound species,
a lasso, a pair of bolas, a knife, a revolver, and a long steel;
besides, of course, all the necessary accoutrements for his horse,
which, together with the indispensable capa, form his bed at night.

The capa is a long robe of guanaco furs, about five and a half feet
long, by four and a half broad. They are made by the Indian women, who
are very clever at sewing, notwithstanding the primitive clumsiness of
their rude tools. Their needles consist of pieces of bone sharpened to
the requisite point, and the thread they use is made from guanaco
sinews. The skins are of the young guanacos before they are three
weeks old, as after that time the fur becomes coarse and woolly. These
capas are extremely warm, and effectually protect one from the cold
winds that blow over the pampas, when almost any other garment would
prove insufficient. A novice experiences considerable difficulty in
the management of their somewhat awkward folds, especially on
horseback; but the Indians wear them with infinite ease and grace.

The bolas, or balls, are of two kinds, being either two round stones
or pieces of lead, covered with leather and joined by a thong of from
six to eight feet long; or three balls, united by thongs to a common
centre. The latter are used chiefly for guanaco-hunting, and not a
little skill is required to handle them efficiently. After having been
swung round the head till the requisite pitch of velocity has been
attained, the balls are hurled at the animal pursued, and becoming
firmly twisted round whatever part of its body they may fall on, they
effectually hamper its speed, and enable the hunter to come up to it
and give the _coup de grace_ with his long knife.

With no other _impedimenta_ than the above-mentioned, the
ostrich-hunter roams at will over the vast pampas. At night-time he
makes himself at home under shelter of some thick bush, which, if such
be his caprice, may become his head-quarters for weeks, and even
months, especially if the game in the vicinity be abundant. His
movements are altogether uncertain, and by no means regulated by any
reference to time, to the course of which he is sublimely indifferent.
The chase supplies all his wants. With the hide of the guanaco he
makes his lasso, reins, bolas, and even shoes; whilst its flesh,
varied by that of the ostrich, forms his staple article of diet. When
he has collected a sufficient quantity of feathers, he pays a flying
visit to Sandy Point, sells them, and with the produce lays in a new
stock of tobacco and maté, renews his wardrobe, _i.e._, say a shirt, a
poncho, a jacket, and a chiripà; and if there still remains anything
over, he may buy another horse, or some dog which may have taken his
fancy.

For the rest, he is a careless, easy-going vagabond, always cheerful,
whatever plight he may be in, and submitting with calm philosophy to
any of the many hardships the inclemency of the climate may entail
upon him. There are, however, few Ostrich-hunters _pur sang_ in
Southern Patagonia, though up near the Rio Negro they are more
numerous; but those one does meet with are all distinguished by the
characteristics I have described.

I will now attempt a sketch of my four companions, beginning with the
most striking among them, Isidoro, who is several times mentioned in
Captain Musters' interesting book, 'At Home with the Patagonians.' He
was an Argentine Gaucho, with a dash of Indian blood in his veins, who
had come down to Patagonia many years ago from the Rio Negro. He was a
slender, well-built man, with a pleasant, swarthy face, of a warm,
earth-brown complexion, set in by a profusion of long black hair,
which he carefully groomed every morning with a comb, whose teeth,
being old, were decayed and few and far between, kept for the purpose
in the recesses of a rather greasy cap. Broad and shaggy eyebrows,
meeting over a bold Roman nose and shading a pair of bright, restless
eyes, habitually veiled by half-closed lids and the longest of lashes;
slightly high cheekbones, full thick lips, and a shaggy beard and
moustache, completed the _tout ensemble_ of his really striking face,
the general expression of which was one of intelligence and good
humour.

His dress, which combined materials of Indian as well as European
manufacture, was not unpicturesque, and consisted of a woollen shirt
and a 'chiripà'--a covering for the lower limbs something like a kilt,
secured by a strap at the waist, into which were stuck the inevitable
hunting-knife, revolver, pipe, and tobacco-pouch--while his feet were
encased in potro boots, tied at the knees with Indian-worked garters;
and over all hung the long capa.

The recipe for making a pair of potro boots is very simple, and the
operation requires no previous knowledge of the cobbler's art. Having
killed your horse, you make an incision with a sharp knife round the
hide above the hock, say at the commencement of the lower thigh, and
another a couple of inches below the curb-place, and then proceed to
draw the hide off the legs. Each leg will thus supply a comfortable
Wellington, in which the point of the hock has become the heel. Of
course, before fit for wear, the hide must be well softened by hand--a
task which requires no little patience; for if not thoroughly done,
the boots after a time will become quite hard and useless. As soon as
they have been worn long enough to have taken the shape of the foot,
the toe-ends are sewn up, and the transformation of your horse's hocks
into easy-fitting boots is an accomplished feat.

When hunting, the belt and bolas are strapped outside the capa, so
that the upper part of the latter may fly loose whenever any exertion
requires that the arms should be free, as when lassoing or throwing
the bolas.

Isidoro was one of the best riders I have ever seen, and even amongst
the Indians he was allowed to have no equal. The most unruly colt
became quiet in his hands, and after a few ineffectual attempts to
dislodge its rider, would sullenly acknowledge the mastery of his firm
hand and easy seat. All his horses were wonders of tameness and
careful and intelligent teaching. His method of taming them I
subsequently had an opportunity of studying, and in due course will
revert to it. He was equally proficient in the use of the lasso and
bolas, seldom, if ever, missing his aim. One of his peculiarities was
his extreme watchfulness; not the slightest detail could escape his
vigilance; and when anyone, as often happened, would mislay a knife or
some such object, to save further trouble, Isidoro was always appealed
to as to its whereabouts, which he would invariably point out
immediately--the missing article often lying under a bush or
saddle-cloth, where it had been thrown by its careless owner perhaps a
day or two ago. It seemed as if Isidoro made it his special duty to
look after everyone's things, though, to judge by appearances, he
never paid particular attention to anything except his pipe, which
seldom left his mouth. His sharpness of vision was intense, and he
could detect guanacos and ostriches on the far horizon, when I could
see nothing but bushes or clouds. Another distinguishing feature was
his taciturnity. Only on very rare occasions have I heard him utter
more than three or four words at a breath, and often he would sit for
hours with the rest of us round the fire, listening attentively to all
that was said, without breathing a syllable the whole evening. As the
owner of some thirty fine horses, he was considered quite a rich man
amongst the Indians and ostrich-hunters; and, on account of his
honesty, good-nature, and quiet, unassuming bearing, he was a
favourite with everyone.

We will pass on to Garcia, who, in appearance at least, formed a
striking contrast to Isidoro. His yellow beard, brown hair, and blue
eyes seemed to betoken a Saxon rather than a Spanish descent. However,
be that as it may, he was a true Gaucho, and but slightly inferior to
Isidoro in horsemanship and general address as a hunter. He had
formerly been a soldier on the Argentine frontiers, and in that
capacity had had many a fight with the Indians, thrilling accounts of
which he would often favour us with over the evening's fire.
Subsequently he had worked as 'tropero' (cattle-driver) on the Rio
Negro, a profession which in due course he had relinquished in order
to become an ostrich-hunter. Having lived more amongst civilised
people, his manners were less abrupt than Isidoro's, and he was rather
more talkative and genial than the latter.

Next comes Guillaume, who was by birth a Frenchman, and who had
originally been a blacksmith; but some chance having wafted him to
Patagonia, he had taken a fancy to the country and remained there, and
was now fast becoming naturalised. He was an active, intelligent
fellow, and equal to any amount of hard work. One of his most striking
features was his enormous appetite, the amount he could devour at one
meal being simply astounding. It is on record amongst his companions
that he demolished a whole side of a young guanaco at a sitting. But
notwithstanding this extraordinary faculty for eating, he was as thin
as could be, and always had a hungry, half-starved look.

His very antithesis was Maximo, the last of the group, who in size and
corpulence might have competed with the most Herculean Patagonian
Indian. He was an Austrian, age twenty, I think, and had formerly been
a sailor, but having been wrecked on the syren shores of Patagonia,
like Guillaume, he had been unable to withstand its subtle
attractions, and having embraced the profession of ostrich-hunting,
with the natural aptness of sailors, he had soon mastered the
mysteries of his craft, and was already an adept in the use of lasso
and bolas. His strength was such as his burly dimensions warranted,
and he would often surprise us by the ease with which he would tear up
firmly-seated roots, and stout underwood for firing purposes. He was,
moreover, as I was surprised to find, an accomplished linguist, and
spoke Spanish, Italian, French, German, and English with tolerable
fluency, though I think he could neither read nor write. His appetite,
like Guillaume's, was Homeric, the two being a host in themselves.

Maximo was not so rich as his companions; indeed, his whole property
consisted in a horse and a dog. The former was a wiry little animal,
and apparently impervious to fatigue; for its owner was by no means a
featherweight, and it was a matter of continued astonishment to me,
how it managed to carry him along, day after day, over tiring hilly
country, with occasional fierce gallops after ostriches, without ever
showing signs of distress. Neither was his attire so elegant or so
comfortable as that of his companions. It consisted, on my first
becoming acquainted with him, of a shirt and a pair of trousers; boots
he had none, but would now and then wear a pair of sabots, made with
the skin of the hind-legs of the guanaco. However, the capa made up
for all defects in dress, and Maximo was perfectly content with things
as they were. Withal he was the best-tempered fellow imaginable, and
the stoic indifference he showed to the discomforts of rain and cold,
and his equanimity under all circumstances, were simply heroic.

As these four men, who by various strange chances had been thrown
together on this desert spot, from such different parts of the world,
were to become my companions during a long period of hardship and
adventure, I have described them at some length, especially as I feel
sure that their peculiar and utterly unconventional mode of life, so
different from that of the ordinary people one meets in everyday
intercourse with the world, will invest them, in the eyes of my
readers, with the same romantic interest with which I regarded them.




CHAPTER IV.


The rain continued to pour down almost without interruption for four
days, till one afternoon a shift of the wind brought a definite change
for the better; the clouds cleared off, the sun shone out brightly,
and we were cheered by the sight of blue sky again.

We hastened to spread our furs, sheepskins, and general clothing on
the bushes to dry, as everything had got more or less damp during the
recent downpour, and, thanks to the wind and sun, by supper-time we
were able to indulge in dry shirts and stockings again, which, with
the luxury of having dry beds to creep into that night, in
perspective, sent up our spirits a hundred degrees, and made the
conversation over that evening's supper as lively as it had hitherto
been dull.

Maximo told the story of the shipwreck which had first thrown him on
Patagonian shores; Garcia related some exciting incident of his
frontier warfare experience; Guillaume recounted the hardships and
dangers he had undergone during the siege of Belfort in 1870, having
belonged to the brave garrison which defended that fortress; and even
Isidoro, yielding to the genial influence of the moment, so far
abandoned his accustomed silence as to tell us how, when a soldier in
the Argentine service at Rio Negro, he had deserted and run away with
a tribe of Tehuelche Indians, who were going south, with whom he lived
for a long time, and from amongst whose brown-skinned daughters he had
eventually taken unto him a wife. He admitted, however, that his
matrimonial existence had not been a happy one. Mrs. Isidoro, it
appears, took to drinking, and became too noisy and violent for her
husband, who of all things loved quiet; so without any further fuss,
and without many words, as was his custom, he led her back to her
father's tent, where, with a short explanation, he left her, thus
consummating his divorce _a mensâ et thoro_ with expeditious ease, and
securing for himself the blessing of undisturbed peace for the future.

We rose at daybreak the next morning, and commenced preparations for
starting. The horses, some fifty in number, were driven together;
those selected for the day's work were severally lassoed, and this
being done, the others were allowed to disperse again and return to
their grazing, whilst we got ready.

Although as tame as cats in every other respect, very few of these
Indian-tamed horses allow one to approach them on foot; as a rule they
can only be caught with the lasso. When a horse observes that it has
been singled out from the herd for capture, it does its utmost to
evade the flying noose, and often gives a great deal of trouble before
it can be finally caught; but the moment it feels the lasso alight
round its neck, it will stop short in the fiercest gallop, and
immediately gives up any attempt at resistance, which it knows would
be useless; and when once it is bridled, the lasso may be removed, and
it will stand in the same spot for hours, without attempting even to
graze.

Our stock of provisions, viz. some rice, biscuit, farina, sugar, maté,
and a stone bottle of gin, were carefully packed up, and together with
the tent and cooking utensils, an iron pot, a saucepan, and a tin
kettle, were placed on the pack-horse, a sturdy animal, who trotted
away under his load as if it had been a feather-weight.

We then commenced saddling our own horses--a somewhat lengthy
operation. The articles which constitute the saddle-gear of a horse in
the pampas are rather numerous, and at night-time serve, with the aid
of the capa, as mattress, bed-clothes, and bedstead. First one lays
two or three blankets or cloths, folded square, on the horse's back,
taking care that they lie smooth and form no creases; over these comes
a covering of leather, called a 'carona,' which consists of two thick
pieces of leather sewn together, and which is very useful at
night-time, as it forms a damp-proof foundation for one's bed. On the
carona the saddle is placed, and firmly secured to the horse by means
of a broad leather girth, and over the saddle again are laid the
sheepskins, furs, or whatever coverings one may possess. All being
ready for starting, we strapped our capas well around us, a few logs
were heaped on the smouldering fire, we warmed our hands, which had
got stiffened with the cold whilst saddling, smoked a last pipe, and
after a look round to see if anything had been forgotten, jumped into
the saddle, whistled to the dogs, and we were off, _en route_ for
Santa Cruz.

It was a bright morning. The wind was just cold enough to make one
feel grateful for the warm sunshine, and to give that exciting tingle
to the blood which influences one's spirits like a subtle wine. I felt
its power, and a strange elation made my pulse beat quicker, as I rode
gaily along, inspirited by the strong, springy step of the good horse
I bestrode, and inhaling deep draughts of the pure clear air, which
seemed to sweep the cobwebs of care from my brain, and to blow all
unpleasant thoughts far from me, making me feel gloriously happy in
the mere consciousness of the fact that I breathed and had being.

I seemed to be leaving the old world I had hitherto known behind me,
with its turmoils and cares and weary sameness, and to be riding
merrily into some new sphere of free, fresh existence. I felt that
without a pang I could break with old associations, renounce old
ties, the pomps and the pleasures, the comforts, the bothers, the
annoyances of civilisation, and become as those with whom I was now
travelling--beings with no thought for the morrow, and therefore with
no uneasiness for it either, living the life of our nomadic ancestors,
in continual and intimate contact with nature--an unchequered,
untroubled existence, as wild, simple, and free as that of the deer
that browse on the plains.

We were riding along a broad glen, down the middle of which a rapid
stream was flowing. Guillaume and Maximo were busy driving the horses
before them--no easy matter, as, now and then, one or two would lag
behind to crop up a mouthful of grass, or the whole troop would make a
dash in the wrong direction, only to be got together again after much
galloping and shouting.

The neighing of the horses, the continual cries of 'Jegua! Jegua!'
with which they were urged along, and the tinkling of the bells on the
'madrinas' (bell-mares), broke cheerfully on the silence of the glen,
and startled many a flock of wild geese, who were disporting
themselves there in numbers; and occasionally a guanaco or two, who
had been grazing in the young grass, would gaze at us in a momentary
fit of curiosity, and then bound away with their graceful, springy
gallop, neighing defiance at us as they glided swiftly up the far
ravine.

After we had gone some way, Isidoro and Garcia and myself rode ahead
of the horses, in order to look out for ostriches, Isidoro taking one
side of the cañada, which was about a mile and a half broad, and
Garcia and myself the other. I felt very excited, as it was my first
hunt after this kind of game. The dogs, with erect and quivering
tails, and noses down, were eagerly running this way and that,
scenting the ground, or snuffing the wind which came in light puffs
down the cañada.

Presently they made a simultaneous dash forward, and started off after
something, and my horse, evidently an old hunter, with a sudden start
that almost threw me out of the saddle, dashed after them, _ventre à
terre_, like wild-fire, side by side with Garcia, who was already
loosening the bolas to prepare for action.

I soon descried the ostrich, which was hurrying along as fast as its
legs would carry it, wings drooping and neck outstretched, with the
whole covey of dogs close on its heels. The race was at first
doubtful, but a moment of indecision brought the ostrich into
difficulties, and the dogs slowly gained on their prey. Already the
foremost one was up to it, when the ostrich suddenly darted sideways,
whilst the hounds, unable to stop their impetuous speed, shot forward
a long way before they could recover themselves. By that time the bird
was half-way up the side of the glen, and out of danger; and Garcia
whistled to the dogs, who came back slowly and sulkily, with their
tails between their legs, looking wistfully over their shoulders at
the retreating bird, which was already a mere speck on the summit of
the ravine.

Garcia told me that the ostrich, like the hare, often resorts to this
trick of 'doubling' when hard pressed. It is not always as successful
as it had been in the present case, as the dogs generally know the
exact moment and in what direction the ostrich is going to double, and
are prepared accordingly.

We were riding slowly along, talking about our late disappointment,
when another ostrich started up almost from under our very feet. With
a wild shout we dashed after it, Garcia getting ready with the bolas,
now our sole means of capturing the bird, as the dogs had lagged far
behind us on some wrong scent. The horses were on their mettle, and in
headlong chase we tore after the distressed quarry; but though we
strained every nerve, we could not gain an inch of ground, and in
another second we should have lost the ostrich, who was making for the
steep ravine-side, when Garcia swinging the bolas two or three times
round his head flung them with strong hand at the retreating bird.
Luckily lighting on its neck, they entangled its legs and it fell to
the ground kicking desperately. An instant after and we were up to it,
and Garcia ended its struggles by breaking its neck, and then
proceeded to disembowel it--a process watched with peculiar interest
by the dogs, the offal, etc., being their share of the spoils.

  [Illustration: OSTRICH HUNTING.      p. 50.]

The trophy was then hung to Garcia's saddle, and we went back on our
tracks to look for the nest; for, from the bird having started up so
close to us, Garcia surmised that it must have been sitting, as during
that period they are loth to leave their nests, at the approach of
danger, till the very last moment. Garcia proved to be right, for,
after a short search, we came upon the nest, which contained fourteen
eggs--a prize we were not long in securing to our saddles.

I found the nest to be of the roughest description, being simply a
hole scooped in the ground, under shelter of a bush, and made soft for
the young chicks by a few wisps of grass.

The number of eggs found in a nest varies from ten to forty, being
usually about twenty. In size the Patagonian ostrich's egg is equal to
about eight hen's eggs. It is the male bird that hatches the eggs and
looks after the young--being, I believe, the only male among birds
which does so. The period of incubation is from twenty to twenty-four
days. During rainy weather he never leaves the nest, but will sit for
six or seven days without feeding. In fine weather he grazes for an
hour or two in the evening, but never strays far from the nest, as
Master Reynard, who is always prowling near, would soon make a raid
on the eggs. It is said that if one egg is broken or abstracted from
the nest during the absence of the male bird, on returning he will
immediately detect the theft, and become so furious that he will dash
the remaining eggs to pieces, and dance round the nest as if frantic.

After the hatching period, the birds lay their eggs promiscuously
about the plains. These eggs are called 'huatchos' by the natives.
They keep for a long time, and I have frequently met with huatchos in
April, which, although they must have been laid more than six months
at that time, were still fairly eatable.

The ostrich of Southern Patagonia (_Rhea Darwinii_) is smaller than
the 'Avestruz moro' (_Rhea Americana_), as the species which frequents
the country near the River Negro is called by the natives. The colour
of its plumage is brown, the feathers being tipped with white, whereas
the moro, as its name indicates, is uniformly grey. The _R. Darwinii_
are extremely shy birds, and as their vision is remarkably acute, it
is by no means an easy matter to catch them, unless one has very swift
dogs to hunt with.

At the approach of danger the ostrich often crouches flat on the
ground, with its neck stretched out under the grass, remaining
motionless in this position till the dogs have gone past. This
stratagem is successful when the wind is blowing against the scent;
but when the contrary is the case, the dogs soon discover the hiding
bird, which, doubtless too bewildered by the sudden failure of its
naïvely artless ruse, makes no attempt to escape.

Our companions by this time were a long way ahead of us, so we started
after them at a brisk gallop. On the way we met Isidoro, who had also
been fortunate, as two ostriches dangling from each side of his saddle
evinced.

We continued our journey along the winding ravine, all helping now to
drive the horses and keep them well together--an essential matter when
rapid progress is desirable, for if the troop once gets broken up and
scattered, one may spend no end of time in galloping about and herding
the horses together again.

At about five o'clock we passed a fine thick bush, of considerable
height, which appeared so well adapted for affording shelter, that we
resolved to camp under it for the night, especially as I, not being
accustomed lately to such long rides, already began to feel rather
tired and shaken.

In a few minutes after we had made this decision our horses were
unsaddled, the saddle-gear, packs, ostriches, etc., thrown
higgledy-piggledy in a heap, and everyone lay down in the grass to
stretch his limbs and smoke a pipe--a simple indulgence which, under
such circumstances, becomes an absolutely priceless luxury.

A small fire was then made, the kettle filled from the rivulet which
ran down the centre of the ravine, and as soon as the water boiled,
maté was prepared, and we sat for some time silently imbibing that
stimulating concoction, whose wonderful powers of banishing fatigue I
have already alluded to.

Presently Maximo and Guillaume went off to collect firewood, whilst
Isidoro and Garcia busied themselves with plucking the ostriches and
laying the feathers in bundles, in which form they enter the market. I
stretched myself out on my furs and awaited the dinner-hour with eager
expectation, as my ride and that sharp, dry air peculiar to Patagonia
had given me the real pampa appetite, under the influence of which one
becomes so inordinately and irksomely ravenous, and experiences such
an unnatural craving for food, as quite to justify one in considering
one's self attacked by some transitory, but acute disease which has to
be undergone by the stranger in Patagonia, like those acclimatising
fevers peculiar to some tropical countries.

In an hour or so Guillaume and Maximo returned, bringing a huge bundle
of dry wood between them, and the kitchen being Maximo's special
department, he immediately set about getting dinner ready. Thanks to
his efforts, a fine fire was soon blazing; the big iron pot was filled
with water, ostrich meat, and rice, and set to boil, and several other
dainties were set to roast on wooden spits or broiled in the ashes,
emitting odours of grateful promise as they sputtered and browned
under Maximo's delicate handling.

Meanwhile, we sharpened our knives, took up comfortable positions
round the fire, and the _chêf_ having declared everything ready, the
onslaught commenced.

  [Illustration]

I append the _carte_ for the benefit of those curious in such matters:

     _Pot-au-feu_ (rice, ostrich meat, etc.).
     Broiled ostrich wings.
     Ostrich steak.
     Cold guanaco head.
     Roast ostrich gizzard, _à l'Indienne_.
     Ostrich eggs.
     Custard (ostrich eggs, sugar, gin).

A glance at the above will show that a pampa dinner may be pleasantly
varied. Of the items mentioned, I think the ostrich wings are the
greatest delicacy, tasting something like turkey, and, as I then
thought at least, perhaps even finer. The ostrich gizzard, too, was
worthy of note, being broiled Indian fashion, with hot stones--a task
which, as requiring great care, was superintended by Isidoro himself,
who in his way was a remarkable cook. The flavour of ostrich meat
generally is not unpleasant, especially when fat. It varies greatly,
according to what part of the bird it is from. The wings, breast, and
extremity of the back are the tit-bits. The thighs are coarser, and
bear a close resemblance to horseflesh.

When all the meat was consumed, Isidoro, who, by-the-bye, seemed to be
able to produce anything that was required from somewhere or other
(generally from his cap, which was quite a storehouse for all kinds of
extraneous articles), now turned up with a small soup-plate and a
dilapidated spoon, and I was requested to help myself to the broth and
rice in the pot, handing the plate back to Isidoro when I had
finished, who in his turn passed it to Garcia, and so on till it had
gone round the circle.

We then lay back to smoke and recover from our exertions, whilst the
dogs cleared up whatever fragments remained from the feast.

Here I may say a few words about the dogs, of which there were in all
about eighteen with us. Most of them were greyhounds, of more or less
pure breeds, imported by the Welsh settlers at Chubut; the others
being nondescript curs of heavier build, which were useful for pulling
down the guanacos brought to bay by the fleeter but less powerful
greyhounds. Their various merits and failings formed the usual topic
of an evening's conversation, their owners comparing notes as to their
respective achievements during the day's hunting, or recalling
previous wonderful performances worthy of remembrance.

We were quite overrun by such a number of dogs, and often they became
a nuisance only to be borne when we remembered that after all they
were the meat-givers, without whom we should find ourselves in a very
unpleasant plight. They had a peculiarly happy knack, when wet, of
creeping into one's furs, and making one's bed damp for the night; and
often I have been awakened by one of them trying to go comfortably to
sleep on the pillow beside me, and thrusting its cold nose into my
face as a preliminary. When eating, if I happened to lay down a piece
of meat for a moment, it was sure to be immediately snapped up by one
of them, and they would even snatch away the morsel held in my hand,
if I did not take care to keep them at a safe distance. All provisions
had to be put on the top of a bush, well out of their reach, as
neglect in this particular might bring on the unpleasant alternative
of going supperless to bed.

We sat for some time round the fire, chatting and smoking, and then
each looked out for his furs and bed-gear, arranged his couch, and
before long we were all fast asleep.

I woke once, roused by some horse which had strayed from its
companions, and which was snuffing at me curiously, till on my
starting up it bounded away, snorting with terror.

Before going to sleep again I looked around me. There was a faint
scent of fresh earth on the cold night air, and a slight frost had
fallen over bush and grass, which told that dawn was not far distant.
The moon was shining full over the valley, bathing it in hazy light. I
could see the horses standing about in black knots of twos and threes,
some dozing, some grazing, the bells of the madrinas occasionally
breaking the deep silence with a soft tinkle. Round the fire, some
logs of which still smouldered redly, my companions lay motionless,
sleeping soundly under cover of their warm furs.

Fascinated by the strange novelty of the scene and the calm silence of
the hour, I lay for a long time gazing about me. I watched the soft
charm of silvery indistinctness, lent to the landscape by the moon's
rays glittering on the frosty crystals, gradually fade away, as the
moon's splendour paled before the new light which sprang up in the
east. Soon the bushes, the grass, and the winding ravine stood out
sharply defined, looking grey and bleak in the sober light of dawn.
The face of nature seemed blank and wan, like the face of a man on
whom the morning light streams after a night of vigil. With a shiver I
drew my head under my capa, and fell into a sound sleep again.




CHAPTER V.


When I awoke there was a good fire crackling and blazing cheerfully,
and I lost no time in getting up and joining my companions, who had
already risen, and were taking maté and enjoying the warm glow of the
fire, which at that damp, chilly hour was indeed welcome.

As we were not going far that day, we were in no hurry to start off,
preferring to wait till the sun should get high enough to dispel the
cold mist which hung over the country.

We took our ease over breakfast, therefore, and it was already nearly
midday when Maximo rode down the ravine to collect the horses. We
waited for a long time, but, to our surprise, he did not reappear, and
presently Garcia went after him to see what was the matter. After a
time they both returned, driving the horses before them, but reporting
Isidoro's stallion and several of his mares missing. From the
appearance of the tracks, Garcia seemed to think that some wild
stallion had made a raid on the mares and driven them off--a piece of
news which filled Isidoro with consternation, as he feared that by
that time the missing animals might be forty or fifty miles away,
beyond any hope of recapture. Without losing any time, therefore, we
all saddled; and leaving some of our gear and packages under the bush
where we had been camping, we started off on the trail.

Some way down the cañon we came to a place where there had evidently
been a fierce struggle. The ground was torn up in all directions, and
Isidoro's sharp eye was not long in detecting some tufts of hair lying
in the grass, which he declared came from the coat of his own bay
stallion. Some of the hoof-marks were very large--larger than could
have been made by any of his horses--and he quite confirmed Garcia's
surmise, that some 'bagual' (wild horse) had carried off the mares,
after having previously fought and vanquished his own stallion. We had
no difficulty in following the trail, as the recent rain had made the
ground quite soft. The tracks went along the cañon for some distance,
and then suddenly turned and went up the cañon-side on to the plain.
We had not gone far over the latter when our horses pricked up their
ears and began to sniff the air in a nervous manner. A few strides
more brought us to the edge of the plain, and in the cañon at our feet
we discovered Isidoro's bay stallion, looking very crestfallen and
wobegone. At our approach he gave a faint neigh of satisfaction; but
he had hardly done so, when it was answered by a triumphant pæan from
another quarter, and from behind a bend in the cañon, meekly followed
by Isidoro's mares, issued a magnificent black stallion. Undeterred by
our presence, he made straight for his but recently vanquished rival,
with head erect nostrils distended, and his long mane and tail
streaming in the wind. As for the bay,

     'Not a moment stopped or stayed he;'

but ignominiously took to his heels, and started up the cañon at full
speed.

Isidoro, who was some way ahead of us, galloped to the rescue. The
bagual, strange to say, however, suddenly rushed at him, standing upon
its hind-legs, and beating the air with its fore-feet in a threatening
manner. Taken by surprise, Isidoro had hardly time to loosen his bolas
when the furious brute was upon him, and for a moment I thought it was
a bad case. But Isidoro was as cool as he was adroit, and in another
second the bagual dropped on its knees, half stunned, struck full in
the forehead by a well-aimed blow of the balls. Before it could
recover, Garcia's lasso whizzed through the air and lighted on its
neck, and then, setting spurs to his horse, he galloped away at full
speed in an opposite direction. The shock, as the lasso tautened,
threw his horse on its haunches, but the stallion lay half strangled
and powerless. To finish matters, Maximo whipped his lasso over its
fore-feet, and drew them tight together, and the poor brute was thus
reduced to utter helplessness.

We could now contemplate it at our ease. It was a splendidly-made
animal, and far larger than any of the horses of our troop. I was very
much astonished at the way it had shown fight, as I had imagined that,
being wild, it would have fled at the sight of man. I pleaded strongly
that its life might be spared, but the fact that it was in very good
condition weakened the force of any argument I might bring in support
of my plea, fat meat in spring being a luxury which my companions did
not feel justified in depriving themselves of, if fate chanced to
throw it in their way. The poor bagual was accordingly despatched,
skinned, and cut up; but eventually none of the meat was eaten, for,
much to everyone's disappointment, it proved so strong that even the
dogs did not care to touch it.

We now returned towards our camp. The bay stallion, his wrongs avenged
and his abducted wives restored to his affectionate keeping, kept
neighing and tossing up his heels in a state of high glee, without, to
all appearance, being troubled by any misgivings as to whether his
recent ignominious defeat had caused him to forfeit the esteem of his
family circle.

On our way back, Isidoro told me that he had frequently seen troops of
wild horses near St. Julian, and that at times the Indians make
excursions to those regions on purpose to catch them. At the foot of
the Cordilleras there is a smaller, and in every way inferior, breed
of baguals, several tame specimens of which I subsequently saw amongst
the horses of the Southern Tehuelches.

Having reached the camp, we loaded the pack-horse, and resumed our
journey southwards. We continued to follow the windings of the ravine
for some distance, and then, turning abruptly, we rode up one of its
steep sides, and found ourselves on a broad plain, which seemed to
stretch away interminably, presenting the characteristics of dreary
gloom and hopeless sterility I have already described.

The wind, which down in the ravine we had scarcely felt, blew with
astonishing violence upon the plain; the gusts were so strong
occasionally that we could hardly keep our saddles, and at intervals
we encountered squalls of hailstones of unusual size, which, coming
full in our faces, caused us no little annoyance. It was bitterly
cold, too, and I was thankful for my capa, which kept me tolerably
warm, though I had great difficulty in keeping it tightly folded round
me, for if the wind could but find hold in the smallest crevice, it
would blow the capa right off me. In fact, it requires a peculiar
knack, only to be attained by long experience, to enable one to wear a
capa on horseback with ease and comfort.

Conversation under these adverse circumstances was not very
practicable, and we rode on for the most part in silence. It was
altogether a miserable day, and that tedious plain seemed as if it
were never going to end.

We reached its limit rather suddenly, however. I had been holding my
head down for some time, to avoid a passing squall of hailstones, and
so had fallen insensibly to the rear of my companions. On looking up
presently, I found, to my astonishment, that they had vanished as if
by magic, and I was apparently alone in the plain.

I galloped forward, and their sudden disappearance was soon explained,
for in a couple of minutes I found myself at the edge of the plain,
which terminated abruptly, descending almost vertically into another
plateau, which lay some two hundred feet below, down towards which my
companions were slowly winding their way in a zigzag line, as the
descent was too sharp for them to ride straight down. I had
considerable difficulty in following them, as the violence of the wind
seemed doubled at this spot, and it was only by clinging firmly to the
neck of my horse that I prevented myself being blown from the saddle.
In a measure as I descended, however, the wind grew less boisterous,
and on arriving below it entirely ceased. I soon rejoined my
companions, and presently, on coming to a spring of fresh water, with
some good pasture near it for the horses, we resolved to go no further
that day.

We accordingly unsaddled and made the usual arrangements for the
night, which, as the sky looked rather threatening, on this occasion
included setting up the tent. This precautionary measure was a wise
one, as towards morning there was a slight fall of snow, and when I
woke up I found the whole landscape whitened over.

Garcia and the others were of opinion that we had better remain where
we were for the day, as they considered that travelling through the
snow might be bad for the horses; so, there being nothing better for
us to do, we crept under our furs and went to sleep again till about
midday, by which time the snow had nearly all melted away under the
influence of the sun, which shone out brightly. Isidoro and Garcia
then rode off hunting. Maximo, Guillaume, and I, being lazily
inclined, remained by the fire, and beguiled an hour or so with
breakfast.

Afterwards they went to fetch firewood, whilst I amused myself by
practising with the bolas. I found it very difficult to use them with
any precision; in fact, they always took exactly the opposite
direction to that in which I wished to throw them, and finally, in an
attempt to 'bolear' a bush, I very narrowly missed poor Maximo, who
was just coming up behind me.

As an instance of the skill which may be acquired in the use of the
bolas, I have several times seen Isidoro throw them at some refractory
colt at full gallop, with such true aim as to make them alight round
its hind legs, and effectually pinion them, without doing the animal
any harm whatever--a feat which requires immense confidence and nerve,
as the bolas, which are very heavy, being generally made of stone or
lead, have to be flung with considerable velocity.

The first hunter to return was Garcia. He had killed a female puma, a
great prize, as the meat is excellent, and especially esteemed during
the winter and spring months, when it is always fat, whereas the
ostriches and guanacos are at that time generally miserably lean. The
brute looked very fierce and dangerous; the half-opened jaws displayed
a row of cruel white teeth, which gave its face an uncomfortable
expression of rage and spite. The fur was of a yellowish-grey; and the
length of the animal from tip to tail was about nine feet.

The puma abounds in the pampas, where it preys on the guanacos and
ostriches, lying in ambush for them in the ravines near where they are
in the habit of going to drink. With one blow of its huge paw, it can
kill a full-sized guanaco; but, notwithstanding its great strength,
the Patagonian puma is of very cowardly instincts, and if attacked by
man, quietly receives its death-blow from the balls without any
attempt at self-defence. If taken young they can be easily tamed, and
in that state their manners closely resemble those of the domestic
cat. They are very fond of being taken notice of, and will purr and
stretch themselves under a caressing hand, like any old tabby. They
are extremely playful and good tempered, attaching themselves with
docility to those with whom they are familiar.

I was travelling in a steamer once, on board of which there was a
young puma about two months old, which was being sent to the
Zoological Gardens. It was a graceful, affectionate little animal, and
became a great favourite during the voyage, relieving many a tedious
hour with its playful gambols. Its great delight was to lie hidden
behind a spar, and then suddenly spring out on some unwary passer-by,
to whose leg it would tenaciously cling, until some other object
attracted its attention. Its inseparable companion was a little Scotch
terrier, with which it would play for hours together, rather roughly
sometimes, it is true, but still without ever showing any traces of a
treacherous or spiteful disposition, though occasionally its temper
must have been severely tried, as the dog would often seize and carry
away its dinner--a fighting matter with much better-disposed animals
than pumas.

At dinner that evening we ate a side of the puma Garcia had killed.
After I had overcome the repugnance I at first felt at eating the
flesh of a beast of prey, I found the meat excellent, tasting, as I
thought, something like veal.

We started early the next morning, as we had a long journey before us,
being anxious to reach the Rio Chico, a tributary of the Santa Cruz
River before night-time.

At every step the country across which we were now travelling grew
more sterile, and after about an hour's ride, we found ourselves in a
region of extraordinary barrenness. Not a blade of grass was to be
seen anywhere, and even the miserable scrub of the plains could find
no nourishment in that bleak tract of salt sand and broken scoriæ.
Traces of volcanic action were everywhere apparent. Immense boulders
of solid rock were scattered here and there in chaotic confusion, and
on some spots sharp ridges of dark porphyry pierced through the soil,
towering up in fantastic shapes, gloomy and bare. It seemed like an
unfinished portion of the globe, the very skeleton of a landscape. The
outlines were there, indeed, the framework of the intended structure.
There were bold hills, sheltered valleys, isolated peaks, deep basins;
but over all was silence and desolation, all was empty and void. The
finishing-touch had been withheld--the last touch which was to have
softened and modulated those rugged contours, clothing their
barrenness with verdure, filling the dry basins with clear water, and
bringing life and gladness to what was now lying in sad and eternal
deathliness.

Nature must have made Patagonia last of all her works, and the horn of
Plenty, from which an abundance of rich gifts had been poured over the
rest of the world, was well-nigh exhausted when that country's turn to
be endowed came round. There still remained a little grass seed,
however, and this was carefully scattered over the length and breadth
of the land. But little alighted on the hills and plains, for the
strong pampa winds swept it down into the ravines and gulches, under
the shelter of which it took root and flourished, affording
nourishment to the ostrich and guanaco, and preserving the springs of
fresh water from the scorching rays of the summer's sun.

But one nook had been altogether forgotten during the distribution of
the scanty remains of Nature's gifts, and accordingly had been doomed
to remain desolate and barren to the end of time, sustaining no
vegetable life, and shunned by all living creatures. And through that
unfortunate region I was now riding, gloomily oppressed by the spirit
of mournful silence and wild solitude which hung over it, whilst my
weary gaze sought in vain some token of organic existence to relieve
the monotony of lifeless stone and bare sand-hillocks.

We rode swiftly, for we all felt the same desire to escape as quickly
as possible to more cheering scenes, but several hours elapsed before
the sight of an occasional stunted bush or tuft of grey grass showed
us we were nearing a less inhospitable region.

Presently we rode past a long chain of salinas, which glittered and
sparkled whitely in the sun. They were now partially covered with
water, but in summer it evaporates altogether, leaving a crust of salt
on the surface of the lake of from two to four inches thick. These
salinas are met with all over the pampas, and from afar often deceive
the thirsty hunter, in search of fresh water, by the similarity they
present to a sheet of the latter, when the sun shines on their white
surfaces. In the depression over which we were now riding, I counted a
succession of more than fifty salinas, which stretched away as far as
I could see towards St. Julian.

I passed one salina which, at a distance, appeared to be covered with
rose-coloured plants. On riding nearer, I found this delusion to be
occasioned by a flock of flamingoes, which were collected there in
great numbers, to all appearance in solemn conclave, after the fashion
of storks--a bird which they also resemble in their general build.
They let me come close up to them, and then, stretching out their long
necks, slowly glided away, alighting again on another salina a little
further off. As they flew up, I observed that the wings were black
underneath, in fine contrast to the brilliant hues of the rest of
their plumage, which is of a bright crimson colour, and very
beautiful. One fine, long feather floated through the air to my feet,
and I picked it up, intending to keep it, along with other similar
trifles, as a relic of my journey. Isidoro, half in joke, half in
earnest, said the occurrence might possibly be an omen of ill luck and
bloodshed--a prediction which was subsequently strangely verified,
though I laughed at it at the time, and, of course, thought no more
about it.

By this time we had got into the ordinary style of country
again--short, undulating plains, and ravines with plenty of grass and
underwood. Several ostriches were caught there, and three nests were
pillaged, yielding in all some forty eggs, which we secured to our
saddles and bodies in various ways.

We now approached the limits of the deep basin or depression across
which we had been travelling all day, and were faced by an acclivity,
similar in height and steepness to the one we had descended the day
previous. In scaling this wall I had a slight mishap; the prolonged
strain on my saddle caused it to slip back, the girths loosened, the
saddle rolled round, and, hampered by my capa, I was thrown violently
to the ground, breaking in my fall four eggs which I had previously
somewhat imprudently secured inside my shirt. Maximo came to my
rescue, and helped me to my feet again. My ribs felt very sore, and I
was severely bruised on the head; but I was glad to come off so
cheaply, for if the horse had taken fright and run away, entangled as
I was in the saddle-gear, and with my limbs imprisoned in the folds of
the capa, I might have incurred considerable risk of being dragged
over the pampa. We readjusted the saddle, I remounted, and we started
off again, reaching the summit of the escarpment, without further
mishap.

There we found ourselves on another plain, across which we journeyed
for some time, but finding that it was too late to reach the Rio Chico
that day, we halted for the night, under shelter of a stout bush of
unusual size.

We had a novel dish that evening, in the shape of a pair of
armadilloes, which some one had caught during the day, and which
Isidoro had artistically roasted with hot stones.

The species of armadillo which inhabits Patagonia (_Dasypus minutus_)
is much smaller than any of the other varieties known in the Brazils,
Paraguay, and the northern provinces of Buenos Ayres. It is found in
great numbers throughout the pampas north of the Santa Cruz, though
south of that river, according to the testimony of the Indians, it has
never been met with. Why the limit of their range is thus sharply
defined, I am not prepared to say, though the phenomenon may possibly
be accounted for by the fact that the temperature on the plains a
short distance south of the Santa Cruz River is surprisingly lower
than that of the northern plains, the change being far greater than
the mere difference in latitude would warrant. The 'mulitos,' as the
Spanish call them, are remarkably good eating, and even in the towns
they are considered great delicacies. In autumn they have a layer of
fat on their backs of from two to three inches, on which they have to
draw in winter, as they pass that season in a state of torpor, which
relieves them of the trouble of looking for food.

Those that we ate on this occasion were rather thin, as in that month,
September, they commence to leave their holes; but otherwise the flesh
was succulent and tender, and tasted very much like sucking-pig.

The next morning we set out for the Rio Chico. On the way we passed
several herds of guanacos, some of which must have numbered more than
two hundred head. They seemed very shy, and disappeared at our
approach with great rapidity, though now and then one or two, more
courageous than the rest, would hang around us almost within reach of
the bolas, frisking about and executing the most comical antics, as if
to show their contempt for us and their confidence in their own
superior speed.

This self-reliance is not altogether unjustified; the guanacos which
roam about singly, and which show such impertinent audacity, are
generally tough old males of immense endurance and speed, and to
overtake them the swiftest greyhound would have to do its utmost.

It is different when a herd is being chased, as then each animal tries
to push into the middle of the flock, and a general scuffle takes
place, which of course considerably lessens the speed of the mass--a
fact of which the dogs are perfectly aware, inasmuch as they will
hardly ever take the trouble to chase a single guanaco, unless
specially ordered to do so by their masters, whereas if a herd comes
in sight, it is difficult to keep them from immediately dashing off
after them.

The guanaco has been well described by Captain Musters as having the
head of a camel, the body of a deer, the wool of a sheep, and the
neigh of a horse. The wool is of a reddish-yellow, intermixed with
white in certain parts of the body. They are scattered in immense
numbers all over Patagonia, and one can never ride far without hearing
the shrill neighing of the sentinels, which always outflank the main
flock to give warning of the approach of danger. The flesh, when fat,
is excellent, and closely resembles beef; but at the season I am
writing of it is terribly lean and insipid, and affords very little
nourishment, the only palatable part being the head, which we
generally roasted under the embers, eating it cold.

We travelled along over the usual succession of shingly plain and
grassy ravine for some time, without anything occurring to break the
tedium of the ride. Presently, however, a little off the direction in
which we were going, I noticed a guanaco lying dead, with fifty or
more carranchos hovering expectantly over it; and as the most
commonplace incident becomes of deep interest to the traveller on the
pampas as to the passenger on board a ship, I rode up to have a glance
at the dead animal. It must have been just then killed, for I found
the body still warm, and the blood was trickling from a deep gash in
its neck. I looked round, but I could not see the author of the deed
anywhere, though I did not doubt but that he was prowling near, or
else the carranchos would already have settled on the carcase. We had
plenty of other meat, so I merely cut off its head, tied it to the
saddle, and then rode after my companions.

I had not gone far, however, when my horse suddenly stopped, snorting
wildly and quivering in every limb. I soon discovered the cause of its
terror. Crouching under a bush, about twenty paces ahead of me, was a
large puma, glaring sullenly at me, with its ugly cat-like head
resting between its outstretched paws. I urged my horse closer towards
it, but the frightened animal would not budge an inch, and, as I was
not within range, I was obliged to dismount.

Drawing my revolver, I cautiously approached the puma, till I was
within easy distance. I then hesitated, not knowing exactly whether to
fire or not. I had heard a great deal of the cowardice of these
animals, how you may go close up to them, and strike them dead with
the bolas, without their offering any resistance; but still, this
particular puma, I reflected, might happen to be an exception to the
general rule, and turn out to be an unpleasantly brave animal, which
might possibly resent being fired at, especially if not dealt a wound
instantaneously fatal.

However, I finally plucked up my courage, took steady aim at the head
of the motionless beast, and fired. It did not stir; I had missed. I
went nearer, and fired again; same result. I began to get excited, and
went still nearer to the unaggressive puma, which was now hardly ten
paces distant, its eyes gleaming at me with a fixed and stolid stare.
I fired once more, and this time I thought the head twitched. At that
moment Isidoro, who had heard my shots, came up to see what was the
matter, and with him, of course, came his dogs. They no sooner saw the
puma than they flew at it, and dragged it from under the bush. The
reason it had remained so immovable was immediately explained; the
brute was stone dead. On examining it, I found that two of my bullets
had lodged in its skull, and another had penetrated its chest, my
first shot having probably caused instantaneous death. With the help
of Isidoro, I took off the skin, which was a very fine one; and
leaving the carcase to the carranchos, we galloped off after the rest
of the party.

We reached the Rio Chico at about twelve o'clock. The exact site of
its source is not known, but according to Indian testimony it comes
from an insignificant stream at a very short distance from the spot we
were now at. Like all rivers in Patagonia, it flows down a broad
valley, which seems to have been in former times the bed of a much
broader river than that which at present flows through it. Thus the
valley of the Rio Chico is about three miles broad, whilst the river,
at the time I am speaking of, rather swollen by recent rains, was only
some two hundred yards in width. The valley of the Rio Gallegos is
much broader even than that of the Rio Chico, while one can almost
jump over the river itself in summer.

On account of the fine pasturage they afford for horses, these valleys
are the usual camping-places of the Indians, and we were therefore not
surprised to see several of their tents pitched on the other side of
the river. I was extremely glad of the opportunity thus afforded me of
making the acquaintance of these wandering tribes, for whom, having
read Captain Musters' 'At Home with the Patagonians,' I had always
felt a peculiar interest. Captain Musters adopted the only plan by
which it is possible to obtain a thorough insight into the
peculiarities of the morality and customs of such people, and to
discover the principles which guide their dealings amongst each other
and towards strangers. For the nonce he forgot that he had ever
belonged to civilisation, and became to all intents and purposes a
Patagonian Indian, living amongst them as one of them, sharing their
pleasures and hardships, and doing his duty in the hunting-field or in
the ball-room with as much zest and earnestness as if he intended
passing his whole existence among them, and finally becoming a
candidate for some vacant caciqueship.

By these means he became intimately acquainted with their habits and
ways, their domestic life, their virtues and failings, their loves and
their hatreds; and was thus enabled thoroughly to understand them, and
appreciate many interesting traits in their character which would have
escaped a less attentive and less conscientious observer.

When we reached the ford, some doubts were expressed as to whether it
was practicable, the river being swollen far beyond its ordinary
level. Garcia rode cautiously over first, therefore; and on his
arriving safely on the opposite side, none the worse for a little
splashing, the rest of us followed, driving the horses in before us.
The dogs remained behind, setting up a most dismal yell as they
watched us making our way through the water; but finding no one
offered to carry them over, they at last took heart and swam after us.

Leaving our horses to graze with those of the Indians, which were
scattered about in knots all over the valley, we set off at a gallop
towards the encampment, on arriving at which we were soon surrounded
by a crowd of dusky aborigines, who, to judge by their incessant
smiles and laughter, must have been exceedingly glad to see us.

Our first care was to set up our tent and carefully stow all our traps
and saddle-gear away under it, as there are some amongst the Indians
whose curiosity prompts them to minutely inspect any article one might
be careless enough to leave within their reach, and whose absence of
mind is so extreme as to frequently make them forget to restore such
articles to their rightful owners.

I was then at liberty to examine the chattering groups which had
gathered round us, watching all our doings with the greatest interest,
and probably criticising my civilised appearance with a freedom which,
had I understood their language, I might perhaps have thought the
reverse of complimentary.




  [Illustration]




CHAPTER VI.


The plains of Patagonia, barren as they are, afford sustenance to a
marvellous profusion of animal life, and swarm with countless numbers
of ostriches, guanacos, armadilloes, pumas, foxes, and skunks. But
they are but sparsely peopled by the human race. It may be estimated
that the native population of that vast territory which lies between
the Rio Negro and the Straits of Magellan barely numbers three
thousand souls, and if the mortality among them continues on the same
scale as hitherto, it is to be feared that in a comparatively short
period they will have disappeared altogether from off the face of the
earth, and survive only in memory as a sad illustration of the
remorseless law of the non-survival of the unfitted.

But at no period of its existence as a habitable country can Patagonia
have been well populated; no people would voluntarily choose it for a
permanent abode, as long as they could range unmolested in the more
hospitable regions of the north, and such tribes as have from time to
time elected to brave its inclement climate have in so doing doubtless
only yielded to dire necessity, finding the elements, less formidable
to encounter than the unceasing hostilities of more powerful tribes.
Thus the Tehuelches, as the Indians who at present inhabit the
southern plains are called, have in all probability gradually been
driven to this extreme corner of their continent by the more warlike
but intellectually inferior races of the north, such as the
Araucanians, the Pampas, and others, who in their turn, as
civilisation advances, may perhaps be forced to quit their present
rich pasture-grounds and moderate climate, and fly to the bare plains
of Santa Cruz and St. Julian, eventually to encounter the same fate of
extermination as that which now hangs over the doomed Tehuelche race.

The Tehuelches are divided into two tribes, the Northern and the
Southern. The Northerners are the least numerous, but, on the other
hand, they have the advantage of being less 'civilised' than their
Southern kindred, who, being frequently in contact with the settlers
of Sandy Point, have assimilated not a few of the pleasant vices of
'_los Christianos_,' as all white men are called by them. The
Northerners generally pass the winter at Santa Cruz, and move as
summer comes on towards the Cordilleras. The Southerners range over
the country between Coy Inlet and the straits, and now and then pay a
visit to the settlement at Sandy Point. In customs and language there
is no difference between these two tribes, and in speaking of the
Tehuelches, I must be understood to be referring indiscriminately to
the Northerners and Southerners.

Notwithstanding that the exaggerated accounts of early travellers as
to the stature of the Patagonians have frequently been contradicted
and disproved, a great many people seem still to be firmly impressed
with the idea that the race of giants is not yet extinct, and that it
has for its abode that favoured portion of South America which the
Spaniards christened Patagonia. The truth is that, as regards height,
all that can be said of the Tehuelches is that they are on the average
a tall race, varying in stature from say five feet ten inches to six
feet. Their muscular development and consequent strength, however, are
decidedly abnormal, and in that sense, at all events, they cannot be
denied to possess one of the most important attributes of giants.

I once witnessed a remarkable feat of strength performed by a Northern
Tehuelche of the name of Koloby. He was leading a horse towards the
camp by a lasso, when the animal for some reason or other suddenly
stopped short, and obstinately refused to stir from the spot. After a
few coaxing, but ineffectual tugs at the lasso, Koloby gave a short
grunt of impatience, and then, taking the lasso over his shoulder,
bent forward, seemingly without effort, and dragged the horse by main
force for about twenty yards, notwithstanding its determined attempts
at resistance.

The Tehuelches are on the whole rather good-looking than otherwise,
and the usual expression on their faces is bright and friendly. Their
foreheads are rather low, but not receding, their noses aquiline,
their mouths large and coarse, but their teeth are extremely regular
and dazzlingly white. Their hair, which is long and black, is kept
from falling over their faces by a fillet tied round the head. They
have little hair on the face or body, and even that they eradicate as
much as possible, including the eyebrows, an operation which must
cause no little pain. Why they do this I don't know, except it may be
that they consider it improves their appearance, in which case it
seems that in its application to the 'poor Indian,' the saying '_Il
faut souffrir pour être beau_' loses none of its truth or point. In
addition to this embellishment, some tattoo their arms or chest, but
it does not seem to be the general custom.

Their eyes are small and deeply set; the prominence of the cheekbones
gives great breadth to their faces. The colour of their skin seems to
vary according to the individual, or rather according to the
individual's cleanliness; but as far as I could ascertain, it is of a
reddish-brown, running in some cases more into a yellowish tinge.
Their general carriage is extremely graceful and dignified, and their
manners towards strangers and one another are polite and deferential,
without a trace of servility; in fact, they have a certain well-bred
air of restraint, which is quite impressive, and one never feels
inclined to treat them with that familiarity which is bred of
contempt, or that convenient assumption of superiority which the white
man is so apt to display towards 'niggers.'

I do not wish to incur the charge of attempting to revive the exploded
legend of the 'noble savage' in favour of the Tehuelche race, but I
must say that in general intelligence, gentleness of temper, chastity
of conduct, and conscientious behaviour in their social and domestic
relations, they are immeasurably superior not only to the other South
American indigenous tribes, but also, all their disadvantages being
taken into consideration, to the general run of civilised white men.
Their natural talents are displayed in a marked manner by the rapidity
with which they pick up a new language, and the ease with which they
grasp the totally new ideas which the acquiring of a complex foreign
tongue must necessarily entail on a race whose original range of
thought is of a most limited nature. Amongst the Southern Tehuelches I
met several who spoke Spanish with ready ease, notwithstanding that
they seldom had opportunities of practising it. There was one Indian,
who called himself Captain Johnson, who surprised me very much when I
first met him by asking me, with a round British oath, for 'a plug of
tobacco.' Further conversation brought out that many years before he
had lived for a few weeks on board an English schooner, and hence his
knowledge of the language, which he spoke extremely well, considering
that he had of course never had occasion to keep it up since.
Guillaume told me several instances of the ease with which the Indians
picked up and retained French phrases, which at their request he had
repeated to them. To their many other praiseworthy characteristics I
shall presently revert.

The dress of the men consists of a chiripà, fastened at the waist by a
belt, which is frequently richly embossed with silver. The capa, or
mantle of guanaco furs, already described, completes their attire.
When on horseback their feet are encased in botas de potro; but for
reasons of economy they do not wear them at ordinary times. The women
wear a long calico robe beneath the capa, which is fastened at the
throat with a silver brooch, or a simple wooden skewer, according to
the circumstances of the individual. Potro boots are a luxury reserved
for the men. The children, on whom most of the silver ornaments of
the family are lavished, wear a capa like their elders, and on
attaining the age of four or five are invested with the dignity of a
chiripà.

When the women grow old they become repulsively ugly, but the young
girls are by no means ill-favoured, and the looks of even the plainest
among them are invariably redeemed by the bright, smiling expression
habitual to them. Their hair is worn in plaits, artificially
lengthened by means of horsehair; their complexion, when free from
paint, is of a ruddy healthy colour, and their eyes, which are shaded
with long black lashes, are soft and clear.

Without going so far as to assert that the _affaires de cœur_ of
the Tehuelche maidens are always strictly platonic, I must say that,
according to my own observations, and the confirming statements of
others, the relations between the sexes are uniformly characterised by
a strong sense of decency and unimpeachable propriety. Polygamy is
admitted on principle; but no man may marry more wives than he can
afford to maintain, and there is, therefore, seldom more than one
mistress to each household. Marriages _de convenance_ are very rare;
but, as a matter of form, the bride is purchased from her parents for
a certain number of mares, or whatever objects her lover can afford to
give. But as the dowry of the girl generally quite compensates for
the expense her lover has incurred in obtaining her, the transaction
must be considered rather as an exchange of presents than as a mere
unsentimental bargain. Out of mere curiosity to learn the technical
details of Tehuelche marriage-settlements, I once entered into
negotiations with a rich old squaw, for the purpose of contracting
matrimony with her daughter who was a charming girl of about fifteen.
The price we finally agreed upon was eight mares; a bag of biscuits,
and some sugar, which I was to procure from Sandy Point. The dowry of
the daughter consisted in four new guanaco mantles. I held out for
five, and on my remaining inflexible on this point, the negotiations
fell through.

Husband and wife seem always to get on very well together; indeed, one
of the pleasantest traits in the Tehuelche character is the affection
with which relations regard one another. The love of the parents
towards their offspring is almost morbid in its intensity. Their grief
at the decease of an only child frequently manifests itself in the
most exaggerated manner. It is not unusual in such cases for the
parents to burn all their belongings, kill all their horses, and
reduce themselves to a state of utter poverty--a touching proof of the
sincerity and depth of their sorrow, if not of the soundness of their
views on practical economy.

Their indulgence towards their children is unlimited. I have never
seen a child chidden or remonstrated with, whatever mischievous pranks
it may have been up to, and in all their internal arrangements the
interest of the baby portion of the community seems to be the first
which is consulted. For my part, I must say I by no means shared in
the feelings of the elders with regard to their youthful progeny; on
the contrary, I always considered the latter as a most unmitigated
nuisance. They are dirty and vicious, as mischievous as monkeys, and
as thievish as magpies. The 'Artful Dodger' would have had to look to
his laurels if he had had to enter into competition with a young
Tehuelche. Their deftness of hand, as I have many a time experienced
to my cost, is remarkable. On one occasion, I rode over to their camp
from Santa Cruz, on an English saddle, and as I knew that the
stirrup-leathers, which are in great demand for belts on account of
the buckles, would prove too great a temptation, I took care not to
leave the saddle at all during my short stay, thinking by that means
to obviate any danger of losing my cherished stirrup-leathers. But
even this precaution proved insufficient. In an unguarded moment,
whilst bending over my horse's neck in conversation with an Indian who
was sitting on the ground below me, by way of resting myself a little,
I incautiously slipped one foot out of its stirrup, and lay at my full
length along the horse's back. I was hardly two minutes in that
position, but I was two minutes too long. On resuming my seat in the
saddle, my foot sought in vain for the stirrup, and on looking down I
discovered, to my wrath, that during my momentary inattention the
stirrup-leather had quietly been slipped off and made away with. Of
course, I immediately dismounted in a great rage, and set to to find
the thief. After a fruitless search, I returned to my horse, and, lo
and behold, in the meanwhile, the other stirrup-leather had
disappeared! In my precipitate haste, I had quite forgotten that
whilst I was looking for its fellow, it might be abstracted as well;
and the upshot of the whole affair was that, with many a strong
interjectional reference to my own stupidity, I had to ride
stirrupless back to Santa Cruz, some fifteen miles away. I had no
doubt at the time, and indeed I subsequently discovered, that two
youngsters had been the perpetrators of the neat theft.

One would think that under such training, as they grew older, their
faults would increase; but just the contrary is the case, and by the
time they attain their fifteenth or sixteenth year they abandon their
brattish ways, and become 'respectable,' steady-going members of their
community.

The division of labour in a Tehuelche _ménage_ is perhaps not strictly
equitable, for by far the greater part of the day's work falls on the
fair sex. The men go hunting when the larder is low, and occasionally,
in a dawdling kind of way, they mend their riding-gear, or make
bolas, lassoes, etc.; but they have an insurmountable aversion to
anything that looks like hard work. The squaws, on the other hand, are
busy from morning till night. They are the hewers of wood and the
drawers of water, and all the onus of housekeeping, breaking up the
camp, arranging the tents--including, of course, the care of the
children, the _cuisine_, and so forth--is delegated to them. When not
otherwise employed, they sew guanaco capas or weave fillets, and their
fingers, at all kinds of work, are as nimble as their tongues, with
which latter they keep up an incessant chatter, which, however, does
not prevent them from getting through an astonishing amount of work.

Of their origin little is to be said. They recognise a good spirit and
a bad spirit (Gualichu); but there is little sincerity or earnestness
either in their reverence for the one, or in their fear of the other.
According to the caprice of the moment, either of these spirits is
most cavalierly treated by them, and the respect they occasionally
profess towards them gives way as often as not to indifference,
contempt, or anger. The fact is, that with the Tehuelches the prime
rule in life is to take everything as easily as possible, to the
exclusion of all other considerations; and, acting on the doctrine of
the Epicureans, that it is a man's duty to endeavour to increase to
the utmost his pleasures and diminish to the utmost his pains, they
are careful not to admit any theories which might possibly disturb
their peace of mind. Thus they are strongly averse to the idea of
vesting in a supernatural agent the power of interfering in their
affairs to any great extent, arguing that such power having once been
vested, it might on a contingency be used detrimentally to their own
comfort and interests. On the other hand, it could not escape them
that very often a most convenient excuse for their peccadilloes was to
be found in attributing them to the evil influence of some bad spirit.
To avoid the dilemma occasioned by the above conflicting
considerations, they accordingly created the Gualichu, a most
accommodating devil, who allows himself to be ignored or brought
forward, as may best suit the momentary purpose of his clients. The
good spirit, for obvious reasons, one hears very little about; the
Tehuelche is quite willing to take the credit of his good actions on
himself alone.

The office of chief or cacique among them is not altogether a
sinecure; but its authority is extremely limited, being exercised
merely in such slight matters as the choice of the spot where the
tribe is to camp, the route to be followed, and so forth. The
Tehuelches are very jealous of their personal liberty; and complete
individual equality is the recognised basis of their social and
political system. Paraphrasing Wordsworth, I may say in prose, 'A rich
man is a rich man to them, and he is nothing more,' In other words,
the fact of one of their number possessing forty or fifty horses more
than his fellows, seems to be accepted by them as a simple fact, which
excites neither respect for the possessor nor envy of his good
fortune. Nor would it for a moment occur to the owner of the forty or
fifty horses to fancy himself in any way superior to his poorer
brethren. The little credit which wealth, _per se_, commands, saves
the Indians from a great many of the repugnant vices of white men,
such as avarice, jealousy, servility, etc., and keeps up a healthy,
independent feeling among them, which is pleasantly manifested in the
politeness and kindliness of their personal intercourse.

They have a peculiar custom, moreover, which is well calculated to
preserve the existing state of things. When an Indian dies, however
many horses he may possess, they are all killed, and his other
belongings are scrupulously burned. Thus, no family can acquire such a
preponderance of wealth as would enable it, in time, to obtain an
ascendant influence over and curtail the liberties of the rest of the
tribe. Whatever the defects of this system may be, from the political
economist's point of view, it seems to be very well adapted to the
desires and circumstances of the Tehuelches; and as an instance of how
socialistic tendencies may be practically modified to suit certain
exceptional conditions of existence, it is, perhaps, not without some
interest.

If required to distinguish the Tehuelche by a single characteristic
epithet, I should call him, not the noble, but the happy savage. Far
from being saturnine or grave, he is as light-hearted as a child, all
mirth and contentment, and wonderfully easily moved to laughter. Life
is, indeed, a very pleasant matter for him. Without any exertion on
his part being necessary, all his wants are supplied in abundance. He
has no onerous daily drudgery to undergo; he has no enemies to fear;
he is not driven from his hunting-grounds to starvation and death,
like his North American cousins, by the ever-advancing white man. He
is seldom visited by sickness, and his life is unusually prolonged.
That he has absolutely no troubles I will not affirm, but if he has
any he certainly takes them very lightly.

To conclude these few remarks on the Tehuelche race in reviewing their
characteristics it is impossible not to award them a high rank in the
list of uncivilised nationalities. To admit that they have many
faults, is, after all, merely saying that they are human; but these
faults are redeemed by many unusual excellences. They are
good-natured, hospitable, and affectionate; their instincts are
gentle; violence and ferocity are foreign to their nature; and though
not invariably veracious nor strictly honest, if they think you trust
them, they will take care not to deceive you. Their one great failing
is their addiction to rum, to whose fatal agency the rapid decrease
in their numbers, and the consequent fast-approaching extinction of
their race, must be ascribed.

But to return to my narrative. Our tent having been set up, and all
our saddle-gear stowed away, I strolled into the Indian camp, followed
by the chattering crowd which had come out to meet us. My curious
glances at these children of the desert were certainly repaid with
interest; and they subjected my person and belongings to the closest
scrutiny. The texture of my coat was carefully examined, and appeared
to give rise to a lengthy discussion, which was carried on with more
zeal and earnestness than the merits of the subject would seem to
warrant, and nothing but a good stare of several minutes' duration at
my face seemed to satisfy even the least curious among them.

The camp was composed of five toldos, or tents, each tent containing
on the average about twenty-five souls. These toldos are very
practically constructed, and, notwithstanding their formidable size,
they are set up or taken down by the squaws in a surprisingly short
space of time. A covering made of guanaco skins is drawn over a rough
framework of wood, consisting of a double row of stakes and
cross-beams, lashed together with thongs of guanaco hide. The front of
the tent is generally open, but it can be closed whenever occasion
requires. The interior is divided into partitions, each inmate having
his own bunk, where he sleeps and where his gear and chattels are
stowed away when not in use.

I entered one of these tents, and looked about me. In the front part
there were three or four small fires, round each of which sat a circle
of Indians, who were warming their toes, and smoking or taking maté.
The squaws were all hard at work, sewing capas, weaving fillets, or
tying up bundles of ostrich feathers. At my approach they stopped
working, and broke into a chorus of guttural commentaries on my
appearance, interspersed with a great deal of noisy laughter, which
they kept up till I left the tent. Little children and dogs were
sprawling about the place in all directions, apparently on very good
terms with each other--a dog not unfrequently gnawing at one end of a
piece of meat, off the other end of which a young Tehuelche hopeful
was making his dinner. In another corner was a group deeply immersed
in the chances and changes of a game of cards. Some of the Indians are
inveterate gamblers, and play for very high stakes indeed. It is not
an uncommon thing for a 'plunger' to risk all his horses and his
saddle-gear, knife and bolas to boot, on the chances of a single game.

We visited all the tents, and then went back to enjoy a pipe by our
own fireside. We had not been long seated when quite a deputation of
pretty young squaws arrived, to interview us. They bashfully sat down
at some distance from our fire, and for a time did nothing but giggle
and look shy. At last one of them, the prettiest (artful daughters of
Eve!), after a great deal of argument and some persuasive pushing,
seemed to consent to become the spokeswoman of the party, and taking
courage, came boldly up to us, and producing a plate from under her
capa, with a very engaging smile she held it out to me, repeating the
word 'Azucar' several times in a pleading, coaxing tone, which it was
impossible to resist. I gave her some sugar and biscuit, with which
she returned to her companions, seemingly very much pleased. After
having sat for a few minutes longer, just for politeness' sake, as it
were, they got up and went back to their homes. They must have
reported favourably on the results of their expedition, for they had
not been gone long when another lot arrived, who also wanted azucar.
We had just doled out a small portion to them, when still another
crowd came down upon us, composed chiefly of elderly squaws, each with
a plate, and such a cheerful desire to see it filled with sugar, that
it became necessary to restrain our generous instincts, and stow away
the sugar bags in the depths of our tent. Finding us inexorable, the
elders soon took their departure, in great good-humour, and seemingly
as happy as if they had got all they wanted.

We were favoured with a great many visits during dinner, and at one
time we were the centre of a circle of men, women, and children, two
rows deep, who were incessant in their demands for biscuit, sugar, or
something, but so calmly indifferent under the inevitable refusal with
which, in self-defence, we were obliged to meet all their
supplications, that it seemed they really did not care whether they
got anything given to them or not. Post-prandially I mused whether,
after all, they had not the advantage over me. It is true I had 'the
cakes and ale;' but then, on the other hand, to make matters even,
they had the finely-balanced temperament which enabled them to bear
the want of those luxuries with the most perfect equanimity.

After dinner, Garcia sat down to play cards with an Indian. I watched
him lose successively his bolas, his lasso, his knife, and his saddle,
and when I went to bed he was just commencing another game, for which
the stakes were a horse a side. I fully expected to wake up the next
morning and find that he had lost his whole troop; but he was not so
unfortunate, and when they finally left off playing he was only a pair
of bolas to the bad.




CHAPTER VII.


The next morning, having said good-bye to Isidoro, who was stopping
some days with the Indians before coming down to Santa Cruz to
accompany me to Sandy Point, we started off at a brisk gallop, which
in about three hours brought us to the broad valley down which the
Santa Cruz River rolls its rapid and tortuous course.

The weather was already sensibly colder than at St. Julian. On our
road we encountered several snow and hail-storms, and were therefore
not sorry when we at last arrived in front of Pavon Island, where
there is a small house, built many years ago by an Argentine, who
lived there for the purpose of trading with the Indians--a business
still carried on by its present inmate, Don Pedro Dufour.

On hearing our shouts, the inmates of the island, _i.e._, Don Pedro
and his peon, came over to us in a small boat, in which our effects
and persons were safely transported to the island. The horses and dogs
had to swim over as best they could, and a very hard and cold job they
must have found it, as the current of the river runs with extreme
velocity, something over six miles an hour.

The house into which Don Pedro gave us a hearty welcome, was built of
adobe and stones, and contained two dwelling-rooms, a kitchen, and a
store-room. There was another smaller house on the island, used as a
store-room for the sugar, biscuit, aguadiente, etc., which Don Pedro
barters with the Indians for guanaco capas and ostrich feathers.

In the long grass behind the house a troop of horses was grazing,
together with four or five fine sheep, with which, judging by their
splendid condition, the pasturage of Patagonia evidently agreed. A pig
was grunting and clamouring greedily for food in a pen hard by; ducks,
pigeons, and other poultry were pecking about the yard; a thrush was
singing in a cage hung up outside the house, and altogether there was
quite a homely, civilised look about the place which I should not have
expected to find, considering that it is the only fixed human
habitation in that immense desert, which extends for a distance of
some seven hundred miles, from Chubut to Sandy Point--a desert whose
area is twice that of Great Britain, and whose only inhabitants are a
few ostrich-hunters and Indians.

Pending Isidoro's arrival, I made several excursions in the
neighbourhood of the island, amongst others, one to the port of Santa
Cruz, where in the hollow of a sheltered ravine stands the settlement
of M. Rouquand. The houses, of which there are several, built of
timber brought from Buenos Ayres for the purpose, I found to be little
the worse for wear or weather.

The cañon where these houses stand is still called 'Les Misioneros,'
for it was there that some missionaries resided in 1863, who laboured
for a time at the attempted conversion of the Tehuelches to
Christianity, without, however, meeting with the success their
endeavours deserved.

It is a pity that M. Rouquand's courageous attempt at colonising that
desert place and founding an industry, whose success would have been
an incentive to further enterprise, should have been thwarted by
Chili's having taken umbrage at his occupying a miserable piece of
ground, of no possible value to anybody, without having previously
gone through the formality of asking their ratification of the
concession granted him by the Argentine Government.

The port of Santa Cruz is formed by the confluence of the river of
that name and its tributary, the Rio Chico, which at this point
expands into a broad bay, capable of affording shelter to a number of
ships, and of easy access from the ocean, there being about fifty feet
of water over the bar at high tide.

The river Santa Cruz varies in breadth from four hundred yards to
nearly a mile, and runs along a winding valley, which extends in a
direct line to the westward. In 1834 an expedition under Admiral
Fitzroy, composed of three light boats, manned by eighteen sailors,
started up the river, with the object of ascertaining its source; but
having ascended a distance of 140 miles from the sea, and 240 by the
course of the river, want of provisions obliged him to turn back,
especially as, finding no diminution in the volume of its waters, he
inferred that its upper course must be along the base of the Andes,
from north to south, and that its source must probably be near that of
the Rio Negro, in lat. 45° S.

In this conjecture he was at error, for in 1877 Dr. F. Moreno
successfully determined the source of the Santa Cruz as being taken
from a lake situated in lat. 50° 14' S., and long. 71° 59' W., some
miles from Lake Viedma, with which, however, it has no visible
communication. This fine sheet of water measures thirty miles from
east to west, and ten miles at its greatest breadth; its depth Dr.
Moreno was unable to ascertain--with a line of 120 feet he could find
no bottom at a short distance from the shore.

According to the same authority the greatest depth of the river is
seventy feet, but the rapidity of the current, in some places as much
as fifteen miles an hour, must have prevented reliable soundings being
taken.

Near Lake Viedma is a volcano, the Chalten, which, according to the
Indians, still throws out quantities of ashes. At the time Dr. Moreno
was there, a column of smoke was issuing from its crater.

The country around Santa Cruz River differs in no way from that I had
already traversed, one of the peculiarities of Patagonian landscape
being its complete sameness. The plains, which occupy the greater
portion of the country, extend along the Atlantic Ocean. The line
separating them from the fertile mountain regions is extremely sharply
defined. Beginning at Cape Negro, Magellan Straits, lat. 53° S. and
long. 75° 50' W., it runs thence west-north-west to the north-eastern
extremity of Otway Water, following the channels of Fitzroy Passage,
and the northern shores of Skyring Water to long. 72° W., and then
extends along the eastern shores of Obstruction Sound and Kirke Water,
running then due northward towards Lake Viedma. These plains rise
almost uniformly, 300 feet high, one above another, like terraces, and
are traversed occasionally by ravines and flat-bottomed depressions,
which latter frequently contain salt lakes. The formation of the
country is tertiary, resting on porphyry and quartz, ridges of which
often protrude through the surface. Near long. 70° W. the plains are
capped with a layer of lava, about a hundred miles in width.

Darwin accounts for the regularity with which the plains rise one over
the other by the supposition that the land has been raised in a mass
from under the sea, the upheaving movement having been interrupted by
at least eight long periods of rest, during which the sea ate deeply
back into the land, forming at successive levels the long lines of
escarpments which separate the different plains.

In that strange country the vegetable kingdom is as little varied as
the aspect of the landscape: from Chubut to Sandy Point, from the
sea-coast to the Cordilleras, one meets the same few species of
miserable stunted bushes and coarse grasses.

The following is a cut showing the formation of the country at Port
St. Julian:[A]

  [Illustration:
               { 3 feet    Sand.
               { 7  "      Red clay, quantities of shells and
               {             macranchenia bones.
               { 3½  "     {
               { 3  "      { Layers of porphyry pebbles, alternating
               {           {   with porous sandstone.
               { 3¾  "     {
     42½ feet. { 6½  "     Fossil mass in three layers, consisting
               {             chiefly of oysters and pecten.
               { 3  "      Porous sandstone, numbers of scutella
               {             shells.
               { 7¾  "     Green sandy clay, containing broken
               {             masses of chalk and quantities of
               {             _Ostrea Patagonica_.
               { 1  "      Sand.
               { -----     Level of the Sea.
               { 4  "]

[A] From a perforation made by E. de Ville Massot, C.E.

Of bushes, the most frequent are the jume (_Salicemia_) and the
calafaté (_Berberis axifolia_). The former plant is remarkably rich in
soda, as will be seen by the following analysis of its ash:

     Chloride of sodium          19·38
     Sulphate of lime             9·50
     Carbonate of magnesia        1·94
     Phosphate of potash         12·15
     Carbonate of potash          7·50
     Silicate of soda             7·80
     Carbonate of soda           41·73
                                ------
                                100·00

Though they are so little favoured by nature, still I must confess
that in the sober-hued Patagonian landscapes, with their grave breadth
and stern severity of outline, and in the grand monotony of solemn
silence and solitude pervading their barren plains, there is something
which has left a far deeper impression on my mind than has the
brightest and most varied tropical scenery. Standing in the midst of
one of those seemingly endless plains, one experiences an indefinable
feeling of awe, akin to that which the contemplation of the ocean
produces, only, perhaps, more impressively grand; for the ocean is
ever noisy and restless, the pampa eternally silent and still.

During my stay at Santa Cruz, nothing of importance occurred, if I may
except a ball given by the Indians at the Rio Chico, in honour of
somebody's marriage or funeral: I forget which. An Indian who came to
the island to get the rum, which is a _sine quâ non_ at all their
entertainments, invited us to assist at the ball--an offer which we
readily accepted.

On arriving at the camp, a very lively scene presented itself to our
eyes. As is customary on such occasions, several mares had been
killed, and roasting and boiling was going on at numerous fires.
Everyone was feasting in the greatest good-humour, which on our
approach was further heightened, scouts having already brought the
news that we were coming with the aguadiente.

The advent of the latter was greeted with loud acclamations; some of
the older men gathered round the cask, which was speedily tapped, and
then with great unction and solemnity they proceeded to taste the
liquor, in order to see whether it had been overwatered. Several
decided grunts of satisfaction, however, showed that these aged
fathers approved of its strength; whereupon a general and doubtless
equitable distribution of the spirit took place, and before long the
whole camp--men, women, and children--had ample opportunities for
judging of its merits for themselves.

Presently a dance was organised. The men who took part in it were all
specially painted for the occasion, and wore long feathers on their
heads. The dance itself was a monotonous jig, executed to the
excruciating music of various drums or tom-toms. The women, strange
to say, do not dance; at least, they did not as long as they were
sober.

As the evening wore on, after vast quantities of meat had been
consumed and innumerable dances had been performed, special attention
began to be paid to the aguadiente, and the fun consequently soon
began to get very fast and very furious.

Long before midnight everyone was more or less drunk, and the ball
which had commenced with becoming order and solemnity had now
degenerated into a wild orgie. The flames from the different fires,
strangely blended with the pale moonlight, cast a lurid glare on the
dusky bodies and painted faces of the revellers, who, mad with
excitement and drink, were dancing, singing, and whooping in deafening
concert. A more gruesome scene it was hard to imagine. It seemed as if
the imps of darkness were celebrating their unearthly rites in this
desert spot, and I half expected, at any moment, to see the whole crew
vanish, with a flash and a bang, into the bowels of the earth, leaving
the orthodox smell of sulphur behind them.

Nothing of the sort occurred, however, though I presently received a
shock almost as startling as any supernatural event could have been.
An old squaw, who was painfully of this world and the vanities
thereof, and who had previously been addressing me for some time in
the most eloquent of gutturals, finding that nothing could melt my icy
demeanour, as a last resource suddenly threw her arms round my
unsuspecting neck and hugged me in a greasy embrace.

With great difficulty I managed to free myself, whereupon I ran away
towards some other part of the camp, to escape further annoyance. Had
this old beldame been acquainted with woman's privileges on such
occasions, she would have known that, under the circumstances, the
correct thing to have done was to have fainted or become hysterical.
But nothing could have been further from the thoughts of this
unenlightened savage--the impulse of her untrained mind being to run
after me as hard as her legs could carry her. And the rest of the
Indians, with one of those sudden whims drunken people are liable to,
took it into their heads to join in the chase, and I soon had the
whole crowd shrieking and howling at my heels. What their intentions
were I don't know, nor did I feel inclined to discover; fortunately,
before they came up to me I reached my horse, which I had left ready
saddled, and galloping swiftly away, I soon left them behind me.

I was presently joined by Garcia and the others, who had taken the
same opportunity to escape in order to avoid the rows with which these
balls frequently wind up. They are not often attended by actual
bloodshed, however, as the squaws, with naïve foresight, generally
hide all weapons before the ceremonies commence. We reached Santa Cruz
shortly after daybreak, and so ended my first experience of a
Tehuelche merry-making.

I called at the camp the next day to pay my _visite de digestion_, and
made a point of going to the tent where the old squaw, who was so near
becoming _teterrima causa belli_, abode. She had a bad headache, and
looked very demure and penitent. I rallied her with smiles, and
attempted, by my assiduous attentions, to make up for my discourteous
behaviour of the previous evening. But she took no notice of me, and
received all my overtures with the utmost indifference. It was a case
of--

     'The devil was sick; the devil a saint would be.'




CHAPTER VIII.


Shortly after, on the 2nd of October, Isidoro came over to Pavon
Island, with his horses and some 250 lb. of ostrich feathers sewn up
in hides, which he was going to take down to Sandy Point to barter,
and I accordingly made the necessary arrangements for accompanying
him.

Never was a more unlucky trip commenced under more unfavourable
auspices.

I was extremely unwell, and my indisposition increased with every
hour. Isidoro, in crossing over to the island, had lost his whip in
the river, and he seemed to consider this a sure omen of misfortune.
The mishap threw quite a gloom over his mind, and he almost decided on
giving up the journey altogether. With great difficulty I persuaded
him to relinquish this intention, though I little thought as I did so
that I was indirectly drawing him to his ruin.

The weather, too, was unpropitious. Twice heavy showers of rain made
us turn back when on the point of starting. We had already unsaddled
our horses and put off our departure till the next day; but towards
midday the sun again shone out, and that finally decided us to make a
definite start.

As we calculated that our journey to Sandy Point would last about
eight days, we took but few provisions; and in order to spare the
pack-horse as much as possible, we left our tent behind, trusting to
the weather not to be too severe upon us. The cavalcade consisted of
Isidoro, Guillaume, and myself, twenty-eight horses, and five dogs.

Having said good-bye to Don Pedro, Garcia, and Maximo, who were
remaining at Santa Cruz, we mounted our horses, forded the river, and
got under route.

We had not gone far when the weather again changed for the worse. A
drizzling sleet--half rain, half snow--began to fall, and a thick mist
settled down on the hills, giving an indescribably mournful appearance
to the at all times gloomy country.

We rode along in the lowest of spirits and in the midst of a cheerless
silence, broken only by the patter of the rain or the splashing of our
horses' hoofs over the marshy ground. As we went on, my headache grew
more and more violent, and every movement of the horse made me wince
with pain; but not wishing to turn back now that we were once off, I
bore up as well as I could for several hours, till at last, burning
with fever and thoroughly exhausted with the efforts I had made to
subdue my sufferings, I fairly began to reel in my saddle, and,
finding it impossible to continue any longer on horseback, I called
out to my companions to halt.

Although we were just in the middle of a bare plain, there was
fortunately a little grass growing round the borders of a small sheet
of water near where I dismounted, or otherwise, on account of the
horses, we should have been obliged to continue till we got to the
next ravine, which was still a considerable distance off.

They made a bed for me under a low bush, and I was glad to be able to
lie down. I suffered intensely all through the night, tossing
sleeplessly about, and longing for dawn to appear.

The morning found me in such a state that, much to my own and my
companions' regret, it was quite impossible to continue the journey,
though, had I foreseen the consequences of that one day's delay, I
would have gone on, even if I had had to be lashed to the saddle.

It was altogether a very miserable time. It is pleasant enough to roam
over the pampa when you are strong and well, and can enjoy a good
gallop after an ostrich in that pure, inspiriting air, when the
coarsest food seems delicious, and you can sleep as soundly on the
hardest couch as on the softest feather-bed; but it is another thing
when you are sick and in pain, and miss the darkened room, the
tempting viands, the cooling drinks, and the thousand devices which
make sickness less trying. When, instead, you have to face the weary
pangs of illness, exposed alternately to the glaring sunshine and the
cold rain showers, stretched on the bare ground, a hard saddle for
your pillow, a miserable bush your sole shelter against the cutting
wind. Then, like me, you will probably lose a little of your
enthusiasm for the romantic life of the pampa, and sigh for the
comforts of humdrum civilisation.

The next day my anxiety to reach Sandy Point as early as possible,
urged me to declare that I felt well enough to continue the journey,
and enabled me to support the unintermitting pains the movement of the
horse inflicted on my sore body, which, without the assistance of so
strong a motive, I should hardly have been able to do.

However, I gradually got better, and by the time we reached Coy Inlet,
which was on the fourth day after leaving Santa Cruz, I felt all right
again. We found Coy Inlet River rather swollen, but the ford was still
quite passable, from which circumstance we concluded that that of the
river Gallegos would be equally so--a matter of congratulation for us,
as at that time of the year the snows melt in the Cordilleras, and the
rivers are frequently impassable for several days together.

We were in high spirits over that evening's supper, and already began
calculating how many nights we had yet to pass before we should be
able to go to sleep, heedless of wind or rain, under roof in Sandy
Point. It was the last cheerful evening we were to pass for a long
time to come, though we little dreamt it.

The following morning we started for our next stage, Rio Gallegos,
which is about fifty miles from Coy Inlet.

The pace we travelled at was a kind of amble, half trot, half canter,
though occasionally, when the nature of the ground we were riding over
permitted, we would break into an easy gallop. The horses of Patagonia
are remarkable for their endurance; seventy or eighty miles a day over
that most trying country, with its rapid succession of steep
escarpments, seems nothing to them, and if at the end of the day's
journey an ostrich starts up, they will answer to the spur and dash
away after it as fresh and as gamely as if they had just been saddled.

The guanacos seemed more numerous than ever in the plains we were now
crossing; some herds which swept past us, I think, must have numbered
quite six or seven hundred head. They gave us far more trouble than we
gave them, for every now and then the dogs, who with difficulty could
keep cool in the presence of such abundance of game, would make a dash
at some peculiarly tempting quarry, only to be brought back to their
masters' heels, after much whistling and shouting, thereby causing
considerable delay in our onward progress.

On this day I was particularly struck with the change in the
temperature, which had been gradually growing colder since we left
Santa Cruz, and which was now already unpleasantly raw and severe.
Over the plain, too, there was a keen wind blowing, which seemed to go
right through one, and we were glad when we at last reached a long
ravine called the Ravine of the Squaws, which leads down from the
plains into Gallegos valley. It bears this name because, when coming
from Coy Inlet, the Indian women always enter the valley by that
route. As they then form in single file, the hoofs of so many horses
following in each other's wake have gradually worn several deep but
narrow trails into the soil. The men ride down anywhere, without
reference to the movements of the squaws, who always approach their
camps from exactly the same points. The Indians change their camps
with tolerable regularity according to the time of the year. They
generally pass the winter together in Coy Inlet or Gallegos valley,
and in spring, after the young guanaco hunting is over, they break up
and disperse; some going to the Cordilleras, others to Santa Cruz, and
others again to Sandy Point, though the latter settlement is never
honoured with their presence long, as there is not sufficient
pasturage for the horses in that region, and the dogs, too, have to
subsist on very short rations, as ostriches are rather scarce in the
vicinity of Sandy Point, and guanacos do not range so far south.

Presently a turn of the ravine brought us in full view of the valley,
though the river itself was as yet invisible. A few minutes would now
settle all doubts as to the state of the ford. We broke into a gallop,
craning our necks anxiously to get a glimpse of the water, in rather
dubious suspense. It was of material importance for me to take the
steamer of the 15th of that month, and if the river was unfordable I
knew we might have to wait for at least eight days before the waters
would subside, and that delay would cause me to lose my steamer.

Suddenly Isidoro, who was some way ahead, drew in his reins and
stopped short, turning round with a look of blank dismay on his brown
face, which told but too plainly that our worst fears were realised.
With drooping reins we rode slowly on till we got to the river, now no
longer the shallow stream which in summer one can wade over knee-deep,
but a broad torrent, which eddied, swirled, and foamed, as it dashed
rapidly over its stormy bed through banks which were already growing
too narrow for its swollen waters. In the middle we could still see a
single tuft of long grass, which was bending with the current, and
this, Isidoro told me, grew on a little island, which when the river
is fordable, is several feet above the water's level. Twenty-four
hours ago it had doubtless been high and dry. We had arrived just a
day too late--the day lost on account of my illness!

We stood for some time in silence, staring blankly at the obstacle
which had suddenly sprung up to bar our progress, with a feeling of
utter disgust and helplessness; and then, the first shock of the
disappointment over, we began to discuss the chances in favour of a
speedy fall of the water. Isidoro was of opinion, from previous
acquaintance with the river at that season, that in eight days at the
most, it would have sunk to its ordinary level, two or three
consecutive days of frost being quite sufficient to arrest the thawing
of the snows on the Cordilleras, and to cause the river to fall as
rapidly as it had risen.

But even eight days seemed a long time to look forward to; eight days
to be passed in tiresome inaction and constant exposure to the
weather, and we now bitterly regretted not having brought the tent
with us. Our provisions, too, had only been calculated for a ten-days'
trip, and were already almost exhausted. Though, of course, we need
never want for meat, still lean meat, without salt or any farinaceous
adjunct, is not the kind of diet to keep up one's strength in cold
weather, and under all sorts of exertions and hardships. All these
disagreeables, however, seemed slight ones, compared with the
misfortune of having lost the steamer of the 15th, by which, for
pressing reasons, I ought to have immediately proceeded to Buenos
Ayres. There was now no other chance of leaving Sandy Point till the
30th. Isidoro, too, had some reason to be concerned at the delay, for
if he did not reach the settlement soon, he knew the price of feathers
would have fallen considerably, and he would make but a bad bargain.
Altogether, it was with heavy hearts that we slowly turned from the
river, in search of some suitable spot for camping at. In that respect
we were unfortunate also, not being able to find a sheltering bush
anywhere. Gallegos is the favourite camping-place of the Indians
during several months of the year, and consequently any bushes which
may formerly have existed in the immediate neighbourhood of the
valley, had long been broken up by the squaws for firewood. Finally,
we had to camp on the open, about three miles from the river,
sheltered slightly on one side by the tall escarpment which bounds one
side of the valley, but exposed on all others to whatever wind might
choose to blow, and if it should happen to rain we had of course no
means of keeping anything dry.

Another inconvenience of not having some bush to camp under was that
the fire was completely at the mercy of the wind, and flared away
without emitting any warmth, blinding those who sat round it with
smoke, and making it very difficult to cook anything properly. With
the packages containing Isidoro's feathers we managed to rig up a kind
of makeshift to obviate this difficulty, and then we all three set
about looking for firewood, to collect which we had to wander about
for a long time, as the whole country round seemed to have been swept
bare of that necessary by the Indians.

We were not very cheerful over our dinner that evening, as may be
imagined. The fire burned badly, the air was cold and damp, and soon
after our meal we rolled ourselves in our furs, and prepared to pass
the first of the many nights we were fated to sleep through on the
banks of the river Gallegos.




CHAPTER IX.


My first thought on waking the next morning was, of course, the river.
During the night, in a moment of wakefulness, a steady rumbling noise,
the rush of distant water, had struck on my listening ear, and I was
accordingly prepared to find a further rise in the river at daylight.
But the sight which now met my gaze took me by surprise
notwithstanding. The whole of the lower-lying portion of the valley,
as far as the eye could reach, was one sheet of water, and the flood
was almost visibly rising towards those parts which yet remained dry.
The river itself was no longer distinguishable, being confounded with
the general mass of water, but we could plainly hear the dull roar of
its mighty current, which was still sweeping down with unabated force,
bearing on its curling waters huge trunks of trees, which, perhaps,
but the day before had been torn from the distant Cordilleras.

On account of the high position of our camp, we were as yet far from
the flood, though if it continued to rise as rapidly as hitherto, we
might soon have to move further on.

Isidoro, too, was quite aghast at the dimensions the inundation was
assuming. He had never seen the river so swollen before, and began
seriously to doubt whether, in a fortnight even, we should be able to
cross over, as there was no knowing how long the rise would continue.
The snowfall of the past winter had been heavier than any of the
oldest Indians could remember, and it might reasonably be supposed
that the spring-floods would be proportionately unusual in volume and
duration.

We passed all that day in gloomy forebodings, watching the progress of
the water. At night-time it was still steadily rising. The following
morning we found the flood had risen to within fifteen feet of our
camp; but we had the satisfaction of finding that it was already
abating, for during the night it had been several feet higher, as
evinced by the marks left on the grass. Indeed, all day it kept on
falling, and so rapidly that we commenced to speculate on whether the
river might not eventually subside as quickly as it had risen, and
allow us to cross over, after all, within the eight days we had from
the first considered as the probable duration of our enforced stay at
Gallegos.

The next day again brought despondency. The water seemed to have
remained stationary during the night, and there was a change for the
worse in the weather. The thick mist which had accompanied daybreak
resolved itself, as the morning wore on, into a steady heavy rainfall,
which seemed grimly resolved to reduce us to the last stage of misery
and discomfort.

We covered up our furs with the packages of feathers, so as, if
possible, to have something dry for bedtime; and then cowered round
the drooping fire in resigned helplessness, whilst it rained and
rained down upon us with merciless pertinacity.

There is nothing so trying as having to sit hour after hour in
dejected silence, exposed to a cold rain-storm, which you know may
possibly last for days, and from which you have absolutely no shelter,
feeling, as time goes on, the damp gradually creeping through your
clothes, till it at last reaches the skin and chills you to the bone,
while occasional rills of water run off your back hair and trickle
icily down your shivering neck, till you are thoroughly drenched and
numbed and cramped with cold.

We passively sat shivering in this wretched plight till long after
noon, getting up now and then to have a look at the weather or to
stretch our stiffened limbs. At last the clouds began to break up, the
storm collected its dying force in one last fierce downpour, and then
ceased altogether, giving us just time to dry our clothes and bodies
with the aid of a good fire before night came on.

The days dragged their slow length along, and at last a week, which,
in the weariness of eternally watching and waiting, seemed more like a
month, had gone past without any signs of a speedy abatement in the
height of the river. The waters had fallen, it is true, and were still
falling, but how slowly and sluggishly!

Day after day I used to climb up the tall escarpment bounding the
northern plain, from the top of which a good view was to be obtained
of the valley, which was now one vast sheet of water, dotted here and
there with green islands, a long line of foam showing where the course
of the river lay. There I would sit for hours, watching how little
tufts of grass would gradually enlarge into islands, which in their
turn would slowly grow and grow till they joined and formed part of
the mainland, which was slowly but steadily reclaiming its lost
domains from the retreating waters. This was my only occupation; I had
no heart to join Isidoro on his frequent hunting expeditions; the
river was my sole thought, the only topic of conversation in which I
could take any interest, and beside that everything else was of the
utmost indifference.

It was not that I had any actual fear of losing the steamer of the
30th, especially after the eighth day of our sojourn, during which the
water had fallen with such surprising quickness that the banks of the
river were in some parts beginning to uncover again. Still,
occasionally, the fact that it was just within the limits of
possibility that I might not be able to pass in time would obtrude
itself unpleasantly on my mind; and though I would immediately
triumphantly argue any such idea away, yet I felt that nothing was
absolutely sure till we were actually on the other side of the river,
and, pending that event, I was in a continual state of worry and
restlessness.

When we had been nine days at Guaraiké, as that part of Gallegos is
called by the Indians, Isidoro suggested, in view of the late rapid
fall of the water, that we should go to another pass, some forty miles
further up the river, which he thought might perhaps be fordable
before the one we were now at.

Any change was welcome to me; I had got to know and grow weary of
every line, every curve of the country, every stone almost, round our
present camp, and leaving them seemed a step towards crossing the
river. It was, therefore, with a comparatively light heart that I
helped to drive up, pack, and saddle the horses, and soon we were off
for the 'Paso del Medio,' or Middle Pass, as it is called.

As usual there was a boisterous wind blowing upon the plains, though
far colder and sharper than any we had as yet experienced. In fact,
the weather, instead of daily growing warmer, had been steadily
becoming colder and colder, and of late snow-squalls had become of
quite frequent occurrence.

Several hours' riding brought us to the Middle Pass. Before camping we
rode down to inspect the state of the water. At Guaraiké we had been
unable to approach the river itself, as all the land on our side had
been flooded over; but here at one spot the river bent in towards the
northern side of the valley, and flowed for some distance along a
steep cliff, which, of course, it could not overflow, and we were thus
enabled to go down to its very brink, which was in so far satisfactory
as it enabled us to gauge with more exactness the rise or fall of the
flood.

I drove a stake into the bank, and notched it at the water's level,
and then we went back to a bush we selected for camping under. It was
rather a small one, and, being upon the plain, was exposed to the full
force of the wind. However, it was the most suitable place we could
find, and with the aid of some drift-wood, quantities of which were
lying along the banks of the river, we managed to build up a kind of
one-walled hut, which formed a tolerable shelter against the wind. The
latter, during the whole of my stay in Patagonia, blew almost
uninterruptedly from the west, either more or less cold, according as
it came from the north-west or south-west.

That evening we ate our last biscuit; our other provisions had already
been exhausted, and henceforward we were reduced to a regimen of
guanaco and ostrich-meat, _pur et simple_, without salt even, for our
small stock of that necessary, notwithstanding careful nursing, had
also gradually thinned away. At first the results of this exclusively
meat diet were very unpleasant. However much I would eat at a
meal--and the quantity of meat I consumed at times was incredible--half
an hour afterwards I would feel as famished as if I had touched
nothing for days; in fact, I seemed to derive no nourishment at all
from my food. As time went on, however, I got more used to the change,
and soon ceased to experience so phenomenal and troublesome an
appetite, though, of course, I grew very weak, and had it not been for
the ostriches' eggs we occasionally found, and which kept up my
stamina a little, I should not have had sufficient strength to support
me through the exertions I was subsequently called upon to make.

It became quite an important event when, as now and then happened, we
managed to kill a puma, as we were then enabled to indulge in fat
meat. On these occasions, I remember, I used to feel rather disgusted
at the voracity with which we all used to gorge ourselves on the fat,
without biscuit, salt, or any other condiment. But when one passes
days and days, eating nothing but the leanest and most tasteless of
meat, and more especially in cold weather, one feels a hankering for
fat, as strong as the habitual drunkard's craving for alcohol.

The day after our arrival at the Paso del Medio, the waters commenced
to retire at a rapid pace, and such improvement shortly took place in
the state of things, that we quite looked forward to being able to
cross in three or four days.

The water had disappeared everywhere except in close vicinity to the
river, which still looked of formidable breadth, however, though its
banks were for the most part uncovered. We had had several sharp
frosts, and the weather had continued bitterly cold, to which
fortunate circumstance we attributed the corresponding speedy
abatement in the water. But now came two successive days of warm
sunshine, and, though the water still continued to fall, Isidoro grew
apprehensive of a fresh thaw taking place in the Cordilleras, before
the effects of the first flood had subsided sufficiently to allow of
our passing the river.

This new danger threatening us gave me extreme uneasiness. I had
already observed how sensitive the river was to the state of the
temperature, its fall varying in measure as the weather, in the
preceding one or two days, had been more or less cold, and I therefore
looked doubtfully forward to the morrow for the effects of the
before-mentioned comparatively warm days.

Our apprehensions were unfortunately but too well founded. The next
day I had no need to go down to examine the notch on the stake, to
find out whether the river had fallen or risen. Without leaving our
camp, which was at some distance from the valley, one could see but
too plainly that a fresh flood had taken place during the night. The
banks of the river had disappeared, and half the valley was under
water again. Thus one night had undone all the progress of several
days, and our chances of crossing the river had become as
problematical as they had been ten days ago.

This was a heavy, disheartening blow to me. Now it was indeed
difficult to foresee when we might be able to pass. Any attempt at
calculating the event was gratuitous in the face of what had just
happened. The water might rise and fall in the same manner a dozen
times. The unusual fall of snow that winter might entail, and had in
fact already entailed, unusual consequences. We might be kept waiting
for weeks, and months even, during which my friends would be kept in a
state of great anxiety and suspense as to my fate; and, apart from
these considerations, now that the charm of novelty had worn off, the
life of hardship and isolation I was leading had become extremely
distasteful to me; a deep _ennui_ fell upon me, which I could not
shake off, and which the society of my companions was not calculated
to dissipate. I impatiently longed for those refinements and
associations of civilisation, from which, at the outset of my trip, I
had thought it pleasant to escape.

Under the influence of all these feelings I resolved to attempt to
swim the river. On the first day of our arrival at Guaraiké I had
seriously entertained this plan, but I had then rejected it as being
attended with considerable danger, and also because I had hoped that
in a few days the river might be fordable. The danger was now, of
course, still greater; but the prospect of an indefinite prolongation
of my present unbearable position was so terrible that I felt ready
for any enterprise, however risky, which might free me from it.

Guillaume, to whom I communicated my intentions, thought my idea was
practicable, and declared himself ready to accompany me whenever I
chose. He, too, was anxious to get to Sandy Point for several reasons,
of which the chief one was that he had no tobacco left, and life
without it, he seemed to think, was not worth living.

It was now the 18th October, and if we crossed the river by the 26th
we had plenty of time to get to Sandy Point by the 1st November, on or
about which day the next steamer passed for Buenos Ayres. We therefore
deferred the carrying out of our plans for a few days, in order to
await a fresh fall in the water.

I felt much more tranquil now that I had made up my mind to take the
bull by the horns, and my companions were surprised at the sudden
change of my spirits, which henceforward were more cheerful and
buoyant than they had been for a long time.




CHAPTER X.


We stopped two days longer at the Paso del Medio, and then, tormented
with continual restlessness, we moved thirty miles further up, to the
last pass, called the 'Paso de Alquinta.'

We camped at about six miles from the pass itself, under shelter of
what Isidoro, rather grandiloquently, persisted in calling a 'house,'
but which was in reality nothing but three low walls, barely four feet
high, built by some Indian traders of blocks of lava, the chinks
between which were stopped with mud and grass.

The 'house' was, of course, roofless, and by no means so good a
lodging as a thick bush would have been; but still it was better than
nothing, and at all events enabled us to have always a good fire
burning without consuming too much fuel--a very important
consideration, as there was very little wood to be met with anywhere
in that region.

During the first night there was a heavy fall of snow, and on waking I
felt an unusual weight on my furs, and under them an excessive warmth
I was certainly not accustomed to.

  [Illustration]

Thrusting out my head I found everything covered with snow. The
distant hills stood out in glittering relief against the dark grey
sky, and the whole landscape was specklessly white, except where the
river flowed along the valley, looking inky black by contrast with the
surrounding country. Our horses, poor animals, plentifully
besprinkled with snow, too, were standing near to the camp, herded
motionless together, with sadly drooping heads, and an expression of
patient suffering and forlorn misery in their rough faces, which
filled me with compassion for them.

We remained in bed till the afternoon, when the snow began to thaw
away, soaking all our bedding and making things generally
uncomfortable for us.

Fearing the effect the melting of the recent snow might have on the
river, we resolved to make an attempt to cross it the following
morning. Isidoro, to whom we now communicated our intention for the
first time, seemed quite alarmed at the idea, and did everything in
his power to persuade us to desist from it. Until this occasion, I had
never been able to get more than half a dozen words out of him at a
time; but now, in his efforts to induce us to give up our undertaking,
which he qualified as an act of utter madness, he waxed quite
eloquent, and made a longer speech than he had probably ever delivered
himself of in his whole existence. The current, he urged, was too
strong for our horses to stem; moreover, a companion of his, he told
us, had once tried to cross the river when it was not nearly so
swollen as now, and had narrowly escaped being drowned. Finding,
however, that we had made up our minds, and were not to be persuaded
to alter them, Isidoro relapsed into his usual silence, whilst we
made our preparations for the ensuing day.

We intended crossing over at sunrise, so as to have ample time to dry
our wet things on the other side before night-time. In order to be
able to rely on having something dry to cover ourselves with
immediately after our swim over, we rolled two capas up as tightly as
possible, and stuffed them into a small water-tight canvas bag. In the
middle of the capas we carefully placed our greatest treasure--twelve
wax matches in a little tortoise-shell box, which we rendered
impervious to damp by securely wrapping it in pieces of guanaco hide.

Of matches, I must mention, we had run short, as of everything else,
and were compelled to be most economical in the use of the few that
still remained to us, to which end the fire was kept burning day and
night. We put into our saddle-bags sufficient ostrich meat and puma
fat to last us for three days--the time we calculated we should
require to reach Sandy Point in. Guillaume intended leaving his dogs
with Isidoro, as they would suffer unnecessarily from the fatigue of
such a rapid journey.

Having concluded our preparations, we sat down to dinner, over which
we discussed our chances for the morrow, and arranged our plan of
action. There were two ways of crossing over--either we might swim
over on horseback, or put our clothes and things on the horses and
make them swim over first, and then follow ourselves as soon as they
had safely arrived on the opposite shore.

The objection to the first method was that the horses' strength might
possibly give way in the middle of the river, or that by some accident
we might be unseated at a distance from the shore, in either of which
cases, encumbered with our clothes, etc., we were almost certain to be
drowned. The difficulty which presented itself in connection with the
second method was the doubt we felt as to whether we should be able to
stand a long immersion in the icy-cold water without succumbing to
cramp and exhaustion, especially taking into consideration the weak
state our late poor diet had reduced us to. After a long discussion,
we finally adopted the plan of swimming over on horseback.

We went to bed early, but it was a long time before I could fall
asleep; I was too excited with the thoughts of the coming struggle. At
last I was to try conclusions with the river, which had so long
baffled me. If successful, four nights from then I should be at Sandy
Point, sure of my steamer, relieved from the hardships I was now
suffering, and soon to be restored to civilisation, for which I was
longing as ardently as an Indian, confined to the close, noisy streets
of a populous town, might long for the breezy solitudes of the pampa.
In my dreams that night I must have crossed the river twenty times at
least, and I was splashing in the midst of its cold current for the
twenty-first time, when Guillaume woke me up, to tell me it was time
to get ready.

Day was just breaking, and the weather was cloudy and cold. We ate a
hurried breakfast, saddled our horses, and rode down towards the pass,
which was about six miles from where we were camping. On the way we
had to cross the open, and came full under the blast of the bitter
wind, which was especially sharp at that early hour; and we were blue
and shivering long before we got to the river. There was unfortunately
no sun, though I would have given anything for a sight of his cheering
face to keep up my _morale_, which, I must confess, at the prospect of
a cold and dangerous plunge on that wintry morning, had sunk extremely
low. Presently we reached the river, and never, I thought, had it
seemed so broad or looked so unpleasantly dark and treacherous as now.
Its eddying current slid past us with a rapidity which made me giddy
to watch long. The water foamed viciously as it broke into waves, and
showers of spray, swept up by occasional gusts of wind, flew over its
troubled surface.

  [Illustration]

Without further delay, we said good-bye to Isidoro, tightened our
saddle-girths, and rode towards the point from which we intended
starting. There we paused a moment before taking the decisive step
forward--a moment of extreme nervous tension for both of us. I felt
an oppressive contraction of the throat and chest, which, to be
candid, I must attribute to a passing feeling of fear that came over
me at the last moment, now that I was about to commit myself, not
without serious misgivings as to the consequences, to the mercies of
the broad torrent which had so long baffled my progress. However,
remembering that the longer one looks at a leap the less one likes to
take it, I called out to Guillaume that I was ready, and with spur and
whip we urged our horses down the steep bank towards the water.

For a moment, rearing and snorting, they instinctively recoiled from
the dangerous element, but the pebbly bank giving way under their
feet, they could not stop themselves, and down we went--plunge!--head
over ears into the cold water. I came to the surface snapping for
breath, but still in the saddle, though the water, dripping over my
eyes, for a second or two quite blinded me.

After a little urging, the horses at first struck out right enough,
but I found that to keep my seat the greatest exertions were required.
Till then I had never swum on horseback, and had no idea how difficult
it is to remain in the saddle during the process. The water insinuates
itself cunningly between your knees and thighs, imperceptibly you lose
your grip, and, before you know it, you are gently lifted from your
seat, and find yourself afloat, especially when dealing with a current
as strong as the one in question.

In the meantime, our horses went all right till they came to the
middle current, which swept down with great force. The moment they
felt it they suddenly swerved, and made for the bank we had just left.
I tried to make my horse turn again, but it became quite unmanageable,
and Guillaume in a similar attempt was unseated, and was only able to
regain his saddle after a severe struggle, which I watched with
intense anxiety, as I was unable to go to his rescue, being myself in
difficulties.

Breathless and dripping, and humiliated with the consciousness of our
failure, we finally got to shore again, and, after a hasty council,
resolved to make another attempt the following day, as, after the
facer we had just received, our nerves were not equal to another
ordeal for the present. As long as the excitement of the danger
lasted, we had felt neither wet nor cold, but now that it was over
Nature re-asserted herself, and, drenched to the skin as we were, and
exposed to the blasts of a savagely inclement wind, we were completely
prostrated, quaking, and shivering, and in such a state that it would
have been mere foolhardiness to go into the water again. The
six-miles' ride back to the camp in our wet clothes was another
disagreeable trial. By the time we got there we were perfectly numbed,
and had to warm our stiffened fingers a long time by the fire before
they were sufficiently supple to enable us to undress. Having
stripped, I rolled myself in my capa, and, thanks to that
never-sufficiently-to-be-praised covering, warmth and circulation were
soon restored to my chilled limbs. We had, unfortunately, no maté
left, though on this occasion we stood more than ever in need of its
stimulating and restorative aid.

Notwithstanding our failure, we were by no means disheartened, or
disposed to relinquish our endeavours to cross the river; on the
contrary, the non-success of our first attempt only intensified my
firm resolve to reach Sandy Point, come what might, by the 1st of
November, and nerved us to a fresh encounter with the dangers of the
river and the inclemency of the weather.

The next morning we again made the attempt, and were again
unsuccessful as before. The horses went well till they got to the
rapid middle current, and there nothing would induce them to continue.
In the struggle with my horse I was swept from my seat. I caught
successively at the mane and saddle, but missed them both, just
managing to catch hold of a valise that was strapped to the back of
the latter. I clung to it like grim death, whilst my horse swam back
to the bank. Several times I was in danger of being dragged under by
the current, and the valise, under the strain of my weight, began
gradually to give way. When it did come down, saddle and all, we were
fortunately already in shallow water, and I came to no harm; though it
was lucky it held so long, for, heavily booted and clothed as I was,
had it happened a little sooner, I should have gone to the bottom.

We rode disconsolately back to the camp, suffering extremely from the
cold wind, as on the previous day. It was useless, we had now
convinced ourselves, to swim over on our horses, for as soon as we
came to the middle current we were at their mercy. We therefore
resolved to try the other expedient, of driving them over first, and
then following ourselves.

For topographical reasons we considered the pass at Guaraiké to be
more favourable for this mode of crossing than the one we were now at,
and we therefore resolved to go there. We said good-bye once more to
Isidoro, who preferred remaining where he was, as there was better
pasturage for his horses. We took enough meat with us to last us four
days, and leaving the dogs with Isidoro we started off for Guaraiké,
where we arrived late in the evening, after a long gallop.

We did not camp on the old spot, but rode further down to a little
'house' Guillaume knew of, similar to the one at the Paso de Alquinta,
but with rather higher walls, and which had also been built by some
Indian traders.

We ate a very small supper, as it was necessary to economise the
little meat we had with us, consoling ourselves with the hope of soon
being able to indulge in less meagre fare, and finally we went to bed,
confident of passing the next night on the other side of the Gallegos.




CHAPTER XI.


Early the next morning we were up and off to the river. To get to its
banks we had to ride through about a mile and a half of slack water,
of varying depth, but seldom above the knees of our horses. Near the
river there was a dry spot on a tract of high-lying land, and there
accordingly we made our preparations. We took off our clothes, and
placed them, together with the matches, revolvers, etc., in the middle
of the capas, which were rolled up in the canvas bag, as on the
previous occasions, and then carefully and firmly strapped on the
saddle of one of the horses. All this was done as quickly as possible,
for we were now, of course, almost naked, and the wind, as usual, was
blowing hard and cold, with mingled hail and snow. We had little doubt
as to the success of this our third effort. Indeed, we had, as it
were, cut off our own retreat, in putting all our clothes and furs on
the horses, for if they once got safely to the other side, we were of
a necessity forced to follow somehow, or expose ourselves to the
alternative of perishing with hunger and cold. It was a foolhardy
action, but we had become desperate, and were ready to run a slight
risk, if only we could surmount the hated obstacle which barred our
way to Sandy Point.

Everything being ready, we drove the horses, not without great
difficulty, into the water, following ourselves as far as we were
able, though such was the force of the current that we had hardly
waded in knee-deep before we were knocked off our feet. After immense
trouble, with the help of stones and sticks, we managed to drive the
horses into the middle current, down whose centre they were soon
swept, puffing and snorting and endeavouring to turn back towards the
bank we were standing on. Whenever they did so, however, we would
fling a volley of stones at them, and by these means at last we got
them to head towards the other bank. We watched their progress with
beating hearts, in painful suspense lest any accident should happen to
them; for they carried, as it were, our lives as well as their own.
After a few seconds, which seemed an eternity to us, they reached the
land, and we gave a shout of joy and relief. But our triumph was of
but a second's duration; fate was still against us. As ill-luck would
have it, the horses happened just to touch land with their noses at a
part where the bank was almost vertical, and where they consequently
had no footing. Instinctively they turned round and made straight for
our side again.

Dismayed and disappointed, we no longer made any attempt to drive them
back; indeed, we were against the current, they would not have
strength to get back again. At last they landed, however, though of
course a long way down from where they had started. We ourselves by
this time were in a most pitiable state; for more than half an hour we
had been splashing in and out of the icy-cold water, exposed to wind
and weather, and we were now thoroughly exhausted, our teeth
chattering, our bodies doubled up, and unable to speak to one another
except by signs.

We had just strength enough to get the capas out of the bag, the inner
ones being fortunately quite dry; and wrapping ourselves well up, we
lay down for about an hour, by which time we were sufficiently
recovered to be able to remount our horses and ride back to the camp.

We were now at last discouraged. An unexpected stroke of bad luck, a
mishap we could not possibly have foreseen, had occurred just at the
last moment, and spoiled everything, converting what had appeared a
certain triumph into a disastrous failure. If the horses had only
happened to touch land ten feet further up, or ten feet further down,
where the bank was less steep, by this time we might have been on the
road to Sandy Point. But everything seemed to be against us. I had
brought all my energy to this last attempt, the last chance of
reaching our destination in time for the steamer of the 1st November.
It had failed, and I felt unmanned and dispirited. My physical
strength, too, was giving way under these repeated exertions and the
poor diet of the last two weeks.

All these considerations combined, and there being no immediate
necessity for crossing the river now, as the next steamer did not
leave Sandy Point till the 10th November, made us resolve to wait a
few days longer before risking another attempt at swimming over,
especially as all this time the water had been rapidly decreasing
again; and, judging by the height of the river, we might now
reasonably expect to find it fordable in, at most, three or four days,
always supposing that no new flood occurred. We had, therefore, merely
to closely watch the river, so as to be ready to cross again if any
signs of a fresh rise should appear.

Notwithstanding that we were now well into spring, I was surprised to
find but little corresponding change in the weather. Occasionally we
had a warm day, but it was the exception, and was sure to be
immediately followed by unusual cold. The west wind blew almost
unintermittingly, and always with extreme violence. In fact, with all
my memories of Patagonia are closely associated, as one of the most
prominent peculiarities of its landscapes, the fiercely cold but
exhilarating blasts of that same wild west wind. But though the
weather had got but little warmer, there was everywhere a marked
change in the vegetation. The grass in the glens was gradually
becoming fresh and green, and the bright young leaves of the calafaté
bush were interspersed with bunches of small yellow flowers. Flowers,
too--red and white orchids, and pink cowslips--were springing up
amongst the grass; and that none of the associations of springtime
might be wanting, clouds of tiny little swallows, white-breasted and
with glittering blue wings--come from Heaven knows where--were to be
seen skimming through the air in all directions. Wretched and
miserable indeed must be the spot over which spring can pass without
making her genial influence felt in some way, though it be but in the
transitory brightening of a few poor blades of grass.

It is fortunate that the calafaté is everywhere abundant in Patagonia,
as its wood affords excellent fuel, being extremely hard and burning
very slowly. At night-time we would cover up the embers well, and were
sure to find them still smouldering in the morning, and were thus able
to economize our matches, of which we had now but few left.

The valley had become the rendezvous of wild fowl of all
descriptions--swans, wild geese, ducks, snipe, etc.; and many a time
we regretted not having brought a gun with us. A roast goose now and
then would have made a welcome improvement on our eternal diet of
lean guanaco and ostrich. A bevy of ibis, or 'bandurria,' as the
Chilians call them, used to make a point every evening of assembling
close to our camp, and lifting up their voices and quacking till an
hour or so after sundown. Their note resembles that of the duck,
though it is rather shorter and drier. They seemed to know, confound
them! that they had nothing to fear from us, and would let us come
quite near enough to enable us to see how provokingly fat they all
were. The Indians call the wild geese of those parts 'kay-kén,' in
imitation of its cry, which has a rather melancholy sound, and which
was always sounding in our ears, morning, noon, and evening, repeated
by a thousand throats in lengthened and mournful cadences. All these
wild fowl remain in the southern valleys till their young are fledged,
and then as the warm weather comes on they fly north, and play havoc
among the rich corn-fields of the Rio Negro.

Two days went by, and we began to find ourselves running short of
meat, our stock having only been calculated to last for four days, as
we had made our provision on the assumption of reaching Sandy Point by
that time. It was, therefore, necessary for Guillaume to go back to
Isidoro to fetch the dogs. As it was a long distance, being more than
120 miles there and back, and being anxious to spare our horses as
much as possible, we first went out to see if we could hunt up a
puma, the only animal one can kill without the aid of dogs--the bolas
or a revolver being all that is required.

But after a long search we were unsuccessful, and early the next
morning, therefore, Guillaume started off, leaving a small piece of
meat which was to last me till the evening of the next day, by which
time he hoped to be back.

When he was gone, I saddled my horse and rode up the Cañada of the
Squaws to collect firewood, as there was none near our camp. I found
it no easy task to break off the dry branches out of the thorny
bushes, or pull up old roots which were firmly seated in the ground,
in my present weak state, and I was glad when I had got sufficient
wood to last me for that and the following day. At no period of my
sojourn in Gallegos had I felt so weak as I now did. For three days we
had eaten next to nothing--in fact, less than I could ordinarily eat
myself at _one_ meal--and I have already said how little sustaining
power there is even in a large quantity of lean guanaco or ostrich
meat.

When I got back to the camp, I cooked a small piece of the meat
Guillaume had left me, and then carefully deposited it on the top of
one of the walls of the house, so as to be out of reach of the foxes,
who are terrible marauders, and who will eat your reins, lasso, saddle
even, or any leathern article you may be so incautious as to leave
lying about.

Feeling tired, after my frugal meal, which compared to my hunger was
but as a drop in the ocean, I lay down on my furs and dosed off into a
sound sleep, from which I was presently awakened by a confusion of
strange screeching and flapping of wings. Starting up, I found the
noise proceeded from some carranchos, who were quarrelling over my
meat, or rather over the bone, which was all that I found of it, after
I had driven them away with stones and strong language. '_Incidit in
Scyllam_,' etc. In my endeavours to secure my food from the foxes, I
had delivered it into the beaks and claws of the carranchos, and felt
not a little annoyed at my own carelessness. It was no pleasant matter
having to fast for the next thirty hours, hungry as I already was, and
if Guillaume by some possible accident were detained a day longer, I
might find myself in a very serious plight. I was evidently out of
luck, and that with a vengeance, and I began to wonder what my next
mishap would be. The only misfortune that could now happen to me was
that my horse might take it into his head to run away, and then I
should indeed be in a desperate fix. He was quietly grazing at the
time, but the idea of such a possibility so startled me that I
immediately tied a lasso to his halter and secured it to a huge stone
near the house, so as to prevent any such untoward eventuality. Then,
feeling hungry, I commenced to search my traps for any stray piece of
meat that might possibly have been forgotten there. All I could find
was a small piece of puma fat, wrapped up in a piece of linen, in a
coat-pocket of Guillaume's, which had doubtless been intended for
greasing the dog's paws when wounded, for which purpose it is
considered an excellent specific. To me, under my present
circumstances, however, it was quite a treasure, and I immediately
cooked and ate half, keeping the rest for the next day.

Having made all my arrangements for passing the night, I made a good
fire, as it was very cold, and wrapping myself up well in my capa, I
sat down beside it, waiting as stoically as I could for night-time,
and trying to forget, amidst the splendour of the sunset, the small
sharp whisper of the little voice within my stomach.

From the slight elevation where I was now sitting I could overlook the
whole of the surrounding country--the far hills and plains; the
winding valley shut in by steep cliffs, past whose base the river
swept its tortuous course; the broad lakes formed by the overflow of
its waters, dotted everywhere with green islands, where thousands of
wild fowl were now assembled--the harsh cries of the gulls and the
plaintive note of the kay-kén being the only sounds that broke the
otherwise intense silence. Over all the setting sun was pouring his
last rays, bathing the distant hills in a warm haze, and burnishing
the waters at my feet with fiery showers of light, and lending, with
his magic tints of red and gold, a transitory gleam of grace and
beauty even to that wild desert spot.

But as the sun went down the charm sped with him. The glory departed
from the distant hills, and they became grey and cold as before; the
light faded from the valley, the waters assumed a muddy hue, and the
islands blackened on their surface. The cry of the wild fowl slowly
ceased, and below me, soon, all was silent and dark.

The stars crept out one by one, and still I sat by the red gleams of
the dying fire, listening to the whispering voices of the night-wind
and watching the weird, ghostly shapes occasionally assumed by the
white mist that now hung over the valley, as it swayed mysteriously to
and fro, like a band of unquiet spirits.

The whole thing seemed so unreal, the turn of events so fantastic,
which had brought me, a child of noisy towns and bustling marts, into
my strange position, alone in that immense solitude--the wildness of
the scene, starlit and dim, the strange noises of the night, the
thousand sounds which yet seemed silence--I thought it must all be a
dream, and most surely I must awaken and find myself in my own room,
under warm bedclothes, with the voice of the servant with my
shaving-water ringing in my ears.

But a shiver of cold which went through my body, and the strong pangs
of hunger, were quite sufficient to remind me of the reality of all
around me; so, heaping some more wood on the fire and giving another
look to see if the horse was secure, I sought my couch, to sleep as
best I might till morning.

A sharp frost fell during the night, much to my satisfaction, as I had
now strong hopes of crossing the river in a couple of days. Having
satisfied myself that the water was still falling rapidly--always my
first task of a morning--I cooked and ate the remaining piece of puma
fat, and then, still feeling terribly hungry, and as a means of
killing time till Guillaume should come, I tried to stalk wild geese
with my revolver. I could never come within range, however, though
they are not very shy, and finally gave up this unexciting and
unproductive sport in a rather unpleasant state of mind, as I began to
ask myself what I should do if Guillaume should happen not to come
back that day.

Casting my eyes about, they happened to fall on a large island in the
middle of the valley, which had often attracted our attention on
account of its being the rendezvous of a bevy of swans, which we
imagined must have nests and eggs there, and we had often meditated a
raid on the latter. Hitherto we had been hindered from doing so,
because the island was surrounded for a long distance by very deep
water, which, as may be imagined, was quite sufficient to keep the
swans' eggs safe from us as long as anything else could be found to
eat. Since we had last surveyed the defences of the island, however,
the water had fallen very much, and it occurred to me, in my present
stress, that by carefully searching I might find a tolerably dry road
to the island. I accordingly saddled my horse, and set out on my
exploration. After a great deal of splashing and several narrow
escapes of tumbling into holes, varied by occasional energetic
protests from my horse--who, by-the-bye, after all his late experience
and his daily three or four rides through the water to examine the
river, must have thought I was trying to convert him into an
amphibious animal--I at last managed to discover a route which was
almost practicable, and which by the next day, when the water would
have fallen still further, would probably be thoroughly so. I could
distinctly see several swans sitting on their nests, to whom I waved a
light _au revoir_, and then returned to the camp, feeling that even if
Guillaume were not to come back that day, I now knew where to find my
dinner, although at the expense of a slight wetting.

However, I fortunately had no necessity for incurring that
inconvenience; for, towards five o'clock, just as--despairing of his
return--I was getting ready to swim over to the island, I descried him
galloping towards the camp. He presently arrived, bringing the dogs,
some meat, and four ostriches' eggs he had found on the way.

Famished as I was after my long fast, I lost no time in spitting some
meat and setting it to roast, busying myself whilst it was cooking
with the preparation of an ostrich's egg _à la Patagonienne_. The
process is as follows: You break a small round hole in the top of the
egg, and after having removed some of the white, which is rather heavy
for the stomach, and having thoroughly beaten up the yolk, you set the
egg on its end in the ashes, at a little distance from the fire,
carefully turning it now and then to prevent the shell from cracking.
Whilst cooking, it must occasionally be removed from the fire, and the
batter must be stirred well, or else it will stick to the sides of the
shell and burn. In a quarter of an hour it will be well roasted; add
pepper and salt, if you have any, and serve. Our stock of these useful
condiments had unfortunately long been exhausted. Cooked in this way,
ostriches' eggs are excellent, and far better than when boiled. The
act of removing and placing them near the fire whilst roasting
requires great nimbleness of finger. I had, during my noviciate, two
standing sores or burns on forefinger and thumb, as I would sometimes
cook as many as three or four eggs a day. They are held to be very
indigestible, two eggs eaten in a day being said to endanger a man's
life; but the foregoing is a proof to the contrary. I have known
Guillaume to eat six eggs in the space of eight hours, independent of
his ordinary meals. It is true his powers were beyond the usual run,
even of those of his own habits and profession.

In the conversation which ensued, when I had in some degree allayed
the pangs of hunger, Guillaume told me that on his way down he had
paid a flying visit to the Middle Pass, the result of which was that
he considered it the best place to cross over, in case, contrary to
our present expectations, we should again be obliged to swim for it.
The banks on the other side were all low-lying, and there would
consequently be no danger of a repetition of the accident which had
prevented us from crossing over at the pass we were now at. In return
for this information, I told him of my discovery of a road to the
island; and, eggs being almost indispensable to us for keeping up our
failing strength, for which the meat alone was quite inadequate, we
resolved to make a raid on the nests the following morning.

Shortly after daybreak, therefore, we set out towards the island, each
of us armed with a stick and a revolver in case the birds, which are
said to be very savage, should think fit to resent our seizure of
their eggs. The road to the island was not as favourable as it had
appeared to me the day before, and we got soaked up to the waist in
crossing over; but, in the excitement of the chase, we took little
notice of that. Long before we arrived, a commotion was visible
amongst the inmates of the island; several male swans, and crowds of
wild geese and other fowl, flew up and hovered over us, watching our
onward course with signs of marked disapproval. The female birds,
however, kept their seats till we were within ten yards of them, and
then rose with a hissing cry and much flapping of wings, circling over
our heads, and occasionally gliding close to us, whilst we were
despoiling their nests, though without making any attempt at attacking
us. We found eight swans' nests, containing each four eggs, besides
some forty wild geese's eggs. To mitigate the distress of the birds,
we left one egg in each nest, and with the rest of our booty returned
to the camp in triumph. Whilst our wet clothes were drying by the
fire, wrapped in our capas, we set to and commenced roasting some
swans' eggs. They are about half the size of ostriches' eggs, and of a
similar taste. Amongst the other eggs were

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