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Title: Through the Heart of Patagonia
Author: Prichard, H. Hesketh
Language: English
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Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
On page 168, "Cocao" should possibly be "Cacao."
On page 210, "zipp" should possibly be "zip."
On page 268, "baling" should possibly be "bailing."
On page 278, "1 o'clock P.M." should probably be "1 o'clock A.M."
THROUGH THE HEART
OF PATAGONIA
[Illustration: TEHUELCHE HUNTING SCENE]
THROUGH THE HEART
OF PATAGONIA
BY
H. HESKETH PRICHARD
F.R.G.S., F.Z.S.
FELLOW OF THE ANTHROPOLOGICAL INSTITUTE; AUTHOR OF
"WHERE BLACK RULES WHITE: A JOURNEY
ACROSS AND ABOUT HAYTI"
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM DRAWINGS IN COLOUR
AND BLACK AND WHITE BY
JOHN GUILLE MILLAIS, F.Z.S.
AND FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1902
PRINTED IN ENGLAND
_This Edition is for sale in the United States of America
only, and is not to be imported into countries signatory to
the Berne Treaty_
TO
C. ARTHUR PEARSON
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
INTRODUCTION xiii
I. PATAGONIA 1
II. SOUTHWARD HO! 15
III. THE BATTLE OF THE HORSES 33
IV. THE BATTLE OF THE HORSES (_continued_) 50
V. THE RIVER VALLEYS 67
VI. MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE TEHUELCHES 85
VII. TEHUELCHE METHODS OF HUNTING 104
VIII. THE KINGDOM OF THE WINDS 116
IX. ROUND AND ABOUT LAKE BUENOS AIRES 130
X. THE GORGE OF THE RIVER DE LOS ANTIGUOS 144
XI. SOME HUNTING CAMPS 156
XII. BACK TO CIVILISATION 167
XIII. JOURNEY TO LAKE ARGENTINO 181
XIV. THE DOWNSTREAM NAVIGATION OF THE RIVER LEONA 196
XV. A HARD STRUGGLE 211
XVI. WILD CATTLE 224
XVII. ON THE FIRST ATTITUDE OF WILD ANIMALS TOWARDS
MAN 235
XVIII. THE LARGER MAMMALS OF PATAGONIA 247
XIX. FIRST PASSING THROUGH HELLGATE 261
XX. DISCOVERY OF RIVER KATARINA AND LAKE PEARSON 277
XXI. HOMEWARD 287
A FEW WORDS ABOUT THE FUTURE OF PATAGONIA 294
APPENDIX A 301
I. ACCOUNT OF THE DISCOVERY. BY DR. MORENO 301
II. DESCRIPTION AND COMPARISON OF THE SPECIMEN. BY
DR. A. SMITH WOODWARD, F.R.S. 305
(a) DESCRIPTION
(b) COMPARISONS AND GENERAL CONCLUSIONS
III. DESCRIPTION OF ADDITIONAL DISCOVERIES. BY DR. A.
SMITH WOODWARD, F.R.S. 315
IV. DESCRIPTION OF PANGOLINS, ARMADILLOS AND SLOTHS.
BY H. HESKETH PRICHARD 330
APPENDIX B 334
ON A NEW FORM OF PUMA FROM PATAGONIA. BY OLDFIELD
THOMAS, F.R.S.
APPENDIX C 336
LIST OF PLANTS. BY JAMES BRITTEN, F.L.S., AND A. B.
RENDLE, M.A., D.SC.
GLOSSARY 341
INDEX 343
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
Tehuelche Hunting Scene (In Colour) Frontispiece
Facing page
Outfitting in a Patagonian Store 22
The first guanaco 26
A daughter of the Toldos 80
A New Cure for the Measles (In Colour) 86
A Tehuelche cacique 90
A Tehuelche matron, showing hare-lip 94
Children of the Toldos 98
Tehuelche matrons 100
A Tehuelche beauty 102
Boleadores 104
Sons of the Pampas 110
The Tehuelche Toldos 114
Onas stalking guanaco 120
Store-clad Indians 124
Tehuelche spying guanaco (In Colour) 132
Best head of Huemul (Xenelaphus bisulcus) Shot by the author 146
Rest-and-be-Thankful Camp 150
Huemul in summer coat (In Colour) 152
Descending the Barranca 158
Guanacos descending a hillside (Photogravure) 160
A Patagonian lagoon (In Colour) 168
The Italian engineers' waggon 174
Sierra Ventana 176
The drinking place (Photogravure) 186
Fiord of Lake Argentino, showing forest on Mt. Avellanada 190
End of Southern Fiord of Lake Argentino 192
The Wild Man (Photogravure) 194
The World of Ice 202
The fire 220
A glade in the Lake Rica Forest 226
The Leader of the Herd (Photogravure) 230
As it was in the beginning 232
Camp Thieves (In Colour) 244
Pearson's Puma " 252
The North Fiord 264
Our launch among the ice 270
Another view of the Glacier de los Tempanos 274
Eventide 278
The last reach 284
TEXT ILLUSTRATIONS
The pampas (showing first division) 1
One of our Gauchos 1
Among the Andes 3
A Tehuelche Cacique 7
Lakes and the distant Cordillera (showing second division) 8,9
A Patagonian Estancia 11
Argentine Gaucho 12
Half-breed Gaucho 13
J. B. Scrivenor 17
T. R. D. Burbury 20
Welsh Settlement of Trelew 21
Humphrey Jones, Jun. 23
The start on our long trek 27
Mr. Langley's Estancia on the road to Bahia Camerones 29
Frederick Barckhausen 31
A pampa round-up 34
J. B. Scrivenor (geologist) and mula 39
The big Overo, a buckjumper 41
The hunter's return 44
Felis concolor puma 45
Guanaco hounds (father and mother of the author's hound, Tom) 46
Ready to be cargoed 50
Mrs. Trelew 52
Yegua Rosada 53
The Asulejo 54
Cargoing-up 56, 57
The author's two best horses, the Cruzado and Alazan 59
Settlement of Colohuapi 64
Our brand 66
The Germans 69
River Senguerr, where disaster overtook us 71
The Old Zaino 72
The Guanaco (an intimate of the Old Zaino's) 73
The Alazan colt (nearly killed on the Senguerr) 74
Wildgoose Camp 77
Bad stalking (califate-bush on pampa) 78
Wati! Wati! (Tehuelche exclamation of surprise) 83
Indian Toldo 85
Arrowheads and knife, found near Colohuapi, Chubut (now in
collection of Mr. E. M. Sprot) 89
Beauties of Tierra del Fuego 108
Tehuelches visit Gallegos 113
On ahead 118
Horsham Base Camp 123
Lake Buenos Aires 126
Señor Hans P. Wagg, of the Argentine Boundary Commission 128
Inlet of Lake Buenos Aires 131
The horses retrieved 135
Sterile ground to north of Lake Buenos Aires 139
Lake Buenos Aires from the Cañadon of the River de los
Antiguos 145
Grassy camp 154
Young guanaco 156
First huemul camp 162
The off-saddle 165
Jones smokes the pipe of victory 166
The Indian trail 171
River Olin 172
River Belgrano 174
The home of the Indian who gave us mutton 176
La Gaviota 177
Santa Cruz 178
Residents of Santa Cruz 179
The main street, Santa Cruz 182
Ford on the River Santa Cruz 184
Estancia of Mr. E. Cattle 193
The launch, with Mr. Cattle and Bernardo on board 197
Bernardo Hähansen 207
Where the squalls came from 215
Forests under the snows where wild cattle breed 224
Edge of forest 233
Guanacos on sky-line 237
The huemul doe which touched the author. Photographed with
small camera as she retired 243
Best head of huemul (Xenelaphus bisulcus) shot by the author.
Side view 249
Head of guanaco 254
Guanaco chico (captured with lasso) 256
Red mountain wolf (Canis montanus) 260
Hellgate 262
Beyond man's footsteps 265
Glacier de los Tempanos 273
Glacier and glacial detritus 275
Cañadon of the River Katarina 281
River Katarina 283
Lake Pearson 285
Punta Arenas 292
The author 293
Skin of Grypotherium, outer view 306
Skin of Grypotherium, inner view 307
MAPS
Map showing route of Expedition through Patagonia 36
Map of the Eastern Portion of Lake Buenos Aires 172
Map of Lake Argentino and District (showing routes) 188
INTRODUCTION
Patagonia is a country about which little is known to the world in
general, books dealing with it being few and far between, while the
aspect of that quaint tail of South America and its wild denizens has
practically never before been pictorially brought under the eye of the
public. The following pages have been written with the idea of
familiarising my readers with the conditions of life in Patagonia, and
of reproducing as strongly as possible the impressions we gathered
during our journey through regions most interesting and varied, and,
as regards a certain portion of them, hitherto unvisited and
unexplored.
The original motive with which these travels were undertaken lay in a
suggestion that a couple of years ago created a considerable stir
amongst many besides scientific people, namely, that the prehistoric
Mylodon might possibly still survive hidden in the depths of the
forests of the Southern Andes. In a lecture delivered on June 21,
1900, before the Zoological Society, Professor E. Ray Lancaster, the
Director of the British Museum of Natural History, said: "It is quite
possible--I don't want to say more than that--that he (the Mylodon)
still exists in some of the mountainous regions of Patagonia." Mr.
Pearson, the proprietor of the _Daily Express_, most generously
financed the Expedition in the interests of science, and entrusted me
with the task of sifting all the evidence for or against the chances
of survival obtainable on the spot.
During the whole time I spent in Patagonia I came upon no single scrap
of evidence of any kind which would support the idea of the survival
of the Mylodon. I hoped to have found the Indian legends of some
interest in this connection, and I took the utmost pains to sift most
thoroughly all stories and rumours that could by any means be supposed
to refer to any unknown animal. Of this part of the subject I have
given a full account elsewhere.
There then remained to us but one thing more to do, and that was to
examine as far as we could--I will not say the forests of the Andes,
for they are primeval forests, dense and heavily grown, and, moreover,
cover hundreds of square miles of unexplored country--but the nature
of these forests, so as to be able to come to some conclusion on the
point under discussion. This we did, with the result that I personally
became convinced--and my opinion was shared by my companions--that the
Mylodon does not survive in the depths of the Andean forests. For
there is a singular absence of animal life in the forests. The deeper
we penetrated, the less we found. It is a well-known fact that, where
the larger forms of animal life exist, a number of the lesser
creatures are to be found co-existing with them, the conditions
favouring the life of the former equally conducing to the welfare of
the latter. Our observation of the forests therefore led us to
conclude that no animal such as the Mylodon is at all likely to be
existing among them. This is presumptive evidence, but it is strong,
being based on deductions not drawn from a single instance but from
general experience.
Still I would not offer my opinion as an ultimate answer to the
problem. In addition to the regions visited by our Expedition, there
are, as I have said, hundreds and hundreds of square miles about, and
on both sides of the Andes, still unpenetrated by man. A large portion
of this country is forested, and it would be presumptuous to say that
in some hidden valley far beyond the present ken of man some
prehistoric animal may not still exist. Patagonia is, however, not
only vast, but so full of natural difficulties, that I believe the
exhaustive penetration of its recesses will be the work not of one man
or of one party of men, but the result of the slow progress of human
advance into these regions.
I have recorded some of my observations upon the habits of Patagonian
game, and have written somewhat fully upon that most interesting
race, the Tehuelche Indians, but I have abstained from very lengthy
appendices, for these would be of purely scientific interest.
It is my hope to be able to return to Patagonia and to go further into
the many interesting subjects to which my attention was drawn. In any
book that may result from this second journey, I look forward to
including lists of various zoological, palæontological, and botanical
collections, all the materials for which have not at the moment of
writing arrived in England.
I would very cordially acknowledge the unfailing help which Dr. F. P.
Moreno has accorded to me in every way, and would specially thank him
for the photographs and maps he has allowed me to use in the following
pages. My thanks are also due to Dr. A. Smith Woodward, F.R.S., for
his kind permission to reproduce his description of the Mylodon skin
and other remains discovered at Consuelo Cove by Dr. Moreno; to Dr.
Moreno for permitting me to reprint his account of that interesting
discovery, and to Mr. Oldfield Thomas, F.R.S., for allowing me to make
use of his description of _Felis concolor pearsoni_, the new
sub-species of puma which we brought back. I further offer my
acknowledgments to the Zoological Society, in whose "Proceedings" the
two first-mentioned papers originally appeared.
My best thanks are also due to the Royal Geographical Society, who
lent us instruments and gave us every aid in their power, and also to
Dr. Rendle and Mr. James Britten, of the Botanical Department of the
British Museum, for their kindness in preparing a botanical appendix.
I must record my indebtedness to Mr. John Guille Millais for the pains
he took with his illustrations for this book. Before I started, my
friend, Mr. Millais, drew me some sketches of huemul, guanaco, and
other Patagonian animals. These I showed to the Tehuelches, and was
once taken aback by being offered a commission to draw an Indian's
dogs. He offered me a trained horse as payment. The praise of the "man
who knows" is, after all, the great reward of art.
My thanks are also due to Mr. Edward Hawes, who kindly overlooked the
proofs of this book to correct the spelling of the Camp-Spanish. And
I would add the name of Mr. Frank A. Juckes, who saw to the outfitting
of a medicine-chest.
I would not omit grateful mention of Señor Garcia Merou, the late
Minister of Agriculture of the Argentine Republic, of the late Señor
Rivadavia, the then Minister of Marine, to Señor Josué Moreno, to
Messrs. Krabbé and Higgins; also to Mr. Ernest Cattle, Mr. Theobald,
of Trelew, and to the many kind friends who live in the Argentine
Republic.
I am indebted to my friend, Alfred James Jenkinson, Scholar of
Hertford College, Oxford, for his kindness in preparing photographs
for reproduction.
Most of all I owe a debt (a debt which runs yearly into compound
interest) to my mother, who is accountable for anything that is worth
while in this book, and who has collaborated in its production.
H. HESKETH PRICHARD.
[Illustration: THE PAMPAS (SHOWING FIRST DIVISION)]
CHAPTER I
PATAGONIA
Physical features of Patagonia -- The pampas -- Climate --
Discovery of Patagonia by Magellan -- Description of the
natives -- Sir Francis Drake -- Other travellers -- Dr.
Moreno -- Coast-towns -- Farms -- Gauchos -- Emptiness of
interior -- Route of expedition.
Patagonia forms the southern point or end of the South American
continent and extends, roughly speaking, from about parallel 40° to
the Straits of Magellan. Up to very recent times the geography of this
southern portion of the New World has been in a nebulous condition.
Vast tracts of the interior of Patagonia are as practically waste and
empty to-day as they were in the long-past ages. It is certainly
curious that this land should have been left so completely out of view
when the great overspill of European humanity looked overseas in
search of new homes where they might dwell and expand and find ample
means of livelihood.
[Illustration: ONE OF OUR GAUCHOS]
Perhaps the description of Patagonia given in the earlier part of the
last century by Darwin had something to do with this omission. He
spoke of it as a land having "the curse of sterility" upon it. He
dwelt on its desolate appearance, its "dreary landscape," and it would
seem that his undervaluing of the country of which, after all, he had
but a short and curtailed experience, influenced the whole circle of
the nations, with the result that only during the last thirty years or
so have the peoples who desire to colonise been discovering how
desirable and profitable is the great neglected land of the south.
Patagonia has grown to its present condition very rapidly. Not so long
ago it was almost entirely given up to Indians and the countless herds
of guanaco. Now there are farms upon the coast, and a few settlements,
such as Gallegos with its 3000 inhabitants, and Sandy Point or Punta
Arenas, still more populous with 11,000. Behind this narrow strip of
sparsely inhabited coast-land the immense extent of the interior lies
vacant.
Patagonia strikes the traveller as huge, elemental. Its natural
conformation is stamped with these characteristics. From the River
Negro on the north it tapers gradually to the Straits of Magellan on
the south. Three great parallel divisions, running north and south, of
plain, lake and mountain, each strongly marked, make up the face of
the country. From the shores of the Atlantic the pampas rise in gently
graduated terraces to the range of the Andes, while between them are
strung a mighty network of lakes and lagoons, some connected by
rivers, others by channels, many of which shift and alter under the
influence of climate and other local causes. From the sea to the
Sierra Nevada stretch the pampas, all tussocky grass, thorn, guanacos
and mirages. On the western rim of the pampas the Cordillera stand
against the sky, a tumult of mountains climbing upwards, their loftier
gorges choked with glaciers, their hollows holding great lakes,
ice-cold, ice-blue, and about their bases and their bastions thousands
of square miles of shaggy forests, of which but the mere edges have
yet been explored.
Within its 300,000 square miles of surface Patagonia offers the most
extreme and abrupt contrasts. Flat pampa with hardly a visible
undulation, mountains almost inaccessible in their steep escarpments.
Side by side they lie, crossing many degrees of latitude, the
contrast descending to the smallest particulars, mountain against
plain, forest as opposed to thorn-scrub, rain against sun. The wind
only is common to both more or less, though it is felt to a far
greater degree upon the pampa. The contrast extends to the coasts. The
eastern coast is a level treeless series of downs with few bays to
offer shelter to shipping; the western coast, on the contrary, is
grooved and notched with fjords, and the beetling headlands loom dark
with forests.
[Illustration: AMONG THE ANDES]
Roughly speaking, the country to the east of the Andes belongs to
Argentina, that on the west to Chili: between them lies a long strip
of disputed territory. From this great dividing-line rivers flow into
both oceans, into the Atlantic and into the Pacific. On the eastern
side of the range, where our travels took us, the rivers cut
transversely across the continent to the Atlantic. Such are the
Chubut, the Deseado, the southern Chico, which joins with the Santa
Cruz in a wide estuary before reaching the ocean, and the Gallegos. At
the mouth of each of these a settlement has sprung up.
On the western side the mountains approach more closely to the sea,
some of the glaciers on the heights of the Andes actually overhanging
the Pacific. The shore is there deeply indented with winding and
intricate fjords, and dense dripping forests grow rankly in the humid
climate, for the rainfall on the Chilian side of the Cordillera is
extraordinarily heavy.
Patagonia is the home of big distances. The Boer used to boast that he
could not see the smoke of his neighbour's chimney. On the Atlantic
coastland of Patagonia it is often three, four or five days' ride to
the nearest farm. The holdings are measured not by the acre or any
analogous standard but by the square league. One farm alone in Tierra
del Fuego is 400 square leagues in extent. The distances are at first
appalling. A man accustomed to cities would here feel forlorn indeed.
One stands face to face with the elemental. As you travel into the
interior, Nature, with her large loose grasp, enfolds you. There is no
possibility of being mentally propped up by one's fellow man. Empty
leagues upon leagues surround you on every side, "the inverted bowl we
call the sky" above.
Who, having once seen them, can forget the pampas? Evening, and the
sun sloping over the edge of the plain like an angry eye, an inky-blue
mirage half blotting it out, in the middle distance grass rolling like
an ocean to the horizon, lean thorn, and a mighty roaring wind.
Out there in the heart of the country you seem to stand alone, with
nothing nearer or more palpable than the wind, the fierce mirages and
the limitless distances.
This wild land, ribbed and spined by one of the greatest mountain
chains in the world, appears to have been the last habitation of the
greater beasts of the older ages. It is now the last country of all to
receive man, or rather its due share of human population.
It must not be forgotten that this is the nearest bulk of land to the
Antarctic continent. It thrusts forth its vast mass far into southern
waters, and beyond lie a covey of islands, small and large, upon the
outermost of which is situated the famous Cape Horn.
On the Antarctic continent there is no life to speak of. In Patagonia,
the nearest large land, the human race has been, through the
centuries, represented by a few thousand nomad Indians, who in their
long rovings followed certain well-known trails, from which only a
very rare and venturesome individual thought of deviating. Far outside
these paths dwelt, according to the native imagination, dangers and
terrors unknown. You can follow the same trails to-day. Picture to
yourself a dozen or twenty field-paths running side by side,
obliterated by the fingers of the spring, and invisible under your
feet, but strangely growing into distinctness half a mile ahead,
waving onward towards the pampas. Such is the Indian trail.
People in England, one finds, are divided into two groups as to their
opinions of the Patagonian climate. One group maintains that the
country must be tropical, since it is included in the continent of
South America; the other that it is an ice-bound region, for the good
reason that it lies close to Tierra del Fuego. Oddly enough, both are
in a degree justified, for the summers there are comparatively hot,
but the severity of the winter, when snow lies deep on the country,
and cutting winds blow down from the frozen heights during those
months that bring to us our long English evenings, is undeniable.
Some day, no doubt, the land will lose its untamed aspect; it will
become, as others are, moulded by the hand of man, and expectant of
him. But now the great words of one whose eyes never rested on Andean
loneliness marvellously describes it:
A land where no man comes nor hath come
Since the making of the world,
But ever the wind shrills.
The discovery of Patagonia dates from the early part of the year 1520,
when that most intrepid of explorers, Ferdinand Magellan, forced his
way doggedly down the east coast in the teeth of continuous storms.
With his little fleet of five vessels he pushed on in the hope, which
few if any of his companions shared, of finding a strait joining the
two great oceans, the Atlantic and the Pacific. Upon what foundation
he based this belief cannot now be certainly told, but the analogy of
the Cape of Good Hope and rumours that obtained among the geographers
and seafaring captains of the day, helped, no doubt, to confirm his
own idea that some such outlet existed. As early as 1428, a map of
the world, described by one Antonio Galvao as "most rare and
excellent," showed the Straits of Magellan under the name of the
"Dragon's Tail." This map, being carefully kept in the treasuries of
Portugal, was, it may fairly be presumed, known to Magellan. Also
there were two globes, made in Nuremberg shortly before he sailed, in
which the channel between the great seas was clearly indicated.
For all that, the existence of a passage was far from being an
established fact, but Magellan undauntedly continued his voyage down
the Patagonian coast in search of it. He reached the harbour now known
as San Julian on March 31, 1520, and there proposed to winter.
Almost at once the famous mutiny against his authority broke out,
headed by those who desired to turn back, and who had no faith in the
existence of the strait. One of the rebel captains was stabbed upon
his own deck, a second executed ashore and a third marooned. The
commander of the fourth ship, the _Santiago_, was a friend of
Magellan's, who stood by his leader throughout the troubled time.
Weeks passed by, the winter settled down upon them with great
severity, and yet no sign of native inhabitants had been perceived
upon the shore. The Captain-General sent out an expedition to go
thirty leagues into the interior, but the men returned with a
disheartening account of the country, which they described as
impassable, barren of the necessities of life, and, as far as their
experience went, entirely devoid of inhabitants. But one day not long
after, a native appeared upon the beach who cut antics and sang while
he tossed sand upon his head. This man was successfully lured on board
of Magellan's ship. He was dressed in skins, with clumsy boots of the
same material, which last fact is supposed by some authorities to have
led Magellan to call the people the Patagaos, or big feet. Pigafetta,
an Italian who accompanied the exploring fleet, wrote an account of
this Patagonian's appearance. "So tall was this man that we came up to
the level of his waist-belt. He was well enough made, and had a broad
face, painted red, with yellow circles round his eyes, and two
heart-shaped spots on his cheeks." He further says the man was armed
with a bow and arrows, the bow being short and thick and the arrows
tipped with black and white flint heads. In another place Pigafetta
asserts that the least of the Patagonians was taller than the tallest
men in Castile.
[Illustration: A TEHUELCHECACIQUE]
Magellan treated the man with kindness, and soon other natives paid
the Spaniards visits. With them they appear to have brought a couple
of young guanacos, leashed together and led by a cord. They stated
that they kept these animals as decoys for the wild herds, who on
approaching the tethered guanacos fell an easy prey to the hunters
lying in ambush close at hand.
The Patagonians are said to have eaten rats, caught on the ship,
whole, without even removing the skins! However, they seem to have
been peaceably disposed towards the Spaniards, until Magellan, being
struck with their great height, resolved to take home some specimens
of the race as curiosities for the Emperor, and consequently he
entrapped two of the young men while on board his vessel. Seeing,
however, that one of these Patagonians grieved for his wife, Magellan
sent a party ashore with a couple of the natives to fetch the woman:
but on the road one of the natives was wounded, the result being that
the whole tribe took to flight after a slight skirmish with the
Spaniards, one of whom died almost instantly after being struck by an
arrow. From this event it would seem that the Patagonians of that
period used poisoned arrows, as do the Onas of Tierra del Fuego
to-day. These people do not employ vegetable poison, but leave their
arrows in a putrid carcase until they become infected.
The next navigator to visit the shores of Patagonia was Sir Francis
Drake in 1578. He also commanded a small squadron of five vessels,
and, curiously enough, had to cope with a plot against his life when
in the same harbour of Port San Julian. The story is well known. Mr.
Thomas Doughty, the chief mutineer, was given his choice of death, or
of marooning, or to be taken home for trial. He chose death, and was
accordingly executed. Drake speaks of the natives as being no taller
than some Englishmen.
[Illustration: LAKES AND THE DISTANT CORDILLERA (SHOWING SECOND
DIVISION)]
During the next hundred years various expeditions touched upon the
coasts, some captained by Englishmen, such as Narborough, Byron, and
Wallis. The two latter differ a good deal from each other with regard
to the stature of the Patagonians. Byron mentions a chief 7 ft. high,
and adds that few of the others were shorter. Wallis, on the other
hand, gives an average of from 5 ft. 10 in. to 6 ft., the tallest man
measured by him being 6 ft. 7 in. At an earlier date than either of
these a Jesuit named Falkner, being in Patagonia, mentions a _cacique_
some inches over 7 ft.
In 1783 the traveller Viedma penetrated into the interior and
discovered one link of the long chain of lakes lying under the Andes,
which still bears his name. He gave the people an average of 6 ft. of
stature. Some fifty years after this, H.M.S. _Beagle_, with Darwin on
board, touched at many points of the coast, and short trips inland
were undertaken. Darwin's journals give the first detailed account of
the country. He agrees with Captain Fitzroy in describing the
Patagonians as the tallest of all peoples.
During the years 1869-70, Captain George Chaworth Musters, of the
Royal Navy, spent several months with the nomad Indians, traversing a
great distance in their company, and becoming acquainted with many
interesting facts concerning their habits and customs. Since the
publication of his book in 1871 practically nothing exhaustive has
been written about Southern Patagonia. One or two travellers have
given short accounts of visits there, but the serious opening up of
the country is due to the initiative and energy of Dr. Francisco P.
Moreno, whose first excursion to Patagonia was made in 1873. In the
following year he carried his investigations as far south as the River
Santa Cruz. In 1875 he crossed from Buenos Aires to Lake Nahuel-Huapi
and the Andean Cordillera, between parallels 39° 30´ and 42°. In 1876
he visited Chubut, and ascended the river Santa Cruz to its parent
lake, which he proved was not that discovered by Viedma in 1782, but
another lying farther south. To him is due the earliest suggestion of
the great system of lakes which are situated in the longitudinal
depression that runs parallel with the Cordillera.
Again, in 1879, Dr. Moreno crossed the country to the Cordillera on
parallel 44°. Up to that time surveying in those regions was by no
means exempt from danger, on account of the hostile attitude of the
tribes. The amount of valuable work done by Dr. Moreno did not end
with his personal expeditions. Each summer of late years the Argentine
and Chilian Boundary Commissions have been surveying and opening up
the country. First and last Dr. Moreno must always be regarded as the
great geographer of Patagonia.
Among the gentlemen engaged on the boundary work I should like to
mention the Norwegian Herr Hans P. Waag, who, on behalf of the
Argentine Commission, penetrated from the Pacific coast up the river
De las Heras to Lake Buenos Aires, and from thence overland to Trelew.
It would be difficult to overpraise the work of this traveller.
Others, who as pioneers, travellers, scientific men, or surveyors,
have taken a part in the good work of making the interior of Patagonia
known to the world are Baron Nordenskjöld, Mr. Hatcher, and the
members of the Chilian and Argentine Boundary Commissions. I think
that in any such list as the above mention should be made of those
who first settle in a district, and who realise in greater degree than
even the pioneer explorers the difficulties and drawbacks of a new
country, and undoubtedly their hardihood is of immense and enduring
value. I would, therefore, include the name of the Waldron family, who
have taken a large part in settling the southern districts of
Patagonia and also in the colonising of Tierra del Fuego.
[Illustration: A PATAGONIAN _ESTANCIA_]
With this brief reference to the more important journeys hitherto made
in Southern Patagonia, it may be well to give here some description of
the country as it appears to-day. There are upon the eastern coasts
some settlements, as I have mentioned, and also the Welsh colonies of
Trelew, Dawson, Gaimon, besides these a very small and recent one
exists at Colohaupi, near Lake Musters, and another, The 16th October,
far away in the Cordillera. This last is the single settlement of any
size south of parallel 40° in the central interior.
A fringe of farms runs along the coast, and at the mouths of the
rivers are situated little frontier towns, such as San Julian, Santa
Cruz and Gallegos. Towards the south and along the shores of the
Strait the fringe of farms has grown broader and the country is more
generally settled, the Chilian town of Punta Arenas being an important
port. The few vast straggling farms are given up chiefly to
sheep-breeding, the main export being wool. But cattle and horses are
also raised in large numbers, for the land has proved very suitable
for pasturage. The farm buildings vary, of course, in many ways: some
are large and comfortable homesteads, others mere squalid huts, but
one and all are almost invariably roofed in with the universal
galvanised iron.
The Welsh colonists have introduced a good strain to the growing
population, and there are constant wholesome as well as vicious
importations. In a country where shepherding of one sort or another is
the chief industry, it is inevitable that some equivalent of the
cowboy of the North must be developed. The Gaucho is the Patagonian
cowboy, and he is manly and picturesque enough to be very interesting.
[Illustration: ARGENTINE GAUCHO]
The Gauchos are picturesque both in their lives and in their
appearance: a pair of moleskin trousers, long boots, and a
handkerchief usually of a red pattern, a slouch hat of black felt, and
a gaudy poncho serve them for apparel. The poncho, which is merely a
rug with a hole in the middle for the head, makes a comfortable
great-coat by day and a blanket by night.
A Gaucho may be sprung from any nation on earth. Even as the shores of
Patagonia are washed by the farthest tides of ocean, so the same tides
have borne to people her solitude a singular horde of massed
nationalities. But it is the man born in the country of whatever stock
who becomes the true Gaucho. Infancy finds him in the saddle, and he
grows there. Other men can stick on a horse, but the Gaucho can ride.
Living as they do, they form a class alone. On horseback they are more
than men; on foot, I am half tempted to say, less, for they would
rather ride fifty miles than walk two. They are farm-hands, shepherds,
horse-breakers, occasionally good working vets, and when they prosper
they buy waggons and go into the carrying trade; in fact, they form
the foundation of Patagonian life.
The coast settlements are similar to such places all the world over:
storekeepers, men who run wine-shops, traders, and the usual sort of
folk who form the bulk of dwellers on the edge of civilisation.
In Patagonia it is not difficult to leave civilisation behind you, for
between lat. 43° and 50° S. the interior, save for a very few pioneers
and small tribes of wandering Tehuelche Indians, is at the present day
unpeopled. When the line of the Cordillera is reached, you come to a
region absolutely houseless, where no human inhabitant is to be found.
Comparatively speaking, but little animal life flourishes under the
unnumbered snow peaks, and in the unmeasured spaces of virgin forest,
which cover those valleys and in many places cloak the mountains from
base to shoulder. Hundreds of square miles of forest-land, gorges,
open slopes, and terraced hollows lie lost in the vast embrace of the
Patagonian Andes, on which the eye of man has never yet fallen.
[Illustration: HALF-BREED GAUCHO]
Our travels took us over a great part of the country. Starting in
September 1900, we zigzagged from Trelew by Bahia Camerones, to Lakes
Colhué and Musters and along the River Senguerr to Lake Buenos Aires.
After spending a time in the neighbourhood of that lake, we followed
the Indian trail for some distance, then touching the Southern Chico
we reached Santa Cruz on the east coast in January 1901. Leaving most
of the expedition there, I returned with two companions by the course
of the River Santa Cruz to the Cordillera, where I remained for some
months, and in May I once more crossed the continent to Gallegos to
take ship for Punta Arenas, the only port in Patagonia where a steamer
calls regularly. I left Patagonia in June 1901. I compute that the
whole distance covered by the journeyings of the expedition cannot
have fallen short of 2000 miles.
Of the zoology of Patagonia little is known. Of the fauna and flora of
the Cordillera of the southern central part it is not too much to say
that practically nothing is known. Patagonia thus offers one of the
most interesting fields in the world to the traveller and naturalist.
With these preliminary remarks, I will beg the reader to embark with
me upon the Argentine National transport the _Primero de Mayo_, bound
from the port of Buenos Aires for the south.
CHAPTER II
SOUTHWARD HO!
Leaving England -- Start -- _Primero de Mayo_ -- Port
Belgrano -- Welsh colonists -- Story of Mafeking -- First
sight of Patagonia -- Golfo Nuevo -- Port Madryn --
Landing -- Trelew -- A pocket Wales -- Difficulties of
early colonists -- Other Welsh settlements -- Older and
younger generations -- Welsh youths and Argentine maidens
-- Language difficulty will arrange itself -- A plague of
"lords" -- Lord Reed -- Trouble of following a lord --
Itinerary -- Travelling in Patagonia -- Few men, many
horses -- Pack-horses -- Start for Bahia Camerones --
Foxes, ostriches, cavy -- On the pampas -- Guanaco --
First guanaco -- _Maté_ -- Dogs -- Farms -- Indians --
Landscape -- Mirages -- Vast empty land -- _Cañadones_ --
_Estancia_ Lochiel -- Seeking for puma -- Killing guanacos
-- Many pumas killed during winter months--Gauchos.
We arrived at Buenos Aires early in September 1900, and on the 10th we
embarked again on board the _Primero de Mayo_, one of the transports
of the Argentine Government, by which my companions and myself had
courteously been granted passages to Patagonia. The _Primero de Mayo_
is a boat of 650 tons. We carried an extraordinary amount of deck
cargo, for there were a good many passengers on board, as these
transports offered the sole means existing at that time[1] of
communication by sea with Argentine Patagonia.
We started about one o'clock. Lieutenant Jurgensen, the _commandante_,
was good enough to invite us to dine on that night with the officers
in the deck-house. He subsequently extended his invitation to cover
the entire voyage. After dinner we went out upon the deck. It was
starlight, and the _Primero de Mayo_ was steaming down the brown
estuary of the Plata.
First night out! What a penance it is! It is "good-bye" translated
into heaviness of heart, and it knows for the time no future and no
hope. You can only look back miserably and long for lost companionship
and
All dear scenes to which the soul
Turns, as the lodestone seeks the pole.
It is a time when romance fades out, and nothing is left save the grey
fact of recent partings and the misery of unaccustomed quarters.
First night out--when one renews acquaintance with the thin cold
sheets and those extraordinary coverlets whose single habitat in the
world appears to be upon the bunks of steamers. Our fellow passengers
also seemed very much under the same influence of greyness. They had
packed themselves round the saloon-table, and were keeping the
stewards busy with orders.
There were not only a good many people, but peoples, on board; all
nations in ragged ponchos with round fur caps or those pointed
sombreros that one associates with pictures of elves in a wood. As
wild-looking a crew were gathered for'ard as ever sailed Southward Ho!
Germans, Danes, Poles, and heaven knows what other races besides; each
little party formed laagers of their possessions and resented
intrusion with volley-firing of oaths. There was one laager in which I
found myself taking a particular interest; it was made up of two men,
a woman, and her brood of children. Their only belongings appeared to
consist of four ponchos, a _maté_ pot and kettle, and a huge basket of
cauliflowers. They crept in and entrenched themselves between the
cauliflowers and the port bulwark in the waist of the ship. From there
they did not move, but sat swaying their bodies during the entire
voyage. Was Patagonia an Eldorado to which those people were
journeying? On that dark night, as the ship slid groaning and creaking
over the brown waters, the dark scene, lit by stray blurs of light,
called up a memory of Leighton's picture, "The Sea shall give up its
Dead."
Among the passengers was the Governor of Santa Cruz, Señor Don Matias
McKinlay Tapiola, who speaks English very well. There were also one or
two gentlemen interested in sheep-farming in Patagonia. Of these, Mr.
Greenshields, whose _estancia_ or farm we visited later, owned the
credit of having broken new ground in colonising a part of the country
some one hundred and fifty miles south of the Welsh settlement of
Trelew. The earlier sheep-farms lay about Punta Arenas, eight degrees
to the southward, and there the men of the south swore by the south,
and much difference of opinion existed as to how sheep would flourish
in the more northerly region chosen by Mr. Greenshields. But it seemed
that his daring was likely to be richly repaid, and that many, when
they heard of his success, would follow his example.
[Illustration: J. B. SCRIVENOR]
At length it was bedtime, and we turned in with the comforting
reflection that when we woke "first night out" would be over.
Next morning land had sunk from sight and there was a light
ground-swell, but the _Primero de Mayo_ was rolling heavily, a trick
that Government transports possess and seem to regard in the light of
a privilege all the world over. The evenings and the mornings followed
each other in grey but serene regularity, till on the 12th we turned
coastwards, heading for Puerto Belgrano, and ran between low, green,
hummocky banks up a stretch of shallow, mud-coloured water to our
anchorage. It was a reddish sunset with lightning playing continuously
upon the horizon, and while we were at dinner a thunderstorm broke
with heavy rain. That night we were permitted the privilege and
amusement of choosing the morrow's _menu_. We chose a truly British
repast; roast beef, jam-roll and plum-pudding figuring amongst the
items. There are no employments too trifling to help one to pass the
time on board a ship doing service as a coaster. As to the
arrangements made for our well-being on the transport, the Minister of
Marine had, I was informed, kindly given most generous orders with
regard to our treatment.
In the morning we disembarked forty-two sailors for the four
men-of-war lying at anchor in the bay. Then we sailed away again for
the south with a warm sun upon the crowded planking and a cold wind
blowing aft. It was at this time that I altered my original plans and
decided on landing at Puerto Madryn, our next stopping-place, instead
of at Santa Cruz, which lies some seven degrees of latitude farther to
the south. Upon hearing that winter had not yet relaxed its grip on
the country south, it became clear that the horses down there would be
thin and in poor condition, with the spring sickness upon them, and
therefore quite unfitted to start upon such a journey as lay before
us. The new scheme also promised a saving of time, as the _Primero de
Mayo_, owing to the necessity of calling at various little places on
the way down to Santa Cruz, would be a good deal delayed; besides, the
horses we required could probably be got together more quickly at
Puerto Madryn.
We had a number of Welsh with us on the transport, who were on their
way home to the Welsh settlements of Trelew, Gaiman and Rawson. In the
evenings of the voyage it was their custom to forgather and sing
psalms in Welsh, psalms the sound of which took one's memory back to
the Scottish hills and the yearly ante-communion preachings in the
open-air. The surrounding greyness aided the idea--grey sea, grey sky,
grey weather.
By the way, on board we learnt a fact, or so we were assured it was,
about the South African War, which is certainly not well known even
among those who love the Boer. One night at table, one of the diners
solemnly declared that at Mafeking the English ate the flesh of the
Kaffirs and were thereby enabled to hold out for so long. He was not
attempting to hoax us, he really believed the fable himself, poor
fellow! I did not gather the gentleman's name.
Coming on deck on the morning of the 15th, we saw, drawn across the
western sea-rim, a low brown line. Above it a sky of steel-blue
gleamed coldly and below a wash of grey sea. This was our first view
of Patagonia. All day we crept along the grim, quiet, solitary-looking
cliff, until at last the _Primero de Mayo_ was swallowed up in the
vast embrace of the Golfo Nuevo. It was between evening and night when
we approached our harbourage, Puerto Madryn. The half-lights were
playing above it, and the afterglow of the sunset still shone feebly
behind the land. We saw only raw cliff capped by dark verdure--the rim
of the vast pampas which roll away in rising levels league upon league
towards the Andes.
The sea was cold, the wind was cold, the land looked forlorn and
a-cold. Presently from it a little boat put out containing a figure
wrapped in a long military cloak. This was the sub-prefect, who thus
welcomed us to these desolate shores, for Patagonia from the sea is a
desolate prospect indeed. It would be difficult to give an adequate
idea of the dismal aspect presented by Puerto Madryn upon that
evening. Suffice it to say that the settlement consists of half a
dozen houses and a flagstaff; the first crouch on the lip of the tide
and the second shivers above on the bare pampa-rim.
There seals and divers haunt the sea, a few guanaco-herds live upon
the coast-lands, and there, in inhospitable fashion, the little colony
of human beings clings, as it were, upon the skirts of great
primordial nature. In the evening lights the cliffs showed curiously
pallid above a strip of dead sand and shingle, only the sky and the
water seemed alive.
Next morning we hoped to get our baggage ashore and were moving early
with that object in view. But the trend of public opinion in Puerto
Madryn appears to be towards the conviction that there is no sort of
reason for hurry under any circumstances. Hence the cargo disgorged
itself slowly, and after interminable waiting we found our particular
share of it would not be reached that night. It was, in fact, not till
the afternoon of the second day that we achieved a partial recovery of
our belongings from the holds and took the first consignment of it
ashore. The morning had broken clear and fine, but mid-day brought a
change. And by the time we had our boatload completed and rocketed
away shorewards at the tail of the _Primero de Mayo's_ steam-launch, a
beam sea was flying in spray high over us.
There was an anxious moment when the launch slipped the towing-cable
and the sailor in the bows flung a rope, which dropped short of the
black wooden jetty, and we were swept some boat-lengths away by a big
broken sea. To be swamped at the moment of landing!--the thought was
too disastrous to be dwelt on; half our rifles and a box of
instruments were on board. It cost us a long hour and a half of hard
work before everything was safe ashore. And while we toiled a dozen
seals came and stared at us with their doglike faces, and lazy, solemn
eyes.
[Illustration: T. R. D. BURBURY]
When all our property had been brought to land, luckily without
mishaps of any kind, I left Scrivenor with our _peones_ to bring up
the heavy baggage and went on with Burbury to Trelew by the miniature
train which plies to and fro between the Welsh colony and the coast.
From Trelew a ten-days ride takes you beyond the farm of the last
settler and into the waste places of the pampas.
Trelew is a new and pocket Wales, but very much Wales all the same. To
prove the accuracy of this statement it is only necessary to say that
the waggon which set us on the first leagues of our way belonged to a
Jones, that another Jones accompanied the expedition to the
Cordillera, that I negotiated with a third Jones for a supply of
mutton to take with us for use on the first part of our journey, that
I was introduced to several Williamses and did business with various
Hugheses. And all this in a day and a half.
Trelew itself is a bare settlement of raw-looking houses and shanties,
which has started up on the emptiness of the pampas. It cannot lay any
claim to picturesqueness, and a pervading impression of being
unfinished adds a suggestion of discomfort to the place. All round
about the mud houses the pampa rolls away to the distances, harsh,
stony, overgrown with little humpy bushes of thorn and dotted here and
there with wheat-land. All through and over the settlement you are
never out of hearing of three languages--English, Welsh and Spanish.
[Illustration: WELSH SETTLEMENT OF TRELEW]
For thirty-five years the Welsh have lived in this little colony of
their own founding. Exactly all the reasons which led them to forsake
their far-off homes for Patagonia it would serve no purpose to set out
in detail, but the root of the matter appears to have lain in the fact
that they objected to the laws relating to the teaching of English in
the schools; and, having the courage of their convictions, they came
several thousand miles across the sea to escape the _régime_ they
disliked. At present, however, they seem to have slipped from the
frying-pan into the fire, for they like still less the Argentine code,
by which every man born in the Republic is subject to conscription and
Sunday drilling.
Some time ago the colonists of Trelew appealed to England to intercede
for them with the Argentine Government with a view to obtaining
release from these disabilities. But as the Welsh had of their own
free will deliberately placed themselves under the Government of the
Republic, it was impossible for England to interfere, and this fact
was notified to the suppliants, much to their disappointment and
disgust. Even when I was there they remained rather sore over the
matter, complaining that England had taken all the money subscribed
for the expenses of the appeal and given them no redress in return.
The difficulties and hardships which must inevitably have beset the
commencement of their settling in Patagonia, contrasted with their
present condition, show the Welsh to be splendid people. The resolute
spirit that drove them to emigrate across the seas has served to make
their township there, though perhaps not particularly inviting to look
at, a flourishing one in its quiet pastoral way. They have laid a
railway, as has been said, to the coast at Puerto Madryn and
established a telephone. Spanish and Welsh live here as neighbours.
The Spaniard keeps the store while the Welshman farms, growing a
certain amount of grain, but his chief business lies in breeding
horses, cattle and sheep.
The Welshmen are not wanting in keen business quality. Any one who has
tried to buy horses in Trelew will bear me out in this statement. The
mere fact that a stranger has arrived in their colony, who wants to
invest in horseflesh, awakens all their commercial instincts, and they
are not at all behind the rest of the world in knowing how to form a
combine for the purpose of plundering the Philistines. Quite right
too. A man who can resist making a bargain over a horse whenever he
gets the chance is, like "the good young man who died," over-perfect
for this corrupt old world.
From their first settlement the Welsh have spread south through the
coast-towns of Patagonia, and six weeks' journey from Trelew they have
formed another settlement in the Cordilleras to the north-west which
they have called the "16th October Colony." Thither waggons are always
trekking, and waggon-drivers and others who return bring with them
glowing and rosy descriptions of the young settlement of the interior.
The adaptability of the Welsh to the peculiar needs of colonisation is
very remarkable. They have certainly stepped into the "larger life"
with success.
[Illustration: OUTFITTING IN A PATAGONIAN STORE]
The influence of the new conditions of existence, so different from
that of the Welsh peasant in his own country, is very noticeable in
several ways. The older and the younger generation are unlike each
other now, and will probably continue to become more so as time
goes on. Physically the younger people are far better developed than
their elders, red-faced, open-eyed, straight-backed boys in big felt
hats, each with a bright-coloured handkerchief knotted round his neck
and the guanaco-wool poncho hanging from his shoulders. They are very
picturesque and look their best on horseback. In this matter of riding
also there is a wide difference between the styles of the old and the
young men. The latter, who are Patagonian born, seem to be part of
their horses, but the elders, however excellent long practice has made
them, never attain to the proficiency of their sons.
[Illustration: HUMPHREY JONES, JUN.]
Although the colony of Trelew is to-day in a more or less flourishing
condition and very Welsh, a grave danger menaces it. In fifty years
time how will it be with the racial element? Will there be as many
Welsh then as now? I fear not, and the result is difficult to foresee.
The danger takes the form of the dark-eyed Argentine maiden, who is
rather apt to "make roast meat of the heart" of the Welsh youth. While
the Welsh girls do not take very readily to Spanish-speaking husbands,
the Welsh boys fall very much in love with the daughters of the South.
So it is to be concluded that the language difficulty will settle
itself, or, at any rate, become more easy of arrangement with each
succeeding generation. If the girl you love speaks only Spanish, it is
quite obvious you must learn Spanish in order to be able to talk to
her, and, under the circumstances, you will not find the task a very
hard one. Then children nearly always show a preference for the
mother's tongue and speech in contradistinction to that of the father.
Probably, if these prophecies were uttered in Trelew, the men of
to-day would scoff at them. But onlookers often see most of the game.
In 1865 the Welsh, in deep sorrow, left their own land to escape the
tyranny of the English law, as they considered it, which sought to
force upon them the English language. Their desire was to preserve
their own tongue. And flying from Scylla they will fall (and to some
degree have already fallen) a prey to Charybdis. But it is a very
pleasant Charybdis, typified by a dark-haired, dark-eyed, lissom
maiden, who will bear them sons no longer of the old pure-bred Welsh
stock, but of a mixed race. And so the effort of the forefathers, who
fared overseas to found a new home, shall be made null and void.
Now and again it is the fate of frontier towns to be stirred to their
depths by some incursion from the old world they have left behind
them. Trelew was still recovering from such an experience when we
arrived there. The settlement, in short, had been suffering from a
plague of lords. First appeared an aristocrat, who wished to travel in
the interior, and he bought up horses with a lavish hand, and
generally made preparations which, no doubt, filled the purses of the
inhabitants. This gentleman's projected tour, however, fell through
for some reason, and he departed whence he had come into the unknown
world outside of Trelew's daily cognisance.
Presently after him followed a second "lord," who gave his name as
Lord Reed, and who was received with open arms by an enthusiastic
community. A run of lords appeared to be setting in, and was regarded
by the Trelewians as a distinct dispensation in their favour, which it
was their happy duty to work out thoroughly to their own advantage. By
some mistake Lord Reed had left his ready money behind him, and,
therefore, borrowed pretty extensively from the kind-hearted Welshmen.
After a time Lord Reed vanished, and upon inquiry being made it was
discovered that no such title as Lord Reed was to be found in the
Peerage of Great Britain. When this fact became established, more than
one Welshman is reported to have gone out after Lord Reed with the
family gun, and, I believe, he was finally caught with a lasso! But
the incident was not without its bearing on our personal affair, for
the Bank of Trelew would have nothing whatever to say to my Cook's
letter of credit. In vain I recited my credentials, and gave such
proof of genuineness as was in my power to give. They would none of
me. The bank evidently argued that it was easier to pretend that you
were a _bona-fide_ traveller than that you were a lord. Lord Reed too;
it was rather a taking title. I could not at first understand where
the humour of the question, put to me by several people I met in
Trelew, of "Are you not Lord Prichard?" came in. In fact, it was
disconcerting; but later on, when I heard the above story, I did not
grudge the colonists any fun that might be got out of the situation,
for certainly Lord Reed, taken all in all, had been far from a subject
of pure amusement to them.
We remained six days at Trelew making those last few purchases which
were necessary with the small stock of extra money that I had left
myself as a margin. It was directly owing to Lord Reed that I finally
set forth into the interior with but thirty dollars in Argentine notes
and large drafts on Cook and Son, which were quite useless. Although
the wilderness does not seem a likely field for spending money, yet,
before our travels were at an end, I was glad to sell horses to supply
the needs of our party.
The journey which lay before us to Lake Buenos Aires was about six
hundred miles in length, and this distance might be subdivided into
three stages: the first, from Trelew to Bahia Camerones, where the
expedition became complete; the second, from Bahia Camerones to the
Lakes Musters and Colhué; and the third, to Lake Buenos Aires itself.
My instructions gave me an entirely free hand, within reasonable
limits, as to the number of men I might take with me.
I had from the first been convinced that the smallest number possible
would also be, in our case, the wisest. The immense extent of the
country to be traversed, and the difficulties which must inevitably
lie in our way to hinder and delay us, as well as the practical
emptiness of the country, which requires that an expedition shall be
self-supporting, were salient facts; and our plans had to be made and
modified in relation to these facts. The mobility of the party was the
main point to aim at. Hence it was necessary to cut down the
_personnel_ of the expedition to as low a number as possible, and it
was further most important to have plenty of horses and to spare.
The difficulty of feeding several men when travelling through such a
country was obvious, and therefore not to be thought of, as, besides
the four horses each individual needed for riding, the extra animals
for carrying provision and bedding, clothing, tents, &c. had to be
taken into account. No pack-horse should be allowed to carry his load
two days consecutively, and, in fact, one day's work in three is
enough. If waggons are taken, each should be allowed three teams of
six horses each.
With such ideas in view, those arrangements were made which, in fact,
enabled us to cover the distances we achieved. Any expedition of this
sort is killing work for the horses, and it stands greatly to
Burbury's credit that we lost but one out of nearly sixty during the
months we spent in Patagonia, and that one was a colt that died of
eating poison-shrub.
There is not the slightest doubt that the policy that spells success
in Patagonian travel is summed up in the words, "Cut down your men and
your stores, and take enough horses to enable you to move lightly and
rapidly."
On September 21 we left Trelew in the afternoon. The weather was
magnificent. Our caravan at this period consisted of a couple of
waggons as well as the horses. Two _estancieros_, Messrs. Greenshields
and Haddock, accompanied us, as our way led past their farms. I sent
the waggons ahead and rode on afterwards with Burbury and Humphrey
Jones senior. When we came to the place fixed on for our first camp we
found the men had gone on, for there was no water there. We pushed
forward in the dark, and presently the fire of the encampment
glimmered out in front of us; it seemed to be quite near, but it took
a good while to reach. We heard an occasional fox, and as we sat round
the fire a few birds passed in the dark, calling. The first night in
camp is like the first night at sea, a gloomy time.
[Illustration: THE FIRST GUANACO]
The next day we again had a bright sun with a strong west wind. We
chased some pampa foxes and an ostrich (_Rhea darwini_) and killed two
of the former. Jones and Burbury caught a cavy (_Dolichotis
patagonica_). So we marched on over the rolling downs day after day,
sometimes catching a glimpse of the sea, sometimes journeying across
pampas where the far horizons met in pale blue sky and puffed white
clouds above, and below grass and endless scrub. We saw Cayenne plover
(_Vanellus cayennensis_) at an early stage of our travels.
[Illustration: THE START OF OUR LONG TREK]
I have already mentioned the herds of guanaco that roam the interior.
This animal belongs distinctively to South America, and is to be found
nowhere else in the world. Darwin writes of it as follows: "The
guanaco, or wild llama, is the characteristic quadruped of the plains
of Patagonia.... It is an elegant animal in a state of nature, with a
long slender neck and fine legs." In colour the guanaco is of a
golden-brown with white underparts, the hair upon the sides being
somewhat long and fleecy. Enormous herds of from three to five hundred
live upon the pampas, and we were aware that we should chiefly depend
for meat on those we might chance to shoot during many months to come.
One evening, when I was riding ahead with the troop of horses, I saw
my first guanaco. Coming round a bend of the winding _cañadon_, I
looked up and perceived him. The sight was highly picturesque. It was
an old buck standing alone on the top of a cliff some two hundred feet
high and looking down at me. He was posed against a background of pale
green glinting sunset. I had hardly time to unsling my rifle before he
bounded away. We saw many thousands afterwards, but somehow in the
nature of things I shall never forget that first one.
On the coast-farms, which, it must be recollected, are many of them
scores of square leagues in extent, the guanaco grows comparatively
tame, becoming used to the passing of mounted shepherds; but in other
parts of Patagonia, noticeably in the valley of the River Chico of
Chubut, through which we passed later, they are very wild, allowing no
human being to approach within half a mile. This is owing to the
Indians, who hunt them perpetually in that district.
Once in camp in Patagonia life is very enjoyable, though perhaps the
enjoyment varies with the amount of game to be seen. Up at sunrise,
when the sun pokes its big bald lemon-coloured head out of the
bed-clothes of the sky. Then some early camp-man stirs and rises, and
waddles down to the wet grey ashes of yesternight's fire, and soon a
weak trail of smoke goes rocketing away in the wind. The big pot is
put on and breakfast is made and eaten. Then the cargo is packed, and
the horses are rounded up by a Gaucho or two, riding bareback. We
saddle up and the caravan moves off on its leagues-long march.
Marches vary from fifteen miles to forty, and when the afternoon sun
waxes less strong the horses are off-saddled and turned loose, the
waggons unpacked and the camp-fires lighted. _Maté_ eternally, a
roast, tea afterwards and a pipe, and then the sleeping-bags. _Maté_
or _yerba_, I must explain, is the great drink of the pampas, and is
most invigorating. A cup or tin is half filled with the yellow powdery
leaves, to which is added a little cold water, followed by hot. It is
drunk through a _bombilla_ or tube, the maker of the decoction taking
the first pull, and afterwards it passes from hand to hand, and I must
add from mouth to mouth, round the circle. It is the greatest insult
to refuse to partake, and when the originator of the brew happens to
be an old and rather unappetising Tehuelche lady, the effort to take
your turn and look pleased is often something of an ordeal.
Day after day went by in much the same manner, but few remembrances
remain with me more vividly than the pampa fox and cavy hunting which
we enjoyed during those early times of our expedition. Four lurchers
of sorts and my big greyhound, Tom, trotted behind our horses, and
when game was sighted we went after it at full gallop. In that keen
air nothing can be more exhilarating than such a chase over the
broken ground of the pampa, where we were often successful, but among
hummocks and hills the quarry frequently made good its escape.
[Illustration: MR. LANGLEY'S _ESTANCIA_ ON THE ROAD TO BAHIA
CAMERONES]
On the 25th we passed a farm that was quite English in
appearance--wire-fences enclosing sheep and lambs on downs that
descended in undulations to the sea. By evening we were in broken
country patched with red rock. The horses were rather troublesome;
Hughes, one of the Gauchos, rode an untamed mare and gave a good
exhibition of horsemanship. Among the sheep and the hills an Indian
rode down from the high ground; he wore a poncho of red and black,
tinted like autumn trees. His camp consisted of a little fire of three
or four sticks, by which squatted his _china_. He took his place
beside her, and watched our line of waggons and horses wind away out
of sight.
From Trelew to Camerones the country was for the most part like the
bare deer-forests of the Scottish Highlands, brown bracken being
replaced by _espinilla_ (thorn, a general term) and the green shrub
called by the Welshmen "poison-bush," the same blue sky above, the
same occasional lochlike lagoons. For the first two days or more the
pampas stretched to the rim of the horizon, empty and somewhat harsh
even in the sunlight. Now and then mirages like squadrons of cavalry
hovered along the edges of them. A few guanaco and ostriches, a
sprinkling of cavy, and many pampa foxes seemed to eke out an
existence there. It was a land of vast prospects, a scene laid forth
with a sort of noble parsimony, which--as in the case of a miser so
miserly that for the very exceedingness of his vice you respect
him--was yet stupendous in its one or two grandly simple salient
features, and drove the spectator to that admiration which verges
upon fear. Picture one such characteristic vision of Patagonia. As far
as eye could reach a spread of wind-weary grass, roofed by a
wind-blown sky, an eagle poised far off, a dot in the upper air.
Nothing more.
A man alone within this vast setting seemed puny. Lost here, without a
horse, he would be the most helpless of things created. It was across
this gigantic primordialism that our way led us. Three times we made
our camp upon the bare pampas, three times in one or other of the many
_cañadones_ before reaching Bahia Camerones. You may be voyaging at an
easy jog over the pampa, seeing the land roll apparently quite level
to the horizon, when suddenly you come upon a spatter of white sand, a
track leading between the shoulders of the pampa, you dive down and
are lost to sight in a moment; then, perhaps, for four miles or for
fourteen you are riding a couple of hundred feet below the level
spread of the pampa, and as you pass the guanaco on the cliff tops
watch you uneasily. To be lost in such a land is the simplest possible
matter.
On the 27th we arrived at the Estancia Lochiel, where Mr. Greenshields
most kindly entertained us. This _estancia_ is situated at the head of
a _cañadon_, which drops away to the sea eight leagues distant. It
consists of a small colony of wooden houses with corrugated iron
roofs. The Lochiel Sheep Farming Company, of which Mr. Greenshields is
manager, have 15,000 sheep and forty square leagues of camp. "Camp,"
you must understand, in Patagonia means land.
The day after our arrival Scrivenor and Burbury accompanied Mr.
Frederick Haddock to his farm, eight leagues away, in order to bring
back the horses I had purchased by contract in Trelew. I remained
behind as Mr. Greenshields' guest, for a puma was reported by the
shepherd to have killed five sheep upon the edge of the farm during
the previous night.
Macdonald, the Scotch shepherd, Barckhausen and I set out to see if we
could find the puma. On my way to the spot I shot my first guanaco. He
appeared upon the skyline doing sentinel, possibly against the very
puma we were after. We rode under the hill on which the guanaco was
watching, and he began to move uneasily. At the bend of the hill was a
small hollow, and, as we rode through this, I told my companions to
ride on and threw them my _cabresto_ (leading-rope of a horse). I slid
off the horse and crawled up the hill. Upon the bare face of it was a
thicket of poison-bush, and into this I ultimately made my way. The
sentinel guanaco was there above me, stretching out his long neck, and
every now and then giving his high neighing laugh. When one hundred
and twenty yards off he saw me, and I had to snap him quickly. Swing
went his neck, and away he galloped with his swift, uneven gait. I
thought I had missed him, when, to my delight, he began to slacken
speed, and finally lay down in an ungainly attitude, his long neck
crooked in a curve in front of him. I crawled nearer, and up he got
and was off again. I ran down to my horse and mounted, and Macdonald
let Tom, my hound, loose. We galloped the guanaco up. He was very sick
indeed, and inside of three hundred yards Tom pulled him down again.
The Mauser bullet had hit him two inches behind the shoulder about
half way down the body. It had not come out. How he managed to get so
far I cannot understand. We then went onwards, and saw by the way
several herds of guanaco. I did not shoot any more, however, as they
were uncommonly tame, and there was, of course, mutton at the
_estancia_. We reached the spot on the hills above the puma's kill,
low thorn bushes, vast mountain and blue sea, but no sign of the puma
was to be found. These animals will often travel four or five leagues
after a kill.
[Illustration: FREDERICK BARCKHAUSEN]
By the way, when you fire at a guanaco they will sway their heads
downwards with an odd sort of ducking motion. Not one individual but a
whole herd will do this at any unaccustomed sound. The effect is most
curious.
While at Bahia Camerones our party was completed. We took with us
five Gauchos, who are active, handy men as a rule. The population of
the country is largely composed of Gauchos; in fact, they form the
foundation of Patagonian life.
They live by the horse, and the horse lives by them. They drive mobs
of cattle or of horses for owners across three degrees of latitude to
sell them. They have been born in the camp, live in the camp, and will
very likely die there also. In Patagonia they treat their horses in a
method very different to that which we employ in our crowded country.
There nature gives grass, water, and the horse; man tames the animal
as little as possible from his wild state, and forces an alliance with
nature. At night the mares are hobbled and the horses turned loose;
while the Gauchos light their camp-fire and drink _maté_ through the
_bombilla_.
At the first light next morning they take it in turn to bring in the
troop, which they do with an astonishing swiftness. Sometimes, of
course, the horses "clear," and then it is that the Gauchos in charge
find them by tracking.
In a country intersected by deep _cañadones_, which offer a secure
hiding-place in their many hollows, this is a difficult matter. The
tracks perhaps run easily through a belt of soft marsh, and then are
invisible upon a pampa of shingle and thorn.
A true Gaucho must be able to do a number of things--to back an
untamed colt, to lassoo, to use the _boleadores_, which are heavy
stones attached together by a hide rope, and are to the Patagonian
what the boomerang is to the Australian aborigine. He must be able to
cook, to make horse-gear from the pelts of beasts, to find his way
without a compass from point to point, by instinct as it were.
The Gaucho shares with the poet the honour of being born, not made.
This proves that Gaucho work is Art, with a big A. Take, for instance,
the power of driving single-handed a big mob of wild horses and
keeping them compact. No one who has not tried it can imagine what
heartbreaking work it is to a beginner. One learns to do it after a
fashion in time, but never like the man who has been bred to the
craft.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] Since writing the above I learn that a German line has put
steamers upon this route.
CHAPTER III
THE BATTLE OF THE HORSES
Leave Bahia Camerones -- Horses wild -- Decide on taking
one waggon -- Bell-mare -- Names of horses -- Breaking-in
of horses -- German _peones_ -- Horses stray -- Gaucho
trick -- Watching troop at night -- Four languages --
Signalling by smokes -- Searching for horses -- Favourite
words and phrases -- Nag of the baleful eye -- _Cañadon_
of the dry river -- Bad ground -- Flies -- Ostrich eggs --
Shooting guanaco -- River Chico of Chubut -- Puma's visit
at night -- Condor -- Lady killed -- Singing in camp --
Stormy night -- Breakdown of waggon -- Guanaco on stony
ground -- Long chase -- Guanaco's death.
I will not bore my readers with all the technicalities of our
preparations for the real start.
Suffice it to say that our total belongings were stowed upon a waggon
and on the backs of four pack-horses. We had in all sixty horses, and
eight men. About forty of these horses had been running wild upon the
pampa for eight months previous to our acquiring them. During that
time they had been lost and had only been recaptured shortly before
our arrival in Trelew. The purchase of them was, however, the best
speculation I could make under the circumstances, since all the
animals were good and sound. Had I bought by small instalments in
Trelew, not only would every man within journeying distance have very
naturally attempted to palm off upon me the worst and most vicious
animals he possessed, but the horses, not being used to one another's
company, would have been impossible to keep together at night upon the
pampas, as the various sections composing such a _tropilla_ would
inevitably have scattered to the four points of the compass.
Patagonian horses, which are descended from those brought over by the
Spaniards in the sixteenth century, are never stabled, but are turned
out rain and snow in their troops. These troops or _tropillas_ consist
of any number from six animals to thirty, and to each is assigned a
_madrina_, or bell-mare, which is never ridden, and which is trained
to be caught easily. At night she is hobbled, and her troop remain
round about her. Naturally a well-trained _madrina_ is one affair,
while a badly-trained one is quite another. In my mob of horses I had
four troops, two good madrinas and one bad one, while the fourth was a
_rosada_, whose sole object in life seemed to be to get away from her
own troop and to kick any one who came within ten feet of her.
[Illustration: A PAMPA ROUND-UP]
When you desire to put a strange horse or colt into a troop, it is
necessary to couple him to the _madrina_ for some days, after which he
will remain with the troop. The _madrina_ should never be driven in
hobbles, a mistake that is often made when bringing in the horses of a
morning. A horse used to hobbles can travel in them four or five
leagues in a single night, so the reason why the mares should not be
allowed ever to become used to travelling in hobbles is obvious. The
_madrina_ has a bell attached to her neck, and the last sound heard
before you sleep is the soft tinkle of these bells and the comfortable
sound of feeding horses, unless the troop happens to take it into
their head to make off, in which case you will have a long ride upon
their tracks in the morning.
The horses throughout the Argentine Republic are known by their
colours (for which the Spanish language supplies an extraordinary
variety of terms signifying every tint and shade), and to these names
they answer. Some of the names are melodious and pretty--_alazan_,
which means chestnut, _cruzado_, the name given to a horse that
possesses alternate white feet, the off fore and the near hind foot,
or the other way round. There is a theory among the Gauchos that a
_cruzado_ will never tire. I cannot do better than give a list of the
names of the horses of my own _tropilla_, though, of course, there are
many others:
_Alazan_, chestnut.
_Asulejo_, bluish-grey and white in patches.
_Bayo_, fawn.
_Blanco_, white.
_Cruzado_, with crossed white feet.
_Gateado_, yellow with black stripe down back.
_Horqueta_, slit-eared.
_Moro_, grey.
_Oscuro_, black.
_Overo_, piebald or skewbald.
_Pangaré_, brown or bay with fawn muzzle.
_Picaso_, black with white blaze and white legs.
_Rosado_, red and white in patches, roan.
_Rosillo_, strawberry.
_Tordillo_, grey.
_Tostado_, toast-coloured.
_Zaino_, brown or dark bay.
The taming of these horses is a business of which an account may not
be uninteresting. The methods used are of a very rough description.
The colt is caught from the _manada_, or troop of mares in which he
was born, with a lasso, a head-stall is put on him and he is tied up
to the _palenque_, or centre-post of the corral. Here he is left for
twelve hours or so, during which he generally expends his energies in
trying to pull the _palenque_ out of the ground. He is then saddled
up, generally with an accompaniment of bucking, and the Gaucho who is
to tame him climbs upon his back. Another mounted Gaucho is near by to
"ride off," which he does by galloping between the colt and any
dangerous ground or object. Probably the colt will begin by bucking,
but if he does not do so during his first gallop it by no means
follows that he will turn out to be free from the fault. Indeed it is
quite probable that he may be soft and fat after his easy youth upon
the pampas, and not till about the fifth or sixth gallop will he show
such vices as are in him. At first he is ridden on the _bocado_, which
is a soft strip of hide tied round the lower jaw. This answers to the
heavy snaffle which is the first bit a colt has to submit to in
England.
The Gauchos of Patagonia are not nearly patient enough with the mouths
of their mounts, spoiling many by harsh treatment. Different colours
in horses are supposed to indicate different temperaments; thus they
say a _Moro_ colt is generally docile, while a _Picaso_ has the
reputation of being very much the reverse.
The horses of Northern Patagonia--such as were ours, for they came
from the banks of the Rio Negro--are reputed to be more spirited than
those bred in the south. But this theory is possibly owing to the fact
that the average Gaucho of the north is a better rider than his
brother of the south. The horses are, I fancy, much the same.
Many Patagonian horses are what may be called "quick to mount,"
starting at a canter as soon as their rider's foot touches the
stirrup. This also is the fault of the breakers-in. There are few
tricks more annoying or, upon a hillside, more dangerous.
After this short description my readers will be able to understand
more fully the happenings which I am about to describe.
On October 3 we set out from Mr. Greenshields', and at the moment of
starting Fritz Gleditzsch, a German from Dresden, whom I had brought
with me from Buenos Aires, and whom I had engaged on the best
recommendations, came to me and told me that he could not go farther
because he had had no meat to eat upon the previous night. As the
meat-shed was situated about two hundred yards from where my men were
encamped, and as he had free access to it, I began to understand that
Fritz was something of an old soldier. Had I been able to get another
man to replace him on the spot I should have done so, but with my
large troop of horses I was more or less in the hands of my _peones_,
a not uncommon difficulty to overtake the traveller in Patagonia, and
one upon which many _peones_ count.
[Illustration: MAP SHOWING ROUTE OF EXPEDITION THROUGH PATAGONIA.]
The real reason for Fritz's recalcitrance turned out to be the
arrival in my camp of a compatriot and erstwhile companion, Hans
Hollesen, who had applied to join the expedition. I took them both
along, for, having paid Master Fritz's way from Buenos Aires, I did
not relish the notion of obtaining no return for the outlay, and I
knew that, once we passed Colohuapi, I should be master of the
situation.
I heard months afterwards from a New Zealander, who had been on board
the _Primero de Mayo_ with Fritz, that that gentleman was looking
forward to a soft job, and had boasted that he would certainly desert
us if we marched more than ten miles a day.
Our first march was about three leagues, and we made our camp beside a
small shallow lagoon upon which a couple of ashy-headed geese
(_Bernicla poliocephala_) were swimming. I shot them both for the pot.
It was about six o'clock when we camped, and Burbury, who was in
charge of the horses, took every possible precaution to prevent their
straying, a very likely contingency upon their first night in the open
pampa. In spite of the fact that the horses were watched all night,
morning found us with but thirty-seven out of the whole number. Soon
after daylight Burbury, with some of the men, rode out to recover
them. They returned unsuccessful. During the morning a wandering
Gaucho came into camp and said he had seen some horses in a _cañadon_
near by. The Welshmen rode out there but came back disappointed, as
the horses were not ours. At eleven o'clock next morning I sent three
of the men back to Mr. Haddock's, from whose _estancia_ the lost troop
had been acquired, the probabilities being that they had headed back
for home. But shortly after Burbury and the Germans returned with the
horses, which had travelled about nine miles, and were discovered
calmly feeding in a _cañadon_. It was Burbury who discovered them by a
smart piece of Gaucho work.
Next night, October 6, we watched the horses in turns. It was a cold
night lit by a moon. We had some reason to believe that our Gaucho
friend of the day before had not been altogether innocent in
connection with the straying of the horses. Such a man will ride
quietly through the scattered horses feeding in the gloom and
stampede them. He will follow a small mob and drive them into some
fold of the hills, such as, no doubt, he knows a dozen of, and hide
them there until, after several days, a reward is offered by the
owner. The Gaucho will then ride casually into the camp, drink a
_maté_, hear the story, and remark that he is well acquainted with the
country round. If asked whether he can give any opinion as to the
whereabouts of the lost horses, he says, "_Quien sabe?_" but suggests
they may be in a "_cañadon muy limpio_," to which horses often stray.
In reply to any question as to where the _cañadon_ may lie, he
replies, "Over there," and waves his hand half round the compass. He
may add that he is looking for seven mares of his own that strayed
away last Friday week or he would himself undertake the office of
guide. If any hint of payment be given, he goes on to say that, since
his mares have been lost so long they may remain lost a little longer,
while he guides and aids the travellers in their search, not, of
course, for the money's worth, that will not recompense him for the
mares, which may wander away altogether out of the province because of
his delay in looking for them, but because he would do a kindness to
persons for whom he has conceived a liking. So he acts as guide, and,
after a decent interval, finds the horses and pouches his reward. It
is an excellent trade, as there is no risk and plenty of emolument to
recommend it, and, in fact, it is a common enough trick in Patagonia.
I sat most of the night by the fire--except when my turn came to ride
round the horses, which we had placed in a small hollow--writing up my
diary by the light of the fire, and watching the men ride in and out
of the moonlight and the shadows. As the night advanced the cold
increased. The moon left us about 3.30 A.M. and it became very dark.
As I circled on my beat I passed by a wild cat. Morning found the
horses all right. We had, however, to delay a little to allow of our
men returning from Haddock's.
On October 7 we fared forth once more upon our way, and the ill-luck
that had attended us at this first camp was with us up to the last
moment of the three days we spent there, for as the waggon began to
move off an _alazan_ fell beneath the front wheel, which passed clean
over his near fore leg. Strangely enough, owing to some inequality of
the ground, the waggon, although very heavily laden, did not hurt the
animal. He was not even cut, and when we got him up he resumed his
journey as if nothing had happened, and eventually turned out one of
our best horses.
[Illustration: J. B. SCRIVENOR (GEOLOGIST) AND MULA]
We now made two or three good marches in succession, but on October
10, in spite of all precautions, the horses belonging to the black
mare's troop deserted her.[2] Upon this, finding that until the horses
of the different troops became more used to each other, it would be
almost impossible to keep them together on the open pampas, where, as
a further disadvantage, the grass was poor and sparse, and the horses
had to scatter a great deal to feed, I decided to cut across to the
Rio Chico of Chubut and march along the river valley, the tall cliffs
of which would serve as a barrier to prevent the _tropilla_ straying.
Never was such an awful place as these pampas in which to lose
anything, or, worse still, to get lost yourself. You ride a hundred
yards or so and you are in some deep-mouthed _cañadon_, lying flush
with the pampa, and out of sight of your companions in an instant.
On the expedition we spoke four languages--Spanish, English, German
and Welsh, but English was more used than the others.
On one occasion we had to light a couple of fires to signal some of
the men who were out looking for horses; one of these spread rather
much, but was easily put out with a spade. It is strange how small an
area burns in that part of the country, even with a high wind to help
the flames. The weather was windy and bitterly cold.
I extract the following from my diary:
"_October 10, evening._--I write this by the camp-fire. The men take
it in turns to cook. Two armadillos (_Dasypus minutus_) have been
caught by the Germans. They are strong little beasts; you can hardly
pull one, which has half buried itself in the ground, out with both
hands. We roast them whole with hot stones and they taste like
chicken. Fritz and Hollesen went for the horses this morning and found
three of the Trelew troop gone, the Tordillo, the Zaino, and the
Blanco, and this although one was _maneado_ and the other two tied
together. This is a great hindrance. We got the waggon ready on the
interminable pampa and decided to strike down at once for the Rio
Chico by way of a large _cañadon_ four and a half leagues long. This
will add some days to our journey to Colohuapi. But if we continue
losing and searching for horses, shall we ever get there? One day we
cover twenty-one miles, the next nothing, because of strayed horses.
Nor can you _soga_ them up, for the grass is poor and they must have a
large range. Here we are in this huge country looking for horses upon
and about a pampa intersected by many _cañadones_, each of which would
take an entire week to explore thoroughly. At breakfast I decided to
march, sending Jones, who is a good tracker, off to see if he could
find the horses where he found them yesterday.
"We have a big buck-jumper, a piebald, which is a strong horse suited
to the waggon. It took an hour and a half to get him harnessed, and we
started on the back track, for the _cañadon_ we must strike lies a
league behind us. Barckhausen was to ride an untamed black horse with
the strangest light blue glimmering eyes, which for some reason makes
me repeat over and over to myself the lines of Q.:
"His glittering eyes are the salt seas' prize,
And his fingers clutch the sand.
"Rather far fetched, but so it always is. One notices how much in
camp-life a man gets into the habit of a 'Punch, brothers, punch'--a
haunting phrase which he applies to everything. In one case it is some
grim and grotesque oath that he mentally lives on, sometimes it is a
line of a hymn, sometimes it is a bit of an advertisement. There are
few books in the camp, and mine not out yet from the tin box. The
Welshmen have a Bible in their own language; Hollesen has a paper of
short stories about missing heirs and such like; Scrivenor has
'Pickwick.'
[Illustration: THE BIG OVERO, A BUCKJUMPER]
"But to return to Barckhausen. The nag of the baleful eye would not be
caught, and had to be chased about the pampa by Hughes and myself.
Finally, Jones got a lasso on him, and he danced at the edge of the
lagoon with four men at the other end of the lasso. We tied his legs
in slip-knots and pulled him over, and when quieter saddled him. He
bucked around with the saddle. At length Barckhausen got up and rode
him the whole afternoon. It was a terrible job driving the horses, and
that even though we were in the _cañadon_.
"On each side of us were bare, bald grass hills, rolling in hummocks
and their sides sprinkled with thorn-scrub. In the centre, winding in
sharp bends, a dry river bed. Towards evening, after travelling all
the afternoon down the _cañadon_ since one o'clock, I rode on and
found the bed of the river held water in four places. Near the third
of these we camped. Saw an ostrich and a few sentinel guanaco. Caught
an armadillo. The scenery here consists of alternations of pampa and
_cañadon_, _cañadon_ and pampa, and over all the tearing wind, which
seldom drops.
"I have given out two tins of jam and one of Swiss milk, one of coffee
and milk and some vegetables. Sometimes we soak our biscuit and bake
it. It is very good treated so. I am writing this by the fire at seven
o'clock. Coldish.
"Jones has not turned up yet, and must have had to sleep out in
nothing save a blanket, poor chap! He was to have cut our tracks and
followed them up.
"_October 11._--All our _tropillas_ right this morning, and at 8.30 I
rode out of the camp and met Jones, who had found the three strayed
horses about a league from the old camp.
"We started and made our way down the empty river-bed, which now
broadened and was pebbly, like a Scotch trout-stream. Before we left
Mal Espina _estancia_ the foreman told us the road down the _cañadon_
was very clear--'_muy limpio_,' and only four and a half leagues in
length, but we have been in it two days and are in it still. About 5,
as I was riding ahead with the troop of horses, I came upon the track
of wheels in deep scrub. I went back to the waggon and found it on the
left bank of the river-bed. Upon one side were thorn-bush and sand,
and upon the other a swampy _vega_ of wet grass. Through this the
track led, and into this the waggon lumbered, then two of the horses
foundered in the black mud and the waggon sank. Of course that put an
end to our day's journey, and I sent on Jones to bring back Burbury
and the troop. We were in a land of many flies, chiefly sand-flies,
which buzzed and stung horribly. Jones had tied up the horses on the
Rio Chico and we could not reach them to-night. Fritz found sixteen
eggs in an ostrich's nest and Hollesen found one. The one was fine but
the sixteen were chickenny.
"We all turned to, unloaded the waggon and pulled it out with some
toil from the marsh, and before dinner loaded it up again.
"By evening we reached the _cañadon_ of the Rio Chico and camped upon
the banks.
"_October 12._--With an effort got away by nine o'clock. I rode on
down the _cañadon_, as we had no meat and some was wanted. We appear
to be now entering a good game country. Saw five ostriches. I rode the
big Tostado. He loped lazily across stony ridges, which crawl to the
foot of the purple hills that are on the other side of the Chico. Two
herds of guanaco fled while I was on the horizon. I cantered a long
way, it seemed very far, over the rolling ridges of pebble and
thorn-bush. Mirages smoked and danced on the horizon. I came at length
to the waggon-track which runs through the wild gorge of the Chico,
and is only used about once or twice a year. I rode down this track,
and at the side found a single ostrich egg. Shortly after I sighted
the horses, which Jones had tied up here and there. I left my belt and
the egg, and went back into the scrub to seek for that game which I
could not find. Saw one guanaco, but it had seen me first, and would
not let me approach within a quarter of a mile. Sighted the horses and
waggon far away on the high ground and rode to meet them. Put them in
a new troop and got away again at one o'clock. Found that if I could
not shoot a guanaco we must open our reserve of tinned meat, and I did
not wish to begin upon it so soon. Rode on ahead of the troop
revolving these matters. My horse was extra lazy. I was thinking of
the ostriches I had observed when I saw over a ridge to the left the
ears of a guanaco. There was a dry nullah-bed which curved in beneath
the ridge. It was pebbly and sparsely set with thorn. I lay down and
crawled until I came to some water, and then I looked again. I could
see the first guanaco, an old buck, peering with his long neck
swaying, and looking at the Tostado which I had tied up. To tie up
your horse in view is the most successful thing you can do in this
country of long-necked game, and of game which is so often pursued
with dogs and on horseback. Sometimes the most ordinary game takes,
from the circumstances surrounding its pursuit, a reflected interest
not its own. So it was in this case; nor, indeed, is the guanaco
always an easy quarry, in fact it is a shy animal in the districts
where it is hunted by Indians.[3] I crawled along, just a thorn-bush,
and that a lean one, between me and detection. I had set my hopes on a
low green belt of poison-scrub, and this I attained at last. From it I
saw a foot of the big buck's neck and the heads and ears of six more.
I had made up my mind to take a fine bead shot, but he gave me no
chance of doing so. I had only time to snap him as he saw me. The
bullet smashed his neck. As the others ran away I put two shots out of
four into one, and killed it as it entered the scrub of thick, thorny,
califate bushes that lived hardily there in the valley. I went on
after shooting the guanaco and left Fritz and Hughes to cut up the
meat. We made a league and a half through the gorge of the Chico when
up came Fritz and said the waggon was broken down by, so he explained,
a "horse falling on the pole" within a hundred yards of where I had
shot the guanaco. This was a disaster indeed. Here were we just doing
a good march when this wretched breakdown occurred. We turned the
troop and went back only to find the waggon, a league away, coming
merrily towards us. They said it could go no farther, but after
repairs it achieved a league and a half more.
[Illustration: THE HUNTER'S RETURN]
"Passing along we agreed it was a good country for lions (_F. c.
puma_, locally called lions). We encamped beneath a high cliff, sixty
feet of moss-grown basaltic rock beside the muddy river, where it
winds through the marshes. In the night the dogs began to bark, for a
lion came into camp. We could hear it moving by the dead camp-fire
among the pots and pans. Burbury fired his revolver in its direction;
he was sleeping on the outside of the tent. This morning we have found
the lion's lair, twenty yards up in the rock above our camp. Fritz
said last night, 'And if you hear me cry out, it is the lion, he zomp
on me.'
[Illustration: _FELIS CONCOLOR PUMA_]
"Fritz is very jocular sometimes: 'Aha, my little horse, he zomp!' and
'Mine little bitch, you go and catch a guanaco.' To-night he was
roasting an ostrich egg and it exploded and shot him all over with
yellow yolk. He remarked, 'He is goot, this egg, but he smell a bit of
skunk.'
"_October 13._--Mending waggon, no wood. At ten o'clock waggon mended
but needed a rest in the sun till the hide of guanaco we had bound it
with should dry. So I decided to take to-day as our Sunday and march
to-morrow. Burbury is making a plum-duff. Served out tobacco this
morning.
"Mock Sunday and at rest, a time for dreaming. Away at home the trees
are browning. How one's heart turns to them and dreams of them! The
men born out here wonder how we can look forward to the happiness of
going home, perhaps for the sight of some village church hidden in
English lanes and fields. Half the charm of this life we are living
out here lies in thinking of our return to the land that gives us all
comfort and a silent welcome of green springs. Went out to-day after
the lion and found tracks, but the ground was too hard for following
them up. He lives in a valley of grey dead bush. As we went away from
the dead guanaco yesterday, a condor (_Sarcorhamphus_ _gryphus_)
appeared and dropped on the carcase almost before we left it.
[Illustration: GUANACO HOUNDS. (FATHER AND MOTHER OF THE AUTHOR'S
HOUND, TOM.)]
"_October 14, Sunday._--We got away at nine o'clock and came fast. The
muddy narrow Chico flowing through a land which looks as if it led
over the edge of the world. It reminds one of a flowering wilderness.
Last night we tied up the dogs, and dear old Tom howled till I had to
get up and correct him. When up I let poor little Lady loose, the last
service I was ever destined to do for her, for to-day the waggon went
over her belly, and she lies dead on the track a few leagues back. She
was six months old, always cheerful, and wagging her whip of a tail,
always up to the march. Half an hour before she died I saw her hunting
a young fox, her first. She had brown eyes and I had got fonder of her
than I knew. Tom used to drive her from her food, biting her, and from
the softest bed, and I am now glad to think I sometimes made him give
way to her. Just before Lady's death, I shot a cavy (_Dolichotis
patagonica_) with the Mauser. He gave me a nice shot sitting up on
his haunches, near the track on the skyline of a low bare ridge.
Yesterday we had a very fine _puchero_ or stew, pickled eggs given me
by Pedro at Camerones and two plum-duffs made with waggon-grease by
Burbury, who is quite a _chef_ at plum-duff. After our meal we had out
the concertina and found that Burbury knew 'The Church's One
Foundation,' and Jones a melancholy Welsh hymn.
"The two best of my horses have sore backs.
"We spent an hour trying to get the waggon up a steep ridge 100 feet
high, and had to unload and all work at it. Made a long seven leagues
and encamped at the foot of a ridge with 200 yards of dead bush
between us and the yellow Chico. Going very pebbly, the ground here
and there burnt up and arid. It is always in such places that the
mirages are most common.
"_October 15._--Got off 8.40. At 11 unloaded waggon, which was in
great danger of turning over. Scrivenor photoed it. At 2.20 waggon
horses unfit to go farther. Camped by the Chico; shot a yellow-billed
teal.
"_October 16._--Out of humour all day, first, because, I found one of
the cameras put unprotected into the waggon among the tins of potted
meat, &c. Wearily, wearily we wend our way towards the blue distant
hills of our desires. Even as in life we wend towards distant
ambitions, and, coming up to them, find new ones arise upon the
horizon beyond, and so we travel all our days, looking longingly
ahead. This valley of the Chico is a wild place, conical hillocks of
sand have now taken the place of the bush-covered ones. The Chico
remains yellow and winds greatly. Purple hills crown the distance. It
is all high-coloured and clear-shaded as in a picture.
"To-day, coming round a bend of the Chico glen, I saw seven guanaco
feeding in the valley. They had seen me and begun to move, so I
galloped round the ridge, and as I jumped off my horse one passed and
halted within seventy yards. The herd made a pretty picture standing
on the bare, desert-brown hillside in the tearing wind. I clean missed
the buck with the first shot, and only killed him as he ran off,
hitting him low behind the shoulder. The wind was blowing hard to-day
and full in our faces.
"A windy night, the sand of the river-bed driving and filling
everything. Presently we shall crawl into our sleeping-bags and, with
our feet to the wind, bid any weather defiance. A pipe is a mighty
ally. Here am I in the little 4 ft. tent which Burbury and Scrivenor
have pitched to sleep in, wrapped in a poncho a-reek with the smoke of
Indian camp-fires, enjoying a pipe and writing this, and as it grows
too dark to write and the wind roars and bellows louder down the
river-bed, I shall sit here watching the red glow of my pipe and
dreaming.
"_October 17, 9 o'clock._--A month hence from to-day will be my
birthday. Where shall we be? At the Lake Buenos Aires, I hope. Several
horses this morning have sore backs, and Burbury, excellent fellow,
has been doctoring them.
"How the face of this country changes with the weather! Bleak and
windy even in warm sunlight, though fine and bracing; in evil weather
it wears an aspect of forlornness. The farther you penetrate into
Patagonia the more its vast emptiness weighs on you and overwhelms
you.
"_Eleven o'clock._--Where shall we be a month hence? Where, indeed?
To-day we had a great disappointment, and I hardly know how to write
of it. The natural difficulties of the country are very great, but
with care, in spite of boulders and hard-going, it seemed as if I
could get my waggon up to the foothills, and I looked forward to
bringing back many specimens in it. But after 300 and odd miles of
travel a particularly hummocky valley proved too much for its
endurance. When the horses tried to move it this morning it broke up
altogether, and here it lies!
"Total day's march, 200 yards. Burbury and Jones have ridden on
towards Colohuapi, where there are some pioneers' huts, to try and get
wood and bolts. What is to be done? I do not know. Take to
_cargueros_? We could bring back no specimens to speak of in that
case. One must wait and see what Burbury can get from the people at
Colohuapi. The camp is in a valley and is surrounded by bare mud cones
100 feet in height, a few bushes shiver in the throat of the upper end
of the gorge. In the gorge and round our camp-fire spreads a growth of
rank lean weed, full of yellow flowers, and a few small wind-polished
stones lie at the base of one of the ant-heaplike hills.
"'Oh, the dreary, dreary moorland! Oh, the weary, weary shore' (of the
Chico)! I took my gun down to the river and shot five widgeon (_Mareca
sibilatrix_) and six martinetas (_Calodromas elegans_).
"Late in the evening Scrivenor and I went up over the ridge of bare
hills rather with the idea of shooting, if possible, a condor we had
seen poised high up. Sight at back came off Scrivenor's Mauser.[4] We
went on and saw a herd of guanaco, one much nearer than the rest, and
we crawled towards him. The stones were a penance. The only cover was
thorn, and little of that up there on the high pampa above the valley
where our camp is. At two hundred yards I shot and hit him, but he
went on, and presently swayed his neck and lay down. I crawled up and
had a shot at his neck. Thereafter followed periods of cantering in a
rickety way, followed by periods of lying down, and at last we went
round over a rise and crawled down on him. I thought he was dead but
for the shadow of his neck, and I crawled on with but one cartridge
left in my gun. As I neared him, up he got and I fired again and hit
him. He was growing very weak. Scrivenor shouted that he had no
revolver, and so here were we with only our knives. I followed the
guanaco and Scrivenor went round. I was upon him first but my knife
was weak. Scrivenor, startled from his usual calm, and with a shout,
leaped at the guanaco and caught him round the neck. So we bore him to
earth and slew him. I examined him for wounds and found four. Two of
the shots were vital, yet he had led us a chase of two and a half
miles, and we had to carry the meat back to camp. Arrived there, and
preparing a meal by the fire, in came Burbury and Jones. They had met
a Gaucho trekking to Colohuapi, who told them that Colohuapi was yet
twenty-five leagues away and that there were no bolts or wood to be
had there. I went to bed and smoked, feeling pretty sad. There is but
one thing to do. We must jettison some of the cargo and sew up the
rest in the skins of guanacos, and go forward with pack-horses."
FOOTNOTES:
[2] When a mare is in foal--as was the case with the black mare--her
troop will often desert her and wander away, but when the foal is born
the horses become very much attached to it.
[3] Darwin describes the guanaco as "generally wild and extremely
wary."
[4] This happened in the case of two Mausers I had with me. One came
off at the third shot from the mere recoil--a serious business.
CHAPTER IV
THE BATTLE OF THE HORSES--(_continued_)
First march with pack-horses -- Difficulties -- Friendship
among horses -- The melancholy Zaino -- Revolt of an old
philosopher -- Shifting cargoes -- Reach River Chico --
Guanaco-shooting -- A glimpse of a puma -- Pumas and sheep
-- Arrival at Colohuapi -- Hospitality of pioneers -- The
value of horse-brands.
Morning (19th) came to us very grey with a pallid sun, and ushered in
the first day of the new system. We found it necessary to use sixteen
horses as _cargueros_ or pack-horses. In the early dawn we caught the
chosen animals, and tied them up to the smashed waggon. It is one of
the inconveniences of pampa travel that bushes strong enough to hold a
horse which is at all restive are few and far between. In that
particular spot there was absolutely nothing in the way of a bush,
however small, which could by any chance have borne the strain.
[Illustration: READY TO BE CARGOED]
So we tied them up to the waggon and they immediately proceeded to tie
themselves and their headropes into still more complicated knots: they
made cats' cradles, reef-knots, sliding nooses, a dozen knots one knew
and a dozen one had never dreamed of. Of the sixteen horses, half had
never had a cargo on their backs until that day; we had meant to break
them in, but the waggon succumbed too soon to the hardships of the
way, and before we had had time to carry out our intentions.
During the three days we remained in camp among the strong-scented
yellow flowers where the waggon lay, all hands had been hard at work
sewing up stores into the skins of guanacos, which I had killed for
food on the march. The proper arranging of packs for horses is a very
difficult matter; shape, size and weight have all to be considered.
Each cargo should be divided into three portions, the balance of the
two sides being carefully adjusted, and the centre piece, that which
surmounts the pack-saddle, should not be more than twelve inches high.
There should be at least two rugs and a sheepskin underneath the
saddle. As we had not enough sheepskins, the pelts of guanaco were in
some cases made to serve our purpose. Several different forms of
pack-saddle have each of them points to recommend them, but to my mind
the form used on the cattle-plains of North America is preferable to
any other, and is more easily loaded, as the horse can be led between
the two side-packs, which are hung along upon hooks attached to the
wooden frame of the saddle. The whole cargo is best kept in place by
means of a couple of _cinches_ or girths. This form of pack is,
however, but little used in the Argentine Republic. With such
pack-saddles Hähansen and I, at a later date, travelled one hundred
and fifty miles, during which it was not necessary to stop more than
once or twice to readjust the cargoes.
During the whole of our subsequent wanderings, the horses entered so
much into our lives that some descriptive remarks having regard to the
peculiarities of each will perhaps not be out of place. Any one who
has been thrown very much into a close association with horses can
hardly have failed to notice the extraordinary friendships which these
animals not infrequently form between themselves.
Among our troop there was a pale bronze-coloured horse to which the
Spanish language assigns the term _Gateado_. This creature's whole
life was spent in close attendance upon the largest horse in the
_tropilla_, a piebald, called by us the Big Overo. The Big Overo was a
buck-jumper, and when we wanted to catch him, he and the Gateado, his
intimate, were wont to evade us together. If we could catch the Big
Overo by craft, the Gateado was as good as captured also; but if,
unluckily, our first attempt upon the Big Overo failed, both animals
made a point of charging about the camp and frightening all the other
horses. On one occasion, when it was judged well to give the Big Overo
a lesson, Hughes _bolassed_ him and after a gallop of a couple of
hundred yards he came to the ground in an inextricable tangle.[5] The
Gateado remained by his side and allowed himself to be caught without
any struggle. After a time the intimacy between these horses grew to
such a pitch that we gradually dispensed with a rope for the Gateado,
knowing that if the Big Overo was once tied up his friend would stand
beside him and allow us to put on his cargo quietly. This odd
friendship finally reached such an extreme that when the Big Overo was
_sogaed_ out for the night, the Gateado was in the habit of giving up
his hours of feeding in order to satisfy the claims of friendship. The
feeling was mutual, for the Big Overo manifested almost as many proofs
of his preference.
[Illustration: MRS TRELEW]
Another case of friendship was struck up between two of the
_madrinas_, but this was an essentially feminine affection, all upon
one side. The Rosada would follow the Trelew mare, who was in foal,
and would hardly allow her to feed in peace. Mrs. Trelew, as the men
nicknamed the round-barrelled old black mare, objected very strongly
to the advances of her admirer, and once they had a regular quarrel
owing to Mrs. Trelew kicking the Rosada with such force as to nearly
break her ribs, which the latter rather resented. The Rosada was a
vicious unbacked brute within five yards of whose heels it was unsafe
to approach, and she, in common with the long-maned Little Zaino,
acquired the execrable habit of attempting to kick any one who on
horseback ventured to come near. This is a trick that is very rare
even among the most untamable and vicious horses, which, although they
will kick a man on foot, will seldom do so when he is mounted.
[Illustration: YEGUA ROSADA]
Then there was the Old Zaino, a melancholy animal of the sardonic
school. He was the worst of all the horses. I remember once Burbury
making me laugh very much by saying in a moment of indignation: "You
haven't been a colt these thirty years, you evergreen son of a
buckjumper!" This horse had a way of coming to standstill in the very
centre of the troop on the march, and, after regarding us with a
patient but baleful eye, he would solemnly buck all his cargo off and
attempt to kick it to pieces. At one time he was used as a
riding-horse, having, indeed, a turn for speed, but his paces were so
rough and his trick of rearing as one was mounting so uncomfortable
that we were compelled to make him one of the _cargueros_.
But perhaps the horse that caused us the most amusement was the
Asulejo. He was a sort of uncertain dapple-grey in colour, and to look
at him you would say that a more quiet, lazy, say-nothing-to-anybody
little bit of old age did not crop the grass in Patagonia. Often and
often did we feel sorry for that little animal and lighten his load.
One afternoon, as we came along with the waggon, he seemed to be
thinking more and more of the past, of the time when he had the power
to make his riders sit tight and used to be a creature of some
truculence. He had upon his back a light cargo of cooking-pots, and it
took the undivided attention of one man to keep him at a walk. We
fixed our camp upon an open plateau of coarse grass and thorn beside a
lagoon in a shallow hollow. The cargoes were pulled off and the cook
of the night made a grateful smoke ascend. I took a shot-gun and went
after some geese for the morrow's breakfast. It was, perhaps, an hour
and a half later, and a good league from camp, that I heard the
neighing of horses, and was surprised to see seventeen of our troop
hurrying off, as it were, upon some unknown errand. And well in front
of them--could I believe my eyes?--was the horse we knew as the
Asulejo, but his eye was brighter and he neighed in the joy of his
heart as he trotted friskily along! He was the obvious leader of the
revolt. No sooner did he see me than he fell behind, trying to look as
though one of the younger animals had lured him from the path of duty,
but that pretence did not serve, and after driving him back into camp
we put _maneas_ on him, upon which he recognised with the philosophy
of age that he could not fight against the inevitable, and so retired
into the lee of a thorn-bush, where he lay down to dream, no doubt, of
the days when things were different and he had been a scampering
three-year-old on the banks of the River Negro.
[Illustration: THE ASULEJO]
However, to return to our journey, and our earliest attempt at
marching without a waggon. It was first and last one of the most
trying days that we experienced. To begin with, the eight fairly
well-behaved horses were cargoed up, and then the wild ones were taken
in hand. The first of these happened to be the Gateado. His load was
flour and tinned beef. He allowed himself to be saddled up with no
more than the usual accompaniment of blowing and snorting. He even
suffered his cargo to be slung and the noose to be slipped along the
_cinch_ until it was in place.
Every horse needs two men to put on his cargo. One ties the knot and
hauls while the other takes in the slack. The latter has to hold up
his side of the cargo with his shoulder, and to do this must get
pretty nearly under the animal.
In our case, although we jettisoned a portion of our
belongings--including, I am sorry to say, a number of birds which I
had spent my evenings in skinning, and which I truly grieved to leave
behind--some of the packs were of necessity rather unwieldy. This,
indeed, is almost always the case during the earlier stages of any
expedition.
The behaviour of the Gateado was similar to that of many of the
_cargueros_. He waited until his man was well under, and then he came
into action with a series of diabolically well-aimed, one-legged
kicks. Having after a little got rid of us by this means, he went on
to buck all his cargo off, and then stood with his saddle cork-screwed
round under his belly. Jones held on to the head-rope, or no doubt the
Gateado would have completed his performance by clearing off into the
low hills or hummocks which surrounded the place.
Most of the others were, in their separate ways, as bad as the
Gateado. Some bucked, some reared, some would not be approached, but
all agreed in one thing--all, when cargoed up and ready for the start,
solemnly lay down and rolled on their cargoes. If they got them loose,
the wretched animals rose again and bucked them within reach of their
heels, after which they extricated themselves by kicking.
That morning was, indeed, a study of shifting cargoes. They came off
all ways, bucked off, kicked off, rolled on. Some stuck out to port of
the horse and some to starboard, a few hung disconsolately beneath the
_carguero's_ body. Again and again we did our part, and again and
again the horses defeated us by their horrible tricks of lying down
and rolling. Meantime the sun had risen, and heat and flies were added
to the long tally of the day's disagreeable items. A very heavy wind
was also blowing, which made it exceedingly difficult to place the
saddle-cloths upon the horses' backs. I have often noticed that, when
saddling up a colt or wild horse, it is well to make use each day of
the same saddle-cloths, as he grows used to these, and does not fear
them, especially if you allow him to bite and smell them.
[Illustration]
At length, however, shortly after midday the horses began to get worn
out. The cargoed ones ceased to struggle and lay still, tongues out,
fat-barrelled, like a troop on a battle-field, humped with cargo and
grotesquely dead. In the fighting-line, I remember, remained only a
horse named Horqueta (the slit-eared), and the indefatigable Gateado.
Horqueta's cargo consisted of a pair of tin boxes, for, bucking apart,
he was a fairly steady pack-horse. He and the Gateado were the last to
be finished, the others having yielded after the long struggle of the
forenoon.
All would now have gone well had it not been for the fact that the
handles of one of the tin boxes upon Horqueta were loose. The moment
we let him go he began to buck and the unlucky handles to beat a
devil's tattoo upon the body of the tin box. He made off into the
troop of cargoed horses, and the noise he brought with him proved too
much for their nerves. They scrambled up to their feet and four of
them broke away in different directions. Five minutes later we
surveyed once more a scene of scattered cartridges, flour, oatmeal,
sacks of beans, clothes, skins bumped out with tinned provisions, and
I don't know what else. They lay in confusion among the grass and
bushes in the valley, and up and down the slopes of the conical mud
hills. The Germans were reduced to inarticulate oaths, and the
Welshmen looked out of heart.
But to camp upon a failure is the worst of business and of policy, and
so the men were laughed into a good humour, and we all went at it once
more, the ammunition and our other goods were collected and the
cargoes were fixed up yet again.
It was ten minutes past three o'clock by my watch when we rode slowly
up the cliff that lay between Waggon Camp and the River Chico of
Chubut. We reached the top without mishap, chiefly, I think, because
the horses were now fairly exhausted with their exertions. At the top
of the rise we stopped and looked back; our broken waggon lay dark and
low among the coarse yellow weeds, the afternoon sun, still warm, beat
upon the bald hills, and that was the last we saw of our unlucky camp.
The procession moved slowly on, and we did not rest until twilight, by
which time we had travelled between twelve and thirteen miles. Our
march now lay along the banks of the Chico. The going was soft, and
more bushes began to appear on the landscape. That night we celebrated
our first _carguero_ journey by serving out cocoa for all hands.
The night we struck the River Chico was a very cold one, the
temperature falling 12° below freezing-point. These figures, however,
give no idea of the cold, as one of the characteristics of Patagonia
is the prevalence of tremendous winds. And when these blow from the
direction of the Cordillera, they bring with them chilly memories of
the snows over which they have passed. Wind, of course, increased the
rigours of the cold, and I remember that during the night on which we
felt the cold most severely the temperature did not fall below 35°.
The next morning we got off about 10.30, having less trouble with the
_cargueros_. I went on in front to choose our way, which here passed
over very bad ground.
At the midday halt it was found that only part of a haunch of guanaco
had been brought on from the last camp. I therefore galloped on ahead
with a shot-gun and shot thirteen ducks, of which only six came to
hand, as several fell among the reeds in the marshes which fringe the
river. Of these six ducks, four were brown pintails (_Dafila
spinicauda_) and two were Chiloe widgeon (_Mareca sibilatrix_). In the
afternoon I exchanged the shot-gun for the rifle, as a few more
guanaco-skins would be very handy for various purposes and meat was
wanted. About four o'clock, when riding behind the troop, I saw a
guanaco among the hills to the east. I was fortunately mounted upon
the Cruzado, who had by this time learned to stand to shot and to
remain standing when his reins were dropped over his head. He was
infinitely the best shooting-horse in the troop, and I used always to
ride him when game was wanted, although, owing to his being a large
horse, his canter was not suited to riding behind the _tropilla_. He
had come to us with a very bad name for throwing himself back, which
is one of the nastiest tricks a horse can possess. But this he soon
gave up, and except that he always remained rather hard to catch in
the mornings, was what an advertiser would call "a thoroughly
confidential horse." I am glad to think that when I left Patagonia he
became the property of Burbury.
[Illustration: THE AUTHOR'S TWO BEST HORSES, THE CRUZADO AND ALAZAN]
The Cruzado seemed to enter into the spirit of the chase, and in the
present instance went off at a fast canter towards the hills. The
guanaco had moved from his point of vantage upon the top of a conical
hill of mud, and had probably, according to the custom of these
animals, sought another eminence. I thought he had seen me, in which
case he would at once have made for the highest point within reach,
but, as I came into the throat of the gorge where there were some mud
hills, I saw him again upon the side of a large hummock one hundred
feet or so in height. I immediately tied up my horse.
The guanacos of the valley of the Chico were very wild owing to the
fact that the Tehuelche Indians hunt them there during the months of
October and November. This valley was once celebrated for the
abundance of its game, but of recent years the herds seem to have
moved westwards and northwards. This guanaco was the first we had seen
that day.
I crawled up the hill, sinking to my knees at every step into the dry
mud. When half-way up I saw the ears of the guanaco appear against the
sky-line. I lay down, and he remained still and utterly unconscious of
my presence for some minutes. He was watching my companions, who, with
the horses, were moving off into dimness down the valley. Presently he
ran forward one or two steps and gave out his high-pitched neighing
laugh in a sort of strange defiance at our retreating troop. He was a
very old buck with dark markings on his face. He was about fifty yards
away, and when I fired he reared and fell backwards. I threw out the
cartridge, and at the same instant seven guanacos, startled by the
report, dashed across the valley and galloped along parallel to me on
the other side of the _cañadon_ at about one hundred yards distance. I
fired at the second one because it looked fat, and brought it to the
ground. The guanacos now turned in great affright and raced past me
again, when I dropped two more. This brought them to a standstill, as
they had not yet made out where the shots were coming from, and no
doubt I might have been able to shoot the entire herd, but we had now
enough skins. When I rose the remaining four sprang down into the
valley and disappeared up the opposite _barranca_.
I now went to the top of the hill, where I had fired at the old buck,
and found that the bullet had broken his neck. He was, as I had
surmised, a very old animal, and bore upon him traces of an encounter
with a puma. The skin of his neck was immensely thick and his teeth
were worn down. One of the other guanacos, which had fallen upon the
far side of the valley, proved to be a year-old doe, so it was
unnecessary to take any of the meat of the buck. I now signalled, and
Burbury soon joined me to help in cutting up.
When we overtook the horses we found that the hounds, Tom and Bian had
killed a cavy (_Dolichotis patagonica_), so that we had a good stock
of meat. The cavy is excellent eating, resembling English hare. I was
told that Tom had not covered himself with glory, for, although he
proved himself very fast, and turned the hare, it was Bian that killed
it. Bian was a rough, yellow lurcher, who stood the rough ground and
hard experiences of our journey very much better than Tom, although
the latter was a well-bred hound with a pedigree to back his
pretensions. Bian belonged to young Jones.
During the day we observed enormous flocks of Chilian widgeon (_Mareca
sibilatrix_) as well as some grey teal (_Querquedula versicolor_).
On October 22, as we had expected, we arrived at Colohuapi, the
farthest settlement in the heart of Patagonia. Near by lie twin lakes
Colhué and Musters. About one o'clock, coming over a rise, we saw the
Lake. As the sun was shining it was very blue, and upon the far side
rose the hills. The mournful whistle of waterfowl in countless flocks
was to be heard. A breeze from the north-west was blowing across the
lake, and there was that peculiar wet smell in the wind which can only
be derived from a passage across wide waters.
This day the Gateado bucked off his cargo of tinned meats and was
unfortunate enough to give himself a deep wound in the pastern. Jones
tied it up with his handkerchief, and the horse was so lame that we
thought it would be necessary to leave him behind at Colohuapi. As it
turned out, however, being of a very strong constitution, he improved
rapidly, and was with us to the very end of our journeyings.
Our march on this occasion was upwards of twenty-seven miles, and at
the end of it I rode ahead to choose a place for a camp. Earlier in
the day Burbury, who was riding the Colorado, a half-broken colt that
had had only a few gallops, got into difficulties, and I relieved him
of a bag which he was carrying. I had tied this bag to my saddle, but
just before we camped it came loose, and, thinking I was not going to
have any other chance of shooting, I slung it over my rifle, which I
was carrying across my shoulder as usual in a sling. I had chosen a
valley to camp in and turned round to jog quietly back to meet the
troop, when with the tail of my eye I caught sight of an animal which
I thought was Tom, but it looked too large, and I turned my head to
see it more fully. There, fifteen yards behind my horse, staring at
me, switching its tail slowly from side to side, and standing full up,
was a fine male puma (_F. concolor_). I rolled off my horse, which,
fortunately, had neither seen nor winded the puma, and began to
unsling my rifle. In the middle of the operation, when I already had
the hindering bag upon the ground, the puma, which up to that moment
had continued to lash its tail and stare at me, turned round and loped
off at the cumbrous and uncouth canter habitual to these animals. At
one hundred and fifty yards it stopped for an instant, but was off
again at once. I attempted to mount my horse with the idea of
galloping down the puma, an easy thing to do, as these animals never
run far, and are readily blown, but the horse, which happened to be a
mule-footed _oscuro_, known as Mula, became quite unmanageable. I at
once coo-ed and was joined by young Humphrey Jones, who in eighteen
years' residence in Patagonia had never seen a puma, and as he had
strong sporting instincts, was extremely anxious to encounter one. We
followed the track of the lion--as the puma is locally called--but
after topping the hill it led along a bare slope and was lost in a
clump of high dry bush, where it was quite hopeless to find the
creature. We rode back into camp very disappointed.
Just as Mr. Selous remarks that hunters sometimes spend years in
Africa before they come upon their first lion, so many a man is as
long in Patagonia before he comes across his first puma. The puma is a
very furtive and cowardly animal, and though we saw so few during our
months of travel, I have no doubt that many a puma watched our troop
passing across the pampa from the safe cover of rocks and bushes.
Seeing or not seeing pumas is purely a matter of luck, and the tales
concerning pumas having attacked men, which abound in the country, are
generally fabrications. A puma with young will attack man if he
stumbles upon her and her family, and my friend Mr. Waag told me that
on one occasion a puma in the Cordillera had shown evident signs of
attack. In the majority of cases, even when wounded, the puma will
only snarl and spit, and the Indians, as well as the Gauchos, despatch
it with the _bolas_.
The puma is a terrible foe to the sheep-farmer, levying heavy toll
upon flocks, and often enjoys a long career of sheep-killing before
strychnine or the bullet puts an end to its existence.
The snow is directly responsible for the death of a great many pumas,
for when it is lying on the ground the animals can easily be tracked.
At this season the shepherds of the _estancias_ near the coast attempt
to clear the ground of their very unwelcome visitors, the weapon most
commonly used being the .450 revolver, and the shot is often taken at
a distance of less than ten paces. The puma is very easy to kill,
especially if the first shot is well placed. It is the first shock
which tells in the case of these animals.
Great sport could, no doubt, be had with the puma were he hunted with
a pack of dogs that would bay him and distract his attention. The
average hound of the country is, however, far too wise to pit himself
against such an animal, and will often even refuse to acknowledge the
scent.
That night the lake, as seen from the camp, was wonderfully beautiful.
The waters were leaden-grey bounded by faint blue hills, with soft
mists of an unearthly green clinging about them. The only sounds to be
heard were the wash of the ripple on the shore and plashing of
wildfowl.
On October 23 we made as early a start as possible, and pursued our
way over very level pampa, which had not yet been hardened by the sun
of spring. We put up an ostrich (_Rhea darwini_) from _his_ nest, and
found three eggs. Presently there appeared in the centre of the pampa,
ahead of us, three little huts of earth and three black cattle. Save
for one gorge through which the River Senguerr flows, and through
which we afterwards took our way, a perfect circle of hills of greatly
varying heights surrounded the small settlement. The huts belonged to
a Welshman named William Jones, who, with his wife and six children,
had trekked out here some six or eight months previously.
One of the three huts, which was untenanted, Mr. Jones put at our
disposal, and after taking off the cargoes, Burbury and Scrivenor
accompanied me across to William Jones' home. Mrs. Jones received us
with hospitality and treated us to _maté_ with milk, tea and scones,
and we got a sight of ourselves in the looking-glass. The wind of the
pampas had removed all the skin from our faces, and we were a good
deal unlike the individuals who had started from Trelew some four or
five weeks before.
[Illustration: SETTLEMENT OF COLOHUAPI]
That night the men slept inside the hut, but it was too warm for my
sleeping-bag, so I took up my bed and went out, passing the night on
the lee side of the hut. Perhaps what delighted us most was the fact
that in the shelter of the hut we were able to smoke our pipes in
peace, safe from the buffeting of the wind.
At dawn Mrs. Jones kindly sent her children over with a pail of milk.
It would be impossible to imagine any more healthy specimens of the
Welsh race than these sun-kissed, clear-eyed youngsters. Ruddy and
brown and strong, the air of the wilderness had need of no better
proof of its splendid health-giving qualities. I gave the children
chocolate from our store, a luxury to which they were not accustomed,
and which they enjoyed immensely.
William Jones had brought his wife and family to Colohuapi in a
waggon, following the banks of the River Chico from Trelew. His
journey had, however, been made late in the year, when the marshes
were dry, and his waggon had been more suited to the hardships of the
way than was ours.
Two other Welshmen with their wives lived higher up the valley, and
the full strength of the colony was made up by a Swede named Oscar,
who acted as _comisario_, and an Argentine who had settled on the
other side of the river. To the last-named gentleman Burbury paid a
visit on the following day.
Now set in another era of preparation. We purchased sheepskins and
laid in a stock of mutton, and on the 25th once more made a start.
Before taking leave of Colohuapi I should like to record my
appreciation of the great kindness which the settlers there extended
to us especially Mr. and Mrs. William Jones, the latter of whom was
thoughtful enough to bake us a large loaf to speed us on our way. On
the eve of our departure we gave a small dinner, at which the _menu_
was as follows: Mutton _puchero_, made with desiccated potatoes and
cabbage; stewed apple-rings and milk; lime-juice tablets; chocolate
food; and two tins of sardines. I was very sorry not to be able to add
a bowl of punch to the feast, but the fact was I had with me but three
bottles of brandy, and those for purely medicinal purposes.
The country round about Colohuapi is very suited for cattle-breeding,
but, of course, the chief difficulty encountered by the colonists are
those connected with transporting their produce to the market, as the
district is not yet in any way opened up. But I hope and believe that
a prosperous future lies before the young settlement, and much of the
good to come should certainly fall to the lot of the Welshmen William
and Walter Jones, whose pioneer efforts deserve great reward. At
present it is a hard life that the colonists are obliged to lead,
divided as they are by more than a couple of hundred miles from their
nearest white neighbours. One could not help being struck by the
solitary aspect of the two or three small huts, set as they are at
present on the edge of the hill-encircled empty plain.
Just as we were off from Colohuapi, the _comisario_ rode up and
proceeded to make the necessary examination of our horses. In this
connection very strict laws obtain throughout the northern provinces
of the Argentine Republic. In a country where horse-breeding is
carried on upon so extensive a scale, and where, besides, the animals
are allowed to wander freely upon the wide spaces of the pampas, a
strong check must be placed upon any infringement of the law of
property. A strict system of registration and surveillance as to
brands upon horses must be kept in force, and is, in fact, one of the
first steps towards security.
The brand, which I had registered in Trelew, and which was invented by
Burbury, represented the rising sun. It was an excellent brand, as it
had not much "fire" about it, and was very different to any other mark
we came across. Another point to be considered in choosing it was that
it would be a difficult one to fake. Our branding took place at Bahia
Camerones, Mr. Greenshields being good enough to allow us to use his
corral for the purpose. Our half-wild horses did not permit us to
operate upon them without a struggle. A few days after the operation
the burns caused by the iron had quite healed.
[Illustration: OUR BRAND]
FOOTNOTE:
[5] Except in very rare cases the _boleadores_ should not be used to
catch horses. For a kicking animal they are, however, a good
corrective.
CHAPTER V
THE RIVER VALLEYS
Arbitrary distribution of animals in Patagonia -- Trouble
with Gauchos -- Indian guide -- Germans turned back --
_Cañadon_ of River Senguerr -- Bad weather -- Old Zaino
again causes damage -- Loss of clothes, ammunition, &c.,
in the river -- Shooting upland geese -- River Mayo --
Hailstorm -- A day's sport in Patagonia -- Shooting a wild
cow -- Was it a wild cow? -- Musters' account of wild
cattle -- First meeting with Tehuelche Indians.
In consequence of the visit of the _comisario_ we were somewhat late
in starting from Colohuapi, but nevertheless made a good march of
about fifteen miles, and camped in the valley, after driving the two
horses past a bend of the river that would prevent them from
attempting to break back towards their pasture at Colohuapi. The day
was very warm indeed and the night rather cold, the thermometer at
midday and at night being respectively 74° F. and 37° F.
We were now upon the banks of the River Senguerr, the Senguel of
Captain Musters.
The extraordinary tameness of the upland geese in the neighbourhood of
Colohuapi was very remarkable; they allowed one to approach within
eighty yards before bestirring themselves. After the first day's march
beyond Colohuapi we never saw again any specimen of the Patagonian
cavy (_Dolichotis patagonica_), although round the shores of the lakes
Musters and Colhué these animals abound. It is strange that the
habitat of the cavy should be so sharply defined, considering that
there appears to be no apparent reason, such as alteration of the
nature of the ground or vegetation, to account for the fact. The
armadillo (_Dasypus minutus_), which is found in numbers on the north
bank of the River Santa Cruz, is entirely absent from the south bank,
nor, to my knowledge, has a single specimen ever been secured there.
This instance of the distribution of the armadillo agrees with other
facts of the same kind which are common to Patagonia. The rivers
running from west to east across the continent mark the limit of the
distribution of some of the mammals. Thus I am assured the jaguar
(_Felis onca_) is not to-day found south of the River Negro. And the
puma does not exist in Tierra del Fuego, the dividing water in this
latter instance being the Straits of Magellan. The guanaco, however,
is distributed throughout the whole of Patagonia and also in Tierra
del Fuego. I met with this animal deep inside the Cordillera, and
indeed once, with consecutive shots, I killed a huemul and a guanaco.
About this time it became apparent that neither Fritz nor Hollesen,
the German Gauchos, were very much in love with the hard work and
hardships which they conceived lay before them. It was a favourite
trick of theirs to fall out of the troop on the plea of fixing a
cargo, and then, as soon as we were lost to sight, to sit down and
smoke their pipes; in fact, they had determined to take things easy.
On the evening of our leaving Colohuapi Hollesen asked me for some
cartridges for his revolver, saying that when working under the
Argentine Boundary Commission he had had a quarrel with an Indian
concerning the Indian's wife, and that he feared meeting him, for the
man had sworn to be revenged.
During the night the dogs ate about ten kilos of mutton which we had
brought with us from Colohuapi, although it was wrapped up in a tent,
so the next morning we were forced to breakfast upon an old gander,
that made a very tough and tasteless _puchero_. Our next march was
about six leagues, and that evening an Indian rode into our camp and
offered to guide us across the pampa to Lake Buenos Aires. He was a
Tehuelche, and he told us that some of his tribe were encamped in the
valley of the River Mayo at its junction with the River Chalia. All
the following day, leaving the river and guided by the Indian, we rode
across bare stony pampa devoid of game, and in the evening, after
passing three lagoons, we made our camp round a spring of water. As,
owing to the depredations of the dogs, we had no fresh food, I took
the gun and attempted to stalk a couple of upland geese.
[Illustration: THE GERMANS]
As I was returning unsuccessful, Burbury met me and told me that the
Germans had again been giving him trouble. I was prepared for the
news, as I had noticed they were inclined to shirk work of late,
constantly lingering behind and in every way making themselves
objectionable. On an expedition where there is naturally plenty of
work for every one, it is useless to have men who growl at doing their
fair proportion of it. They were also trying to influence the other
Gauchos, for this trick of deserting at a critical time, when their
services cannot be replaced, is a very old one with _peones_, who on
such occasions can sometimes force their employers into giving them
disproportionately high wages. I was, of course, resolved not to yield
to their demands but to push forward, even if they left us. I
consulted with Burbury, who agreed that we could manage without their
help, though it would leave us awkwardly short-handed.
On arriving at the camp I asked the Germans the reason of their late
behaviour, but they could give me no satisfactory answer, but burst
into a tirade about an inoffensive companion, Barckhausen, which was
obviously only an excuse to cover their real designs. I told them they
must in future behave properly or else leave my camp next morning.
After a certain amount of talk and bluster Fritz said that not only
Hollesen and he but the Welsh _peones_ would in that case turn back.
During the course of the evening I spoke to Jones, who informed me
that Fritz had persuaded him to desert, but on my pointing out that
this would not be a very wise proceeding, he at once threw in his lot
with us.
In the morning, finding I was of the same mind, the Germans again
informed me of their wish to turn back. I therefore gave them food to
last them upon their journey to civilisation, as well as the worst
buck-jumper of the troop, and told them to leave the camp as soon as
possible. Fritz, after some further talk and after remarking to
Hollesen in German that they had better have stayed after all, climbed
on to the horse and rode away.
The Germans at the outset had been admirable workers, apart from their
cunning, which tinged most of their conduct. Yet perhaps, if they had
gone on with us, we might have paid for Hollesen's misdoings with the
Indians, by getting into trouble with the tribe who had saved his life
and whom he had so scurvily requited. As it happened, a few days later
we came upon the very tribe with whom he had had to do.
I will now take some extracts from my diary:
"_October 28._--The Germans left us this morning. I think we shall be
all the better without them. Immediately on their departure I
determined to march to the _cañadon_ or valley of the River Senguerr,
giving up the route suggested by the Indian, as it was likely that the
horses would stray upon the pampa. It was necessary to decrease the
weight of some of our cargo, which we at once set about doing. The
reason for this was that, having so few men, each pair of us would
have to look after six _cargueros_, or pack-horses, and we were
consequently obliged to lessen their number.
"While we were getting ready a thin rain and a yelling wind came down
the _cañadon_ as we started to catch the horses. The salt marsh over
which the Germans had gone lay behind us, and ahead were shallow
lagoons around which the tussocks whistled in the wind. But I think we
none of us noticed the inclemency of the weather, we were soaked to
the skin as we worked, and in an hour and a half--a record as to time
in cargoing up even with the aid of the men who had gone--we had
loaded the last _carguero_ of the twelve, and with extra ropes hanging
to the saddles, a brandy bottle protruding from each of the pockets of
Barckhausen and with Jones perched high and stirrupless upon a sack of
beans, we set off."
Providentially, not a single cargo shifted, although we covered
something like fourteen miles. I should have mentioned that one of the
reasons which weighed with me in again seeking the _cañadon_ of the
River Senguerr was the fact that four of the horses had strayed in the
night. It was our intention to camp as soon as we reached a suitable
place in the valley and to scour the country for the lost horses.
This, however, turned out not to be necessary, as we came right upon
the truants grazing in the mouth of a small rift in the cliff of the
_cañadon_. One of them cantered out with a neigh to meet the troop
upon the hillside.
It rained so heavily in the night that we put up the tent and were
glad of its warm shelter. Morning came with pearl-grey mists in the
valley. We worked like slaves, and our hands became very sore with the
new cargo-ropes.
[Illustration: RIVER SENGUERR, WHERE DISASTER OVERTOOK US]
The next day, had I but known it, marked the last of our misfortunes,
for after that we enjoyed as good luck as we had hitherto experienced
the reverse.
We spent most of the morning in slowly marching a couple of leagues,
and then Scrivenor, who was leading, came back to say that our way was
barred by a sheer cliff, close under which the river ran. Burbury,
however, was of the opinion that it would be easier to proceed than to
attempt to scale the tall _barranca_, which was our only alternative
choice. We straggled across the half-dry marshy grass that fringed the
river-bed, which here winds greatly.
Presently we climbed on to a steep slope on the cliffs, where directly
below us the river ran with a current of about three knots. The
passage along this slope was very difficult, and we were driving the
horses with infinite care. The face of the cliff was scarred with the
traces of a landslip. One of the horses, the Old Zaino, so called not
because of any weight of years, but on account of the gravity of his
demeanour, climbed up and up, in spite of all our efforts, among the
shifting earth and loose stones until he was some hundred feet above
the main body of the troop. He was a tall, ewe-necked animal, and
always bore an exasperating expression of insulted dignity. He was
carrying a cargo of flour.
When he had, in his own opinion, managed to get sufficiently ahead of
his companions, he stopped dead and looked down upon us with a baleful
eye as we toiled beneath him. Then suddenly, but methodically, he
began to descend towards us in a succession of devastating bucks. No
cargo, tied with ropes, could withstand such treatment. The _cinch_
gave way, and he and his pack arrived simultaneously in the middle of
the troop.
[Illustration: THE OLD ZAINO]
He cannoned against a black horse carrying ammunition and oatmeal, and
it began to slide down the cliff towards the river on its haunches.
The remainder of the horses stampeded, some fell, some got into
impossible positions.... For several minutes the big black horse hung
within measurable distance of violent death upon the rocks below, but
Barckhausen made a great effort to save him, and succeeded, though the
cargo was kicked off in a most perilous place. Only a guanaco track
led along the steep hillside, and over the edge of the slope our
belongings dropped into the river a hundred feet below. Each lifted a
small cloud of spray as it fell and floated serenely away on the
current or sank from sight. The water was dotted with the various
packages. All Burbury's clothes, some of mine, flour, oatmeal, a case
of corned beef, six hundred rounds of ammunition, and the
concertina--these were among our losses.
A salvage-party was at once despatched to attempt the rescue of such
of our goods as were still swimming, while the rest of us collected
the horses and returned with a sufficiency of ropes to enable us to
get down the cliff, for upon the ragged edge left by the landslip and
overhanging the river some of our things had lodged. We felt that we
were for the time being out of luck. We had not long lost the waggon,
and now followed the losing of important stores and the yet more
important ammunition. We knotted together eight of the cargo-ropes,
and while Scrivenor and I were doing this, Barckhausen retrieved one
of the boxes of ammunition, and told us that there were a couple more
farther down, and out of reach, he feared, which had stuck in the soft
earth of the landslip. However, with the aid of the rope I managed to
bring both up to safe ground.
[Illustration: THE GUANACO (AN INTIMATE OF THE OLD ZAINO'S)]
"During this time we could see Burbury and Jones far away in the
valley, where the river narrowed and the current swinging near the
bank offered a hopeful chance of catching the floating articles. They
succeeded in dragging ashore most of the packages, but Burbury's
clothes, which were in a brown waterproof bag, sank, the bag, I fancy,
having filled with water. Our total losses thus amounted to 200
12-bore cartridges, a tin of Mauser ammunition, a 25-kilo bag of
oatmeal, and the clothes. On the whole we could not help thinking
things might have been very much worse.
"The horses had meantime come to a standstill in a patch of high grass
farther along beneath the _barranca_, and there we rounded them up and
re-cargoed.
"When this was done it was found that we had another place, almost as
difficult as that upon which we had come to grief, to surmount. This
time, however, Burbury led a horse in front, and the others followed
meekly in his track. We had wasted several hours in negotiating the
first _barranca_, and it was soon time to camp. As we had no meat, I
went to see if I could not kill some geese (_Chloephaga magellanica_),
which I had observed upon a neck of land, that stretched out into the
river. There were five geese, and I was lucky enough to kill two,
both females, which are very much more tender than the males. On one
side of the camp was a chain of small lagoons, evidently formed by the
overflow of the river, and in one of these I saw a flock of brown
pintails. These were easily stalked behind the rushes, and the
discharge of two barrels of the 12-bore left five upon the water. At
dark a storm of rain blew up.
[Illustration: THE ALAZAN COLT (NEARLY KILLED ON THE SENGUERR)]
"_October 30._--This cargoing work is very wearisome, and has got upon
our nerves. Even in one's sleep one sees the reeling, writhing mass of
kicking and struggling _cargueros_ on the white and ragged-sided
_barranca_.[6] Got off at 10.30 and reached the River Mayo, a very
small stream here, flowing through a wide valley lined by bare steep
cliffs 200 feet or so in height. We are all becoming quite expert with
the cargoes; Burbury and Barckhausen, and Jones and I work in pairs.
The newness has now worn off the ropes, and hauling on them does not
any longer cut our hands. Still an occasional cargo shifts, and the
horse, wildly refusing to be caught, gallops away kicking at his
cargo. Thus did the Alazan to-day, scattering Mauser ammunition among
the bushes, and kicking the spout from our last kettle, so that we can
only fill it half full.
"There is comparatively little game in this bit of country, few
guanaco, and those very wild because of the Indians, whose beat we are
now approaching. When there is rain, which fortunately is not often,
we have to carry our change of clothing upon our saddles to dry them.
To-day Jones was very much loaded up with his extra breeches and top
boots, that were wet, a gun-cover, fifty rounds of ammunition dropped
by the Alazan, two ducks, a telescope, and a water-bottle!
"_October 31._--Soon after we started a big cloud blew out of the
south and brought with it a heavy hailstorm, which whistled before a
driving wind. The horses would not face it, but huddled together in
the centre of the valley. We encamped early as we needed meat. Jones
and I left the camp here among the sand-dunes in the valley and went
a-hunting. We rode up a _cañadon_, in the centre of which our horses
foundered in some very bad ground. Getting out of this we struck a
stretch of desolate pampa, across which we cut towards the big
_cañadon_ of the Mayo in order to explore the route which we must
follow upon the morrow. To my surprise we presently came to a clear
stream, flowing through another wide _cañadon_, which joined the Mayo
from a south-westerly direction. Can this be the River Genguel? The
Indian guide told us that it would take us a month to get from here to
Lake Buenos Aires. If it is the Genguel, however, we should arrive at
the lake in ten marches--a very different matter. It would be as well
to halt to-morrow for the day, so that an observation may be taken to
determine this point, and also to enable us to go hunting, as we have
but one duck in the camp, and, since our losses at the Senguerr
_barranca_, it is more than ever necessary to save our stock of tinned
provisions.
"To-day the Old Zaino, this time fortunately not carrying a cargo,
again attempted to repeat his trick of the Senguerr _barranca_, but
was circumvented by Burbury and Barckhausen.
"_November 1._--To-day Scrivenor shot the sun 70° 56´ W. long, and 45°
39´ S. lat. So the river we saw yesterday is the Genguel, which is
excellent. Jones and I went out to shoot for the pot. As there were no
guanaco in the neighbourhood, he took the Paradox and I my 12-bore,
and we confined ourselves to following some flocks of upland geese
which we had observed in the valley. I will describe the day's sport
at length, as it was very typical of Patagonian wild-fowl shooting in
a fairly good district.
"We rode our horses, of course, I taking the Cruzado and Jones
'J.V.E.' a small brown animal, so called because he bears that brand
upon his flank. The first geese we came upon were a party of five
standing upon an island in the Mayo. As it was impossible to stalk
these birds we tried driving, and I sent Humphrey Jones, who, by the
way, was a very keen sportsman, to attempt to drive them over me,
where I had taken up my quarters in some bushes upstream above them on
the bank. Jones meantime made a large circle and galloped up towards
them. When he was within about 200 yards they rose, and honking
indignantly made straight up in my direction, flying, however, a
little too wide. They went down again about a quarter of a mile away,
and we repeated our tactics, I remaining where I was. I could not help
thinking how much time was saved by Jones being on horseback. Had he
been on foot it would have taken him a long time in that bare valley
to fetch a circle big enough. As it was, in five minutes the birds
were again on the wing, and this time they gave me a chance and I
brought down two; one, however, falling on the other side of the
river, had to be abandoned."
Any one who travels through Patagonia cannot fail to be struck by the
enormous quantities of upland geese (_Chloephaga magellanica_) which
abound in the vicinity of the rivers and lagoons. At this time a great
many of the birds are paired, but at a latter date in the valley of
the Coyly we once made a camp round which the country in all
directions was covered by thousands of these geese. After our shot
Jones rejoined me and we proceeded to the edge of a small lagoon,
where he told me he had seen some ducks. On approaching it I examined
the birds through my telescope and discovered them to be brown
pintails (_Dafila spinicauda_). I held the horses while Jones enjoyed
the stalk, which ended in his killing two of the birds, to retrieve
which it was necessary to wade into pretty deep water.
We now rode towards the valley of the Genguel, and there flushed
innumerable snipe, at which we did not shoot, as we could not afford
to waste ammunition on so small a bird. We next descried a flock of
nineteen geese, which were peculiarly wideawake and would not allow us
to approach for a long time, and presently we deserted their pursuit
in favour of that of a single old gander that was standing upon the
shingle beside the river. I got up quite close to this bird and had a
rising shot at him as he flew across the stream. I killed him quite
dead, but it seemed impossible to retrieve him, and we were rather
disconsolately watching his body drift away when it struck us that
Jones, who was very clever with the lasso, might manage to recover it
at a point where the current brought it within reach of our side. We
therefore galloped parallel to the bird along the bank, and after one
or two ineffectual efforts, Jones succeeded in getting the lasso round
him, and so dragged him in.
[Illustration: WILDGOOSE CAMP]
"We next had lunch which consisted of _maté_. As we sat waiting for
the kettle to boil, several blue-winged teal (_Querquedula
cyanoptera_) passed over us and went down in a small marsh towards the
Genguel. After these Jones had another stalk, and killed two. As he
was returning a couple of geese flew over at about thirty-five yards
distance, and he dropped the female quite dead. It is extraordinary
what an amount of shot these geese will in a general way carry off
with them. For all my shooting in Patagonia I used No. 4 shot and 26
gr. of ballistite. The gun which I used most was a 12-bore moderately
choked in both barrels, and this I found answered every purpose of
wild-fowl shooting in Patagonia excellently.
[Illustration: BAD STALKING (CALIFATE-BUSH ON PAMPA)]
"At reasonable ranges a number of black-necked swans (_Cygnus
nigricollis_) fell to this weapon.
"After picking up the goose, we again turned our attention to the
nineteen that I have mentioned earlier. They then went on a good
distance downstream, and here, under cover of the rushes, we stalked
up within twenty yards of them, and shot three as they rose. One of
the flock swung back, and both of us fired at him, bringing him down.
Thinking we had enough geese, we decided to follow the ducks, which we
did in a rather desultory manner. We bagged two more, both pintails,
before we returned to camp in the evening, having had a very pleasant
day's sport."
Although I never attempted to make a big bag upon any day during the
time I spent in Patagonia, yet, no doubt, an enormous quantity of
geese could be shot in a single day. Quite close to the settlements a
couple of hundred might be secured by two guns in a day, and during
the migration a far greater number.
The whole of the valley of the River Chico is excellent for
wild-fowling, and I expected the numbers of birds to increase as we
drew nearer to Lake Buenos Aires. And certainly in the _cañadon_ of
the River Deseado I was not disappointed, but of that I will write in
its due place.
On November 2 we resumed our march, still following the valley of the
Mayo, past the scenes of our sport of the previous day. A little after
midday Jones saw a whitish object among some bushes at the edge of the
river and asked my leave to go and see what it was. Presently he came
riding back to say it was a wild cow and that he had observed her
through the glasses. She was nearly a mile distant, and, taking my
rifle, I rode off with Jones and we stalked her to about 200 yards. We
again examined her carefully through the telescope, and seeing that
she was five or six years old and unbranded, the fact of her belonging
to a wild herd rather than being a truant escaped from the settlements
two hundred miles away appeared to be certain. It was with
considerable keenness that we crawled up nearer, as wild cattle afford
the best sport of all Patagonian animals.
These wild cattle have some of them been wild for many generations,
their remote ancestors probably being the herds which the Spaniards
originally possessed in the Valdez Peninsula on the east coast during
the earlier occupation of Patagonia. Since then from time to time
numbers of cattle escape from the coast-farms and run wild, and,
joining the older free herds, breed wild. Such herds are still to be
found in considerable numbers among the foot-hills of the Cordillera.
Musters in his book gives an account of meeting with a wild bull. "We
had expected before reaching this point to have found cattle in
considerable numbers, but the warmth of the day had probably driven
them into the thickets to seek shelter..... Presently ... after riding
about a mile, I espied two bulls. Two men were sent round to endeavour
to drive the animals to a clearing where it would be possible to use
the lassoo.... At the end of five minutes ... a yell from the other
side put us anxiously on the alert, and we had the gratification to
see one of the animals coming straight towards our cover. Alas! just
as we were preparing to dash out, he turned on the edge of the plain,
and after charging furiously at his pursuer dashed into a thicket,
where he stood at bay. We immediately closed round him, and
dismounting, I advanced on foot to try and bring him down with a
revolver. Just as I got within half a dozen paces of him, and behind a
bush was quietly taking aim at his shoulder, the Indians, eager for
beef, and safe on their horses at a considerable distance off,
shouted, 'Nearer, nearer!' I accordingly slipped from my cover, but
had hardly moved a pace forward when my spur caught in a root, and at
the same moment _el Toro_ charged. Entangled with the root, I could
not jump on one side as he came on; so, when within a yard I fired a
shot in his face, hoping to turn him, and wheeled my body at the same
instant to prevent his horns from catching me, as the sailors say,
'broadside on.' The shot did not stop him, so I was knocked down, and,
galloping over me, he passed on with my handkerchief, which fell from
my head, triumphantly borne on his horns, and stopped a few yards off
under another bush. Having picked myself up and found my legs and arms
all right, I gave him another shot, which, as my hand was rather
unsteady, only took effect in the flank. My cartridges being
exhausted, I returned to my horse and found that, besides being
considerably shaken, two of my ribs had been broken by the encounter.
"The Indians closed round me, and evinced great anxiety to know
whether I was much hurt. One, more courageous than the rest, despite
the warning of the cacique, swore he would try and lasso the brute,
and, accordingly, approached the infuriated animal, who for a moment
or two showed no signs of stirring; just, however, as the Indian was
about to throw his lasso, it caught in a branch, and before he could
extricate it the bull was upon him. We saw the horse give two or three
vicious kicks as the bull gored him. At length he was lifted clean up,
the fore-legs alone remaining on the ground, and overthrown, the rider
alighting on his head in a bush. We closed up and attracted the
bull in another direction, then went to look for the corpse of our
comrade, who, however, to our surprise, issued safe from the bush,
where he had lain quiet and unhurt, though the horse was killed. This
little incident cast a gloom over our day's pleasure, and lost us our
Christmas dinner, as Orkeke ordered a retreat to the spot where we had
left our mantles, although we tried to persuade him to attack the
beast again, or, at any rate, remain and eat some of the dead horse,
and try our luck next day, but he was inflexible.... On our way across
the plain previously described, wild cattle were seen, and one chased;
but he, although balled by Orkeke, contrived to slip the _bolas_, and
escaping to cover, stood to bay, where he was left master of the
field."
[Illustration: A DAUGHTER OF THE TOLDOS]
In the present instance, however, nothing at all exciting was in store
for us. My first bullet struck the cow behind the shoulder a little
high, she went down upon her knees, and a second shot brought her to
the ground. On our approaching she staggered to her feet, whereupon
Jones gave her a shot in the brain. We then set about grallocking and
skinning our quarry, and were delighted to find that she carried a
good deal of fat. We were at the time running very short of this
essential article of diet, for, as has been said, the guanacos supply
none at this season of the year, when they are still in poor condition
after the hardships of the winter.
When we had finished cutting up the meat, we packed it as well as we
could upon our saddles and rode away. The amount of meat with which we
had laden our saddles made them extremely uncomfortable; this was very
much so in my own case, as I was riding a little black horse whose
temper was not of the sweetest, and which had been but seldom ridden
since our start, and was consequently very fresh and skittish. We had
spent a long time over our task of cutting up the cow, and the troop
had gone far ahead. After riding about an hour we saw a white bull
upon the hillside above us, but on using the telescope perceived it
carried a brand upon its flank. We therefore left it in peace.
A little later, as we were riding under the western _barranca_ of the
_cañadon_ of the River Mayo, we came upon some fairly fresh tracks of
sheep. This fact, taken in conjunction with the appearance of the
white bull, made me begin to wonder whether it was possible that the
cow I had shot might not prove to be a tame one. We pushed on more
rapidly, the tracks growing sharper and more distinct. Presently the
tracks began to run into beaten lines, and such always mean in
Patagonia that man is not far off. As we rode we discussed the chances
as to who the owners of the sheep would turn out to be, and this we
found sufficiently exciting, as we had beheld no strange face for many
a day.
Very soon, as we rode round a curve of the cliff, we came in sight of
five armadillo-shaped tents lying snugly in the valley. We had not
expected to come upon the Indians, who, so our guide had told us, were
in the valley of the River Mayo, until some time later, but this was
undoubtedly the encampment to which he had alluded. A number of sheep
and of horses, together with a small herd of cattle, proved them to be
an unusually rich tribe.
The remainder of our party, on sighting the huts of the Tehuelches,
had halted and were waiting for my arrival. We now rode together in
the direction of the tents, and, while we were yet afar off, the
hounds about the squat tents broke into a chorus of barking. As we
drew nearer we could see that the tall figures, wrapped in
guanaco-skins, were standing in the openings of the _toldos_, on the
look-out for the arrival whose presence had been heralded by the dogs.
The sun was setting by this time over the high cliffs of the
_cañadon_, and the _toldos_ threw lengthened shadows upon the ground.
When we came within a short distance, the Indians stepped forward,
finely developed men, of a swarthy brown, with high cheek-bones, their
coarse black hair falling round their faces, and tied about the brows
with a red band. The tents seemed to be full to overflowing of old
women and lean hounds, all huddled together upon the ground, and a
crowd of curious faces peeped forth. The _toldos_ were made of
guanaco-skins, sewn loosely at their edges, and supported squarely on
awkward-looking props or posts, forked at the top to admit the
ridge-poles. The skins were fastened to the earth outside with wooden
pegs. These dwellings appeared to be anything but weather-proof, for
at the seams and lower edges were gaping slits, through which the sky
or the ground was visible. As to the shape of the _toldos_, if you can
imagine a very squat, deep-draught boat, cut off at rather beyond the
half of her length, and turned upside down, you will have some idea of
their appearance. On the roof, and about the wooden props, pieces of
guanaco-meat had been hung out to dry in the sun. Within, as I have
said, upon the skins which strewed the floor the dogs and grandmothers
of the tribe were mingled.
[Illustration: WATI! WATI! (TEHUELCHE EXCLAMATION OF SURPRISE)]
It was our first experience of a Tehuelche encampment, and perhaps the
most remarkable feature of it was the presence, in one form or
another, of the guanaco. Some of his flesh was cooking at a fire
outside the tents, the _toldos_ themselves were composed of his pelts,
the ponchos which some of the women were weaving were made from his
wool, the boots were formed of his neck-skin, some of the horse-gear
of his hide, the men's _capas_ of his skin, while dogs, men, and women
alike were fattened upon the food he provided. As I stood there,
examining all these things, my mind kept running upon the cow which I
had killed, and which I was now more than half afraid might have
belonged to the Indians. If such proved to be the case, I knew that
they would resent it very bitterly, and even perhaps attempt to make
some sort of reprisals upon our horses. The idea of saying nothing
about it, were my surmise as to the chance of its having been their
property correct, struck me as being the least troublesome course to
pursue; but nothing is more abhorrent than dealing in this way with
aboriginal tribes. Personally, I should look upon picking the pocket
of a civilised person as, in comparison, almost a meritorious action.
I may as well say at once that I told them of the matter of the cow
through the _vaqueano_ or guide whom I hired from their tents, and
offered to pay for it if it happened to be their property. The
_vaqueano_, however, said that no cow of that colour belonged to their
herd, and, taking into consideration that she was six years old and
unmarked, I made my mind easy on this point.
I shall now break off from the thread of my narrative and give a
description of the Tehuelches, detailing the facts which I gathered
about them during my residence in Patagonia. I will only preface it by
saying that few peoples are more interesting to study than the
Tehuelches, of whom various travellers have given such widely
differing accounts.
FOOTNOTE:
[6] Any traveller, settler or cattleman who is acquainted with the
vagaries of _cargueros_ will understand our position. Some of the
horses which we used as _cargueros_ had never before had a saddle upon
their backs.
[Illustration: INDIAN _TOLDO_]
CHAPTER VI
MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE TEHUELCHES
Indian method of curing measles -- Driving out the devil
-- Magellan -- _Patagon_ -- Long boots -- Reports of
travellers -- One of the finest races in the world --
Nomadic -- Hunters -- Decreasing in numbers --
Introduction of horses -- _Bolas_ -- No history -- Keen
bargainers but not progressive -- Features -- Good teeth
-- Women -- Morality -- Young and old women -- Half-bloods
-- _Paisanos_ -- Reserved in character -- Habits --
Infants' heads bandaged -- Dance -- Wives bought -- Price
of a wife -- Marriage ceremony -- White man in _toldos_ --
Bad influence -- Connections of white men and Tehuelche
women -- Dress and adornment of women -- Work -- Lazy race
-- High wages -- Ceremonies and customs -- Religion --
Gualicho -- Fear of Cordillera -- Fat hunger -- Tehuelche
lives on horseback -- Esquimaux and Tehuelche -- Primitive
peoples and their habits -- Food -- Tobacco -- Pipes --
Language -- Tribal government -- Physical strength --
Decreasing numbers -- Men of silence and men of uproar --
Courtesy of a Tehuelche.
Snow lay in the hollows so deep that only the lean crests of the
higher bushes could thrust themselves through its surface. The wind,
which had driven the snowstorm of the morning away to the east, swept
drearily down out of an evening sky where neither sun nor sunset hues
were to be seen, nothing but a spread of cold and misty grey, growing
slowly overshadowed by the looming promise of more snow.
In the middle of the level white pampa two figures upon galloping
horses were visible. As we came nearer we saw that one was that of a
man clothed in a _chiripa_ and a _capa_ in which brown was the
predominating colour. He was mounted on a heavy-necked powerful
_cebruno_ horse, his stirrups were of silver, and his gear of raw-hide
seemed smart and good. As he rode he yelled with all his strength,
producing a series of the most horrible and piercing shrieks.
But strange as was this wild figure, his companion, victim or quarry,
was stranger and more striking still. For on an ancient _zaino_ sat
perched a little brown maiden, whose aspect was forlorn and pathetic
to the last degree. She rode absolutely naked in the teeth of the
bitter cold, her breast, face and limbs blotched and smeared with the
rash of some eruptive disease, and her heavy-lidded eyes, strained and
open, staring ahead across the leagues of empty snow-patched plain.
Presently the man redoubled his howls, and bearing down upon the
_zaino_ flogged and frightened it into yet greater speed. The whole
scene might have been mistaken for some ancient barbaric and revolting
form of punishment; whereas, in real truth, it was an anxious Indian
father trying, according to his lights, to cure his daughter of the
measles!
It appeared that the girl had taken the disease in an extremely acute
form, and Indian belief and reasoning run something on these lines:
First fact--The child was possessed by a devil of great power and
ferocity, who set up such a trouble inside her body that it came forth
through her skin in blotches and spots.
Second fact--A devil is known to dislike noise and cold. All devils
do. Hence the ride of the unlucky patient without a shred to protect
her from the strong west wind snow-fed with bitter cold, and the
almost incredible uproar made by the old gentleman upon the dark brown
horse.
If one concedes the premises, it must be admitted there was method in
his madness.
[Illustration: A NEW CURE FOR THE MEASLES]
The above account was given me by Mr. Ernest Cattle, an accurate
observer, whose knowledge of the wild districts of Patagonia is
unique.
Such is the Tehuelche Indian of Patagonia to-day, and facts tend to
show that he has in very few particulars departed from the customs,
manner of living and modes of thought which distinguished his
forefathers in the dawn of authentic Tehuelchian history. The earliest
mention of the natives of Patagonia occurs on the occasion of the
discovery of the country by Magellan in 1520. They were described as
men of huge stature, giants in fact, and the very name Patagonia is
said to be derived from the epithet "_patagon_," or "large feet,"
which the Spaniards bestowed upon them on account of the enormous
tracks their footsteps left upon the sand of the seashore. The
Tehuelches are not, as it happens, a large-footed though they are a
tall race, but, considering the curious persistency of habit, which is
one of their chief characteristics, the idea taken up by the Spanish
is easily explained. The Tehuelches wear boots of _potro_ (colt-skin)
or guanaco-skin, which project in a narrow point some inches beyond
the toes. There can be little doubt, judging by all else we know of
them, that their ancestors of Magellan's day wore the same shape of
foot-gear. The impressions left by such boots would very naturally, on
being observed by voyagers, take their place as indications of a race
of giants. In connection with this idea I may mention that several
early writers united in giving a very bad name to the Tehuelches. No
reputation could be more totally unmerited. From reading such accounts
one would be left with the conviction that the Tehuelches are
blood-thirsty and barbarous savages. This is certainly not the case
now, and I do not believe, judging from all I saw of them under
various circumstances, that such accusations could ever have been
deserved. Some travellers appear to have fallen into the error of
confounding them with other Indian races of South America, whose
characteristics and history differ absolutely from the people of whom
I am writing.
We see here how easy it is for travellers to make mistakes. More than
one writer has charged them with the habit of eating raw flesh;
whereas they cook the meat for food, but on occasion they will eat raw
fat and drink the warm blood of the ostrich, which facts, no doubt,
have given rise to the above misstatement.
Although not giants, the Tehuelches are certainly one of the finest
races in the world. Most of them average 6 ft., some attain to 6 ft. 4
in. or even more, and in all cases they are well built and well
developed. Physically, the men are splendid fellows, who look yet more
nobly formed and proportioned because of the ample folds of the skin
_capas_ and _ponchos_ in which they wrap themselves. Their way of
life tends to muscular excellence, but even taking that into
consideration the development of the arms, chest, and, in fact, the
whole body above the loins is extraordinary. But the lower limbs are
sometimes disappointing, being, in fact, the lower limbs of a race of
riders.[7]
The Tehuelche Indians of Patagonia are essentially nomads, living
chiefly upon the proceeds of their hunting, and, in a less degree,
maintaining themselves upon sale or barter connected with their
limited holding of domestic animals. Agriculture or tillage is
absolutely unknown among them. The hunting-ground is farm enough for
them, and they pitch their tents of skin where they will, or change
their quarters at the dictates of necessity or whim. They always break
camp if a death occurs among the tribe, for the spot is then
considered accursed. And they are, of course, also largely influenced
in their movements by the wanderings of the guanaco herds, which form
their principal quarry.
There are five existing camps of Indians to be found in Patagonia. I
visited two of them and a third small outlying group. Their numbers
have sadly decreased since the days of the opening 'seventies, when
George Chaworth Musters made his abode in the tribal _toldos_ and
followed with them in their wanderings. He speaks of two tribes of
Tehuelches, the northern and the southern, only distinguishable by a
slight difference of dialect, and who met and intermarried, although
they did not object to espousing opposite sides in a quarrel. Other
tribes whom he mentions did not inhabit the part of the country of
which I am writing.
The Tehuelches proper appear to have been fairly prosperous and
numerous in his day, but even then he says, speaking of them:
"Supplies of rum procured in trade at the settlements ... and disease,
small-pox especially, are rapidly diminishing their numbers." Things
have undoubtedly gone from bad to worse in this unhappy direction, and
I am inclined to think that the number of Tehuelche Indians surviving
at this period can be little over a few hundreds in number. Rum is
undoubtedly their chief foe. Drink to the uncivilised man is a danger
against which he is provided with no defence, either social or moral.
Having once tasted its fatal pleasures, he has no reason for
forbidding himself an indulgence his animal nature craves.
[Illustration: ARROWHEADS AND KNIFE, FOUND NEAR COLOHUAPI, CHUBUT.
(NOW IN COLLECTION OF MR. E. M. SPROT)]
Since the day on which the Spanish adventurers first sighted the
Patagonian coast, perhaps the one "event" in the history of the
Indians may truly be said to be the introduction of horses into their
land. Otherwise they seem to have altered little in their way of life.
Magellan says they came down to the ship clad and shod in
guanaco-skins; they are clad and shod in guanaco-skins to-day. Their
tools and knives were sharp-edged flints; I have seen the Indians skin
their quarry with precisely the same weapons.
Bows and arrows were indeed in use among the tribes when the Spaniards
visited the coast; these have now been superseded by the _boleadores_,
an innovation which in its present form came into fashion after the
Indians began to know the value of the horse. The _bolas_ is the
weapon of the Tehuelche. With it he kills his game, and with it also
he catches wild colts, and finds it useful in his simple process of
training. The _bolas_ is made up of three thongs of raw hide fastened
together at one end, the other free ends having attached to them
stones or bits of pot-iron sewn up in skin. The Indian throws his
weapon with marvellous accuracy at any animal he may be pursuing, and
the thongs coiling instantly round the legs or neck of the creature,
bring it to the ground, or, at any rate, entangle it hopelessly.
It may well be judged that this race have no history. They remain in
touch with the methods and customs according to which their
forefathers were wont to live centuries ago, and who in their turn had
derived them from still older generations. Though most of the men now
possess cheap store knives of steel, I have seen, as I said before,
many a quarry skinned with the prehistoric flint knife. They are an
intelligent people, indeed keen where bargaining is concerned, as long
as they are sober; yet they seem to be entirely lacking in that
quality which would enable them to forget the past with its
traditional usages and methods, and to follow even remotely the
sweeping onward rush that, like a tornado, carries with it the lagging
races of mankind. Although the men possess unusual strength, they do
not in the least know how to apply it. Their faces are somewhat flat,
although the features are more or less cast in the aquiline mould, and
fairly regular. The hair is coarse and lustreless, its blackness
relieved by a fillet or handkerchief of scarlet. Their teeth are
excellent, toothache being almost unknown in their tents. Although
they bathe, I have never observed among them any article that would in
any way correspond to the tooth-stick of other nomadic peoples. Their
beautiful teeth are perhaps due to their habit of chewing a gummy
substance that exudes from the incensio bush. Musters, in his book,
says they use this as a dentifrice.
[Illustration: A TEHUELCHE CACIQUE]
The women are not, according to our European ideas, beautiful, and
such comeliness as they may sometimes possess in youth blossoms and
fades quickly. They are, however, strong, and much of the camp work
falls to their share. The older women can boast of a brand of ugliness
all their own. Age to these ladies brings several vices in its
train. Most noticeable is a craving for strong waters, a weakness from
which the younger women are entirely free.
The morality of the Tehuelches is, on the whole, admirable.
Unfaithfulness in the wife is rare, and not often bitterly revenged. A
point as regards the morality of the women is to my mind rather
luminous. While the younger _chinas_ are unexceptionable in their
moral virtues, the older women cannot be so highly commended. They are
rather apt to wander from the stricter paths of decorum. When the
husband of one of these elderly houris dies, as soon as the due period
of mourning is past, the bereaved one will take up with any male in
her tribe for either a longer or a shorter period. For ugliness sheer
and unrivalled these grandmothers of the tribes stand alone. Also, as
they get on in years, these ladies often run to fat. I remember one
immense woman in the _toldos_ on the pampas between Lake Argentino and
Gallegos, who had put on flesh in a manner and to an extent almost
unbelievable.
The younger women, while the flush of girlhood is still upon them,
possess a certain comeliness which I can only describe by the
adjectives "savage" and "stolid." Yet the abundant coarse black hair
hanging round the heavily quiet faces, in which the features, though
flattened, are still slightly aquiline, the wide-open, patient eyes,
the healthful colour, and the strong, white, even teeth, which their
slow smiles disclose to you, make them, on the whole, a personable
race.
The half-bloods, as is usual, often possess real beauty, the alien
strain giving them that vivacity which the pure race seems to lack.
Some of the pictures show an unsightly slit of the lip in the case of
a few _paisanos_.[8] This hare-lip is by no means universal, but is an
hereditary peculiarity that appears in many of the members of one
special household. The arrival of a stranger in the camp makes the
women retire shyly within themselves, and it is only by chance--as it
is in the case of wild animals--that the new-comer ever sees the
unaffected and natural character shine out. When in contact with
whites the Tehuelche man also becomes reserved, the whole expression
of his countenance changes, and he is very suspicious of being laughed
at, a point on which he is very susceptible, and which he deeply
resents.
I cannot but think that the constant accusations of uncleanliness that
have been brought against the Tehuelche Indians are due to the single
fact that their dogs are allowed to live in the _toldos_. The result
in a country where scab is common may be left to the imagination. But,
apart from the crawling things which inhabit his _toldos_, the Indian
is fairly cleanly, bathing each day and swimming in the lakes and
lagoons. The women make excellent mothers, and the father is
inordinately proud of his offspring, especially of his sons. Of how
many races can so many good things be truthfully said?
They have a singular custom of bandaging the heads of infants in such
a manner as to produce a flattening of the back of the skull. It might
be worth the while of physiologists to go deeper into the matter, with
a view to discovering how far this alteration in the brain-space
determines the character of the individual operated upon. Interesting
results might thus be obtained and some vexed problems solved.
A certain stage in the life of each girl is celebrated by a festivity
in the camp. An ornamented _toldo_ is put up temporarily for the
girl's occupation, and the young men of the tribe march round it
singing while the women howl, probably with a view to exorcising any
evil spirit who may be lingering about the camp.[9] The ceremony is
followed by a feast, and the evening winds up with a dance. The men
alone take part in this, and it consists in circling round the fire,
pacing sometimes slowly and sometimes quickly. A few dance at a time,
accompanying their movements with a constant bowing or nodding of the
head, which is adorned with tufts of ostrich feathers. When one party
is tired out another takes its place.
Wives, of course, are bought and sold, but when a lady is purchased by
a suitor whom she happens to dislike, there is trouble for the
bridegroom, and conjugal obedience is only enforced after struggles,
of which the not infrequent result is that the mark of the lady's
teeth remains permanently upon her lord.
The price of a wife varies, as must be expected in the natural course
of things. Strangely enough, a girl's value often depends upon the
number of her brethren, who must receive two horses apiece. To buy a
bride with means or rather animals of her own, an heiress in fact, who
comes of well-to-do people, as much as a hundred mares have been
given--or shall I say paid.[10]
When desirous of carrying on matrimonial negotiations the would-be
bridegroom must always employ a go-between. To omit this ceremonial
method of approach would be an outrage on etiquette. I conclude,
though I do not know it for a fact as regards Patagonia, that the
go-between in that country gets his pickings from both sides as his
congener does elsewhere.
The marriage ceremony is delightfully simple. After the preliminary
bargaining has been successfully brought to a close, the happy
bridegroom mounts his horse and rides to the _toldo_ of his intended
and hands over his appointed gifts, receiving those of the parents in
return. He then carries back his bride amid the cheers and cries of
his friends, and in the evening there is a feast. Musters remarks that
on these occasions the dogs are not permitted to touch the meat or
offal of the animals killed, as it is considered unlucky if they do
so.
The gifts which are exchanged between the parties form in a more or
less degree a marriage settlement, for in case of divorce her parents'
gifts accrue to the wife. Polygamy is allowed but not much practised
among the tribes.
Few phenomena are to my mind more unaccountable than the action of the
white man who "goes fantee."
"Went fantee, joined the people of the land,
Turned three parts Mussulman and one Hindoo,
And lived among the Gauri villages,
Who gave him shelter and a wife or twain."
This singular mental or moral warp which results in a man "going
fantee" is by no means uncommon in Patagonia. Of course, as may be
imagined, a certain proportion of such men fall to this condition at
the end of the career variegated. Others prefer ruling in Cathay to
serving in any other community more dignified; others again take
daughters of the land to wife because their trade lies with the
Indians.
There is, however, one very strong objection to this latter course of
marrying, Tehuelche fashion, a _china_ of the _toldos_, and that is
that all the relatives of the lady in question are apt to quarter
themselves upon the bridegroom. Occasionally the white man objects,
but I imagine that the cases of those who object successfully are
rare. But there is one _estanciero_ in Patagonia who is the father of
two buxom daughters by a Tehuelche wife. These girls are now grown up,
and their tribe was encamped during the winter of 1900 not two hours'
ride from the dwelling-place of their father. Yet I am assured the
father never aided the tribe or his own offspring in any way, although
that winter was so severe that starvation visited the _toldos_ of the
tribe. A man of this mettle is, however, not frequently to be heard
of, and cases of a quite laudable affection having existed between a
white man and a _china_ are on record.
But, at the same time, it must be repeated that the influence of the
white who goes to live among the Indians as one of themselves, almost
without exception, makes for evil. I have already spoken of the
offspring of the mixed unions. The Tehuelche blood gives to the faces
of the half-breed women an expression of sad patience, while the
Spanish connection adds certainly to their gift of beauty.
[Illustration: TEHUELCHE MATRON, SHOWING HARE-LIP]
The women have very simple ideas of adornment. They generally take the
form of silver necklets and the red fillet bound in their hair.[11]
Their dress is composed of the picturesque guanaco-skin _capa_, or
mantle, worn with the wool inside. Woman, to tell the truth, holds no
such bad position among the Patagonian Indians. She does the cooking,
but little else that can be called hard work, except the taking down
and pitching of the _toldos_ when the tribe break camp. They carry on
a slack industry in the form of weaving _ponchos_ from guanaco
wool. Some species of earth is used for dyeing the wool, but the
resulting colours are dull. In this particular the Tehuelches differ
from the Indians of the northern pampas, whose dyeing materials are
derived from herbs, and give brighter tints. These _ponchos_ and
saddle-rugs made by the _chinas_ are much prized and sought after as
curiosities, hence the makers demand very high prices for them--even
up to thirty or forty dollars each.
The women also spend some of their time in sewing together the skins
of guanaco or ostriches into rugs, using sinews for thread. Rugs of
this kind and bunches of ostrich feathers form the staple commodities
which they offer at the settlements for sale.
The hair of the adult animal, being harsh and coarse, is of less value
in the market than that of the young guanaco; therefore the hunters
endeavour to secure chiefly the pelts of the young guanaco, some of
the rugs being even made from the skin of the unborn, which is cut out
of the mother a few days previous to the date when they would
naturally be dropped. At certain seasons enormous numbers of these
pelts are to be seen drying, pegged out, beside the Indian _toldos_.
The time of year during which the hunting of guanaco _chicos_, or
little ones, is carried on includes the latter half of October and the
month of November.
I am afraid it must be confessed that the Tehuelches are a very lazy
race. Nearly everything which makes any demand upon their
energies--with the exception of hunting--seems too much trouble for
them to do. Few individuals become even comparatively rich, and even
then live none the better for it. One could never guess whether a man
were rich or poor by his dress; he carries no sign of improved
circumstances in his person or bearing. The owner of two thousand
beasts will come into camp and sit by your fire, putting in a plea
with the humblest for a cupful of _maté_. Occasionally an Indian will
act as a guide across the empty distances of the pampas. They have an
excellent idea of the value of their services and of the paper _peso_
of the Argentine Republic. They set a high price upon themselves--a
_vaqueano_, or guide, demanding five dollars a day or seventy dollars
a month.
But however this quality may seem to approximate to civilisation, the
customs with which he still surrounds the events of birth, sickness,
and death are the old cruel forms that have been perpetuated through
the ages, and they stamp him as remaining even to this day the very
slightly diluted savage.
In some cases when a child is born, a cow or mare is killed, the
stomach taken out and cut open, and into this receptacle while still
warm the child is laid. Upon the remainder of the animal the tribe
feast, and when they feast they carry out the notion thoroughly. After
eating their fill, they lie about gorged and half insensible and let
the world spin on. This is a quiet festivity, and only takes place in
this modified form when the tribe happen to be out of fire-water.
But should there be liquor at hand, the younger women, who never drink
on such occasions, go round beforehand and gather up every knife,
hatchet, or, in fact, all and any weapon they can find, and bury them
in some hidden spot about the camp.[12] This custom, which is in its
own way pathetic, speaks for itself. Under the influence of liquor the
nature of the peaceable Indian becomes completely changed. It maddens
him, and the dance round the fires often ends in a free fight.
A variation of the foregoing birth-ceremony is yet more savage. If a
boy is born, his tribe catch a mare or a colt--if the father be rich
and a great man among his people, the former; if not, the latter--a
lasso is placed round each leg, a couple round the neck, and a couple
round the body. The tribe distribute themselves at the various ends of
these lassos and take hold. The animal being thus supported cannot
fall. The father of the child now advances and cuts the mare or colt
open from the neck downwards, the heart, &c., is torn out, and the
baby placed in the cavity. The desire is to keep the animal quivering
until the child is put inside. By this means they believe that they
ensure the child's becoming a fine horseman in the future.[13]
If an Indian dies the place becomes accursed. The camp is immediately
removed to a fresh locality. When the dead man or woman is buried,
certain ceremonies are observed about the grave, evidently with a view
to enabling the departed to start in another life with an adequate
outfit. Horses and dogs are slaughtered, so that he may have the means
to pursue and kill the guanaco in the land of ghosts. Food and dead
game are also placed in the grave to supply his needs at the outset of
the new existence. Should the dead happen to be a child or a person of
tender years, fillies and colts are slaughtered at the burial.
In former times, and in fact until quite recent years, it used to be
the custom to place beside the corpse the silver-mounted horse-gear of
the dead man, and to close the grave upon it. In a land where life
depends not infrequently upon the strength of your raw-hide
head-stall, for instance, the value of sound gear is properly
appreciated; therefore this particular precaution for the welfare of
the dead shows a very practical solicitude on the part of the
survivors. To-day the Tehuelches still bury these possessions in the
grave, but the custom is only continued with a reservation. Instead of
leaving the valuable gear under the earth for all time, they now at
the end of a twelvemonth dig it up again. How they reconcile this
economical arrangement with the comfort of their lost friend I do not
know, but it may be suggested that they imagine the inhabitant of
another world has had full time in the course of a year to make
suitable new gear for himself.
The religion of the Indians is interesting. It consists, of course, in
the old simple beliefs in good spirits and devils, but chiefly devils,
which, with variations dependent on climate and physical environment,
represent all over the world the spiritual creeds of uncivilised
races. The dominant Spirit of Evil, as feared by the Tehuelches, is
called the Gualicho. And he abides as an ever-present terror behind
their strange, free, and superstitious lives. They spend no small
portion of their time in either fleeing from his wrath or in
propitiating it. You may wake in the dawn to see a band of Indians
suddenly rise and leap upon their horses, and gallop away across the
pampa, howling and gesticulating. They are merely scaring the Gualicho
away from their tents back to his haunts in the Cordillera--the wild
and unpenetrated mountains, where he and his subordinate demons groan
in chosen spots the long nights through.
The expedition under my command happened to encamp near one such place
upon the southern shore of Lake Rica. It was a moonlight night, and
loud rushing noises broke the peace of every hour of it. There
happened to be a huge glacier on the opposite side of the lake, from
which great pieces became detached at frequent intervals (for the mass
of the glacier overhung the cliff), and these plunged with strange,
loud explosions, I might almost call them, into the water. Such are
the noises that terrify the Indian; he cannot explain them, and it is
small wonder they excite his fears in the highest degree. For it must
be remembered that in all practical ways the Tehuelche is a very brave
man. Yet no pay can tempt him within the region of the Cordilleras,
where to his superstitious mind the near presence of the Gualicho is
manifested by those awful groanings and sounds which no human agency
known to him could by any possibility produce.
In common with other savage peoples, the Tehuelches believe the Good
Spirit to be of a far more quiescent habit than the spirits of evil.
Long ago, at the epoch of Creation perhaps, the Good Spirit made one
effort for the benefit of mankind,[14] but since then he has been
otherwise occupied, and shown himself little interested with earthly
matters. Like Baal, he is perchance upon a journey, or perchance he is
sleeping. The result is the same; his worshippers must take care of
themselves as well as they can, and the best method which offers is to
ward off by all means in their power the attacks of the maleficent
influence. For the Gualicho is of a very active disposition, and shows
no scorn of small things. On the contrary, he is quite capable of
descending upon a single Indian to punish him for an offence and to
work him harm.
[Illustration: CHILDREN OF THE TOLDOS]
It is a humiliating reflection that the great mass of peoples have
always been, and will always be, far more ready and fervent in
propitiating an evil spirit, or endeavouring to avert the action of
any punishing power, than in seeking the favour of the Good Spirit or
returning him thanks for benefits received. Human nature under the
frock-coat of civilisation is much the same as under the _capa_ of the
Tehuelche.
By inference one can see that the Patagonian believes in a future
life--a life much on the lines of his earthly one, but abounding in
those things which he most desires, and which here he finds in short
measure. I only know that the land he is going to after death is a
land flowing, not with milk and honey, but with grease. On the pampas
of life here below the guanaco is lean and seldom yields an ounce of
fat, and as I have myself experienced the craving for fat, or
fat-hunger, I know it to be a very real and uncomfortable demand of
the human system. But in the Patagonian Beyond the guanaco herds will
be plump and well provided with supplies of suet, and the
califate-bushes always laden with ripe and purple berries.
The traditions of the tribes go back to the epoch when they hunted on
foot and used bows and arrows, as well as the _bolas_, armed with a
large single ball of stone. That period may be one hundred, or
possibly a hundred and fifty, years ago. Then a tribe of Pampa Indians
rode down out of the north and brought to the Tehuelches the
inestimable boon of horses.
At the present day no worse evil can happen to an Indian than to be
left without a horse and dependent on his own legs. He rides
perpetually, and in consequence has almost lost the walking
capabilities of other men.[15] He lives upon horseback, and there
earns his living, so to speak. With his dogs he rides down his game,
but he has no skill in tracking any more than the dogs. But, for all
that, his sight is keen; the quality of extraordinary long-sightedness,
which distinguishes men used to scanning vast levels of sea or land,
is essentially his.
The Tehuelche, although in many ways offering a complete contrast, yet
in some points forms a strange parallel to the Esquimaux. The
Esquimaux has never seen a horse, the Tehuelche never uses a boat,
although his land abounds in sheets of water. Both races are eminently
sluggish and peaceable. Both fear evil spirits, which they fancy live
in particular localities. It is indeed a far cry from Greenland to
Patagonia, but if you substitute the horse for the kayak and the seal
for the guanaco, you will find that, although separated by space and
race and circumstance, a certain resemblance between the people of the
Far South and of the Far North exists. And of both races little evil
can be said.
These primitive peoples, living close to nature, divided from man's
original state only by the thinnest and filmiest of partitions, attain
in a wonderful degree the art of doing without things. The Esquimaux
starts upon a long day's hunting, with the thermometer marking many
degrees below zero, upon nothing save a drink of water! A luxury such
as coffee is said to enervate him.[16] The Patagonian Indian rides out
of a morning having taken nothing at all in the way of sustenance. But
he puts a pinch of salt in his belt, and when his dogs pull down their
first guanaco or ostrich, he draws off the blood and swallows it mixed
with salt.
The tribes live to a considerable extent on guanaco, and it is
practically their life-work to follow the wanderings of the herds
through the changing seasons. But the flesh of the ostrich is more
palatable, and is, consequently, preferred when it can be procured.
They drink _maté_ in large quantities, which, as has been shown, is
the universal habit on the pampas, where it is, in fact,
indispensable, supplying, as it does, to a certain extent, the place
of vegetables, besides having the valuable quality of refreshing and
invigorating in a quite extraordinary degree.
They rarely smoke pure tobacco; it is too precious. They mix it with
about 80 per cent. of califate-wood shavings. Once, when short of
tobacco, I tried their mixture, and in truth there are many worse
smokes upon the English and American markets. The califate is
certainly a little acrid, but burns with a very blue smoke. I fancy
one could get on tolerably well with this faked tobacco, aided by a
bit of imagination and a strong throat.
[Illustration: TEHUELCHE MATRONS]
For the most part the tribes use stone pipes of a very singular
coffin-like shape. One Indian, however, possessed a silver pipe, the
stem of which had begun life as a _bombilla_, or silver tube for
drinking _maté_ through. Musters mentions frequently seeing the men
become insensible after smoking, which would lead to the supposition
that they use some drug corresponding in its effects to opium. I never
observed a single instance of this sort, although I smoked the
camp-fire pipe on many occasions with Tehuelches. In fact, of those I
met, two out of three were not smokers at all.
The language of these people is very guttural, and one word is used to
signify a number of different things, which proves its elementary and
simple character. In most of their camps Spanish is understood more or
less, and with even a slight knowledge of this tongue one can get on
very well.
Practically the Patagonian is governed by no tribal laws. He does not
need their restraint, for, save when drunk, he seldom commits crimes
of greater or less magnitude. In politics he is democratic apparently,
for though it is true that a _cacique_ is at the head of each camp,
his authority seems limited to ordering the plan of the hunt. If any
individual objects he can leave the community, an alternative
extremely distasteful to so gregarious a people. Quarrels and fights
are of very rare occurrence, except when there is drink in the tents.
The natural peacefulness of the Indian is certainly commendable, for
his muscular development is enormous. He can tear the skin from a
guanaco after merely raising enough with his knife to give him a
hand-grip.
Once it was a free and a happy life that they lived, with fortunes
ruled by the changing of the seasons. In those days, five-and-twenty
years ago, they were scattered throughout the country, moving along
the Indian trail. Now, in the whole of my long travel through
Patagonia, I came upon only three encampments of them, and I have
reason to believe I visited nearly every one that exists at the
present day. It is probable that I may be their last chronicler; they
will be brushed off the face of the earth by the sweeping besom that
deals so hardly with aboriginal races, and is known as "civilisation."
The cause of their disappearance is not far to seek. You may dust a
savage people with Martinis and increase their manhood, if the
punishment be not severe and too prolonged, but as sure as the whisky
bottle--the raw, cheap, rot-gut country spirit--is introduced among
them, a primitive people is doomed. In all sorts of places in the
world I have seen this baleful influence at work.
The Indians, as I knew them, are a kind-hearted, docile and lazy race.
In all the dealings I had with them I found them invariably most
courteous. Treat them as you desire they should treat you, and not in
the odious "poor-devil-of-a-heathen, beast-of-a-savage" sort of style,
which obtains with some of our own countrymen abroad, I am sorry to
say, and you will receive a grave and quiet consideration, and they
will call you _buen hombre_, a good man.
Progress, the white man's shibboleth, has no meaning for the
Patagonian. He is losing ground day by day in the wild onward rush of
mankind. Our ideas do not appeal to him. He has neither part nor lot
in the feverish desires and ambitions that move us so strongly. As his
forefathers were, so is he--content to live and die a human item with
a moving home, passing hither and thither upon the waste and open
spaces of his native land. He is far too single-minded and too
dignified to stoop to a cheap imitation. He does not shout aloud that
he is the equal of the white man, as more vulgar races do. It has
often struck me that the primitive races of the world might be put
under two heads--the men of silence and the men of uproar. Among the
men of silence we have the Zulu, the North American Indian, the
Tehuelche, and some others. These silent peoples cannot exist, like
the negroes, as the camp followers of civilisation. They have not the
ya-hoop imitative faculty of the negro race. They are hunters, men of
silence and of a great reserve. When they meet with the white man,
they do not rush open-mouthed to swallow his customs.
The men of silence will, in the savage state, take a hint as quickly
as an English gentleman; the men of uproar will only accept a hint
when it is backed by a command. The Tehuelche will not remain at a
camp-fire where he is not wanted. He lacks passion, perhaps, but
appreciation pleases him. His dignified courtesy can best be
exemplified by a story.
[Illustration: A TEHUELCHE BEAUTY]
At one time, while we were travelling across the pampas and had camped
for the night, an Indian rode in upon us in the twilight. The Indian
did not talk Spanish, nor could we speak Tehuelchian. In silence he
joined us at our evening meal and stopped afterwards to smoke a pipe
of tobacco, then he got to horse and rode away.
The next morning our horses were missing; they had evidently strayed
during the night. I went out to look for them, and after a time saw
them far away across the pampa advancing towards me in a compact mob.
A rider was driving them up. As soon as he saw me, and I had
recognised our guest of the preceding evening, he sent forward the
horses at a gallop in my direction, and, wheeling round, was off and
out of sight in a moment. He did not wait to be thanked, and yet it
was obvious, from the condition of the horses, that he must have found
them a long way off and driven them for a considerable distance. It is
in courtesies of this kind that the silent peoples excel.
I am no wild admirer of the noble savage. He is, generally speaking, a
highly objectionable person. But to see a race--so kindly,
picturesque, and gifted with fine qualities of body and mind--such as
the Tehuelches, absolutely at hand-grips with extinction, seems to me
one of the saddest results of the growing domination of the white man
and his methods of civilisation.
FOOTNOTES:
[7] There is, however, a great variation in the development of the
lower limbs in different individuals.
[8] This name is preferred by the Indians themselves. To call them
_los Indios_ is a breach of etiquette. _Paisano_ means, of course, son
of the land, a title in which the Tehuelche takes pride.
[9] The evil spirit is supposed to take up its quarters behind the
_toldos_.
[10] While prosecuting the inquiries which led to the compilation of
this account of the Tehuelches it was thought that the author desired
to take a bride from the _toldos_. He was informed that seven mares
would purchase a young and efficient helpmate.
[11] Tehuelche beauties are not above wearing a tail of false hair.
[12] On the occasions I describe, even the _asadores_ (iron spits
three feet in length and sharpened at the end which enters the ground)
are taken away and buried by the young women.
[13] These customs are now dying out.
[14] According to Tehuelche beliefs, the Good Spirit created the
animals in the caves of a certain mountain called "God's Hill," and
gave them to his people for food.
[15] Here I disagree with Captain G. C. Musters, who claims excellent
walking powers for the Tehuelches. That they can walk well if forced
to do so is possible, but we need look no farther than their boots to
perceive that they rarely go afoot. The Patagonian pampas are covered
with thorn and the thin foot-covering of the Indians would be torn to
pieces in the course of a two-hours tramp over such ground.
[16] Nansen's "Esquimaux Life."
CHAPTER VII
TEHUELCHE METHODS OF HUNTING
Hunting season -- Surefooted horses -- Description of big
hunt -- Ring round game -- Splendid riding of Tehuelches
-- Horses dislike jumping -- Game killed and spared by
Tehuelches -- Difference of their hunting methods from
those of the Onas of Tierra del Fuego -- Artistic
perception of Onas -- Ill-faith of early settlers --
Indian trail -- "No place for us" -- Deterioration of
horses -- They prize piebalds -- Method of breaking in --
Perfect riders -- Helpless on foot -- Staying powers of
horses -- Dogs -- Evil of liquor trade -- National sin of
permitting this traffic -- Picture of trader -- Drinking
bout of Tehuelches -- Gambling for horses -- Fatal
weakness of Tehuelches -- Another instance.
During the latter half of October and during November, which is the
Patagonian spring, the Tehuelches hunt the guanaco _chicos_, or young
guanaco.
At this period the young have not all been dropped, and the most
prized pelts are those of the unborn young, which are obtained by
killing the mother. These pelts, being very soft and fine in texture,
are used to make the most valuable _capas_ or robes, and if sold out
of the tribes at the settlements, bring in the highest prices.
At this season the Indians move to their favourite hunting-grounds; it
is, in fact, to them the most important period of the year. Two
requisites are necessary to make their hunting a success: the first is
plenty of game, and in this there is rarely any disappointment; the
second is good ground on which to hunt it. As long, however, as the
guanaco do not take absolutely to the crags, the Indians, with the
help of their sure-footed unshod horses, are able to levy a heavy toll
on the herds.
The method of hunting adopted by the Tehuelches is interesting enough
to call for description at length. On the morning of the hunt, the
Indians saddle up a good long-journey horse apiece, they also catch
each man his fastest mount, upon which he puts a _bozal_ and
_cabresto_, as well as a bit in his mouth. The hunter rides the former
horse, and leads the latter for use later on.
[Illustration: BOLEADORES
FOR OSTRICH
FOR GUANACO
FOR HORSES
(_IN THE COLLECTION OF THE AUTHOR_)]
The big herds of guanaco have meantime been located, and the plan of
the day's hunt arranged by the _cacique_. All the hunters start forth
in couples, riding in different directions, and so form an immense
circle, into the centre of which they systematically drive the game.
They then signal their whereabouts to one another by means of smokes
until the ring round the guanaco is complete. Each hunter is
accompanied by his dogs, of which he possesses probably a score. Six
or eight gaunt hounds of no particular breed, but whose characteristic
points run chiefly to legs and teeth, follow their master. As the
circle narrows the terrified game huddle together in the centre of it,
and there may be seen hundreds of guanaco, many ostriches, and
possibly a puma or two. The guanaco bucks pace upon the edge of the
herd, and give out their neighing, half-defiant call as their human
enemies approach.
The positions assumed by guanaco when under the influence of curiosity
and fear are most singular. They will stand staring at the Indians for
many seconds, and will then dash off at a wild gallop with the strange
leaping run peculiar to them. The necks, too, swing and sway at all
conceivable angles, and whenever their ears are assailed by a sudden
sound, I have seen a whole herd, upwards of one hundred strong, sway
their necks to within a couple of inches of the ground almost in
unison.
In the meanwhile the Indians draw remorselessly nearer, dismount from
their saddle-horses, leap on their led animals, and precipitate
themselves from all sides upon the frantic herds. The horses that are
left have generally been carefully schooled to stand when their reins
are dropped forward to the ground over their heads. The Indians howl
and roar as they dash down upon the guanaco, whirling their
_boleadores_ round their heads. This _bolas_, with which they hunt the
guanaco, is very heavy, and the three balls are generally made of
stone, but they use a lighter form for the capture of the ostrich. In
the case of guanaco _chicos_, clubs are often employed.
Holding his weapon by the shortest of the three _sogas_, or thongs,
and while going at full gallop, the Indian launches it at the long
neck of the guanaco; a doe is always selected if possible. Extremely
expert in its use, the rider's weapon probably reaches its mark, and
the quarry, maddened by the tightening of the _sogas_, bucks and
rears, until she becomes hopelessly entangled.
I have mentioned that the Tehuelches hunt in pairs. The companion of
the Indian who has thrown the _bolas_ then leaps to the ground and
despatches the guanaco. Meantime his comrade has dashed forward at the
tail of the herd, and has probably secured another animal. The dogs,
too, do their part, and as the storm of the chase sweeps across the
pampa, it leaves the ground in its path dotted with the yellow-brown
forms of the slain.
The chase tails itself out for many miles, and may be followed over
desolate leagues marked by lines of dead guanacos and dropped
_boleadores_ which have failed to carry home. I should be afraid to
say how many animals are killed at one of these singular battues. To
see the Indian hunt the guanaco is to see the art of rough-riding
exemplified. How they gallop! Down one sheer _barranca_, or cliff, and
up another. The roar of loosened stone behind them. The guanaco jink
and dodge and break back, always making for the highest ground in the
vicinity.
The dexterity with which the horses of the hunters keep their feet is
truly wonderful. They will go at full gallop anywhere, and hardly ever
fall or miss their footing. There is, however, one thing which they
universally dislike, and that is jumping in any of its forms. Here and
there in some parts of Patagonia the pampa is cut and scored with
fissures a few feet in width. To have your horse stop dead, both feet
together, on the edge of one of these and violently shy away at an
acute angle is no uncommon experience. Generally, however, a certain
amount of inducement and coercion at length takes them over in a
complicated buck.
When the chase has run itself out, the lean dogs are fed upon the
grosser parts, the pelts of the young are pulled off, and the meat,
such of it as is wanted, is cargoed or packed upon the horses, and the
hunting-party jogs back to the shelter of the wigwams, made from the
skins their fathers and their grandfathers slew before the white men
began to move southward and to overrun the land.
The Indians kill no bird save the ostrich, and this is a curious
fact, because the lagoons and pools literally swarm with great flocks
of upland geese (_Chloephaga magellanica_), which are very fair
eating. Perhaps the reason why they spare the geese arises from the
fact that they have no weapons suitable for killing them. On one
occasion when I shot a brace of geese, the Indians seized upon them
and pronounced them "good." Also, they kill few animals but the
guanaco and the puma. Had the guanaco a reasonable amount of fat upon
it, the life of the Indians would be idyllic, but in this the guanaco
fails. Of lean meat he supplies plenty, for he is a large beast, but
though he lives in a land where sheep grow fat and well-liking, the
long-necked Patagonian llama retains his leanness and his running
condition.
Although it may be slightly outside the province of this book, I
cannot help contrasting the very different methods employed by the
Onas of Tierra del Fuego, who are after all only separated from the
Tehuelches of Patagonia by the narrow Straits of Magellan, in hunting
the same animal. The Onas do not use horses, and kill the guanaco with
bows and arrows. When they perceive a herd, they surround it as the
Tehuelches do, but, of course, the circle is on a much smaller scale.
It is their aim to remain invisible to their quarry, for which
purpose, during their stalk, they are in the habit of wrapping
themselves in the skins of the animals which they have formerly
killed. Once the herd is surrounded, it is with the same accompaniment
of screams and shouts that the hunters rush in to secure their prey.
The dissimilarities between the Tehuelches and the Onas are
numerous.[17] While the Tehuelches are peaceful, the Onas are warlike.
There is a story current that the only white man who has ever lived in
the very primitive dwelling of boughs, which are all the Onas have to
shelter them from a bitter climate, was a Scotchman whom the Indians
had captured. He was with them three weeks, and his face was adorned
by a singularly luxuriant crop of orange whiskers. The Onas are
reported to have amused themselves by pulling these out in instalments
by the roots. Might not some anthropologist base a treatise upon "The
Artistic Perceptions of the Onas of Tierra del Fuego" upon this
occurrence?
[Illustration: BEAUTIES OF TIERRA DEL FUEGO]
The Onas are also a tall people, although not equalling in height my
friends the Tehuelches, and their physical development is less
conspicuously remarkable. The Ona woman does not, as does the
Tehuelche _china_, form an attachment to a white suitor, appearing to
have no desires outside her own race and people, but under certain
circumstances the women have shared the hearthstone of the foreigner.
Polygamy is allowed and practised among them. There is something of
the spirit which characterises the Gipsy of Europe about this people;
they are quite ready to take all they can get from the alien, while
they at the same time maintain a bitter rancour against the hand that
gives. But this is not, as it is in the case of the Gipsies, the
continuance of an original dislike and implacability, but rather the
result of the infamous ill-faith which leavened the dealings of the
very earliest visitors to the coasts of Tierra del Fuego.
I must confess that all my sympathies are on the side of the primitive
races, who on coming into contact with the white man suffer those
outrages on their best feelings which, I am sorry to say, are only too
common. You must understand, however, that I in no way refer to the
settlers of this generation. My remarks must be taken to refer to the
first pioneers. At the present day--so Burbury, who has had a great
experience of Tierra del Fuego, informed me--the Indians there are
treacherous and absolutely implacable, and do endless harm in their
periodical raids upon the "white guanaco," as they call the sheep.
They do this not only when hunger presses them, but at all times out
of a spirit of revenge. Sometimes they drown the sheep and leave them
in the ice, where they keep good for weeks, during which time the Onas
feast on them.
Patagonia bears upon its length the clear-cut and long-drawn initial
of the Tehuelche race. By this I mean the Indian trail, which can be
followed from water to water, from good camp to good camp, stretching
from Punta Arenas in the south to Lake Buenos Aires in the north and
beyond it. Up and down this trail and along others, less extended,
generations of Indians have wandered with their wives and children,
their tents and horses. We struck it when travelling south from Lake
Buenos Aires, in the early January of 1901. It was hard to distinguish
the Indian road from any parallel series of guanaco-tracks, which here
line the country in numbers, and, indeed, it was only by keeping a
sharp look-out for the hoof-prints of horses that we were able to
follow the trail at all. It runs along under the Cordillera at a
varying distance of about twenty or thirty miles from their bases. It
was a sad remark that an Indian made to us while talking about the
ancient wanderings of his people. "Once," he said, "we had the sea
upon the one side of us, and upon the other the Cordillera. But this
is not so now. The white man is ever advancing upon one side and the
Cordillera remains ever unchanging upon the other. Soon there will be
no place for us; yet once the land was ours."
One would imagine that a people so dependent on their horses for the
very necessities of life would give attention and care to the breeding
and improvement of the stock. But this is far from being the case. The
Tehuelches appear to be, like other far less intelligent races of
uncivilised peoples, incapable of much forethought. They live for
to-day and make little provision for to-morrow. As a case in point,
they are allowing their horses to become very deteriorated. The
animals are, almost without exception, to use a Spanish term,
_mañero_, which means of a spoiled temper. In some localities they
have been crossed with the horses of the settlers which have a strain
of English blood, and the result is animals of spirit and of
character, but _muy mañero_. The Tehuelches prize white horses, and
_overos_, or piebalds, exceedingly. The backs of their horses are
generally badly galled, but this is no matter for surprise, as they
often ride upon a sheepskin flung anyhow across the beast. The method
of breaking-in or taming is simple and severe in the extreme. It
consists of leaping on a raw colt and galloping him to exhaustion. One
reason why their horses are falling below level certainly is that the
Indians have a foolish trick of riding two- and three-year-olds both
hard and far. A colt of this age once fairly "cooked" by an over-long
ride will never be of very much use afterwards.
And yet these people are peculiarly dependent upon their horses. They
will not walk ten yards if they can ride them. And they have
undoubtedly carried the art of riding to the last perfection. I never
knew what riding really meant until I went to Patagonia and saw the
Indians on horseback. We once asked an Indian what he could do if he
were left on the pampa without his horses. "Sit down," he said. This
man, however, was not a Tehuelche but a Pampa Indian.
[Illustration: SONS OF THE PAMPA]
The horses are far from large, the average running to about thirteen
hands, but they are wiry, untiring beasts, and some show extraordinary
speed. The manner in which they carry the heavy well-developed Indians
is wonderful. They are entirely fed on grass. When the camp is made,
they are simply turned out to graze upon the pampa, where frequently
the grass is sparse and poor enough, though near many of the Indian
camping-grounds good _vegas_ of rich grass exist. In winter, of
course, the _tropillas_ become very thin and in poor condition, but at
that season they have infinitely less work to do, as there is hardly
any hunting, and the camp is usually stationary for the coldest
months.
The hounds of the Indians are something like our lurcher breed. In the
tents they lie about among the rugs and bedding. They are
irreclaimable thieves and very cowardly. A good guanaco hound is,
however, of very great value, for a pair of accomplished hounds,
skilled in the chase, represent a capital upon which an entire family
can live.
One of the strongest feelings which I brought away with me from
Patagonia was a hatred of the trader who battens upon the failings of
the Tehuelches. If he hears of a festival or any tribal ceremony, he
arrives upon the spot with drink. He sells liquor in exchange for
horses, and when his customers are well steeped in the poison he
brings, he makes some magnificent bargains. His influence is
far-reaching and fatal as far-reaching to the picturesque and harmless
race out of whose degradation and death he makes his living. Savage
races may survive war and internecine struggles, and the decimation
not infrequently caused by a cruel rule such as was T'Chaka among the
Zulus, but they never survive the Civilisation of the Bottle. The
horrors of the wars of history would pale beside the cold-blooded
slaughter, the gradual, malignant, poisoning processes which the most
self-satisfied and religious nations of the world allow to continue
year after year, I should say century after century, among the
aboriginal tribes, who live nominally under their protection. The
pioneer trader with his stores of cheap maddening liquor is free to
sell as much as he pleases, although it is a well-known fact that such
trading means ruin and extermination to the unhappy ignorant folk who
buy. The sin after all is national rather than personal, for the
trader has his living to earn, whereas the nation which is responsible
for allowing him liberty to traffic puts out no hand to stay the evil.
I do not in the least bring any charge against the Argentine
Government; we British are guilty of the same crime or carelessness,
and in some of our dependencies terrible object-lessons of precisely
the same kind can be observed.
Let me draw a picture of one of these traders for you. A lean stooping
man of Paraguayan extraction, dressed out in store clothes which he
but half filled. A plump face of the caste peculiar to the lowest type
of the Latin peoples, with a full greasy-lipped animalism stamped upon
it, after the manner of his kind. The lean body and fat face formed a
contrast that struck you with repulsion as an actual deformity. This
fellow played a very old trick upon a batch of Indians and
considerably enriched himself thereby.
The Indians had come in upon the outskirts of a coast-town, rich with
the sale of a six-months harvest of ostrich feathers, guanaco-skins
and other such merchandise as they gather from the pampas. After some
drinking and a variety of games of chance, our friend the trader
started an argument as to which of the Indians owned the swiftest
horse. A race was soon decided upon, the trader most liberally
offering a prize in the shape of a bottle of drink. The race was to be
ridden bare-back, as is usual in contests of this description among
the Indians. The trader further suggested that the race should be run
off in heats. A horse with a white blaze and a very fine head won, and
his proprietor, a tall Indian in a black poncho, received the prize,
which he, with help, soon disposed of. After this the talk fell
naturally upon the merits of the respective horses.
"Your _picaso_ is a good horse," said the trader to the tall Indian,
"but I have a horse in my troop that could leave him far behind."
At first the Indian laughed, but the trader's boasting and insistence
presently stung him to resent the aspersion on his mount, and he said
he should like to see the thing done.
The trader jumped at the opportunity. The Indians had had sufficient
drink to destroy their ordinary cautiousness, and were ready to take
up any challenge.
"The loser to forfeit his horse to the winner," continued the trader,
who had laid his plans beforehand. He then called a Chileno lad, who
soon appeared leading a big lean _alazan_. It was easy for any seeing
eye to recognise that the animal had been tied up the night before and
was in quite fair racing trim; besides which, the Indian's _picaso_
was already tired with the previous races. The Chileno boy swung up
and the two horses came thundering along their course. The Indian's
weight also told as compared with the lightness of the Chileno boy,
and the result was altogether a foregone conclusion.
[Illustration: TEHUELCHES VISIT GALLEGOS]
But this by no means ended the business. The Indians were excited and
ripe for any amount of gambling, and being skilfully handled by the
trader they did not leave the settlement until he had stripped them of
all their possessions. The tall Indian, who had come in with eighty
dollars and five horses, returned to his camp with a two-kilo bag of
_yerba_ and on a horse which he had been forced to buy for the return
journey from the trader at, of course, the trader's own price.
There are many Indians who avoid the coast-towns, but although these
do not go to the trader, the trader, as I have mentioned in another
chapter, comes to them.
Throughout Patagonia, upon the rim of civilisation, are scattered
_boliches_, or frontier drink-shops, whose liquor sales consist
chiefly of "champagne cognac," whatever that potion may be. These
establishments hold out a perpetual temptation to the passing Indians.
The frequent presence of silver gear, such as the Tehuelches possess
when fortune smiles upon them, that is almost always hanging from the
ceiling of the neighbouring store, tells its own tale. An Indian has
rarely enough money to "look upon the wine when it is red," or rather
upon the unwholesome jaundice tinge of "champagne cognac," so he pays
in kind; and when once the craving for drink grips him he will gamble
away everything to satisfy it. This infatuation appears to lay a
fatally strong hand upon the uncivilised peoples. They have no
principles to stay them, no scruples to overcome, they have found a
short cut to a wild species of happiness, and one cannot wonder that
they seek its extraordinary pleasures as often as possible. So it is
that liquor has destroyed whole races, wiped them clean off the face
of the earth. Some one has written:
Oppression and the sword slay fast,
Thy breath kills slowly but at last,
and it is certainly a terrible truth in this connection.
I can call to mind two Indians, whom I saw ride up to a _boliche_ near
Santa Cruz. They offered a contrast to one another which it is not
easy to forget. The first was an Indian with a close-shut mouth and
the dark and ponderous dignity of the big Tehuelche. His gear was
richly studded with silver, and his saddle covered with embroidered
cloths. His head was bare, save that his brows were bound with a band
of red finery. He made a picturesque and imposing figure as he
cantered up on his white horse with its glinting eyes. Followed the
second. He, too, was an Indian, but his gear was guiltless of silver,
his _bozal_ was worn and blackened with age. The best thing he
possessed was his horse. He wore an ancient tail-coat, once black but
now green, this in conjunction with a _chiripa_, or Indian loin-cloth,
gave him an appearance sufficiently incongruous. Instead of the
quiet dignity of the first man, his face expressed little save
vacuity. He was a pitiful object in the strong pampa sunshine, his
health evidently broken by frequent orgies. And no doubt he had been a
self-respecting Indian enough--before the trader came within the
province of his knowledge.
[Illustration: THE TEHUELCHE TOLDOS]
FOOTNOTE:
[17] The Tehuelches are enormously above the Onas of Tierra del Fuego
in the scale of civilisation. A Fuegian woman has been known to live
in the Tehuelchian tents, but how she came there I am unable to say.
On the other hand, I have never heard of any Tehuelche living with the
Tierra del Fuegians, and cannot conceive such a state of things to be
possible. But the Tehuelches will mix occasionally with the Araucanian
tribes of Northern Patagonia, and intermarriages are common.
CHAPTER VIII
THE KINGDOM OF THE WINDS
Como No -- Wind and driven sand -- Laguna La Cancha --
Como No's dogs -- Cold winds -- Lake Buenos Aires and
Sierra Nevada -- Cross River Fenix -- Stony ground --
Skeletons of guanaco -- Fine scenery -- Short rest -- Colt
killed -- Base camp made -- Boyish dreams -- Sunday --
Routine at Horsham Camp -- Driftwood round lake --
Constant wind -- My tent-home -- Scorpions -- Guanacos --
Engineers' camp -- Cooking-pots -- First huemul.
We now set forth upon the last stage of our journey to Lake Buenos
Aires. I had hired one of the Indians to guide us across the high
pampa. He was, although dwelling in the tents of the Tehuelches, not a
Tehuelche. He called himself a _Patagonero_, and belonged to one of
the tribes of Pampa Indians of the north. His tribe, he told me, were
Christians. Before we left the Indian encampment, one of the older
ladies belonging to it began to paint her face in horizontal lines of
black, whether with a view to capturing our hearts or not I cannot
say.
We left on November 3, and accomplished a very long march in the face
of somewhat trying conditions. The Indian rode ahead with his dogs on
the look-out for ostriches. A mighty wind from the west, cold with the
snow of the Cordillera, blew in our faces, bringing with it showers of
sand that stung us sharply. We could hardly persuade the horses to
meet the wind, and their hoofs kicked up still more sand for our
benefit. We were off shortly after nine o'clock, and about noon I
would have given much to say "Camp." When fighting with the elements
one goes through three distinct stages. First, there is the stage
exultant, during which you feel the joy of battle, and struggle
rejoicingly. The second comes when the irresistible tires you down,
however strong you are, and forces the sense of your puniness so
plainly upon you that you feel a sort of hurt despair, and a half
impulse to give in before a force so far beyond you. Last of all, you
go on enduring until you become, as it were, acclimatised, and
inclined to laugh at the despair you experienced a while previously.
So it was on this day's march. About noon I said to myself as we were
crossing the high pampa above the _barranca_ of the River Chalia--a
desolate spot, rough and tussocky, and gambolled over by Titanic
winds--"We will camp at four sharp." The decision at the moment was a
comfort, but in the end we did not camp until close upon seven
o'clock, blind with sand, and our hands bleeding from the cold and the
harsh friction of the cargo ropes.
It was as we approached this camp that I saw beside a lagoon of
snow-water two American oyster-catchers (_Hæmatopus palliatus_) which,
no doubt, had nested in the vicinity, as, on my going closer, they
rose and circled with their darting flight above my head, but I failed
to find the nest. There were many guanacos about, and I was not
surprised to hear that this lagoon, Laguna La Cancha, was a very
favourite encampment of the Indians. The scenery surrounding the pool
is peculiarly inhospitable. Some one remarked that it reminded him of
Doré's illustrations to the Inferno, adding, "If you were to put heat
to it, it would be Hell." Huge rolling downs, bare hills, and no
vegetation save a few tussocks and scattered meagre shrubs. The Indian
said the winter hits this land very hard, and the whole district is
buried under snow, only the high, bald tops of the hills being
visible.
The next day was Sunday, but not on this occasion a day of rest. One
thought of the bells ringing far away at home and the concourse of
people moving along the winter roads. Here was wind, cold, and a
march, cargo to be fixed and refixed to the day's end, then a windy
camp-fire, and after a short sleep till dawn. Hitherto the toil had
been hard, but we were nearing the lake, and looked forward to a time
of rest and hunting.
We were rich in meat with the cow, sheep, a Darwin's rhea caught by
the Indian's dogs, and three geese. The hounds of the Indian proved
themselves to be troublesome thieves. Burbury and I were obliged to
sleep beside the meat. Besides being cunning thieves the dogs were
cowards. They were to all intents and purposes wild as regarded their
habits. Yet good guanaco-hounds represent very sterling value to
their owners, whose livelihood they procure. The best at the work I
met with in Patagonia were those which belonged to this Indian guide.
We called the man Como No because, whatever question was put to him,
his invariable reply took the form of "_Como no?_" or "Why not?" You
said perhaps, "It is not far to the next camping-ground, is it?"
"_Como no?_" he would answer. After some three hours at an amble, you
would repeat your inquiry. "Is it much farther?" "_Como no?_" The most
impossible queries met with precisely the same response.
[Illustration: ON AHEAD]
However indeterminate Como No may have been in his mental attitude,
his dogs were definitely good ones. He owned a big brindled dog, a
small black one and a couple of yellow pups. Como No had a habit of
riding far ahead of the general troop of men and horses, his figure
making a far-off outline etched in black against the cold blue horizon
of the pampa. Sometimes, when he lost sight of us for any length of
time, he would burn a bush to give us our direction by the smoke, and
we would follow on, driving the pack-horses and those free ones which
were not being used either for riding or cargo at the time. Presently,
perhaps, when rounding a low thicket, we would come suddenly upon him,
squatted on his haunches beside a dead ostrich, from which he had
stripped the feathers. These feathers, though far inferior to those of
the African ostrich, or of _Rhea americana_, are worth anything from
two to four dollars.
As he rode forward again, his dogs would range on either side of him.
By-and-by they would again start an ostrich or a guanaco, and pull it
down within 500 or 600 yards. Whereupon Como No would ride up, drive
them off, kill and cut up the quarry, giving the hounds the liver,
strip the feathers if it happened to be an ostrich, and then mount and
ride on once more. This performance would be repeated over and over
again during the course of the march, until, before we saw the last of
him, his saddle had become an enormous bunch of feathers, from out of
which his body and shoulders protruded in a quaint manner.
At night these dogs, however, were a terrible nuisance. They would
forage about the camp for food, and pull down the meat we had placed
on bushes and devour it. Such was eventually the fate of the last
remnants of the mutton we had with us, and the loss was all the harder
as we knew that the stolen mutton was the last we were destined to
taste for months. After that we lived on lean guanaco.
By this date we had gradually climbed to some 1200 feet above the
sea-level, and the temperature was extremely cold. Our reindeer-beds
became a great comfort.
The 5th began with an hour of welcome sun, but it passed only too
soon, and the wind rose more piercingly cold than ever. It penetrated
to one's very bones. We, however, made seven leagues, and reached the
River Genguel, which here makes a great curve. We camped in a narrow
shute, strewn with big stones and giving upon the river, the _cañadon_
being very wide and devoid of shelter. The water was broken into small
sharp waves by the wind, and we were glad to collect what firewood was
obtainable--bushes being scarce at that spot--and make a fire. The
Indian burned a bush and warmed himself. His dogs had, unaided by him,
killed a small guanaco and a fox (_Canis griseus_). We lay by the fire
and the wind came down bitterly chill from the Sierra Nevada, while
Jones cooked, and we learnt the delights which, in a cold climate, are
to be found in mutton fat! After food to bed, and then a cold sleet
set in. It was a nasty night, but in our reindeer bags we were, of
course, untouched by the cold.
Next day nine leagues were achieved. Very long marches these, but we
were pressing on to reach Lake Buenos Aires. _Cañadon_ and pampa and
high ground succeeded each other as we rode along, sometimes bare,
sometimes sandy, sometimes thorn-covered, often stony and strewn with
fragments of basalt. Generally overhead a pallid blue sky, and below
wind, wind, perpetual wind. So we toiled on past little chill lagoons,
ruffled with the keen breeze, until in the afternoon I came up with
Burbury and the Indian on a rise, and there lay our goal before us--a
great stretch of water wonderfully blue and cold-looking beneath the
Sierra Nevada, whose summits were crowned with snow above their dusky
purple.
The Tostado kicked off his cargo during the day, and among the
scattered contents of Jones' kit I picked up a broken looking-glass. I
had not seen myself since leaving Colohuapi, and confess I found no
cause for vanity in the sight of a distinctly dirty-looking pirate
with smoke-reddened eyes, a peeling face and nose, and with enough
beard to put a finishing-touch to the horrid spectacle.
[Illustration: ONAS STALKING GUANACO]
On the 3rd I discovered a scorpion in my bed in spite of the cold. By
the 6th we reached the River Fenix, and, crossing to an island, camped
in the sleet, the temperature reading that night being 30° F. From
there we pushed on to the farther bank, and marched to the
camping-ground of the Indians, which, though the nearest of their old
camps to Lake Buenos Aires, was still a good distance from it. The
Azulejo had been lost, but was brought in quite spent, by Barckhausen.
Poor little beast! He lay down more dead than alive under a bush, a
pathetic little figure enough. After reaching camp, Jones and I had to
turn out again, pretty tired as we were, to look for food. We rode for
hours, and saw only a herd of guanaco. At this season the country
round about here is rather devoid of game, the ground is stony, with
thorn and dry, blackened bushes. We were disappointed in our hunt
again on the second day, seeing only two guanaco, lion-tracks, and a
couple of pigeons, but we did not shoot them, and I am unable to speak
with any certainty of the species to which they belonged. I have never
seen a district so bare of life. We had come, as it were, to the
world's end.
I sat in my tent-door and wrote my diary. Far away I could see the
Cordillera, splendid giants, with the sun shining upon them; below,
the lake that reminded me strongly of the picture in which Hiawatha
sailed into "the kingdom of Ponemah, the Land of the Hereafter." That
scene was just so wild, and so remote, with a great red sunset burning
over it, and round about it rock and sand and marsh, with a pale wide
rim of dead-wood, swept down by floods from the neighbouring forests.
On our way to the shores of the lake we had passed through a stretch
of extraordinary aridity, a white and yellow spread of mud and stones
that filled a valley between two scrub-covered hills. From far off it
looked level, but in reality we found it to be intersected and veined
with mighty gashes, which formed winding gorges. There the wind blew,
and at times the sun beat down; very cold it was, and very hot by
turns, but never temperate.
We had expected to find plenty of game in the vicinity of the lake,
but in this, as I have said, we were disappointed, the consequence
being that our supply of meat ran short. There was nothing for it but
to kill the eighteen-months old colt of one of the _madrinas_. But
before we did this we hunted for three days, during which time I shot
a couple of upland geese, which made the sum total of our bag. In a
new country one has always to buy experience. We were buying ours at
this period. Owing to the wildness of our horses the journey from
Trelew had been an especially trying one, although, under other
circumstances, the difficulties need not be great.[18] The breakdown
of the waggon at so early a stage had entailed a large amount of extra
labour, and by the time we reached Lake Buenos Aires we were, both men
and horses, pretty well done up.
On the third day of our hunting I took Barckhausen instead of Jones,
who had been out with me on the two previous days. We passed along
through the stony thorn-lean gorges towards the east. Here nothing
lived save the strong birds of prey, and lions, whose tracks we
observed leading to the rocks. Death lay nakedly there in all
directions, skull and backbone, with rain-polish and snow-polish upon
them, picked clean years ago by now-dead caranchos and chimangos.
During our ride we saw two monster owls, two condors, many caranchos,
and so pushed on over hill rising behind hill, stony, dark, with
wind-lifted wisps of sand turning and twisting upon them.
In the early afternoon we came upon a more pleasant land, and to a
little marshy pool in a hollow of the hills, crowded round with
forest-bushes, and upon this pool from far away I spied two upland
geese. I dismounted, took my gun, and began a stalk. While I was still
well out of range a bough broke under my foot, and the geese were
away. We lay up for a time, but the birds did not return, so we took a
turn westwards in the hope of getting some coots I had observed the
day before upon another lagoon, close to Lake Buenos Aires. Upon the
shore of the lake a smart shower of sleet, hail, and rain overtook us,
and we had to lie down in the lee of a thorn-bush. I saw one golden
guanaco racing along a hill-top against the sunset. Some coots were on
the lake; I shot four, but contrary winds drove them out into the
water too deep to venture after them, and we turned campwards
empty-handed.
As we galloped over the hills the clouds broke on the western side of
the lake, and made a scene ominously beautiful. The rifted dusky blue,
the long pale gleam of water shining like an angel's sword, the white
snow-peaks, the purple-black belly of the rain-storm, all cast
together formed a picture that affected the senses strongly.
[Illustration: HORSHAM BASE CAMP]
As we neared camp, I saw something gleam white behind a bush. An
upland goose! I crawled up and found two. With what care I managed
that stalk! I killed the female with one barrel on the ground and
pulled over the male as he swung upwards. After riding seven leagues,
we got our small results of the day's seeking within a mile of the
camp! One or other of us had seen far-off guanaco flying out of sight,
and I decided to start next day for the River Fenix to try for some,
camping there the night and returning next day to begin our
long-needed rest.
Yet the next day (November 9) none of us went a-hunting after all. We
were fairly played out. Personally I had had not one day's rest since
starting two months before, as upon me principally fell the duty of
providing for the pot, so that upon coming in of an evening on the
close of a long march it was usually necessary to saddle a fresh horse
and ride a further distance from five to fifteen miles in search of
game.
So we killed the colt to provide for our wants while men and horses
enjoyed well-earned repose. I had formed a base-camp about five miles
from the shores of the lake, intending to make short expeditions,
lightly equipped, round and about the vicinity. As for the camp, three
large thorn-bushes were Nature's contribution towards it, and what a
relief even the shelter of a thorn-bush can be in the Kingdom of the
Winds, you could only learn by an experience such as was ours. Below
the camp, which stood on a ridge, the ground fell away in a three-mile
slope to the usually angry water; eastwards was a _pantano_ or swamp
of yellow reeds, which ran a long way below the scrub-grown ridge. The
tents huddled back-to-wind, as much under the lee of the bushes as
possible. We made an oven, but it turned out a failure, the earth
being too soft for our purpose. Round the fire was a hedge of thorn
hung with horse-blankets, red, yellow and black, which gave a rather
festive air to the camp. The only sounds were the neigh of a horse,
the hooting of night-birds, and the never-silent wind.
[Illustration: STORE-CLAD INDIANS]
During the night of the 10th, half a gale of wind blew up with an
extraordinary rancour of coldness. I lay in my tent and heard the
sides of it flapping like some great wounded bird. Sleep was put off
till far into the small hours. Through the open tent-door I could look
at the bushes writhing in the gale, the long black back of the ridge
and the glint of stars. How often one sees in half-sleep the scenes of
home and of the past! I seemed again to be watching the boats coming
in and the tides rising with the well-known ripple and pouring rush of
water on a shallow beach, tides that in boyish days held so infinite a
romance. Where did the storms that broke there come from? whither went
the dark hulls after they sank below the blue edge of sea? Or where
did the fishermen sail their boats to--lonely rocks from which they
brought back parrot-beaked, jelly-armed _pieuvres_? And yet, having
drifted into some long wanderings, and now into that wilderness, no
scene that I have ever looked upon, however wild or lonely, has
touched me in any way that could compare with the thrill of those
early dreams. Romance lies always a little too far away; only in
childhood is the gate of that wonderful garden open to us, and we gaze
and long for the fruit we are never to handle.
Our tents at Horsham Camp--so we named it--were the only green things
in the landscape. They happened to be of a pale green. Riding out from
the camp in most directions you found yourself amongst a bare and
wind-swept series of ridges two or three hundred feet in height, which
appeared to roll away across the wide continent. Sunday was welcome.
It was noticeable how Sunday abroad always affected men, some of whom
at home spared small attention for the day. Life went evenly. The
others took it in turn to cook. I generally rode out early. The troop
were rounded up and our first meal came about 7 o'clock. After that I
used to go to my tent and write while the men busied themselves with
any job on hand. Cocoa at two on Sundays, and about six a meal of meat
and beans. And so to bed. The day before the colt was killed, Tom, my
hound, stole a dumpling from the plate of one of the party as he sat
eating. The loser at once pursued the thief, retrieved the dumpling
and ate it, so you will understand that there was no wastefulness
among us!
By November 12 I was tired of inaction, tired of the tent, tired of
the camp. The wind continued. Surely in all his writings R. L.
Stevenson never made a more perfect phrase than the "incommunicable
thrill of things." A wood-scent in the morning, the sound of the wind
at night, the clear cinders of the fire or a whiff of burning
wood--one receives the spark that fires the train of thought and leads
us far away. No indolence of the soul this, but the fulfilling of some
beautiful law at the junction of the spiritual and the natural,
infused through a thousand tissues and welded by a thousand
heredities.... One writes much of this kind of thing, for, afar from
all books or chance of interchanging ideas, one falls back upon
oneself, and one's pen is a safe outlet for superfluous imaginings.
On that afternoon I caught a horse and went down to the long point
that stretches out into the lake. Although this was a ride of upwards
of twenty miles, I saw no living thing upon the land, and on the water
only a couple of grebes and three upland geese. My way lay through
dense thickets of low growth, the going very sandy and treacherous.
The high-water mark, or, as I should rather say, the flood-mark of the
lake was outlined by piles and piles of driftwood of milk-toothlike
whiteness. Some of the trunks were as large in girth as my body. All
this comes down from the mountain forests, carried by torrents from
the melting snows. The vegetation on that side of the lake was the
most florid and sizeable that I had so far seen in Patagonia. High
flowering grass, thorn-bush thickets almost impenetrable, and between
these and the margin of the water a wide strewing of rotten trunks of
antarctic beech and poles of an arborescent grass-like bamboo. On my
way back I made a short cut through the edge of the lake, of which the
bed was shingly.
[Illustration: LAKE BUENOS AIRES]
_November 13._--I went to the River Fenix and shot a guanaco.
Afterwards I took a six-mile walk and shot two snipe. Lake Buenos
Aires was certainly the very heart of the wind's domain. While we were
there the wind never died down, it blew all the time, often lifting
sand and gravel, and sometimes a great piece of our camp-fire,
sheltered as that was. It raged on most days, blowing so hard that
some people in England would not have cared to venture out of doors.
I have so far given no description of our tents, which were probably
the nearest approach to comfort within many hundred miles of Horsham
Camp. Mine was small, seven feet by a short six, and four feet high,
sustained by four ropes and a pole, the place of the second
pole--which we lost--being taken by a bow-legged slip of
califate-wood. The tent contained two beds made up of skins and
ponchos laid on the green canvas floor, a soldered tin of plug tobacco
served by way of a candlestick and upheld a candle-end. Round and
about the tent and on its excrescent flooring were heaped our boxes,
otherwise the wind would have blown it over. It was a mere bag of a
place, with an exit like an animal's hole; but at night, when the
storm howled without, our dim light looked homely, the tobacco-scented
air was grateful, and a bit of camphor lent its aroma to the place.
And there one could lie at ease and read or think at pleasure.
On the 14th I shot another guanaco; it was curious that we were always
rich in meat or else in absolute want of it. I had gone out on Jones'
black horse for a little exercise towards the River Deseado, and there
I surprised the guanaco. He was an old buck and solitary. He gave me a
nice shot, then walked a step or two and fell dead. At Horsham Camp we
lived in some dread of scorpions; Jones found one on his saddle,
Burbury another in the flour or the cooking-pot, and some roosted in
our bedding. By the way, our kitchen arrangements were becoming very
scanty at that period; we had but two cooking-pots left and one
kettle, thanks to the energetic treatment they had received at the
heels of the _cargueros_. It was fervently hoped by all the party that
nothing would go wrong with any of these, or we should have been most
uncomfortably situated.
On the 15th I started with Burbury and Scrivenor to make an expedition
towards Mount Pyramide. Upon our way we were astonished to see three
herds of guanaco--fourteen, and ten, and then twenty-one--at different
times. Although I was well within shot I did not try to kill any, as
we had meat enough.
[Illustration: SEÑOR HANS P. WAAG, OF THE ARGENTINE BOUNDARY
COMMISSION]
On this day the first huemul seen on our expedition was observed by
Burbury. First he saw a buck, afterwards two does, but, owing to the
nature of the ground, he was unable to get a shot. We were naturally
very anxious to secure a specimen of this very interesting and little
known deer, but it was not until we made our trip round the south side
of the lake that we were successful.
We made our way across an abomination of desolation, a grey old
desert; then crossing a marsh, we descended by a white cliff to the
margin of a deep brown lagoon. Of many colours were these lagoons.
Burbury said that region was more dismal than Tierra del Fuego--old
deserts, varied by marshes and califate-bush, stone and boulder, thorn
and sand. After a rest in the afternoon we rode on, and presently
struck a deserted camp of the Argentine Boundary Commission, near
which the steam-launch, which had been brought across the pampas for
the exploration of Lake Buenos Aires, was secreted.
Nothing in the world looks more forlorn than a deserted camp. But we
were far from being depressed on this occasion, for in this old camp
of Mr. Hans Waag's we made a find which we looked upon as a great
slice of luck.
On November 2nd I find in my diary: "More accidents to the
cooking-pots, this time at the hoofs of Horqueta. The flat-bottomed
pot still survives, but the round one and the kettle are more damaged
than whole. One more such accident will mean that the corned-beef tins
must be called into requisition."
In this camp we found sundry boxes, old iron-bound packing-cases, and
while I was engaged in lighting the fire I heard an exclamation behind
me, and Burbury sang out:
"Here's a big enamelled saucepan, nearly new!" It was so, and then
again, "And here's another. What luck!"
Of course, if those saucepans had not been shut up in cases, they
might have been considered treasure-trove. As it was, one did not need
the deductive powers of a Sherlock Holmes to conclude that the
travellers who had hidden these pots away so carefully meant to
return, find, and once again use them. They belonged, as I knew, to
Mr. Waag's Commission of Limits, as they call the Boundary Commission
out there. When I met that gentleman in Buenos Aires I never dreamt
that I should yet be reduced to stealing his cooking utensils. But we
did not "steal" them, we only "availed" ourselves of them. I hope my
readers see the difference as plainly as we saw it. And what do you
think our companions said when they heard the story? Did they urge us
to make restitution? What they said referred to the finding of some
empty bottles among the rubbish, "A pity there was no whisky in them!"
If there had been, of course we should not ... well, who knows?
FOOTNOTE:
[18] Pampa travel is like cricket in that it defies forecast.
Sometimes everything falls in right, at other times nothing comes
opportunely to hand.
CHAPTER IX
ROUND AND ABOUT LAKE BUENOS AIRES
Chain of lakes -- Size of lake -- Sterility and fertility
-- Trips to Cordillera -- Bones of dead game -- Shores of
lake -- Western shore -- Tracks in marshes -- Northern
shore -- Rosy camp by Fenix -- Guanaco hunt -- Horses
stray -- Cordillera wolf -- Vain search for huemul --
Return to Horsham Camp -- Trip to River Deseado --
Paradise of wildfowl -- Shooting ostriches -- Long-necked
game of Patagonia -- No ruins or vestiges of older
civilisation in Patagonia -- Hunting mornings -- Wounded
guanaco -- Indian trail -- Trip to River de los Antiguos
-- Meet ostrich-hunter -- Wandering Gauchos -- Wanton
burning of grass -- Second visit to Rosy Camp --
Flamingoes -- Danger-signals -- Scrivenor returns to
Horsham Camp -- River de los Antiguos.
At last we had arrived at Lake Buenos Aires, a time long looked
forward to. The pampas were crossed and left behind, and the lower
line of the Andes was reached, the foothills of the great range whose
upper summits we had watched for weeks lying high on the sky-line,
blue and white and cold, sending the message of a great wind from them
to us. We were now upon the shores of the largest of the wonderful
network of lakes and lagoons which stretches parallel with the
Cordillera hundreds of miles to the southward, ending not far from the
Straits of Magellan.
There was to me something infinitely romantic about Lake Buenos Aires.
Its aspect was ever changing, and so often you came on a scene
supremely beautiful. The wild light of sunset upon the snow-peaks, the
grey turbulent water of the lake, and the bull-like wind charging down
at us day after day--all these things gave the place an individuality
of its own.
The lake is of considerable extent, measuring seventy-five miles in
length from S.S.W. to N.N.E., and its waters wage a continual war upon
the thorns and scrub growing upon the margin. Vast masses of
milk-white timber, blanched by the influences of sun and water and
eloquent of the mountain-land of forest whence they have been washed
down, lie at the lip of the flood level. When I was there in the dry
season the upper rim of timber was about 200 yards distant from the
edge of the water.
[Illustration: INLET OF LAKE BUENOS AIRES]
The sharp contrast of fertility and sterility that one meets with in
Patagonia is remarkable, the more so as they often lie in close
proximity the one to the other. I have mentioned an arid spread of
yellow mud and stones cut up by deep gorges which we crossed before
reaching the lake. I do not think that any painter desiring to picture
desolation could do better than descend the central gorge and there
paint its gaunt and rugged outlines, tumbled together in a horror of
barrenness that the eyes ached to look upon. Yet close to this place,
within ten yards of it, a neck of land displayed green scrub, ay, and
flowers--beautiful purple sweet-pea-like flowers in profusion! And on
the farther side was a green gully with two blue peaty waterholes.
Near by, as I have said, we established a base camp, from which we
made four expeditions towards the Cordillera, which lie on the
westward of the lake, while, singularly enough, the continental divide
appears to be to the eastward of it. On our trips we took with us
merely a horse apiece, and carried provisions on our saddles. Meantime
the remainder of the troop, which had suffered somewhat on our journey
from Bahia Camerones, were turned out to rest and luxuriate upon the
marsh grass, that extended in a broad strip for a couple of miles
under the ridge, while downhill from the camp towards the south this
rich _pantano_ spread still farther.
Around the lake lay piled the skulls and bones of dead game, guanaco
and a few huemules. These animals come down to live on the lower
ground and near unfrozen water during the cold season, and there, when
the weather is particularly severe, they die in crowds. We saw their
skeletons, in one or two places literally heaped one upon the other.
During our stay in this neighbourhood I took the opportunity of
examining most thoroughly the shores of the lake. The ground which
descended to them was cut and intersected by _pantanos_ of wet or
drying mud and sand. Upon the eastern shore rose dunes, covered with
dense low strips of scrub. In the _pantanos_ the tracks made in the
end of the winter, when the snow has melted and the ground is soft,
remain visible for five or six months. And thus these hardened marshes
offer a study of considerable interest.
Although the Indians declared that guanaco rarely visited the lake,
this proved to be incorrect. In the winter a considerable number must
live upon and about the shores, for their unmistakable tracks were
always to be found. Towards Mount Pyramide on the western side, the
number of these tracks was distinctly less--rheas, pumas, the animal
known locally as the red fox or Cordillera wolf (_Canis
magellanicus_).
A few huemules (_Xenelaphus bisulcus_) exist upon the northern shore.
In the winter upland geese seem also to favour this spot in large
numbers. So strongly does the mud retain the impression of tracks that
I was able to follow the trail of a horse, which must have been ridden
by one of Mr. Waag's party six months before, for a distance of a
couple of miles.
[Illustration: TEHUELCHE SPYING GUANACO
NOTE.--THE TEHUELCHES PROBABLY COPIED THIS METHOD FROM THE
ARAUCANIANS. AS A RULE THE INDIAN STANDS OR KNEELS ON HIS SHEEPSKIN
SADDLE. HERE IS DEPICTED THE EXTREME POSITION WHICH WOULD BE ASSUMED
TO SHOW OFF. I HAVE SEEN GAUCHOS DO A SIMILAR TRICK, THOUGH FEW
PATAGONIAN HORSES WILL PERMIT SUCH LIBERTIES.]
In summer the north shore of Lake Buenos Aires is one of the poorest
game centres in Patagonia. During the first fortnight of our stay
there we shot but two guanacos. Sometimes for a week one would see
nothing save an old ostrich, which was often observed at the far end
of the marsh where the horses fed, but he was a wary bird with an
experience of human methods, and he would never allow us to approach
within shot.
It seemed probable, from the evidence of the tracks, that at the
beginning of the hard weather the guanaco trekked down to the level of
the lake. For one track made in November there were twenty made in
July. The foregoing remarks only refer to the northern shore of the
lake; on the eastern and southern sides things were very different,
and about them we enjoyed good sport.
On November 21, Scrivenor, Jones and I made a little expedition to the
River Fenix where it enters the lake, and there we came upon the most
favourable camping-ground we had yet seen in the whole country. We
pitched our camp--afterwards called Rosy Camp--in the midst of high
yellow grass beside the narrow river that wound between banks, on
which green low scrub ran riot, and enormous califate-bushes made
impenetrable patches of thicket. Jones and I, on our arrival, went to
examine the mouth of the river. Our camp was quite drowsy with the
humming of insects, for, sheltered as it was from the wind by trees
and by the cliffs of a lonely hummock, it gave us a delightful feeling
of comfort and well-being after our many very different experiences of
camps among the high dunes and rocks over which the wind whistled.
On the way Jones shot a Chiloe widgeon and I an upland goose. We found
many tracks of puma and some of guanaco and huemul. As we walked
towards the lake, I saw upon the outermost promontory of land a
guanaco outlined against the evening sky. Hurrying on as fast as we
could, which was not very fast, as I had poisoned my knee and was
lame, we found the herd on a neck of land, to escape from which they
would be obliged to pass within a hundred yards of us provided they
did not take to the water. So we decided not to stalk them, but simply
showed ourselves; as we expected, they broke landwards, passing
within about seventy yards with their ears laid back, swaying their
long necks and leaping and jinking among the stones. I pulled one over
as she ranged up the side of the cliff. She turned out to be heavy
with young, and the buck with her stopped at the top of the hill, but
when I went towards him he fled. We were delighted at thus getting
meat, especially as this guanaco was the fattest we had yet shot. Her
flesh was, however, very strong.
When we were returning Jones, who was in front, suddenly said, "There
go the horses!" It was so. They had stampeded, leaving us to get home
as best we could. We threw off our coats, laid down our rifles
carefully, and ran. Jones' horse was in hobbles, but being used to
them kept up with his companions; we were, however, lucky enough to
catch them after a couple of miles, and making bridles out of our
waist-scarves rode them into camp. Scrivenor said the horses had
suddenly started madly, broken their _cabrestos_, dashed together and
then made off. We thought at the time they must have winded a puma,
but this proved to be a mistake, for in the night two of them again
escaped, and Jones retrieved them when the first streaks of dawn were
etching the landscape in black and white. He woke me and we discovered
that a wolf must have come into camp and stolen our duck and goose.
This wolf had also eaten both my rifle-slings within three yards of
where we were sleeping. While we were discussing our ill luck and
lamenting the fact that we had carefully plucked the duck and goose
upon the preceding evening, I observed the author of our misfortunes
calmly watching us from under a bush. Revenge was, of course,
uppermost in my thoughts. I killed her with a Mauser. She proved to be
an old female 3 ft. 8 in. from the top of her teeth to the end of her
tail.
It was beautifully warm all day in Rosy Camp, as we had named it, and
we lay on the ground after making much-needed toilettes in the river.
The next night we had a visit from the mate of the wolf we had killed.
It is a singular fact that the horses were at the least as much afraid
of these wolves as they were of the pumas. While I was writing my
diary and nursing my knee, which had swollen to a great size, the
wolf crept within ten yards and had a look at me. I got up and limped
across for my gun, but my movements did not in the least seem to
discompose his serenity. He even advanced nearer, and showed not the
smallest fear of me. This quality of fearlessness is very marked in
the Cordillera wolves, which possess it in a greater degree than the
pampa foxes. On one occasion when a wolf thus came to investigate our
camp, my large deerhound, Tom, ran at him, and was met with a
devastating bite. Indeed, I had to go to Tom's help. In the present
instance I took up the shot-gun and gave the brute a charge of No. 4.
He leaped straight upwards into the air, howling and snarling, and
sank down quite dead.
These wolves kill young guanaco, and I have observed them pursuing a
huemul. They kill sheep when a flock is brought into the neighbourhood
of the Cordillera, generally remaining by their quarry after daylight.
I have never observed them farther from the Cordillera than the
northern shores of Lake Buenos Aires.
On November 24, Scrivenor went back to the base camp, as he had
toothache. Jones and I rode south across the Fenix. Although we saw
the track of a huemul in the sand we failed to catch any glimpse of
the animals themselves on that day, but shot four bandurias, locally
called by the Welshmen "land-ducks." This is the black-faced ibis
(_Theristicus caudatus_). I was very eager to secure a specimen of the
huemul in his summer coat, and to observe as much as possible of this
beautiful deer, but no luck attended us then in that particular.
Finally, we went back to Horsham Camp still unsuccessful. During our
absence Burbury had killed a large Cordillera wolf near Horsham Camp.
[Illustration: THE HORSES RETRIEVED]
On November 28, Barckhausen and I camped in the _cañadon_ or valley of
River Deseado, a swampy, reedy spot, tenanted by great numbers of
upland geese, flocks of Chiloe widgeon (_Mareca sibilatrix_) and brown
pintails. I also observed here the rosy-billed duck (_Metopiana
peposaca_), the blue-winged teal (_Querquedula cyanoptera_), and what
I took to be the red shoveller (_Spatula platalea_). But this
last-named bird I did not shoot, and so I cannot speak with absolute
certainty upon the point. Besides these, I saw flamingoes
(_Phœnicopterus ignipalliatus_) and the black-necked swan (_Cygnis
nigricollis_). A flock of parrots were flying about the heights, but
of these I was unable to procure a specimen. The reedy pools and
backwaters in this _cañadon_ were, without exception, the most
glorious paradise of wildfowl that I have ever seen.
On our way back from the River Deseado I secured the first _Rhea
darwini_ shot during the expedition. With the exception of wild
cattle, the ostrich is the most difficult to procure of Patagonian
game. These birds are always on the alert, and generally make off when
you are still a mile away. They never pause save upon commanding
ground. The most usual method of obtaining them is to run them down
with dogs or to _bolas_ them after the manner of the Indians and
Gauchos on horseback. They are indeed a quarry well worthy of the
attention of the still-hunter. The male is sometimes killed with a
rifle when attending to the chickens, towards whom--with the exception
of laying the eggs--he stands in place of a mother. At such times he
will, when approached, pretend to be wounded and limp away with wings
outspread to attract the hunters after him. An ostrich when shot
through the body will always run from thirty to forty yards before
dropping. This first ostrich, which I shot, was about four hundred
yards away, and I should not have secured him had he not allowed me to
get my range with a couple of preliminary shots. Down he went at last,
and, immediately afterwards, as I was congratulating myself, appeared
an ostrich running low through the grass. I thought it was the one I
had shot and struck back for my horse. While I was galloping after the
fast-disappearing bird, I rode right on to the first bird, which had
been shot through the lungs. On measurement I found him to be five
feet in height and three feet high at the shoulder.
The greatest number of adult ostriches I ever saw together was seven.
This in a _cañadon_ off the River Deseado. At a later date I saw
forty-two together, but this included many small and immature birds.
The long-necked game of Patagonia is difficult to stalk owing to their
having such a field of vision. The ruse of tying up one's horse in
full view gained me many a guanaco, but was quite a useless trick in
the case of ostriches. The Cruzado was by this time an A1
shooting-horse. He would stand anywhere and wait my return, he would
also allow me to fire quite close to him, but he would never allow any
white object to be put upon his back. If this was done, he would at
once rear and throw himself back.
There is one thing which strikes me forcibly with regard to Patagonia.
Here is small vestige of the elder peoples, and little of any older
civilisations.[19] Even in the hearts of deserts in the old world are
to be found traces of ancient cities, where men lived long ages ago.
But nothing that bears farthest resemblance to a ruin, to the "one
stone laid upon another" that tells of man's settled home, exists in
Patagonia. Yet though the ruined cities of other countries are old,
Patagonia is older yet. The nomad tribes have roamed here through the
centuries, leaving the grass to grow-over their old camp-fires, but
never altering or marking with any permanent mark the face of this old
land. No, though Patagonia is in a sense the oldest of all, for here
we come face to face with prehistoric times--the skeletons of the
greater beasts, the flint weapons of primitive man with practically
nothing save the years to intervene. A lean humanity, untouched by
aught save nature, has run out its appointed course until very recent
years; and there is little to testify to its wanderings but the brown
trail of generations of footsteps, which ten years of disuse would
blot out for ever. You cannot there gaze over the ruins of a once
populous city and say, "Here lived a dead people." No, you can but
think by lonely river or lagoon, "The bygone Indians may here have had
their camp, or the greater beasts their lair." The netted lakes, the
gaunt Cordillera, the limitless pampa and the unceasing wind--that is
all. _Cañadon_ follows _cañadon_, pampa succeeds pampa, you have the
Atlantic to the east of you and the Andes to the west of you, and
between, in all the vast country, beside the Indian trail, the only
paths are game-tracks!
On December 2 we were again short of meat, therefore Jones and I went
hunting. These early mornings upon the high ground above the lake will
never, I think, be forgotten by any of us who shared them. It was a
vivid and pulsating life, and the hunting was carried on under
conditions unique to Patagonia.
In the slight depression through which the River Fenix winds, herds of
guanaco were to be found, each point containing any number between
half a dozen to forty head. On the morning I write of we were not long
in finding our game. A large herd, including several guanaco _chicos_,
were to be seen from the heights dotted about upon the faded greenish
grass of the valley beneath us. The sun, newly risen, had just begun
to suck up the balls of white mist that rolled up and down the cuplike
hollows, and as the light strengthened it brought out the gold and
white colouring of the guanacos feeding in the valley. The horse I was
riding had done no work for three weeks, and was fit to gallop for his
life.
The herds were in a place quite inaccessible to stalking, but it was
certain that they would break for the hills to the south. Immediately
they saw us they took to flight in the direction we expected, and we
dashed away to cut them off. The Patagonian horse soon begins to take
an interest of his own in galloping game. We arrived within two
hundred yards of where the herds had begun to straggle in a long line
up the bare side of a range of round bald-headed hummocks, but we were
not in time to get a shot before they disappeared over the sky-line.
When we reached the top of the hills the guanacos were, of course,
nowhere to be seen, but after an hour's tracking we again located them
among the hummocks in a depression filled with dry thorn. This time we
separated and Jones showed himself at the far end of the gorge, while
I made a circuit and lay down upon the top of a hill towards which I
thought they were likely to break. This they did the instant they saw
Jones, who got a shot, breaking the leg of one. I killed another as
they passed. We jumped upon our horses to overtake Jones' wounded
guanaco, that was keeping up with the herd.
[Illustration: STERILE GROUND TO NORTH OF LAKE BUENOS AIRES]
My horse, the Alazan, had recently received some jumping lessons, and
being an animal with no sense of proportion, had been seized with a
mania for jumping everything. Jones nearly fell off his horse with
laughing when the Alazan valiantly charged a califate-bush, eight feet
high and full of thorns, through which he dashed in one jump and two
supplementary bucks. Emerging upon the other side we set off after our
guanaco and enjoyed one of the most glorious gallops that ever fell to
the lot of man. I could not help admiring the way in which Jones, who
was a born rider, and, like most Gauchos, had lived all his life on
the outside of a horse, picked his way among the great fragments of
rock that filled the hollows. The Alazan jumped them, and proceeded
upon his appointed path to his own evident satisfaction, the infinite
amusement of Jones, and the terror of myself. However, though one
might take exception to his methods, the Alazan had a turn for speed
and bore my fourteen stone nobly to the front.
Presently the guanaco we were pursuing dashed across a shallow lagoon
and fell upon the farther side of it. As we dismounted we observed
fresh tracks of a wild bull, which was heading north-west towards the
Cordillera. Although we followed these tracks for twenty miles and
came upon ample evidence of their being quite recently made, evening
fell upon us and we were obliged to turn campwards.
On our arrival we had a look at the horses and sat up late expecting
the return of Barckhausen and Burbury, who had gone to look for the
Indian trail, which the Indians told us led under the foothills of the
Cordillera to the end of the continent. I have given a description of
the trail in another place. It is in its way as remarkable a highroad
as the Grand Trunk Road in India. Were it not for the tracks of
horses, and the occasional dead camp-fire to which it leads you, it
would be impossible to distinguish it from a series of guanaco-tracks
running parallel. Nevertheless, many an ostrich-hunter has by its aid
found his way into the settlements, when without it he would have
wandered far and wide upon the pampas.
It was not before the next day, however, that Burbury and Barckhausen
returned with the news that they had found the trail some twenty
leagues away near the _cañadon_ of the River Deseado.
I have mentioned my great desire to shoot a huemul (_Xenelaphus
bisulcus_), and, as we had been disappointed in this respect in our
former expeditions, I decided to penetrate into the gorge of the River
de los Antiguos. We made arrangements for an absence of some duration
from the base camp, leaving Jones and Burbury in charge.
On the 5th we started, and, while riding to Rosy Camp, saw columns of
smoke arising from amongst the hills on the other side of the Fenix.
We thought they were signals of Indians and answered them. By here and
there burning a bush we signalled to the unknown, and in this way
drew together. It was upon the yellow shores of a dry lagoon that we
met with the first white man we had seen since leaving Colohuapi. This
man and his errand were so typical of the country and its methods of
life that I do not apologise for sketching his portrait at full
length.
As he came riding towards us we perceived that he was seated upon a
saddle of sheepskins, and rode a yellow horse, whose condition told
its own story. In Patagonia one gets into the habit of noticing the
horse before the rider. The practised eye can learn from its
appearance and condition the answers to at least three questions. The
rider was a very small Argentine, and he had, he informed us, come up
from San Julian. You who do not know Patagonia may think it strange
that one should meet with one's fellow creatures miles from anywhere,
but the Patagonian Gaucho is in his way unique. He is as much a
pioneer of civilisation as were the fur-clad hunters of the Bad Lands
of North America. By habit and by choice the Gaucho is a nomad. It is
not too much to say that, grumbler as he is when upon the pampas,
there is a deep-seated instinct in his heart ever leading him back to
that peculiar mode of life which has become second nature to him.
There is an idea in England that Patagonia is as untrodden as the
Polar regions. But this is a fallacy. The tides of civilisation are
moving slowly westwards, and will so continue to move until they are
thrown back by the great natural barrier of the Andes. But as the tide
will often fling a little wreath of foam far ahead of its advance--a
wreath that disappears for the moment perhaps, but yet its fall has
marked a spot that in course of time will be swept over by the rising
water; so in Patagonia these few wanderers break away from the
settlements upon the coast, and set out with their little store of
flour, _fariña_, and _maté_, their troop of horses, and their
half-dozen hounds. They say that they are looking for good ground or,
as they call it, good camp to settle upon, but few of them actually
carry out this final intention. It is the free life that they love,
the wild gallops after the ostriches and the guanacos, the sound
slumbers under the stars, and the absence of all control.
Such a wanderer was our small friend. He had, he said, two
companions, whom he had lost when running ostriches. As we sat there
upon our horses and looked from the man to the great clouds of smoke
which were arising from the direction of the Fenix, of which he was
the miserable author, one felt inclined to throw him in his own fire.
For whereas, whenever I or my men lit a smoke, we were careful that it
should burn but one bush, and not spread to scar and disfigure the
face of the country, this irresponsible little being, who had, as it
were, ridden to meet us out of the nowhere, persistently lit his
reckless fires among the best grass, so that they burnt huge areas. It
was a remarkable, and in its way a painful, reflection that this puny
bit of humanity with his box of cheap matches could do more harm in
half an hour than he would be likely to be able to repair during a
lifetime. The fact is, a fire will burn a very small area upon the
pampas near the coast, where there is little for the flames to take
hold upon, while here in the high grass, near the Cordillera, it may
rage for two or three days, devastating and blackening the landscape.
Rather annoyed with the small man, I directed Barckhausen to ask him
why he had lighted so many smokes. He replied that he had done so in
order to recall his companions. As the man was, after the fashion of
the pampa, our guest, there was nothing more to be said on the matter,
but had I foreseen how much trouble his mania for raising smokes was
yet to cause us, I should probably have remonstrated with him.
That evening, as we rode into Rosy Camp, we saw a number of flamingos
upon the lagoon, and shot an upland goose. The following morning I
woke up in the grey of the dawn to see a Cordillera wolf nosing among
the ashes of our camp-fire. I shot it, to the great delight of the
small man, from whom after breakfast we parted. We had not advanced a
mile before the little demon was again sending up a smoke to heaven.
Burbury, who met him afterwards, said he believed that he carried a
cargo of nothing but matches in order to be able to indulge to the
utmost his passion for destroying the country through which he
happened to be passing.
On December 7 we arrived above the River de los Antiguos, and, as we
were about to descend the _barranca_, saw two columns of smoke rising
some two miles off. Two columns of smoke close together were our
danger-signal, and meant "Something very wrong, come at once." I was
morally certain that they were the work of the small man, whom we had
nicknamed "the Snipe," especially as the smokes were lit at a distance
from the position of Horsham Camp, and if anything serious had
happened, it seemed most probable that the two men left in charge
there would have lit their signal-fires on the hill close behind the
camp, instead of riding to some distance for that purpose. However,
there was nothing for it but to send Scrivenor back, with instructions
to show a smoke upon the shore of the lake behind an island in our
view if my presence were really required.
While he returned to Horsham Camp, Barckhausen and I rode on towards
the _cañadon_ of the River de los Antiguos.
FOOTNOTE:
[19] I believe, as does Dr. Moreno, that a race of Indians, now
extinct, once dwelled among the foothills of the Cordillera.
CHAPTER X
THE GORGE OF THE RIVER DE LOS ANTIGUOS
Descent into Gorge of the River de los Antiguos --
Rest-and-be-Thankful Camp -- First huemul -- Greed of
condors -- Aspect of Gorge -- Tameness of guanaco -- Join
Van Plaaten's route -- Stinging flies -- Signal-smokes --
De los Antiguos in flood -- Difficulty of crossing --
Attempt to swim over -- Washed away -- Loss of rifle and
gun -- Return to western bank -- Cold night -- Start next
morning -- Upper ford impassable -- Scanty diet -- Fording
torrent -- Long ride to Horsham Camp -- Fire-blackened
landscape -- News of red puma.
Barckhausen and I continued along the south shore of the lake until we
struck the River de los Antiguos, a small but rapid torrent flowing
through a huge frowning gorge, between very steep _barrancas_. Farther
to the west a second river, the River Jeinemeni, runs for some
distance almost parallel with it and discharges itself into the lake
some little distance beyond the mouth of the Antiguos. Between these
two rivers lies a tableland, which I was anxious to visit. We,
therefore, looked for a favourable place to descend into the valley of
the River de los Antiguos, and presently discovered a spot where the
cliffs were rather less perpendicular. The _barranca_, which was about
one hundred and fifty feet in height, being composed of sliding sand
and stones, covered with a high growth of bushes, presented a
troublesome route for the horses. They had been tied together by their
headstalls, the only way in which it was possible to drive them. It
was now necessary to dismount and take them down singly. Two of them,
Mula and Luna, refused to face the slope, and had to be urged on by
persuasions from behind. When Mula at last consented to begin the
descent, he lost his head and slid down the _barranca_, almost
carrying Barckhausen, who was pulling at his _cabresto_ from below,
with him.
When we all arrived safely at the bottom, we found the bed of the
river was formed of large boulders, and progress was consequently very
slow. After a time we forded across, the water barely reaching to the
horses' knees, but flowing so rapidly as to bring down good-sized
tree-trunks with it. We made a camp in a bare place backed by a deep
green forest. After our meal, which consisted of half an emergency
ration each, a couple of two-ounce dumplings and some tea, we climbed
the western _barranca_, and discovered an open space in the forest,
where the grass rose to our middles, and we were greeted by the wet
smell of earth, to which we had long been strangers on the dry
stretches of the pampas. We called the spot Rest-and-be-thankful Camp,
and at once moved the horses up to it, and on the way Fritz, who
happened to be in an obstinate mood, lay down among the stones. Little
did we think at the time how often we were destined to climb up and
down that weary _barranca_.
[Illustration: LAKE BUENOS AIRES FROM THE _CAÑADON_ OF THE RIVER DE
LOS ANTIGUOS]
A number of animals live in the Gorge of the River de los Antiguos.
Quite close to the camp I found tracks of wolves, guanaco, huemul, a
wild cat, and the smaller rodents. There was a little story to be
read on the wet sand. A huemul had come down to drink the preceding
evening, and had been stalked by a puma and her cub. The puma must
have been giving her offspring a lesson in killing. You could see that
the puma had leaped upon the huemul from a neighbouring thicket, and
there had been a struggle. The huemul, however, managed to dash back
into the trees and finally made his escape upon the other side of the
patch of forest.
After resting the night we rode up the Gorge, where we saw some
guanaco and found an ostrich egg. We left the three extra horses
tethered in the camp, and rode along the heights above the river. The
going was bad all the time. Stones, cliffs and rifts hindered our
advance, but presently we began to leave the bush behind and entered
into a bare tract of iron-grey hillsides and black boulders. Here we
stopped for a meal, for which we made an omelette of the ostrich egg,
and ate it powdered with chocolate. We cooked it in a tin plate with a
little mutton-fat, and uncommonly good we found it.
About two leagues farther on I shot a guanaco, but my desire was to
see a huemul. Every new variety of game was of interest to us, not
only from the zoological point of view, but also from that of the
hungry man, for we had had a very long spell of guanaco meat. We spent
the night in a spot where the horses fed on some fair grass.
We climbed the highest eminence at dawn and looked out for a smoke
behind the island, but seeing none we pushed on. I was riding far
ahead along the tableland above the river valley when I saw a huemul.
It sprang out from some rocks ahead of me. It was a young buck, and
when he caught sight of me he stood at gaze. The huemul is one of the
most beautiful deer in the world, although he only carries small
spiked horns of no great size. His summer coat is of a rich
reddish-brown, which, when examined closely, is found to be thickly
mingled with white hairs. In shape huemules are rather strongly built,
being about the size of fallow-deer. I have given a detailed account
of the habits of the huemul, of which no other record exists, in a
later chapter, so will say no more upon that subject here. I was most
unwillingly obliged to shoot the buck, for we were in need of food.
Leaving the meat, after tying a handkerchief above it to scare away
the condors, we hastened back to fetch the extra horses. We had had
scanty diet for some days, and the thought of a full meal put strength
into us. We were not long in bringing up the remainder of our troop,
but when returning we saw three condors drop suspiciously near the
dead huemul. By the time we arrived there was hardly an ounce of meat
left on the bones, and only the quarter, which we had hidden in the
bushes, remained, even that being a good deal torn and mangled.
[Illustration: BEST HEAD OF HUEMUL (_XENELAPHUS BISULCUS_)
SHOT BY THE AUTHOR]
Such as it was, however, we made the best of it, and after cutting
away the damaged parts, found enough for a meal. It turned out to be
the driest, stringiest, worst meat I have ever for my sins been forced
to eat.[20]
As night fell, the Gorge--it became _the_ Gorge to us--assumed a more
and more sinister aspect. Of all the scenes I had up to that time
beheld in Patagonia, this was the most repellent and inhospitable. The
little torrent (which was destined to play us such a trick), the high
iron-grey bluffs and escarpments, the soaring condors, the scavenger
caranchos, and the black shadows of the Cordillera, made up a picture
that was both grand and menacing.
Next day I shot a guanaco. Very much easier work than it had been on
the pampas. A guanaco would remain lying down until you were within a
long shot, and one actually watched us and neighed while we discussed
our porridge. Man had never, I fancy, molested them before.
We advanced for a good distance up the river over terribly bad ground,
all boulders and steep cliffs, and then we attempted to ford to the
other side. The two black horses, however, seemed to have conceived a
horror of the river and could not be induced to cross. They simply
made us very wet, and we had to go forward on foot. We were now within
easy distance of the end of the Gorge, and had joined the route of Von
Plaaten[21] from the south.
On December 10 I went out in the evening to shoot something for the
pot. On the first ridge I came to I stalked and killed a big guanaco
buck, putting a bullet into his lungs. Then I signalled to Barckhausen
to come and help to cut him up. As I waited there in the fading light,
wondering at the desolation of the place, a little huemul buck came
bounding along and "paid the penalty," as the cricket reporters say. I
had some trouble to keep off the condors while I went to some distance
to call Barckhausen.
Altogether the Gorge was not an inviting spot with its hot marshy
valleys and fat stinging flies. After sweating among the boulders in
the lower ground, if we climbed the _barranca_, the chill wind from
the Cordillera nipped our very bones.
As I sat writing my diary during those days, diabolical-looking
insects with upturned tails used to crawl across the page.
My desire to penetrate farther at that time seemed likely to be
fulfilled, as so far we had seen no warning smoke from the lake
direction. The chief difficulties hindering our advance were the
treacherous footing on the _barrancas_, which we were obliged to scale
very frequently, and the trouble with the horses both on them and at
the fords.
Finally I decided to leave Barckhausen with the horses and to walk on
as long as food held out, for the boulders made riding impossible. But
next morning, just as I had fixed up my kit preparatory to starting, a
column of smoke began to arise somewhere in the direction of the lake.
We fancied at first it was Scrivenor, who had come back to rejoin us,
and we hastened up the cliff. But in that clear air distances are very
deceptive, and the smoke, which from the depth of the Gorge had looked
so near, turned out to be on the farther shore of Lake Buenos Aires.
Then we perceived there were two fires throwing up their smoke in the
morning sun--the "Come-at-once" signal.
We did not loiter, but in a quarter of an hour were climbing the
_barranca_ from our camp. The old game with the horses had to be gone
through again. We made our way straight down the strip of tableland
towards the lake, along the high sliding cliffs of the river's
_cañadon_. It was a long ride, and as we went along the fact became
obvious that the river had risen during the night and was still
rising. The waters had grown earth-coloured and large trees were being
hurtled down-stream.
The warm weather which we had been experiencing must have melted the
snows which feed the torrents of the Cordillera. Rivers inside and in
the neighbourhood of the Cordillera vary during the spring very much
in volume, changing in a single day or night from a mere trickle of
water to a torrent 100 yards in width. In the present instance the
River de los Antiguos had begun to rise in the day while we were
hunting. At length we saw a place where a big shelf of stone and
shingle rising in the middle of the river divided it into two streams.
To reach the bank nearest to this island of shingle it was necessary
to climb down some two hundred feet of an uncommonly nasty slope. On
the way the horses struck a bed of rolling stones and arrived very
suddenly. The gut of the Gorge was choked with green forest and
decaying vegetation; large dead trees, mostly trunks of antarctic
beech, were jammed together, intersected by a dozen miniature torrents
all sluicing down full of water since the melting of the snows.
Arrived at the river, my horse took the ford at once and went in
straightly to his shoulders. The current was running like a
mill-race--overstrong for us, but fortunately we had not plunged in
too deeply, and so got back to the shore.
Had it not been for the two smokes, which we had arranged were not to
be used save in the greatest extremity, I should have made a camp and
waited to see if the river would fall. As things were, it seemed
absolutely necessary to cross at once.
We now went a little up-stream, and I stripped off some of my clothes
and waded down into the river. It was so cold that it took away all
feeling from my feet. I had my precious rifle with me as well as a
dear old shot-gun. The strip of water I was about to cross was quite
narrow. I thought of leaving the guns behind me, but that would have
meant another crossing of the river, which was so cold that it seemed
to burn like fire.
I had not reached the middle when my left foot went into a hole, the
current caught me, and the banks began to run backwards. As long as
the water was deep I stuck to the two guns, but a little down-stream
the river ran through boulders just awash, and among these I got
rather knocked about. I dropped the shot-gun and clung to the Mauser,
which was to us the more valuable of the two. Lower down the river was
a shallow waterfall, studded with rocks and boulders. My knee caught
between two rocks, and as I was afraid of having my leg broken, and
had sustained rather a bad knock on the back of the head, I let the
rifle go, and, with the help of my hands, got clear. I was washed down
the fall into deeper water, where swimming was possible. The current
carried me a yard down-stream for every inch I made across it, but in
time I reached the end of the bank of shingle before mentioned.
After all, disappointment awaited me, for I found the second branch of
the river, beyond the shingle bank, was running so furiously that,
unless I had the help of a rope, crossing it would be too dangerous.
Barckhausen could not follow me in any case, as he was unable to swim,
so that eventually I was obliged to cross back again and rejoin him.
On regaining the shore my plight was sufficiently miserable. I had
kept on my shirt and jersey to save me from the stones, but of course
they were soaking. It was six o'clock in the evening, the sun had lost
its power, a cold wind was blowing, and I had nothing to pass the
night in save some oilskins and my wet clothes; besides, I was rather
badly cut about the head and knees.
I must explain that during my swim Barckhausen had succeeded in
driving the horses into the river, and they were come to anchor on the
shingle island in mid-stream. Our bedding was upon the back of one of
them, and the river was still rising rapidly. We therefore decided to
return to the camp, as being more sheltered. Barckhausen kindly lent
me his shirt, as he had his vest, coat and great-coat, which were dry.
We started once more to climb that weary two hundred feet of
_barranca_, and were much beset by rolling stones and sliding sand.
Scarcely had we reached the top when the horses, after standing for an
hour and a half on their mid-stream island, took it into their heads
to turn about and swim back, so we scrambled down our cliff-side
again and made a camp amongst the sand and bushes. Here I saw a wild
cat with young, the only one I met with in Patagonia.
[Illustration: REST-AND-BE-THANKFUL CAMP]
We now reviewed our sleeping accommodation. The blankets were too wet
to be of any service. Barckhausen luckily was in the habit of carrying
a portion of his bedding upon his saddle, and this had escaped the
water and was dry. I had a horse-rug and a small blanket. It came on a
bone-wet night, the most miserable we had either of us spent.
Besides, I was very anxious about the possible condition of things at
Horsham Camp, for the two smokes must have meant something serious,
and yet we were unable to go to the help of our comrades. We made some
thin porridge for supper and turned in. All night long the river
continued to rise, we could hear it gulping and swallowing at the sand
and shingle of the bank. I determined to try the higher ford, by which
we had originally crossed, in the morning.
I find the following in my diary, written while the porridge was
cooking:
"_December 12._--Only a sportsman can realise my feelings. At one fell
swoop both my guns, my old friends, gone! The more serious loss of the
two is the Mauser. It has accompanied me upon my travels 10,000 miles,
and was always to be relied on. And now to fancy it probably
glimmering up through the deep waters of Buenos Aires Lake! Is there
any use in saying more? When we get back to camp I shall have to fall
back on the reserve Mauser, which has no back-sight, or I should say
has a back-sight fastened on with a strip of raw hide. You arrange it
before the shot, and when you have it balanced you loose off, and if
the gun does not misfire you may hit something. How different to the
rifle that is gone! And the shot-gun, which has also departed with the
Mauser, was a gun with a history. Given to my uncle for gallant
services in another part of the world--a Purdey double-hammerless
12-bore, I regarded it as an heirloom. Why did I ever bring it to
Patagonia? Many a time have I, out of the shooting season, cuddled the
stock and shot imaginary birds, and dreamed of the phalanx of geese
bearing down on me in Scotland in the coming October! It is all over.
His glittering locks "clutch the sand," or in fragments he shifts with
the waters of the inhospitable torrent. Oh, my guns! my guns! Well, it
was a congenial death to you, and I am glad to think the Mauser had
killed a couple of Patagonian huemules before he came to his end. But,
sentiment apart--and there is a great deal of it in this affair--the
loss is very serious. True I have still at Horsham Camp four rifles
and a shot-gun (two Colts, a Paradox, a 12-bore and the sick Mauser),
but none of them are in the same class with the lost ones."
Before leaving the camp I went down again to the river brink to seek
for wreckage. Nothing was to be seen save rock and stone, overturned
trees and boulders. My regrets for the losses which had befallen us
were, however, moderated by the reflection that I might well be
thankful I was not personally keeping the two guns cold company in the
bottom of the lake.
We were astir at four o'clock by moonlight, and started three-quarters
of an hour later. To us, knocked about and dog-tired as we were, the
going was difficult. The _barrancas_ seemed endless. The river was now
a yellow flood, crashing and rushing down the _cañadon_, bearing
trees, bushes, and logs with its whirl and flurry. When we arrived at
the upper ford it was only to find six feet of water there and a fall
formed beyond it--quite impassable in fact.
Our position, in the face of this difficulty, was rather a serious
one. We had food for three days, that is, porridge, and though
"parritch is gran' food," it is not, alone, good to work very hard on.
The snows were still melting in the hills, and, given a protracted
period of warm weather, it might be days before the river would allow
of our passing through it. I lit a signal-fire on the hills in the
hope that my party at Horsham Camp would reply.
[Illustration: HUEMUL (_XENELAPHUS BISULCUS_) IN SUMMER COAT]
It was possible that our small Argentine friend had again been lost
"running ostriches" and had again lit up half the countryside to call
his companions' attention to that important fact. The only weapon left
us was a broken Colt and the cartridges in it. But apart from our own
position was the far more serious fact that our companions were
signalling to us to "Come at once--something wrong."
All the day through we patrolled the river banks, riding up and down
searching for a ford. About six in the evening we found a place where
an island broke the force of the torrent, and we fancied the water was
falling.
The river everywhere was shut in by high cliffs. At the foot of the
cliff we descended the ground was so soft that the horses sank, and we
had to haul them through. When we came down to the level of the river,
it appeared very different, viewed close at hand, to the encouraging
idea we had formed, even through the telescope, from the cliffs above.
But the set of the current was for once towards the farther bank,
where it culminated in rapids.
I decided to leave the three worst horses, and we found them a fine
stretch of grass and water at Roblé Camp. There we left them. They
fell to feeding very quietly, and we rode away to the _barranca_ we
had so often surmounted that at length we had formed a road through
its bushes.
The river appeared to be still rising, and was at that spot sixty
yards or so broad. Large trees went whirling by us as we waded down on
our horses into the outer plash of the stream. The horses took it
bravely and slowly, tired as they were. We now found there were two
islands, a smaller and a larger one, on our line of crossing, upon
which we rested, and soon nothing remained save a twenty-foot stream
between us and the farther bank.
Once my horse fell but recovered himself. Small blame to him, brave
beast, he had been carrying fourteen stone all day. At last, after a
strenuous moment, the water grew shallower, and we came out on the
farther side into a belt of green scrub.
Luck never comes alone. As we rode on three huemules dashed out of a
glade and I broke the neck of an old buck with the damaged Colt. I had
taken a careful sight for a shoulder-shot! We cut up the huemul,
skinned the head and rode on, and soon were out of the _cañadon_ of
the de los Antiguos River and riding through the bushes towards our
companions. The moon, on her rising, found us still going, and the
camp we made was a dozen miles from the river.
That night we put the horses in splendid grass, and in the false dawn
of the next morning were in the saddle again. We had about fifty miles
to cover before reaching Horsham Camp, and never in my life have I so
regretted my weight as on that day. About noon, as we were crossing a
white dry lake-bed, a column of smoke went up on Fenix Ford; our
comrades were then hurrying to us as we were to them. We answered at
once, and a couple of hours later perceived two horsemen on a distant
rise. Two! Nothing wrong in camp then! Hurrah! They turned out to be
Scrivenor and Burbury.
[Illustration: GRASSY CAMP]
At last the _vega_, two miles out of Horsham Camp, began. I had ridden
so much off my horse that the _cinch_ would not hold him. An awful
wind arose and the country round--burned by those miserable Santa Cruz
people--sent up dust in clouds and blinded us. At last the green tents
came in sight, one of which held, I knew, a reindeer sleeping-bag,
wherein was to be found warmth and sleep.
When we met my first question was, of course, to ask as to who might
be the perpetrator of the two fires we had seen upon the previous day,
and which were still burning.
"As to those," said Burbury, "they must have been lighted by the
little man whom you entertained at the Fenix. He came into our camp
after he left you, as also did his companions. We knew that you would
wonder who had lit the smokes. When we saw yours, we at once came to
meet you." As we rode along towards our base camp we passed through
acres of fire-blackened land and cursed the small man (his name is
still a mystery to us) by bell, book, and candle. I had carefully
informed him that two fires was our "Come-at-once" signal, and can
only suppose that the irresponsible little creature had forgotten.
After all, our resentment against the author of our misfortunes was
not uncalled for. He had given Scrivenor a fifty-mile ride, had been
the direct cause of our losing two guns, had made us abandon three
horses, and had given Barckhausen and myself eighty or ninety miles of
extra marches, besides compelling us to cross the River de los
Antiguos when in flood. We had also to thank him for our miserable
night upon the shores of the river. Against all this he had left us a
lame hound which we feared could travel no farther.
His companions had in my absence visited our camp and had conversed
with Burbury. This conversation, however, left us a much more valuable
legacy. One of these men, an Austrian, had informed Burbury that the
Indians had told him of a puma which lived farther to the south among
the foothills of the Cordillera, and which differed in some essential
respects from the grey puma of the plains. He described it as being
"of a reddish colour, more fierce than the silver puma, and much
smaller!" This was the first time I heard of the animal now named
_Felis concolor pearsoni_, of which I afterwards was fortunate enough
to obtain a skin.
When we arrived in camp, which we did late upon that afternoon, we
ourselves as well as our horses were pretty well tired out, but a
couple of days in the tent, a tin of cocoa, and some ointment for the
cuts received from the rocks in the river, soon reinvigorated us, and
we were ready to start for the River de los Antiguos, the scene of our
petty disasters, once more.
FOOTNOTES:
[20] This was a very lean buck; a fat doe is excellent.
[21] Louis von Plaaten Hallermund, of the Argentine Boundary
Commission, almost reached Lake Buenos Aires from Lake Puerrydon about
two years previously. Mr. Waag had completed the journey, but we did
not know this.
[Illustration: YOUNG GUANACO]
CHAPTER XI
SOME HUNTING CAMPS
Second trip to De los Antiguos River -- Pass Rosy Camp --
Fenix flood gone down -- Wounded guanaco takes to water --
Mauser and shot-gun retrieved -- Losing and seeking in
Patagonia -- Recover horses at Rest-and-be-Thankful Camp
-- Visit to River Jeinemeni -- Trained horse for hunting
-- Shooting guanaco -- Condors -- _Cañadon_ of Jeinemeni
-- Huemul hunting -- Ostriches and their habits -- Return
to Horsham Camp -- Night in camp.
On December 16, the interval having been taken out by me in sleeping
off my chill and fatigue, Scrivenor, Jones and I made a start to
retrieve the horses abandoned in the Los Antiguos _cañadon_ by
Barckhausen and myself. We each took a horse and a spare animal which
carried the tent, for the weather was breaking to the westward. It was
our intention to ride the fifty miles back on the horses which we had
left behind in the Gorge.
On arriving at the Fenix we were delighted to find that its waters had
fallen considerably, and that the pebbly bank in mid-stream, at the
ford by Rosy Camp, was once more visible. Almost upon our old
camping-ground we found, as we rode over the sand-hills by the lake, a
pair of guanaco feeding. Jones dismounted and had a couple of shots,
neither of which took effect. The animals had, however, not perceived
Scrivenor and myself, and came past us upon the shores of the lake,
and here Jones and I ran down and met the female, killing her after a
long chase, which ended by her trying to swim out into the lake.
Upon the evening of the second day we saw again the ill-fated River
de los Antiguos, and striking south we made a camp, as nearly as I
could judge, opposite to where I had spent the night shivering in
oilskins. Of course, at starting, the question had been mooted: Might
we not, provided the river had fallen sufficiently, find the lost
guns, and at any rate that treasure, the Mauser?
The probabilities were, of course, very much against such good
fortune, and it was almost certain, that even did we find either of
them, it would be useless after being knocked about by the violent
handling of the river.
Immediately we arrived at the Gorge of the de los Antiguos, Jones and
I rode down to the water's edge. I had small hope of success as
regarded retrieving the guns, but the water had fallen as quickly as
it had risen. We soon came upon my tracks going down to the stream,
made during my last visit. We then rode along the bank. Trees, sand
and _débris_ filled the river-bed, and I had reached a spot some
hundred yards below the place where I had been beached on the shingle
island, and Jones was still engaged in searching another channel, when
I saw something brown upon a sandbank.
There, half in and half out of the water, lay the Mauser, caked with
rust, choked with sand and pebbles, but whole, unbent, though the
stock was pitted with the battering of many stones. I picked it up,
and there seemed but little hope of its ever becoming serviceable
again. However, the sights, by a miracle, were intact, save the half
of the bead of the foresight. After this we resumed our search, hoping
with luck to come upon the shot-gun, and presently we discovered that
also, lying half-buried among the wreckage at the lip of the flood.
Being in a case, it was practically undamaged. We carried the two in
triumph to the camp. Upon examination the Mauser bolt was found to be
fixed and immovable, and we feared it would never fire again. For
tools we had only an axe and a weak pocket-knife, but with the help of
these two we took the Mauser to pieces, cleaned it, and fixed it
together again, to find, however, that it would not stay on cock. As
soon as we shut the bolt, the rifle went off. We examined it, but
could discover nothing broken or bent, and, night falling, we went to
bed.
I was awakened by Jones with the welcome news that breakfast was
ready, and that he had got up early and been at work upon the Mauser,
which he said had haunted his dreams. It was, he declared, as good as
ever, and this proved to be the case. The trigger had been slightly
bent, and a small stone lodged in the mechanism had been overlooked in
the bad light of the previous evening. Altogether the affair stands
out as one gigantic piece of luck.
It was not now at all a presentable weapon. It was, indeed, an object
any gunmaker would have shied at, but it started business again by
taking a particular stone out of the neighbouring cliff with all its
old accuracy. To celebrate the event we made a plum duff of flour,
which we ate with a tin of Swiss milk. Afterwards we made quite a bag
of pigeons (_Columba maculosa_), which frequented the scrub of the
river in great numbers.
Patagonia is a land so far from shops that one must not lose anything,
and if you do lose anything, it is strange how persistent one becomes
in looking for it. Scrivenor once rode twenty-five miles for a pipe; I
have spent half a weary day following my old tracks for a similar
purpose. I think the only article lost upon the expedition, and left
lost, was Barker's large knife, and we had ridden fifty miles the day
he dropped it. Jones lost a pair of pipes one day galloping, and after
four days searching--at odd times--found them both again! Burbury lost
a knife at the Fenix River--but I might go on multiplying instances
for ever.
Well, now that we had found the guns, remained the horses, and after
these we started next morning, moving our small camp up to where they
had been abandoned.
I remember that day, for I was riding the roughest horse in all our
troop, a stout little Zaino, which shook and vibrated like a miniature
torpedo-boat. At length we came to the high _barranca_ above the
river, down which Mula had fallen and nearly immolated poor Barckhausen.
We human beings toboganned down--the measured angle being 38°--and the
horses slid down upon their haunches. Part of the cliff accompanied us
in our descent. Then followed that nasty boulder-strewn piece of
journeying I have before described, until at length we crossed the
river and rode in among the trees towards Rest-and-be-thankful Camp.
[Illustration: DESCENDING THE _BARRANCA_]
That was one of the most picturesque camps which fell to our lot in
Patagonia. The grass there, though coarse, was very good; deep green
scrub and incensio bushes bounded it on three sides, the _barranca_
leading up to the tableland being on the fourth. As we were riding
through the trees we discovered the three horses, led by Fritz the
Zaino, descending the _barrancas_ to water. Truly our snakes were
standing upright, as the Zulus say. Of course, immediately the horses
under General Fritz perceived us, they stood still. Before that they
were coming down the steep side of the cliff with the grace and swing
of wild things, now they at once pretended that it was a very
difficult business. We caught them, and found them to be in excellent
condition, glossy, bright-eyed and fat. We at once put them upon
_sogas_, lest their love of liberty might have been increased by the
week-end they had spent alone. They were evidently in the habit of
drinking each evening and feeding in the rich grass of the Gorge, and
in the morning ascending to the tableland and enjoying themselves
there.
After settling the camp, Jones and I saddled up Luna and General Fritz
and went up to look for a guanaco. We found that the fire lit by
Barckhausen and myself had burned over a largish area and driven the
game backwards into the higher basaltic hills. Among these, and upon
the western river, the Jeinemeni, we had a most lovely evening. Fresh
horses, keen air, a soft wind out of the west, and the most glorious
of views--the lake, placid for once, in its gigantic setting of peaked
and pinnacled Cordillera, the tint of yellow marshes in the lowland,
and the whole background of the picture painted with mist and distance
in a dozen shades of dusky and far-off blue.
In the course of that day's wanderings we first reached the Jeinemeni,
the more westerly river, which shut in the farther side of the
tableland. The ravine through which it flowed down to the lake was
magnificent, a wonderful vista of broken white cliffs. The
conformation of its _cañadon_ was very different to that of the de los
Antiguos. Seen from a distance the valley appeared almost treeless,
and upon its west bank rose the lower hills of the Cordillera into
needles and peaks of red rock and virgin snow. The plateau between the
rivers we found to be an excellent game country. Upon a fast horse the
ground was good enough, though rather too broken to admit of "running"
young guanaco, one of the finest and most exhilarating pastimes that I
have ever enjoyed.
There is an element in Patagonian hunting quite unique: so much
depends upon your horse. There were but two in all our forty-seven
which could be trusted to stand and not gallop off when we fired.
These two I trained myself on the way up from Trelew to Colohuapi, and
they were a great ease and comfort to me. But to go shooting on a wild
horse, then probably to find your game in a bushless country, where
you are quite unable to shoot because you cannot tie up your mount, is
a most disappointing affair. Also you have on many occasions to gallop
down your game--if you hit it a little too far back, for instance.
Wearier work than chasing a wounded guanaco afoot over the bald and
endless ridges of the pampas, or up and down the steep unstable slides
of a _barranca_, I do not know.
With my trained horse the Cruzado, and the Little Zaino, all that was
necessary was just to drop to the ground--you could rein up in the
middle of a fast canter and slip off--the horse would stand where you
left him until you came for him again. There were others, of course,
who, if you loosed the _cabresto_, were off to camp at a gallop, and
where quickness is so important, they made sport a little of a
penance.
But to return to our first visit to the Jeinemeni. In the _cañadon_ we
came upon a guanaco, and I stalked him. The bullet took effect, and
the poor beast plunged into the abyss below. We followed him down a
few hundred feet, but finding the way beset with loose stones, and,
consequently, on the raw bare cliff, rather dangerous, we returned
with much toil to our horses. It had taken us one and three-quarter
hours to climb five hundred feet.
[Illustration: GUANACOS DESCENDING A HILLSIDE.]
"Any horse, even that old Fritz, is better than a man's own legs,"
said Jones feelingly. Arrived in time--the fulness of time--at the top
of the cliff, we sat down and rested. As we were doing so Jones
perceived a cloud of dust uprising in the valley and drew my attention
to it. It was coming towards us, but we were quite unable at that
distance to make out the cause of it. We marked the place and I took a
couple of bearings, and in the early dark we rode back into camp.
The next morning we _sogaed_ up the horses and set out.
We wanted some meat, having only a little left of the last guanaco. We
saw a number of guanacos on the hills and one half-grown one, which we
attempted to gallop, but had to desist, as the ground was too false
for the horses, and the basalt rocks and hills told in the guanaco's
favour. At length, quite near the spot where I had shot one on the
previous evening, we found a big old buck standing alone, and we
speedily made a plan of campaign. I rode round and hid in the rocks
far above him. Scrivenor tried stalking him and Jones headed him off
from the north.
He went towards Jones, who sent a bullet through his heart at good
range.
Immediately on our killing, the condors, caranchos, and chimangos
began to gather and almost to drop upon the meat in our presence. I
have before remarked on the number of these uncanny birds which
haunted the Gorge. They were huge, black, ragged, bald, wrinkled, and
offensive in odour, incarnations of lust and evil. The horrible
flesh-colour of the bare skin on head and neck was glassy and livid.
And how wonderful was their instinct! You shot your game, and within a
few minutes a condor appeared far away in the heavens; then another
and another! Perhaps they had some signal bidding to the feast.
Having cut up the guanaco, we descended into the _cañadon_ of the
Jeinemeni, where we had on the previous evening seen the rising
dust--which meant the movement of living things. At first it was one
of the nastiest of horseback climbs, all loose stones, and sand and
sandstone chippings. The gorge below us was a chessboard of
small-looking round folds set in the bases of the higher hills and
hummocks. Among these were many boulders, with two or three deep black
waterholes, eye-shaped; and, of course, there were condors. We arrived
at the place where we had perceived the cloud of dust. A large herd of
guanaco had passed at the gallop, as was evident from the tracks.
We rode on to the gorge of the Jeinemeni and made our camp by a
little pool. Here we had a _maté_ by the fire and gave our horses
grass. Then came our climb up the ragged cliffs by which we had
descended. They were very high, rising fold on fold, set as always
with loose stones and shifting sand, a needle or two of black rock
sticking out gauntly from their steep faces.
[Illustration: FIRST HUEMUL CAMP]
The next day Jones and I went hunting. We desired to secure a few
heads and skins of the huemul and we determined to devote a day to
that purpose. I will describe that excursion at full length, as it was
one typical of Patagonian sport.
Of course we rode. You ride everywhere in Patagonia. I rode Luna, and
Jones one of the Zainos--Fritz the younger, a very rough horse.
When we started a light rain was falling and the summits of the
Cordillera were purple with threatening cloud. The rain gave the
mountain wind the softness which the _pampero_ lacks. We quickly
crossed the lower hills and saw some guanacos in the valleys. We did
not shoot any but rode on upwards until we came to the high ground,
where bushes of _maté negra_ and black fragments of basalt made a
desolate picture with the low clouds rolling over the wet hills.
Presently a cloud enveloped us and we took shelter beneath a rock. It
looked as if we were in for a wet day, but to our delight, after an
hour of waiting the wind blew away the clouds and showed the pale blue
sky beyond, the weather turned colder and set in fine. We jumped on
our horses and jogged on until the high ground was reached. Here we
dismounted and spied the country with the telescope. We had come to
the conclusion that nothing was in sight when, moving a little higher,
I saw an ostrich in a marsh not more than two hundred yards away. The
bird had not perceived us, and fortunately the ground was favourable
for stalking. Under cover of a hummock, we advanced to within about
seventy yards, when I shot the bird. As always happens, on receiving
the shot it ran thirty yards forward and fell.
During the whole of our travels we observed but one kind of rhea
(_Rhea darwini_). The remarks that Darwin makes concerning the habits
of this bird have little to be added to them. The male bird, which
hatches out the young, will, when approached, feign to be wounded in
order to draw off the intruder from the nest of the chicks. I have
never seen more than nineteen chicks with a single ostrich at any
period within a month or two of the hatching, but I was informed by
the Gauchos that this number is not an outside limit. When started,
_Rhea darwini_ does not usually open his wings, as does the _Rhea
americana_. This fact has been noticed by Darwin. On one occasion,
shortly after leaving Trelew, we chased an ostrich, which, having run
a couple of hundred yards, opened its wings. We did not, however,
secure the bird.
Only when with young will the ostrich, on starting, expand the wings,
but, as I have said, this is a ruse; yet I have seen them proceed for
a short distance with wings full open at times when hard pressed. In
the present instance we cut up our ostrich, taking the stomach, which,
cooked as an _asado_, or roast, is esteemed a luxury by the Gauchos.
The stomach was full of the grass of the marsh. Up to the end of
December we found eggs. When fresh they were of a transparent and pale
green, which after some days merged into a pallid white.
While we were yet engaged in cutting up the bird, the neck-skin of
which came in very usefully as a tobacco-pouch, we paused in the work
and took a look round with the telescope. On the heights above us, two
brown objects were to be descried, which on examination proved to be
huemules. They had evidently seen us, and their curiosity had been
excited by our movements. Hesitatingly they began to descend the
hillside towards us. We cut some antics and so decoyed the unlucky
animals within range. After killing them, we took the skins of both,
as there is no example of this deer in summer coat in any of our
British collections. They were still shedding their winter coat.
After riding on, our next spy showed us a young huemul buck beneath
us, but as I had already secured a specimen I was only too glad to let
him go in peace.
I am sorry that I cannot give my readers any interesting story of
huemul-shooting; that will be reserved for the pen of some future
traveller, who will find the animal wild, because used to man and his
ways. As for our experience of them, the interest turns rather on
their confidingness and their behaviour towards man as an unknown
entity.
We were riding home, my desire to shoot huemul completely evaporated,
when we perceived among the basalt fragments above us the black face
of a really magnificent buck. In approaching him I purposely gave him
the wind. He had not seen us, but immediately on getting our wind
dashed away to a short distance. On my showing myself, he stood quite
still, snorted twice or thrice, and was just bounding off when the
crack of the Mauser cut short his career.
There were by this time thirty or forty condors already gathered upon
the carcases of the two we had previously slain. Indeed in no part of
Patagonia did we see such numbers of _Sarcorhamphus gryphus_ as among
these hills. I understand that there is in Paris a considerable demand
for the feathers of the condor. Here is the place to find them. On our
homeward way we saw two huemul does and a pricket. They stayed and
stared at us as we rode down the lower levels. When nearing camp a
couple of guanacos started over a cliff within ten yards of us, and
descended the sheer hillside, giving me an excellent opportunity of
observing their extraordinary movements. All the huemules we had shot
were so lean as to be practically useless for the pot, so when later
on we came in sight of a herd of guanaco, and Jones asked me if he
might have a shot, I said yes. He picked out one and bowled it over at
three hundred paces with my Mauser. He was very delighted with his
success, and said that the Mauser was better than any of the guns in
Chubut.
On the day after, the river, upon which we had been keeping a very
careful watch, again began to rise. So we packed up and camped that
night in the end of the _cañadon_ near the spot where I had shot my
first huemul. Although we hunted during the afternoon we saw nothing,
but on the following day, when starting for our ride, we sighted three
huemules, two does and a young buck, in the scrub of a stream which
enters the lake some miles to the east of the River de los Antiguos.
In the evening of that day, after fording the River Fenix, and about
eight miles out of Horsham Camp, a huemul buck dashed across about a
couple of hundred yards ahead of us, and I, taking a very hasty aim,
was fortunate enough to bring him to the ground. We had difficulty for
a few moments in finding him, as he had gone head over heels into some
scrub in a fissure of the hillside.
[Illustration: THE OFF-SADDLE]
During this hunting trip, which I have described, we neither desired
nor endeavoured to make a large bag; in fact, I think that one could
very easily over that ground shoot ten huemules and an indefinite
number of guanaco in one day, but such a proceeding would be little
short of a crime. Very different indeed were my experiences after wild
cattle, which I followed steadily at a later date of the expedition,
for eleven days before I had any chance of a shot.
Another good hour of the day during our expedition was that when,
pretty tired, one rode into camp, and saw the little green tent
pitched among the tussocks, the horses scattered round, the big black
pot upon the fire. You drank your _maté_, smoked a pipe while the
black pot boiled, and you talked over the day's doings. And so on
until dark began to fall, and in the night you could hear the sounds
of the open, the rush of some river, the moaning of wind across the
plain or through the forests--when near the Cordillera--perhaps the
cries of wildfowl, or the whistle of the Chiloe widgeon as the shadows
closed down. Then came preparations for the morrow--the beans were
cut, the meat put on, the fire raked up about to-morrow's breakfast;
and presently you turned in, the shadows waxed and waned, and when you
woke the stars were paling in the western sky.
[Illustration: JONES SMOKES THE PIPE OF VICTORY]
CHAPTER XII
BACK TO CIVILISATION
Christmas Day at Horsham Camp -- Horse races -- Menu of
dinner -- Leave Horsham Camp -- Basalt plateaus -- Large
herds of guanacos -- Sterile region -- Birth of filly --
Father of guanacos -- Search for Indian trail -- Pebble
hills -- Finding of trail -- Filly's first march --
Hunting -- Mirages -- Rain -- Tent pleasures -- River Olin
-- Meeting Mr. Waag's party -- News from outer world --
River Chico -- Sierra Ventana -- Indian _toldo_ --
Shepherd's hut -- Houses, sheep and cattle -- Night in
huts -- Antennæ of civilisation -- _La Gaviota_ -- Santa
Cruz.
"HORSHAM CAMP, _Christmas Day, 1900_.--Here the weather is warm;
large, soft and poisonous flies haunt the marsh in the camp. The
horses neigh. An ostrich, the greatest delicacy of wild game in
Patagonia, hangs with three legs of guanaco on the meat gallows." So
runs my diary.
We spent a very humble Christmas up there at Little Horsham Camp, and
made what mild cheer we might. In the morning of Christmas Day we had
horse races, a mile and a half-mile. We rode the best horses in our
respective troops. Barckhausen, however, rode the Azulejo, which he
decorated with a towel and a red handkerchief, to our great amusement.
We were almost ready for the second race when he came in from the
first, having had a difference of opinion on the way with his steed,
which thought it would be much nicer to rejoin his friends and
companions feeding on the green marsh than to run races.
The surprise of the day was the winning of the races by the Little
Zaino, as we christened him. He was very timid and wild to saddle and
mount, but once up he proved himself a treasure. In appearance he was
a comely enough little horse, plump and well picked up, and had been
used occasionally to carry a cargo on the way to the lake.
The day before Christmas I wanted to go for a bathe, so I caught our
little friend, and, liking his pace, let him stretch himself a little
on the way back over the edge of the marsh. He stretched himself to
such good purpose that he was ridden in the next day's races and won
the three events, although he was carrying a stone and a half more
than the others! Our course lay through a belt of thick bushes, but,
barring these, was good enough. At any rate, it turned out excellent
fun, and we all enjoyed our races.
The only one of us who did not get a prize was riding a horse which
came to us with rather a bad name, and which, immediately the others
started, dashed back to the troop.
During the afternoon we made up our cargoes ready for the morrow's
start, after our Christmas dinner, of which I print the menu:
LAGO BUENOS AIRES, 1900. CHRISTMAS DAY.
At 5 o'clock P.M.
NOTICE.--_Come early to get a good helping._
MENU.
Common or Garden Duff à la Azulejo. Condiment au lait Suisse.
GRAND DUFF à la H. Jones avec muscatelles.
Bœuf.
Ostrich à la Patagonie.
(If you want it.)
Gigot de Guanaco.
(Order beforehand.)
Cocao au lait} Suisse.
Thé au lait }
Vieux Cognac avec vulcanite.
Plug Tobacco.
GOD SAVE THE QUEEN.
In the evening after dinner we indulged in some shooting matches--with
the damaged Colt--which Barckhausen won.
[Illustration: A PATAGONIAN LAGOON]
On December 26 we bade good-bye to Horsham Camp. After a long interval
the _cargueros_ were once more loaded up, and the whole troop tailed
away to the eastward. Is any sight sadder than a deserted camp? The
dead or dying camp-fire, the broken remains of food surprised by the
sun, the litter, the bare rubbed grass, and the occasional fox. We
left some tins of corned beef behind us, as I hoped to travel very
fast to Santa Cruz. That day we made anything from eight to ten
leagues, and camped in Seven Ostriches _cañadon_, the spot that
Barckhausen and I had previously visited and named after the birds we
saw there.
The following day (27th) we made a good march and encamped by a
lagoon, upon which I shot two yellow-billed teal, and Jones and
Burbury four ducks, which were plucked before we came into camp. On
the morning after a very difficult part of our journey commenced. All
day we travelled over a pampa covered with basaltic fragments and
thorny bushes; some of these bushes bore a red tulip-like flower.
Enormous numbers of guanaco haunt these grim plateaus. Jones and I
galloped a half-grown one, and killed it with the help of a dog. The
going was extremely bad, our path lying through gorges and up
steep-sided ridges, rough with basaltic fragments and powdered with
sharp clinkers of lava. It is not easy to describe the changing
fortunes of such a day. For instance, we were turned again and again
by gullies and rifts in the hollows of the hills, and, what with
shifting cargoes on these cruel and almost perpendicular slopes, the
difficulty of keeping the troop of horses straight and of taking care
of one's own limbs, was extreme. Literally thousands of guanaco
appeared on the summits of the surrounding barren ridges, and fled
galloping down the rock-faces with jerking necks and flying hoofs.
Sometimes the old bucks would come and look at us, running towards us
and neighing and laughing, and then ducking their long necks and
cantering off. What they lived on in so sterile a region still remains
a mystery to me.
I saw one condor poised high.
Our Indian _baqueano_, Como No, had told us that we must strike
"between two hills." Barckhausen asserted that he had indicated to him
a couple of round peaks on the summit or rather forming the
culminating-points of this high basalt range. We made our way up these
monstrous steps, as it were, of rock, steering by the compass, and
after some twenty miles of travelling found ourselves upon a bare
black highland over which the wind was tearing in heavy gusts. No
wood, no water, no grass. I was afraid we should have to remain there
for the night, and also afraid that Mrs. Trelew, the _madrina_ of the
Trelew troop, whose udder was big, might drop her foal in that sterile
spot. Another danger which menaced us, was that the horses would
certainly become lame if they had to travel far over these broken
rocks. We therefore rode on perhaps another fourteen miles, and the
dark was falling when we found a camp in a _cañadon_--a bad approach
strewn with basalt fragments, but a fair camp at the end with a little
stream and good grass.
On December 29 the Trelew mare dropped her foal, a little
disproportionately-boned, huge-jointed _alazan_ filly. During the day
Scrivenor and I explored the _cañadon_ and I shot a guanaco and an
ostrich. The guanaco was a very father of guanacos, old, scarred,
black-faced and war-worn. His meat was worse than that of a he-goat.
To all sides of us stretched the limitless expanses of basalt, and our
outlook was not a cheerful one. An examination of the horses' hoofs
convinced us that another day's marching such as the last would work
great havoc amongst them. I did not know how far this wilderness of
basalt might extend, so on December 30 set out with Burbury to attempt
to find its boundary.
Our intention had been to strike the Indian trail under the Cordillera
and follow it until we reached the neighbourhood of the River
Belgrano, when we would keep the course of that river to its junction
with the River Chico, which in its turn would lead us down to the
settlement of Santa Cruz, our destination. When I left the Cordillera
I had made up my mind to return to them farther south at the Lake
Argentino near lat. 50°. To cover a large area of country, and at the
same time to collect specimens, is a physical impossibility. I had
therefore decided to leave Scrivenor at Santa Cruz to collect fossils
in that vicinity, while I myself again crossed the continent to the
Andes, some part of which I hoped to explore, and my dreams were not
uninfluenced by the stories of the red puma, of the existence of
which, however, Scrivenor was very dubious.
Such, then, were the reasons that were taking us to the eastern
coast, and my desire was to arrive there as soon as possible in order
to have plenty of time to carry out my projects before winter made
travelling of any kind impossible. Once we reached the River Belgrano
our difficulties would be over, that we knew; but in order to attain
this end we had to pass through a region somewhat waterless and stony
lying on the verge of the basalt wilderness, into which we had
strayed.
[Illustration: THE INDIAN TRAIL]
To get away from this basalt region was, of course, our first desire.
Could we but find the Indian trail, which we were sure must be at no
great distance, and which stretches, leading one from camp to camp,
all the way from Lake Buenos Aires to Punta Arenas, with a branch in
the direction of Santa Cruz, our troubles would be at an end. Owing,
however, to the lessening number of Indians, the track is now only
clearly visible for half a mile at a time in the neighbourhood of
fords and other difficult places.
To return to our search. Burbury and I had started early. The going at
first was over basalt clinker, fearful for the horses' feet, but
presently we came to a low round hillock of pebble--a hopeful sight,
for I had been half afraid we might be deep in the basalt wilderness.
Following on we discovered other pebbly hillocks, on one of which I
found a single horse-track, stamped when the ground was soft some time
previously. After a while, as we rounded a slope, we saw a bit of
green camp. We were bearing a little west of south, and there we
struck the full Indian trail--that wonderful trail, which runs league
after league, worn by the footsteps of generations upon generations of
Indians as they migrated up and down the length of the country with
their women and children, their guanaco-skin tents and their few
possessions.
The trail is much like a guanaco-track, or rather like several
running side by side. So the Tehuelches leave their footmarks, which
resemble those of the game they live by, and they leave little else to
show to those who come after, that here hundreds of men have existed
through the centuries, knowing such joys and sufferings as lie between
birth and death, only a trodden line across the waste and a few burnt
bushes by the wayside.
[Illustration: RIVER OLIN]
We rode back to the camp, and decided to try the little filly with a
short march, as much delay was out of the question. The horses all
appeared to be interested in the arrangement, and refused to be driven
unless the filly led. This she did, making her first journey trotting
beside her mother. We had to cross a ford, and Barckhausen brought the
filly over gently by the ear, Mrs. Trelew objecting extremely to such
treatment of her offspring. We are all very careful and tender over
our loose-limbed baby. During the short march we saw many guanacos.
The duration of the expedition might be divided into periods: first,
the biscuit period, when every one toasted biscuits, hard camp
biscuits, shiny and of a great size; followed by the dumpling period.
Now it was the damper period, which was the most appetising of them
all.
[Illustration: THE EASTERN PORTION OF LAKE BUENOS AIRES]
On the last day of the year we managed seven leagues, and camped in a
bare _cañadon_. New Year's Day we covered eight leagues of bare and
arid steppes of pampa. At this time we had a great deal of hunting. A
lame dog, left behind by our Argentine ostrich-hunter, turned out to
be excellent for sport. We named him Chichi. We camped by a lagoon of
muddy water with a thin strip of feed half encircling it, but the
grass was rich with seed. Mirages haunted our marches through this
desolate region. This chapter might be called "Through the Land of
Distant Hills." There was a savage loneliness between those wide
horizons that thrust itself upon you. One felt a mere atom, and the
thought of finding oneself condemned to live there alone seemed too
awful to face. The bare, round-headed hills looked old and bald,
eternal winds (though not so strong as nearer to the lake) whistled
sadly as before, and on all sides pampa pebbly and grassless, ridge on
ridge, horizon on horizon, mirage on mirage.
Suddenly, during that night, the sky became black over the distant
Cordillera and the rain began. Immediately we slung up the tents. Oh,
those tents, what a comfort they were at the end of a weary march! We
had no adequate poles and no bushes or pegs to hang them upon, but we
got them up somehow and put the cargo round them. Then we crept inside
and listened to the rain. The warm beds, the rugs, the candle and
tobacco and books. It was homelike. And the dry shirt one could put on
within that shelter, with the rain, rain outside! When you have slept
out in all weathers you begin to understand the full luxury of a tent
like ours, with its furs and warmth and a decent pipe out of the wind.
It is a moving home. To be free of the weather, to let it rain if it
wants to, to lie and listen to it, these are all thrilling pleasures,
pleasures because of the contrast to the wet open camp where, in spite
of the covered and sweating head and body, the pitiless rain trickles
in pools into your bed. And the spell of reading at night inside the
tent, the company of thoughts new and old of wise men, these are
pleasures of which only the wanderer knows the true sweetness.
During the next day or two we continued to travel over the same
waterless stony pampa; there were pigmy hillocks, many guanaco and a
lagoon of wonderful shades of blue, also the wind ahead, and dust
blowing back into our eyes. We crossed the River Olin and pushed on
for the River Chico. One cold night as we sat round the fire some one
suggested we should have an exhibition of our effects when we reached
Santa Cruz. Beyond a broken cup or two, a _bombilla_, and a shattered
kettle, we could produce little else. It was hinted that Barckhausen's
trousers might figure in it, and I offered to contribute my old coat.
Before reaching the River Belgrano we came in sight of a troop of
horses being driven across the pampa by a couple of Gauchos. At first
sight we thought them a mirage. On inquiry I was told that my friend
Señor Waag was in command, news at which I was naturally delighted. I
had made Mr. Waag's acquaintance in Buenos Aires, and we had arranged
to meet in Patagonia if possible. Mr. Waag was on the Argentine
Boundary Commission, and has done more valuable geographical work in
the Cordillera than any other man. Being told that he was only a
couple of hours behind the troop, I galloped on to meet him, for I
heard that his waggon had broken down, and so made sure of coming upon
him. After a few hours going, I arrived at the camp of his assistants,
where were two Italian engineers, and also some piratical-looking
_peones_ in red caps making bread in an oven dug into the ground. But
Mr. Waag himself was not there, having gone off the track to camp in a
_cañadon_. I was greatly disappointed, for I had looked forward to
this meeting.
[Illustration: RIVER BELGRANO]
However, we were greedy to hear news of the outer world, from which we
had been cut off for four months. We were far behind the times. I
think our first question was about the war and Kruger. We learned that
he was in Europe and that guerilla warfare was still going on. The
Italians' news only carried up to November.
[Illustration: THE ITALIAN ENGINEERS' WAGGON]
We made our camp a little way from theirs, and our hounds strayed over
to them and stayed with their waggons, deserting us altogether. As
for ourselves, we were most kindly entertained by the Italian
engineers, and enjoyed the luxuries of a tin of butter, biscuit,
bread, tea, milk, sugar and some cognac. Flies abounded and bothered
us as we ate our meal on a packing-case, an ostentatious comfort which
made us feel very civilised.
We were now in the valley of the Chico, which is a large stream with a
swift current, its _cañadon_ bordered with bare ridges. It felt like
old times to be in a river valley once more, reminding us of those we
had passed through on our way to Lake Buenos Aires. We saw geese
again, of which I shot two, and also a pigeon. The valley here was
very rich with red seed-bearing grass, and beyond, nearer to the
water, a glorious green _pantano_, dotted with deep clear pools.
Before parting with the Italians they presented us with some sugar and
I gave them some tea and tobacco. The valley through which we marched
continued to be very fertile. The grass was like that of an English
meadow with sweet far-off scents, but lacking the dewiness of our
English scents of wood and wold.
On January 7 we travelled eleven leagues, taking a short cut through a
bare _cañadon_ of dry mud-hills. Leaving this behind us we again came
in sight of the River Chico and crossed a high pampa of yellow
tussocks and gravel. The morning dawned hot with the usual
accompaniment of mosquitoes and sand-flies. As we sighted the river
this heat gave place to a fresh rain-smelling wind, inexpressibly
grateful.
In the afternoon, as we rode along, there appeared against the sky a
keen peak of rock--Sierra Ventana. We had long been looking forward to
our first glimpse of it, knowing it would be a sign that we were
nearing civilisation. Blue, distant, perhaps thirty miles away, behind
the basalt hills, it raised its strange castle-like head, only the
castle is of nature's building, not man's. I think we all welcomed
this token of the old kindly inhabited world again, after our months
spent on houseless plains and inhospitable mountains.
A herd of guanaco some twenty strong showed at almost the same moment.
I galloped forward, feeling glad that our dinner no longer depended
on my shot. I was a mere sportsman once more. The doe I shot had fat
on her, the first we had seen during our wanderings, "just as we've
got the chance of fat mutton, too," as someone remarked. Rain fell at
night, and the wind blew, but with the razor-edge of cold off. We
camped in some flowering grasses with the bare steppes of the pampa on
one side and the dark hills on the other; behind these, among some
bright streaks in the stormy billowy sky, the Sierra Ventana thrust up
its crest.
[Illustration: THE HOME OF THE INDIAN WHO GAVE US MUTTON]
Next day we came upon a hut of Indians, who gave me some mutton, for
which they would accept no payment. Perhaps they did not like to take
money from a man in so old a coat! I, however, gave them some tobacco.
[Illustration: SIERRA VENTANA]
Later we came upon a bush-shelter of some tender of sheep and cattle.
It was a forlorn little place--just a hut of poles and bushes and
skins by the river bank. It was doorless, and the dweller must have
been a very small man, judging by his bed, which was a hole in the
earth, pillowed with a broken wooden cargo-saddle. On one of the props
was fastened a card with the word "_Salido_" (Gone out). A bag of
canvas, old and stained, was tied up to the roof, a cracked tiny
mirror hung from the central pole. He seemed to have no provisions,
only a bag of _yerba_. He had recently killed a lion, for we found its
skull. We saw some half-wild cattle near by. It was a grey evening,
and, as always when out of the river valleys, the scene around was
colourless basaltic desolation.
[Illustration: LA GAVIOTA]
On the 9th we struck three habitations. Strong squalls with gusts of
rain accompanied us on our way. Sheep and cattle could be seen in the
valley below, and at last we stopped at an _estancia_, where we bought
fariña, flour, biscuit, sugar, and mutton--luxuries to which we had
for some time been strangers. The owner allowed us to sleep in some
mud-houses by the river, and we enjoyed the shelter, partial as it
was.
Our next day's march took us across four fords, and by evening we
reached an _estancia_, where I was kindly received and given afternoon
tea. _Estancia_ is a word with a fine sound. It may, however, mean
anything from a real house, full of comfort, to a mud hut. This
_estancia_ was a delightful change to us; we could sit on chairs and
saw prints on the wall and a sideboard once more. The night fell very
cold, with an empty heaven overhead, but its lower arcs set with
slate-blue cloud.
On the 11th we hit civilisation after a march of over forty miles, the
last part of which lay across a _travesia_. Civilisation took the form
of an undersized drinking-shop perched on the rim of the bare pampa.
How we had longed for civilisation--and now we had found it! I sat
writing in a room with pink fly-blown walls and green fittings of the
grimiest. Four Gauchos of the lower sort were playing cards for beans
and shrieking over their game. The little innkeeper, a small, dark,
aquiline, black-bearded Argentine, in a dirty white vest and a black
neck-rag, held rule inside. Any camp is better than these antennæ of
civilisation, that seem to have touched and always to bear onwards
with them things unclean and repulsive. Jones' homely face was good to
see, when he came in and said, "I should like to be away from here."
[Illustration: SANTA CRUZ]
I realised suddenly how I loved the camp and the cold clean hills,
when I heard the raucous music of that unlovely place. It was
scarcely a pleasure to see cognac advertisements again, and to smell
the dregs of yesterday yet awash on the greasy grey metal counter! A
concertina was playing the old aching tunes that always seem to carry
with them tags of vice and crime.
[Illustration: RESIDENTS OF SANTA CRUZ]
We pushed on for Santa Cruz, and on the way passed the house of
another trader, who also sold liquor. It squatted beside the river,
which here flowed blue and estuary-like between white-faced cliffs
backed by bald hills. A board over the door of the shop bore the
legend "_La Gaviota_," or Seagull. It was evidently part of the
wreckage of some boat washed up on these beaches.
Santa Cruz town is situated on the banks of a large estuary formed by
the junction of the rivers Santa Cruz and the Southern Chico before
they fall into the Atlantic. It is a straggling place, a collection of
wooden houses with roofs of corrugated iron. The chief export is wool,
which in the season lies in long rows of bales upon the shore ready
to be embarked. The town lies beyond sandhills, which separate it from
the sea. Concertinas and jack-boots ring in its galvanised-iron huts;
mules, horses, dogs, and cattle house in its formless _plazas_. It is
a place which you hate and like at one and the same time. You long to
get away from it while you are there, yet find yourself looking back
sometimes and wishing to see again its vague streets and its drag-net
agglomeration of humanity.
CHAPTER XIII
JOURNEY TO LAKE ARGENTINO
Dividing expedition -- Darwin's trip up the Santa Cruz --
Provisions -- Shoeing horses -- Pampa grass and marsh
grass -- Start for Lake Argentino -- Burbury and Bernardo
-- Visit various _estancias_ -- Negro -- Suspicious
wayfarers -- Hospitality -- _Cañadon_ of the Santa Cruz --
Dry pampa -- Sunsets -- Game and wildfowl -- Flamingos --
Sandflies -- Mystery Plain -- Lake Argentino -- River del
Bote -- Mount Viscachas -- Lonely lagoon -- Death-place of
guanaco -- Neigh of guanaco -- Large herds -- Thorny grass
-- Description of Lake Argentino -- A tragedy of wild life
-- Condors -- Numerous birds and beasts of prey --
Severities of winters -- Snowfall -- Burmeister Peninsula
-- Lake Rica or South Fjord -- Bad weather -- The Wild Man
of Santa Cruz.
I spent a few days in Santa Cruz making arrangements to divide my
expedition into two parts, leaving Scrivenor with the _peones_ to
collect fossils and specimens in the neighbourhood of the River Santa
Cruz, where most interesting deposits exist, while I with Burbury and
a _peon_, whom I picked up at Santa Cruz, recrossed the continent to
the lake-region.
In a huge country like Patagonia, to explore and to collect at the
same time is practically out of the question, but by dividing our
forces I hoped to achieve both ends more satisfactorily.
The lake which I now wished to visit is the last very large piece of
water in the long chain of Andean lakes and lagoons. It is a little to
the south of 50° S. lat. From this lake, Lake Argentino, the River
Santa Cruz flows eastwards and empties itself into the Atlantic, the
settlement of Santa Cruz being situated at the mouth of the river. It
was by following the course of this river upwards for some 140 miles
that Darwin made his only serious expedition into the interior of
Patagonia. His party found the passage of the river both dangerous and
laborious, and Captain FitzRoy decided to return to Santa Cruz on the
fifth day, after they sighted the snowy summits of the Cordillera.
Thus they never reached Lake Argentino.
We also followed the course of the river, but on horseback instead of
by boat, and thus for the early part of our journey we passed through
the identical country traversed by Darwin.
[Illustration: THE MAIN STREET, SANTA CRUZ]
I desired above all things to be able to move rapidly, and accordingly
cut down the amount and weight of our baggage as far as prudence
permitted. I append a list of the provisions, which I intended--with
the help of guanaco meat--to last us for the four months which
remained before we must return to the coast if we wished to escape the
severities of the Andean winter:
35 kilos fariña.
25 kilos oatmeal.
15 kilos sugar.
6 lb. tea.
12 tins cocoa.
Besides these we took a spare change of underclothing, one of the
tents, fifty rounds of 12-bore ball and the same quantity of shot
cartridges and 150 for the Mauser rifle.
We were able to put everything on two _cargueros_, and even then they
were not very heavily loaded. I took two _madrinas_, the Zaino mare
and Mrs. Trelew, with their respective troops, the horses numbering
in all twenty-one. During their rest in Santa Cruz they had attained
to quite fair condition, and were in consequence ready for the road.
It was necessary to shoe such as would permit the operation, as their
hoofs had been worn down by the basalt fragments which had strewed our
path from the north. The operation, by the way, was one which we had
to perform ourselves, as the blacksmith at Santa Cruz, on being asked
to do it, said he preferred the trade of building wooden houses, but
consented to lend us his forge and tools for three dollars a day. We
had some difficulty in finding shoes to fit, and I warn any future
traveller against the nails which they keep for shoeing purposes in
the settlement.
The short harsh grass usually to be had on the pampa is certainly a
very much better food for horses destined to travel long and hard
journeys than the beautiful meadowy _vegas_ of the Cordillera, which
look so inviting. The richer grass of the latter naturally fattens
them in a wonderfully short space of time, but the first hard day's
march cuts up their condition like so much butter.
We left Santa Cruz on January 22. I was accompanied by Burbury and a
Swede, Bernardo Hähansen, who proved in the event to be a useful and
courageous fellow. Our first march took us to Mr. Campbell's
_estancia_. We saw a good number of guanaco and some ostriches on the
way, which at first lay across the open pampa, afterwards diving into
a deep _cañadon_ some seven and a half leagues long. The little Blanco
showed his appreciation of the excellent food he had been enjoying by
behaving badly. On arrival we found Mr. Campbell was away from the
farm repairing fences, so we were obliged to await his return. When he
came, he took us up to the house, where we had some tea. We remained
at the _estancia_ for the night, and next day went on about three
leagues over good pampa to Messrs. Cressard and Dobree's. The manager,
Mr. John Noble, received us kindly. The cook at this farm, a former
New Zealand hand, had come with us to Puerto Madryn in the _Primero de
Mayo_, and said he would have applied to go with us had he known how
to cargo horses. As he cooked very well I should have been glad to
have received his application. On January 24 we reached Clementi's
_estancia_. We were accompanied on the march by an old Irish sailor
with a Hibernian cast of countenance. The _señora_ asked us into the
house and at once gave us hot milk and bread, which was very grateful
after a long day in the saddle. The valley near by was full of sheep,
and several healthy-looking children were playing about the buildings.
Here also I saw the first and only negro I met with in Patagonia. The
sight of his face gave me a sudden vivid recollection of Hayti. A
long-bearded Argentine patriarch, whom I descried first in the
half-lights of the kitchen during the evening, looked a very Abraham
and most venerable, but daylight on the morrow robbed him of all
romance.
[Illustration: FORD ON THE RIVER SANTA CRUZ]
On this day (the 25th) we pushed on to the Sub-prefecto's _estancia_.
It consisted of the usual corrugated iron shanty and barn. We marched
on the following morning and reached La Ultima Casa, where we were
hospitably entertained by Mrs. Hardy. She was indeed very kind. Her
husband had been an Englishman, but she herself was an Argentine. It
is certainly a fact in Patagonia that the Argentines are far more
ready to show hospitality than are our own countrymen. One hardly
wonders, however, at people being a little cautious and suspicious,
as the wayfarer is not always a wandering angel in Patagonia, or, for
that matter, in any thinly populated country that is being newly
opened up. Therefore we were the more grateful to our hostess of La
Ultima Casa. At the shanty of another farmer, a Scotchman, we had had
the door bolted against us, and been told to await his home-coming if
we wished to enter the house.
We ate our meal at Mrs. Hardy's sitting on up-turned boxes, and she
brought out some magazines for our reading. Hers was a strange
existence, poor old lady! She appeared to be regarded or--it comes to
the same thing--thought she was regarded a little in the light of an
Ishmaelite by her neighbours, who were trying (she told me) to acquire
her land. Her position did not seem to be prosperous. The _casa_ had
the usual corrugated roof, and her one window could boast no glass.
From this main building a sort of barn jutted out to the left. Later
on, I decided that this annex, which I at first took to be a barn,
must be the old lady's private sanctum, for from it she produced five
magazines, some lions' claws, a skunk-skin rug, some hen's eggs, and
the hen herself. A regular widow's cruse of a place. The blackened
roof of the kitchen was supported by four beams lengthways and four
across, these last shiny as if tarred with the smoke of many winters.
An old step-ladder in the corner answered the uses of a cupboard, cups
and so forth being kept on a couple of wooden shelves, and lumps of
sheep's fat decorated the room. We sat on the old wooden bedstead with
its pile of sheepskins for bed-clothes and wrote our diary. Our
hostess, who wore her hair in two plaits hanging down at each side of
her face, sat on a case and talked while she drank the inevitable
_maté_ through a _bombilla_. She asked us to remain over a second day,
which was most good of her, but we had to continue our journey.
We marched until about three o'clock, when, coming up to an empty
shanty, we took shelter in it for a while, as it happened to be very
hot. Later we started again, and made a long march across a pampa
above the _cañadon_ of the Santa Cruz, which is here two miles or more
in breadth. Speaking of this _cañadon_, I cannot do better than give
Darwin's words: "This valley varies from five to ten miles in
breadth: it is bounded by step-formed terraces, which rise in most
parts one above the other to the height of 500 feet, and have on the
opposite sides a remarkable correspondence."
The river winds considerably as it flows through the _cañadon_, the
sides of which are very bare and grassless, excepting where springs
break through and flow down the cliff-side, their course being marked
by a line of vivid green. The pampa above, along which we travelled,
was made up of bare yellow levels, broken here and there by strips and
patches of a very dark green bush, so dark as to seem almost black. We
found a good deal of difficulty in getting to a camp with water, as
the pampa was very dry, so we prolonged our march till 7.15 P.M., when
we came upon a shallow and turbid stream running down in a southerly
direction from the _barranca_. In the end we had to descend into the
_cañadon_ of the river. Not far from the spot which we chose for
camping lay the bodies of some eighty guanaco with their skins on,
which had died during the previous winter.
The landscape immediately on the banks of the Santa Cruz is arid and
hopeless in the extreme, but one can never forget the glory of
Patagonia, its wonderful sunsets, which gleam out over the dull-hued
empty wastes in a splendour of colour. So on that night as I stood in
the shadow that steeped all my side of the river, the other bank was
lit up with a translucent glow of sunset as delicately yellow as if it
shone through the petals of a buttercup.
On January 27 we started along the _cañadon_, which continued to be
desolate and rather stony. We saw many guanaco, living and dead. After
a time we made for the pampa above, from where we looked once again
upon the Cordillera, gleaming very dim and faint on the horizon.
Finding a lagoon with some grass about it, we off-saddled for an hour.
Later we marched on rather more slowly than usual, and camped in such
a place as a wildfowler might see in dreams of the night. A lagoon of
sword-blue water, but in shape like an arrowhead, rimmed in with low
green rushes, above these yellow tussocks of coarse grass bending in
the wind, behind all a bare promontory arched over by a sad evening
sky. On the breeze came the "Honk, honk" of geese mixed with the
thinner notes of snipe. Ducks, too, were there, and the snipe in wisps
of thirty. Presently, as I sat writing, a guanaco came in sight, and
later a flock of cayenne lapwings (_Vanellus cayennensis_). I might
have been, as far as the aspect of things was concerned (save for the
guanaco) in Uist and going home to a warm fireside, instead of
journeying on and on for many days and weeks to come over the endless
pampa and into the distant Cordillera.
[Illustration: THE DRINKING-PLACE.]
At this lagoon also I saw a condor (_Sarcorhampus gryphus_), and
before this had seen a couple when at Mrs. Hardy's. It must have been
near this spot that Darwin shot his condor, which he speaks of as
measuring eight and a half feet from wing-tip to wing-tip, and four
feet from head to tail.
By the middle of the next day (January 28) we reached a lagoon with a
threshold of green meadowy marsh, a relief after a long pull over a
waterless and bare stretch of country, and there took a needed
half-hour of rest. On our second starting we managed to wander into a
desert of basalt or lava, and could only advance very slowly and with
difficulty.[22] Nor could we find water for a long time; at length we
came in sight of a big pool lying ruffled in the saffron lights of the
sunset. Upon its margin or in the water were flamingos (_Phoenicopterus
ignipalliatus_), upland geese (_Chloephaga magellanica_), thirty-four
bandurias (_Theristicus caudatus_). There were also guanaco within
sight. Here we camped, and found yet another deep and rocky lagoon, on
which were many divers which I could not identify. A heavy wind was
blowing, which died down at night and gave occasion for hundreds of
sandflies to rise and worry us. Each day, as we marched on, the
Cordillera seemed to be advancing, as it were, towards us.
We woke to find the next day pale with thin sunlight glinting across
the prospect of basalt, low bushes and far horizons. We were now well
beyond Mystery Plain, which formed the limit of Darwin's expeditions
up the river, and which he named with a strong desire to push on and
find out what lay on its farther side.
On the 29th we made a long march. After some couple of hours' going we
saw ahead of us clear pampa instead of the rocky stone-strewn surface
of the region we had been passing through of late. Over this pampa,
though it was tussocky and uneven, we were able to advance at a good
rate towards a line of hills that rose in the west. As we approached
we saw that they stood up ridge behind ridge, and over these we rode,
passing many good camping-grounds and seeing herds of guanaco, but no
wood or bush for fire. At last we got to the top of the last ridge of
all, and there, standing in the teeth of a strong wind, we looked down
upon Lake Argentino lying below us, and backed by the peaks and snow
summits of the Cordillera.
Although there were many _cañadones_ and grass of the richest, we
could find no water, and so went on and on.
Presently, as we were descending towards the lake, we reached a
lagoon, but found no feed there for the horses, so we were forced to
leave it behind, although the troop was tired and we had been for
several hours in the saddle. I perceived traces of horses at some
distance, and we therefore left the bank of the lagoon and cut across
the pampa heading for them. We wandered on through bare hills, which
fell in perplexing folds, curve within curve, and at last we reached
the River del Bote, which has but one ford by which we could cross.
This we found, worked the troop over, and then encamped.
[Illustration: MAP OF LAKE ARGENTINO AND DISTRICT.
_SHOWING ROUTES._]
Day by day we had been leaving behind us the seemingly limitless
pampas and were now drawing close to the full blue range of
minaret-shaped mountains. Each march was adding to their height and
making clearer the details hidden in the hedge-sparrow-egg hue of
their distances. First we came in sight of Mount Viscachas one morning
when, bearing a little too far out upon the pampa, we struck a tract
of very bad going. The ground was covered with thorny bushes and
basalt fragments, and here and there harsh tussocks of grass sprouted
from the blackened wilderness of stones. The night we passed beside
the lagoon on the high pampa left an impression on my mind as one of
the most desolate and forbidding of camps. Flocks of flamingos were
standing in the upland pool, and round about upon the little
promontories that thrust out into the wind-whipped water bandurias
were huddled in close order, while as the evening began to fall a wisp
of snipe flew over, wailing most mournfully. Few things, indeed, seem
to me to bring out into keener prominence the loneliness of a place
than the cry of snipe heard in the windy gloaming. There is some
suggestion of human sorrow in the sound.
So we had journeyed westward, having always upon the south the yellow
pampa, and beside us on the north the river running through its deep
_cañadon_, while every dawn the vast phalanx of the Andean peaks
seemed to have moved nearer, as though the great mass of mountain was
marching slowly and surely towards us like the battle-front of some
destroying army.
Again we came upon a second death-place of guanaco, which made a scene
strange and striking enough. There cannot have been less than five
hundred lying there in positions as forced and ungainly as the most
ill-taken snapshot photograph could produce. Their long necks were
outstretched, the rime of weather upon their decaying hides, and their
bone-joints glistening through the wounds made by the beaks of
carrion-birds. They had died during the severities of the previous
winter, and lay literally piled one upon another. A brown, almost
chocolate-coloured, lagoon washed close to the front rank of the dead,
and those in the rearmost line had evidently lain down to die while in
the very act of descending the tall _barranca_ for water. The
mortality among guanaco in a really hard winter is tremendous. They
die in batches, absolutely in hundreds. At that season they come down
to the lower grounds for warmth and water, but desert them in the
summer and take to the high pampa, where, as I have described in
another place, the Indians hunt and slay them in great numbers for
their pelts. The cry of the guanaco is a noise unique. It is something
between a bleat, a laugh, and a neigh. Often the old _macho_ of a herd
would come to the high ground nearest to our camp, and from it neigh
defiance at us, while the rest of the point would satisfy their
curiosity by staring from a safer distance.
Upon the high pampa, across which, bearing north-west, we passed, we
found guanaco to be extraordinarily plentiful, and fatter than any we
had hitherto met with in our wanderings through the country. Upon this
pampa was no firewood at all, nothing save rolling grass which pricked
you with minute thorns, so that a walk through it left your putties
spined like a porcupine. To stalk in this grass, where the guanacos
were unusually wild, and long periods of crawling were necessary to
attain success, one had to carry a piece of guanaco-skin in the left
hand, which took up the grass spines that must otherwise have entered
the palm of the hunter.
Our first glimpse of Lake Argentino was a strongly-marked and vivid
picture as seen from the rim of the high pampa when we surmounted it.
A great eye of blue water--for the sun was bright--set beneath white
pent-house brows of the mountain range. A tremendous wind was blowing
out of the north-west, and we could see the great southern lake was in
a turmoil of short and angry seas. Deep channels cut away into the
depths of the Cordillera at the western end, and at the eastern side
the waters flowed out into the swift current of the River Santa Cruz.
Farther along the northern shore the _cañadon_ of the River Leona was
also visible. We could not then guess how glad we should one day be to
reach the haven of that river mouth. Beyond the lake, and partly
surrounding it, the Cordillera raised their jagged line of peaks
against the sky. From the bases upwards towards the higher altitudes
the mountains were black with forests. Three large icebergs floated on
the water at the farther side, one of which had drifted into shallows
near the shore. No sign of life was to be observed anywhere in the
great hollow stretching beneath us.
To my mind Argentino is a far more beautiful lake than Buenos Aires.
After a long look we began to descend into the lower land by a sharp
cleft that led down into a deep _cañadon_. It was, owing to a recent
landslip, a nasty piece of travelling, and the horses, disliking it,
broke back more than once, the _Zaino overo_ taking the lead as usual.
[Illustration: FIORD OF LAKE ARGENTINO, SHOWING FOREST ON MOUNT
AVELLANEDA]
Emerging from this cleft we came on one of Nature's tragedies. Upon
the side of the slope was a guanaco, fallen (when I first caught
sight of it) upon its knees, and making frantic efforts to rise. Three
huge condors were poised a few feet above the head of the unfortunate
animal. I galloped towards them, and as I came near the guanaco fell
over upon its side, still moving convulsively. At once one of the
condors lit on the ground beside it. I cannot have been more than a
minute approaching, and as I came close the condor rose into the air
to some distance. A thin stream of blood was trickling down the
surface of the rock upon which the guanaco lay, and the poor creature
was jerking its legs and body. During the moment which I had taken to
ride up the condor had torn out its eyes! The guanaco was evidently
dying of scab, and had thinned down into a mere skeleton.
I own to a horror and a loathing of the condor. Seen against the pale
hue of the sky, its stately flight and grand spread of motionless wing
made it seem a noble bird, but near by it shared the repulsive
appearance of other carrion-eaters. In size it is enormous. I shot one
off Hellgate measuring nine feet three inches across the outstretched
pinions. It rivals the vulture in its ability to quickly discover and
arrive upon the scene of a feast, and is in the habit of gorging
itself until it becomes practically powerless, and it is possible to
slay it afoot with a stick. It is one thing to be well mounted on a
good horse and to watch, as you ride along, the far specks in the
intense blue, or to admire them wheeling in wide graceful circles with
quiescent wings, but quite another aspect of them would be borne in
upon you if your horse chanced to stumble, and left you, say, with a
broken leg upon the empty pampa; long before help might come, or,
indeed, if you were alone, would be at all likely to come, you would
make a terribly close acquaintance with the methods a condor adopts
when meat--be it dead or wounded--falls under his power of beak and
claw.
Patagonia is certainly a wonderful country for birds and beasts of
prey. You may travel leagues upon leagues and see no sign of life save
chimangos (_Milvago chimango_), caranchos (_Polyborus thaurus_), and
condors (_Sarcorhampus gryphus_) in the air and upon the bushes, and
at your feet the tracks of lion and of fox and of skunk. Sometimes
this fact strikes you with peculiar force. The landscape made up of
thorny bushes and spike grass jagged rocks, and white and grey slime,
in which live the puma, the wild-cat, and the fox; the air inhabited
by birds of prey. What do they live upon, these creatures, there are
so many of them? How do they eke out existence? Sparse herds of
guanaco (I am now alluding to the sterile portions of the country,
such as lie about the north shore of Lake Buenos Aires and also part
of the north shore of Lake Argentino), a few small birds, and abundant
rodent life of the smaller species--that is all. Curiously enough, in
the richer lands of Patagonia, it seemed to me that, though there was
more game, there were fewer birds and beasts of prey.
In the winter and in the spring the country, as far as wild life is
concerned, is but a thin and gaunt place. Nothing that wanders carries
any fat, for the food has been reduced to a minimum. It is on this
sterile battlefield of nature that living creatures enter into a
death-grapple with the conditions of life, and swing to and fro in a
contest whose outcome is only decided when the dark days of storm are
over; for at this season the richer lands are often under snow, and it
is about the bare margins of lakes and lagoons that the game gathers
and remains.
All the way up the River Santa Cruz we were able to recognise the
points marked and named by Darwin, until finally his party was forced
through lack of provisions to turn back just when he had arrived
within reasonable distance of the great lake. He named this last
prospect he looked out over in Patagonia, "Mystery Plain." Now it no
longer is mysterious, but Darwin's map remains to this day the best
chart made of the river.
His description and his opinion of the country are sufficiently
dismal, but he passed through a waste and empty land, before
colonising on the coasts had reached its present state, or much of the
country within reach of the sea had been partitioned, as it now is,
into sheep farms. And it must be admitted that the neighbourhood of
the Santa Cruz is somewhat sterile, and would be likely to give a
false idea of Patagonia as a forbidding land to a stranger who knew no
more of the country than the coast and this boulder and sand-strewn
river valley. This _cañadon_ is, in fact, covered with glacial
detritus.
[Illustration: END OF SOUTHERN FIORD OF LAKE ARGENTINO]
Leaving the shore of the lake well to our right we rode parallel
with it for some miles, crossed the Rivers Calafate and de los Perros,
and finally arrived upon a peninsula which culminates in Mount Buenos
Aires. This peninsula is called the Burmeister Peninsula. Here, many
days' ride into the interior, and under the very shadow of the Andes,
lives an English pioneer, Mr. Cattle, whom we visited, and who was
kind enough to help me in every way and to give us hospitality.
During the first night we spent upon the shores of Lake Argentino
there was a heavy snowfall on the tops of the nearer mountains.
[Illustration: _ESTANCIA_ OF MR. E. CATTLE]
Our first move was in the direction of Lake Rica--so-called locally.
Upon the maps we had with us it was marked as a separate lake
connected by a river with Lake Argentino. We soon proved this to be a
mistake, the so-called Lake Rica being an arm of the large lake,
connected with the parent volume of water by a channel of considerable
width, which is occasionally blocked, or nearly so, by icebergs. I
should mention that we had left England before the publication of Dr.
Moreno's excellent map, in which this and many other errors had
already been set right.
Taking our horses, we made our way to the south-west along the shores
of Lake Rica. We were forced to make détours, as the steep banks were
cut up by innumerable rifts, at the bottom of nearly every one of
which streams of varying size emptied themselves into the fjord. Heavy
forests clothed the slopes of the hills almost to the margin of the
water. Very little animal life was to be observed. I picked up a
number of iron-ore stalactites on the shores and also from the mud of
the shallow water near them. When approaching the end of this South
Fjord--as Lake Rica should properly be called--of Lake Argentino we
crossed a river or rather, I should say, a torrent, that after a
riotous course between very steep cliffs flowed over a rocky bed into
the South Fjord. This river would have been, I should say, impassable
at an earlier date in the season.
Our advance was finally stopped by cliffs which descended clear to the
water's edge. We camped on the shingle at the foot of the cliffs just
short of the spot where their bases plunged under the level of the
water, and all night long we could hear the rushing thunder of masses
of ice breaking from the parent glaciers and crashing down into the
fjord.
The weather now completely broke up. Rain fell in, close steady lines
all across our outlook over the western fjord, and the drenched
forests behind us tossed and creaked in the wind. Nothing more dismal
and depressing can be imagined than this forest-land dim with lowering
skies and a downpour of rain. For four days the heavy rain, sometimes
mixed with sleet, continued to fall, and through it we rode back to
the Burmeister Peninsula.
It was upon the shores of Lake Argentino that a great Gaucho, perhaps
I should say the greatest of all Gauchos, one Ascensio Brunel, at one
time found a hiding-place. We visited the spot later on, but here I
may as well tell some part of the story of his life. He was very
generally known for many years as the "Wild Man of Santa Cruz," and
his history was an extraordinary one--one of those smears of high and
vivid colour which circumstance occasionally paints in upon the dull
humdrum picture of the daily life of a district.
Let us set out his antecedents.
He and his brother were Gauchos. They lived in camp, and were partners
in a small business. Cattle, sheep, and horses formed their stock.
Once they went together on a long journey, and became acquainted with
a lady, whom we will call Bathsheba. They both loved her; yet she was
another's.
[Illustration: THE WILD MAN.]
The two brothers descended upon that other and slew him. Then they
made off with the lady to the wilder districts. There they quarrelled
about her. Ascensio waited until his brother happened to be away
tracking horses in a particularly wild part, and then he rounded up
the remainder of the stock, and he and the lady fled yet deeper
into the interior. For a space they covered their tracks and escaped
the brother.
In the course of time the lady left her lover, as ladies will, and he,
his brain turned by some strange passion, went mad.
When we strike his trail again he was known as the "Wild Man of Santa
Cruz."
He began to steal horses, found the sport to his liking, and stole
more. Unable to use or keep them, he merely drove them to some sleepy
hollow, where he killed them in hundreds. (We once counted
eighty-three of these skeletons in one place.) He dressed in the skins
of pumas from head to foot. His saddle was of puma-skin, and armed
only with _boleadores_ he ranged the land stealing. His career was a
long one, and he became such a Gaucho as has never been known. To-day
he might be heard of as lifting a dozen horses on the Santa Cruz
River; a week later he was spiriting away _tropillas_ in Chubut.
He had the run of 300,000 square miles, the whole of Patagonia was his
farm, his stock what he could steal.
You may remember that I described a meeting with Indians, a tribe who
lived in tents of guanaco-skins on the River Mayo. The Wild Man paid
them a visit, and stole a hundred mares; and they, discovering it,
rode down his trail and caught him. They took him alive and haled him
as a prisoner to the nearest settlement, where he was put in gaol.
He escaped, made straight back, and lifted another big batch of the
Mayo Indians' horses.
Again they pursued him, but he was fain to escape, being mounted on a
very good horse. At last, only one Indian continued to hold on his
trail, and he, when he neared the wild figure clad in puma-skins, grew
afraid and turned back.
The Wild Man rode on, and also out of our story and all human ken.
That was four years ago. He has not been heard of since. But I daresay
that the Mayo Indians could finish off the story with a different
ending.
FOOTNOTE:
[22] A guide who applied to me at Santa Cruz warned me that, if we
went without him, we would have great difficulty at this point. He
asked ten dollars a day for his services, which I, however, declined.
CHAPTER XIV
THE DOWN-STREAM NAVIGATION OF THE RIVER LEONA
Boat necessary for farther exploration -- Steam-launch on
shores of Lake Viedma our only hope -- Start to find her
-- Difficulty of crossing Santa Cruz River -- River Leona
-- Old camp -- Hills and guanaco-tracks -- Lake Viedma --
Finding launch -- Damaged by wanderers -- Down-stream trip
discussed -- Repairing launch -- Our one chance of
penetrating Cordillera -- Risks of down-stream passage --
Gathering firewood -- Cold work -- Launch of _Ariel_ --
Aspect of Leona River -- Good intentions -- Califate fuel
-- Desolate evening -- Getting up stream -- Start in bad
weather -- Obliged to put back -- Second start -- Sucked
into current of Leona -- Bernardo puts on steam -- Rain --
Stop for the night -- Dangers of Leona channel -- Second
day's trip -- Launch turns in squall -- Rushing down
stream -- Racing ahead of the current -- Awaiting the
finish -- Reach after reach -- Rounding a cliff -- Choice
of many channels -- Narrow passage -- Safe -- Sup off
armadillo -- "If."
As it was impossible to make any further exploration without a craft
of some sort, I began to cast about for materials for boat-building
or, rather, for boat-repairing. There were a couple of canvas boats on
the spot, left on the shore by a Commission some three years
previously, with which I thought perhaps something might be done. But
these, on examination, proved to be so worn with the stress of
weather, and when launched shipped so much water, that it seemed
hardly practicable to use them for our purpose, the more especially as
their holding capacity made it impossible to take more than a small
quantity of provisions.
I next heard of a boat on the River Santa Cruz, but that was also in
very evil plight, added to which the odds were against our being able
to get her up to Lake Argentino, owing to the fact that the River
Santa Cruz was in flood and the current more than usually fierce.
_Note._--The author regrets the comparative absence of
illustration to this chapter. The launch shipped so much
water through her broken plate and in other ways that the
photographs taken were destroyed.
I have mentioned in an earlier chapter the boat which Dr. Moreno had
during his last expedition in the year 1897 brought, at much cost and
labour, to Lake Viedma. There lay our hope. It was a steam-launch, and
the Argentine Commission had packed her up carefully and snugly on the
shore; but, although we knew nothing of her present condition, we were
aware that the chances against her remaining undisturbed for that
period of time were small, as Lake Viedma is not difficult of access,
and in all probability wandering bands of Indians or Gauchos had got
at the boat, stripped off her covering of canvas, and looted such of
her contents as seemed to possess any value in their eyes.
[Illustration: THE LAUNCH
WITH MR. CATTLE AND BERNARDO ON BOARD]
However that might be, this launch appeared to be our only resource,
and I was lucky indeed to have been given leave to use her if
necessary. On my speaking to Cattle on the matter, he was kind enough
to offer to accompany me. Burbury possessed a good knowledge of
engineering, which would be of invaluable service to us, and, as it
happened, Bernardo, in the course of his adventurous career, had had
some experience in the engine-room of a Brazilian steamer.
So on February 15 we set out for Lake Viedma, with the idea of
bringing the launch, if possible, down the River Leona, which is the
connecting waterway between the Lakes Viedma and Argentino.
To travel from our starting point at the foot of Mount Buenos Aires to
Lake Viedma it was necessary to skirt Lake Argentino until the
southern outlet of the Leona was reached, and then to follow that
river to its source in Lake Viedma. The distance was about eighty
miles more or less, and included the fording of the River Santa Cruz.
Our party was made up of four men and twenty-one horses, and upon one
of the packs we took a light canvas collapsible boat and a pair of
oars with which to negotiate the Santa Cruz.
On the following evening we arrived on its southern bank. There we
found an old Commission boat that was used as a ferry, but it was
beached, with the usual contrariety of things, on the wrong side of
the stream, which is from one hundred and fifty to two hundred yards
wide at this spot and runs with a swift current. Many a Gaucho has
lost his life in attempting to cross lower down.
Next morning it was still dark when the plume of smoke rose from our
camp-fire of califate-wood, and as we sat round it waiting for the
_asado_ to cook, we smoked (a bad habit when indulged in before
breakfast, against which one would warn everybody else) and drank
_maté_. It was a cool dawn I remember that developed later into a hot
day. We put the collapsible boat together, and Cattle, after a mishap
with a rowlock, brought the old and leaky ford-boat across, as we
needed her to transport our baggage. We piled the cargo into her, and
such weak places as we could deal with we strengthened.
The theory was to take the filly through the river behind the boat,
trusting that the old black bell-mare would follow her offspring, and
the troop in its turn follow the mare, as had occurred on the occasion
of our former crossing of the river near the settlement of Santa
Cruz.
So we dragged the reluctant and much-protesting filly down to the
riverside, conveyed the boat a few hundred yards up-stream, and then
Bernardo and I got aboard and shoved off. I had put a collar round the
filly's neck, and by this supported her in the wake of the boat. All
would have gone well had not one of the rowlocks, worn by weather and
worm-eaten, struck work and smashed. Left with but one oar the current
took charge of us. Soon the unfortunate filly began to turn over in
the water like a catherine-wheel, and I was unable to help her much,
as I was holding a rowlock in place with one hand and supporting the
filly with the other. Eventually we were obliged to put back, and were
lucky enough to make the south bank just in time, for at that part of
the shore there is but a small stretch upon which it is possible to
land; immediately below high cliffs descend sheer to the water.
After this we resolved to drive the troop over before us, but although
they had had a long-journey experience of river-crossing they did not
care to face the Santa Cruz. In spite of our efforts they broke back
five or six times. Once we nearly had them in the water, when the
little Zaino got away and galloped up the bank. At last, however, by
dint of bellowing and brandishing oars or anything that came handy, we
succeeded in convincing them that the south shore of the Santa Cruz
had become unhealthy to remain upon, and so they swam over. We started
at once with a boatful of gear, and landed barely in time to defeat
the ambitious intentions of the leading spirits of the troop, who on
getting out of the water decided to make off and regain a life of
freedom.
As soon as we got the baggage over we saddled-up and rode through a
very sandy tract of land, and by evening made our camp under a bare
hillside by the River Leona.
I believe that a German expedition had once encamped there. Both wheat
and beans were growing near the long-deserted camp-fire. No doubt the
seed had fallen from some of the provision-bags of the Germans. There
was also a miniature _corral_ formed of bushes.
On the next day we made a very long and tiresome march, which led us
into more than one difficult place. We rode on league after league
over the worst sort of ground, including the descent of two or three
really bad _barrancas_. Bernardo, who acted as guide, became shy after
awhile of telling us that Lake Viedma lay only two leagues ahead. As
the day wore on we rather pressed the question, and he grew
correspondingly coy in his replies.
One of the _barrancas_ led us into a sort of maze of conical mud
hills, confusedly huddled together. Through them lay a tangle of
guanaco-tracks, which mostly ended on the tops of the hills. The troop
followed these tracks in various directions, and you were surprised at
all points by the startled faces of the horses glaring down at you
over unexpected bluffs. The going was very heavy, and deep holes
betrayed the horses' feet. Altogether it was some time before the
troop was put through.
Late in the evening we reached the shores of Lake Viedma, and found
the launch. She was lying behind a bare and very low promontory. The
Commission which had used her three years previously had packed her up
with care in canvas and raised her on rollers. But I was sorry to find
that needless and wanton damage had been inflicted upon her by some
roving passers-by. They had torn off the canvas covering and
appropriated many important tools, including quite a number that could
have been of no possible use to any save a party meaning to use the
launch herself. A few of these missing details we picked up in the
adjacent bushes, where the irresponsible unknowns had thrown them.
As to the condition of the boat, her three-years sojourn on an
isolated beach had not improved it. Her boiler was in rather a bad
state with rust, and one of her plates was cracked. Originally built
for a pleasure-launch, the Argentine Commission had raised her
gunwales and decked her in; without these alterations she could not
have lived in the rough waters of the lakes of Patagonia.
The evening and the surrounding scenery were equally grey and
depressing, but with an ostrich, and a guanaco I had shot in the
morning, we made ourselves very comfortable round the fire, while we
talked over our contemplated voyage down the Leona. Cattle, whose
knowledge of the subject under consideration was of immense help,
agreed with me in thinking the thing could be done.
Next day Burbury, who was, as I have said, a very fair engineer, set
to work with Bernardo's help to get the launch into working order,
while the rest of us went to cut and gather fuel.
The two canvas boats which belonged to the launch were later found a
couple of leagues down the shore, but a bit of wind began to blow, so
it was impossible to bring them up, and in the event they had to be
left where they were.
In making ready the launch Burbury was much hampered by having only a
small supply of screws to draw upon. Time and exposure had dealt
hardly with her, her pump was strained as well as being imperfect,
some portion of it having been taken away. The craft was about
thirty-five feet long with a displacement of about three parts of a
ton. She was by no means an ideal boat for the kind of navigation that
lay before us, for which a good wooden craft would have been much more
safe and handy. Had her length been less it would have been another
advantage, as the seas upon the lakes are very short. Weather-worn as
she was, however, she represented our sole chance of getting really
deep into the unpenetrated Cordillera. It was a case of take it or
leave it, and which of the two it was to be gave me some thought that
night.
I could not conceal from myself that it was a peculiarly risky affair
taking her down the River Leona. The up-stream navigation of the river
had been made by the launch when the Commission brought her up-stream,
towing her through the difficult places from the bank. But that, of
course, was a very different matter.
The Leona is a comparatively large river, very cold, and running, when
in flood, from five to eight knots an hour, with, in places, a very
strong rip. There are a good many rocks and shoals, but at the time I
write of the water was high, snow-fed by the warmth of the preceding
months, and therefore with luck we might hope to slip over most of the
reefs in safety. This was fortunate, as what with the cold, the
eddies and the cross-currents the chance of a swimmer reaching the
bank was not great.
Should the current, however, get the launch broadside on, we would
have to give her full steam ahead, and charge down the unknown and
rock-set river. Besides, the channel was, we knew, very hard to
follow, for among the islands the stream divided into four or five
arms, and we had no guide to help us to choose the main channel.
The risks were very real and looked large enough in my eyes that
night, but in case I should be charged with foolhardiness in deciding
to carry out our design, I think I may say that the average man would
have decided as we did. Few, after so many weary miles and months,
coming at last to such a crucial moment, would very closely consider
the risks, since outside of running them the single course open was to
turn back defeated, leaving one of the most interesting unexplored
portions of the Cordillera unvisited and untrodden.
In the course of the next day or two we worked hard at the launch and
in gathering firewood. On the 18th we got the boat afloat after eight
hours of hard labour, for during her three years rest she had sunk
deep into the shingle and sand. It was quite impossible to use the
horses, as they would not pull forward into the lake, and thus into
the water, so we got at the work ourselves. About mid-day a wind
sprang up, and the water, fed by the melting snows, was perishingly
cold. It seemed for a time as if we should never succeed in getting
her afloat, and as we had not been able to bring up either of the
canvas boats, wading was very much the order of the day, and after
every few stretches of work we were uncommonly glad to take spells in
the sleeping-bags to warm our half-frozen limbs. Hot cocoa, also, was
kept going from time to time.
At length we got her off into the little shallow bay, where the waves
were breaking, for a wind was rising out of the north-west.
[Illustration: THE WORLD OF ICE]
During the day Cattle and I went down and viewed the Leona. We fixed
upon a little backwater some distance down stream, where wood was
abundant, as the goal of our first venture. The river had swollen
and was rising, and the current looked menacing, but we thought that
with great care and slow movement we might bring the launch through
all right. Care and slow movement! We did not foresee to what an
extent the elements were destined to take charge of our affairs.
Our plan was to descend the river stern-first with only enough steam
to enable the boat to answer her tiller; for fuel we had no choice but
to burn wood, and although califate made no bad firing, still the
results to be expected were not by any means the same as if we had
been able to put coal into the furnace.
In the evening the horses strayed, and I went to bring them in. The
landscape on this side of Viedma is the most desolate imaginable,
being made up chiefly of sand, sparse yellow grass, low thorn-bushes,
and the skeletons of dead game. It is a place only fit to die in, a
fact the guanacos seem to have grasped, for their bones lay all over
the ground in far greater profusion even than upon the shores of Lake
Buenos Aires. The mountains about Viedma differ in outline from most
of the other ranges in Patagonia. The peaks are more pointed and rise
against the cold sky in a line of pinnacles and minarets.
My way led me along the banks of the Leona. It was a grey and
miserable afternoon verging towards evening, and the strong wind was
sending a large volume of water racing and moaning between the bare
and treeless banks of the river. I remember thinking with great
longing of warm and comfortable England, of good friends and true, of
home, and of all the many small things which make life worth having. I
suppose every one is attacked with this kind of feeling sometimes. Not
very often, luckily, nor when the sun is shining, but on these
miserable, grey, whimpering evenings everything takes on a sombre
shade.
I found the horses collected in a _rincon_, beneath the shelter of a
few thorn-bushes; they were looking very forlorn, especially the
Alazan, who was etched out darkly against the bleak sky. They seemed a
bit tucked up too after the tiring marches of the previous days.
We hoped to start in the launch on the following morning. When we woke
it was still blowing half a gale. I, however, told Bernardo to get up
steam, and we put the baggage aboard, and as the boat had no name we
christened her the _Ariel_. She was given other names before we were
done with her!
Burbury was to take the horses by the banks of the river, while we
steamed down the channel. It was blowing pretty strong when all was
ready, and Bernardo, to inaugurate the start, raised a feeble whistle,
thereby seriously diminishing the amount of steam in the boiler. The
_Ariel_ got under way with some wheezing and groaning, and soon we
were heaving up and down, head to swell. The waves were all breaking,
and the seas short, with the consequence that we had several duckings.
Presently, however, the wind lulled and I thought all was about to go
well with us.
But soon I noticed that the figure of Burbury, standing upon the
shore, remained ominously stationary. The wind was rising again, two
or three heavy seas broke over us, and the launch would not answer her
tiller. Bernardo shouted that the boiler was leaking, and it looked as
if we should soon be in trouble.
Ultimately we were obliged to put back into the bay, which we managed
with difficulty, and there anchored.
We determined to try again to-morrow, and then got up the tent and
turned in.
On the morrow the wind had dropped somewhat, though the lake was still
white with breakers. We had a _maté_ by the fire on the promontory and
prepared to start again. It was 9.30 when all was ready, and by that
time the Cordillera was shut out by a big purple rain-cloud. As the
rain began to fall we took our places and heaved in the anchor.
We started at one knot full steam ahead, and the _Ariel_ creaked as
she crept out into the lake. The rain and mist from the direction of
the Cordillera had blotted out all sight of them, and were beating
down on us steadily. The rain, however, was in reality favourable to
our attempt, as it served to smooth the water. The short waves leaped
up under every puff of wind, but the launch ran along past the mouth
of the river, attaining to a quite respectable speed as she proceeded.
A nasty little squall struck us for a moment as we were broadside on,
but it passed, and then, with her nose pointed toward the Cordillera,
the launch described a large circle, and we allowed her to be slowly
sucked stern first into the power of the fierce current of the Leona.
At length it got hold of her, and, adopting a cautious policy, we gave
her full speed ahead against the current, which had the effect of
letting us drop down stream at about two knots an hour.
Just before we entered the rip of the current I saw a rock a couple of
feet off on the starboard side; it was only a few inches under the
surface, but luckily we slipped by without harm. We got on pretty well
in this fashion through the whole afternoon; it was raining pitilessly
all the time. Bernardo, who was acting as engineer, at one period ran
the engine at a pressure of 30 lb. above safety, until it was
explained to him that, if he continued doing so, it was probable he
would see Sweden no more.
Towards evening the weather cleared into the most lovely blue
afternoon, and we camped for the night at the spot we had before
chosen, having some fifteen miles of our voyage behind us. We pitched
the tent and I crawled into it and lit a pipe with a vivid question in
my mind as to when I should do so again. You could hear the river
growling and gulping at its banks. I felt I had never before realised
how warm and comfortable that little tent was. The next day would
decide the success of our expedition or otherwise, and all the worst
of the river lay before us. I cannot deny that I disliked the thought
of the morrow. Familiarity with the River Leona is not apt to breed
contempt. Its channel was made up of sharp bends and curves, and if
the launch by any untoward accident were to swing round, we should be
forced to steam faster than the current, and at that speed she would
certainly split herself from stem to stern if she touched. Besides,
she answered her helm badly, and the river in places was very narrow.
But, for all this, our success so far had had its effect, and we
resumed our voyage next morning in high spirits. We began by
negotiating a nasty passage among the rocks with neatness. The river
then became very erratic and winding in its course, and almost at once
the current caught us, and it seemed as it some gigantic hand were
pushing the panting launch slowly round. Steering was no easy matter,
she was canted badly, and we discarded some of our heavy clothes, raw
as the air was, preferring the cold to the chance of sinking should
anything happen.
In places the rip was very strong and the curving pearl-grey water
gave but a poor opportunity of observing any rocks that might lie in
our course. We were by this time able to manage the launch better and
were beginning to understand more or less her special peculiarities.
Then the dreaded event came to pass. We were sagging down with about
70 lb. of steam in the boiler, when a heavy squall, which had long
been brooding darkly over the Cordillera, rushed suddenly upon us. The
launch, under the fury of the wind, turned almost broadside on to the
current, and it became necessary to give her her head.
Bernardo, who had had his orders as to what to do in case such an
eventuality occurred, flung open the furnace-door and piled on wood to
get a heavy head of steam on. The _Ariel's_ powers had much improved
with use, and she was able to race along ahead of the current, a fact
which gave her steerage-way.
"She's steering a bit better," shouted Cattle; "if Bernardo can keep
up the pressure it may be all right." Bernardo, evidently feeling that
the moment needed commemoration, blew the whistle and grinned.
Now that she was turned prow-first, any attempt to get the boat back
to her old position would have been more risky than to go forward, for
the river at this part was much narrower and the current
proportionately more rapid. Bernardo poked his head up from the
engine-hatch and laughed, "She go fine this way," he remarked. At the
moment a rock glimmered up close to the bows, but we slipped over it
with a few inches to spare.
There was now no straining and grunting from the engines as there had
been while we were battling against the current. You barely felt the
throb and vibration, and it was only when you looked at the banks that
you realised how swiftly the boat was rushing onwards. Perhaps we
achieved seventeen knots. The shores slid by.
We were now shut in in a world of our own, whose boundaries were the
curving banks and the reaches of the river as they opened out in front
of us. One's senses were too much occupied, one's nerves too much on
the stretch to be aware of anything beyond. We, the launch and the
river were playing a gigantic gamble, in which the stakes on our part
were perilously heavy. This continued to be for five minutes one's
most prominent idea. It was very exciting, for we had nothing to do
but await developments.
[Illustration: BERNARDO HÄHANSEN]
Very soon, however, this feeling wore off. It seems that a very strong
emotion cannot in the nature of things last long. Undoubtedly _c'est
le premier pas qui coûte_. I looked round and saw the other two
grinning.
At the pace we were then going our voyage was not likely to last more
than four hours. This was a rough calculation allowing for the
windings of the river that lay between us and Lake Argentino. We
afterwards found that we ran the distance in three and a half hours,
but they passed like a quarter of an hour. I do not suppose that any
suicide club has ever invented a more acute form of excitement.
We rarely saw half a mile in front of us. At first the banks were low
and the coarse grass upon them blew and shook against the pale blue of
the sky-rim, but soon they began to give place to high and rocky
slopes. Now and then one caught the glitter of a submerged rock. The
wind and the current made the main channel difficult to follow with
the eye, and round several corners we were positively feeling for it.
In places it seemed as if the launch were running into an _impasse_,
and at such times it was necessary to send her along at her highest
pressure in order to have the more command of the tiller. We would
rush down upon such a place, and not until we were within forty yards
would the river open out grey and shining, the helm be put over, and
we find ourselves flying down another reach. We always kept to the
rip, and by so doing attempted to follow the main channel.
About midway down the river came some more difficult places where the
cliffs narrowed. One of these gave us a curious experience for the
water seemed to absolutely go downhill, so steep was the angle of
incline. Before reaching this spot we had come in sight of the top of
the cliff that overhung it, and whose base, we could judge by the line
of the channel, must be washed by the water. On turning a corner we
came within full view of the place, and a strange view it was. The
river appeared to race downhill and to end in a froth of yeasty foam
at the foot of the towering black bluff. Look as we might, we could
not see any way out of that tumbled smother of water; we knew there
must be one, of course, but the question was in which direction did it
lie. There was nothing for it but to pile on fuel to make the boat
answer handily.
The sun striking obliquely on the river dazzled our eyes and turned
all our forward course into a golden splendour. We knew that somewhere
lower down the river there was a bad place where its bed was thick-set
with rocks, but we had no idea how soon we might come upon the spot.
Presently, as we drew rapidly nearer and nearer to the cliff face, it
became evident that the channel bent very sharply to starboard, and
that we should have uncommonly little room to turn in. We were now
running in shadow, the high banks having blotted out the sun. We
rushed on towards the cliff, and almost at the last moment saw that
the channel bent away to the right; Cattle put the helm hard over, and
our craft whirled round the point with small space to spare, and we
found ourselves snaking through the eddies of another reach.
We shouted to each other that the worst of it lay behind us, and such
for a time seemed to be the case, the river widening out to about
eighty yards across. Here the main channel was clearly marked. It
might be supposed that we should have taken this opportunity to turn
the launch into her original position, but we had twice during the
morning been in difficulties with the pump, which, as the injector
would not work, was our sole means of filling the boiler. I was afraid
that the strain of steaming against the current might prove too much
for the launch. The decision to go on without turning her was, I
think, under the circumstances, the right one, the more so as directly
after the descent of the river the pump became further strained, with
the result that it was impossible to refill the boiler save by hand.
Presently the hilly shores once more gave place to low banks, and
islands began to appear in the stream. The lower river has many of
these groups of flat islands covered with stones and coarse grass.
When we got in among them the river broke up into a dozen channels
which all looked alike. We, of course, chose the largest. Again it
branched. Again we chose the largest, and again.
At length the channel we were following, instead of opening off into
the main river, subdivided into a couple of very small streams. The
current was as strong as ever, and the depth of water appeared to be
about three feet. A small crested grebe was uttering its peculiar,
melancholy cry. Ahead the banks seemed to draw together to a jutting
corner, beyond which we could not see. Cattle was at the helm, I was
standing up on the fore-hatch trying to catch sight of what we were
coming to.
All this time we could not slacken speed, for the current tore along
and we outdid the current. The water had the same strange appearance
of running downhill; it seemed to drop away from us at an
extraordinary angle. The force of the current forced us to keep steam
up to a high degree of pressure, up to 45 lb., which was 15 lb. beyond
safety.
At this point the stream was not above eighteen feet wide, and we
could almost touch the banks on either side. We were now about
half-way downhill, so to speak. The rush of the water, the zipp of
the wind as it swept past our ears mingled with the cry of the
astonished waterfowl. Nearer and nearer, clear water showed under the
left bank, and in a moment more we had swept round the corner of rock
and out into the main channel of the river once more. We flew along in
the strong rip, the launch shook and quivered, and we discovered with
joy that we had gained the wide lower reaches.
Our troubles were at an end for the day. A dozen miles still lay
before us, but in fair and open water. In due time we recognised a big
stone which marked the site of our old camp where we had rested on the
way up. We secured the launch a little way below it, where the Leona
enters Lake Argentino.
After landing we pitched the tent and sat down to talk it all over. In
the meantime we cooked and ate an armadillo, which Burbury had caught
on the previous day. It tasted very like sucking-pig.
Then a curious thing happened. The launch, which was bumping slightly
at her anchorage, had to be moved, and going on board we found that
the pump had again struck work, as it did on many subsequent
occasions. One could not help thinking what the result might have been
if it had broken down a little earlier in the day. What a wonderful
word that little "if" is! Two letters long, but it may mark the
distance from pole to pole, the difference between life and death.
That night a series of heavy squalls blew out of the west. We lay in
the tent and listened to the wind with the luxurious feeling that
comes of good shelter.
CHAPTER XV
A HARD STRUGGLE
Running an ostrich with dogs -- Crossing Santa Cruz River
-- Horses troublesome -- Lose my way -- Launch refitted --
Diary of rough days -- Crossing the bar -- Nasty
predicament -- Wreck imminent -- Storm -- Ascensio's Bay
-- Changeable weather -- Dangerous lakes -- Squalls
rushing down from gorges of the Cordillera -- Icebergs --
Ashore for fuel -- Squall comes on -- Cut off from launch
-- Miserable night -- Wind lulls -- Aboard again --
Crossing Hell-gate -- Cow Monte harbour -- Bernardo's fire
-- Fighting the fire -- News of the world -- Rumours of
war -- Death of the Queen.
Late in the evening of the same day Burbury arrived with the horses,
and upon the following morning I rode on with him to pass the troop
over the Santa Cruz River. We took with us one of Cattle's hounds, and
sighting some ostriches on the way we gave chase. The dog had a rope
affixed to his collar, by which Burbury had been leading him, and I
had no time to take it off before letting him go. In spite of this
disability, with the rope trailing behind him, the big black hound
pulled down one of the birds. I did not then know how valuable that
ostrich was to be to us.
We reached the Santa Cruz about 7 A.M., and, after a considerable
amount of persuasion, we managed to induce the horses to enter the
water.
One of the great dangers of driving a _tropilla_ into a river is the
chance that, when they do take to the water, your own mount is very
likely to rush in after them, and, before you can free yourself, he
will have carried you into the pull of the current, and, of course,
beyond your depth. Therefore it is always well to do this kind of work
bare-back, with only a bridle in your horse's mouth, so that you can
fling yourself off at any moment. It is also well to unbuckle the loop
of the rein; the omission of the latter precaution has resulted in
the drowning of horses on many occasions.
After seeing Burbury safely across, I started on my tramp back to the
camp at the mouth of the Leona. Fortunately, I carried the whole
ostrich with me, as I thought it was quite possible we might be held
back by bad weather in our voyage up the lake.
Cattle and Bernardo had stayed with the launch to prepare her for
probable rough handling by the waters of Lake Argentino, and it was
lucky they did so, as events proved. Cattle lighted a smoke to give me
my direction, and I was tempted to try a short cut, which led me
across an interminable series of sandhills mottled with the tracks of
foxes and lions (pumas).
When I got into camp we held a small festival in honour of the
launch's good behaviour, and drank to her health and good luck in a
cup of tea sweetened with the last of our sugar. But it never does to
rejoice prematurely, and our way along the north shore of the lake
turned out to be a battle with adverse winds, rain, and vindictive bad
weather.
The launch presented quite a different appearance by the time I
returned. The engine-room hatch had been covered by a canvas hood, and
bulwarks formed by lashing oars to strengthen the wire railing which
ran round the deck. The wheel had been rigged up forward and protected
by a weather-dodger. The cargo had been carefully stowed, and, in
fact, every precaution taken to ensure the safety of the boat and to
make her seaworthy.
The following is taken from my diary, which carries us from hour to
hour of the next few troubled days:
"_February 21._--It blew pretty hard all through the morning, and the
bar of the Leona was quite impassable; but towards evening the wind
dropped slightly, so we got up steam and started. We ran out over the
bar, fighting our way by inches through the heavy surf, but just
beyond it the engine broke down, and we were at the mercy of the wind
and waves. It looked as if we were being driven back to certain
shipwreck, for the launch could not live in the seas that were
breaking on the bar. I cut loose one of the oars which formed our
bulwark, and both Cattle and I did what we could to prevent her
turning broadside on.
"I was engaged in this work at the stern when I heard Bernardo shout,
'Mr. Preechard! Mr. Preechard!'
"I lay my full length along the deck and looked down at Bernardo in
the engine-room. He was holding on to the pump, which was spouting
steam and water. There was no room for two people in the engine-room,
nor in that angry sea was there much possibility of my getting down
there. So I lay along the port decking, and slipped my feet under the
after-hatch, thanking Providence for my length, and so managed to hold
the pump down while Bernardo tried to repair the damage.
"Every now and then the seas caught us almost broadside on and broke
heavily, nearly sweeping me over with them. My head being outside, I
could see Cattle clinging on like a cat, and doing all that man could
do to keep us from swinging round. We were on the bar, and scarcely
twenty yards outside the fiercest of the breakers. As it was, big seas
kept sweeping over the launch and crashing on her plates, making her
roll appallingly.
"Between us and the shore was from one hundred to one hundred and
fifty yards of yeasty surge, dominated by a heavy current setting
south. The anchor continued to drag, and we hung on while Bernardo
fought with screws and nuts for our lives. While we drifted back over
the bar, nearly capsizing as we did so, it became obvious that our
only course lay in first getting in the anchor and then putting it out
again with a good length of chain. In spite of the almost
inconceivable rolling of our craft, Cattle was successful in his
attempt to do this, and the launch came prow on to the breakers, which
were losing something of their fury as they crashed across the bar,
twenty yards in front of us.
"Meantime, Bernardo did not relax his efforts to get the engines
working once more. We were, as I have explained, a couple of hundred
yards from the shore, towards which the full force of the wind, aided
by the current I have mentioned as setting south towards the mouth of
the Santa Cruz, was drifting us.
"The anchor dragged again, and we had to undertake the difficult
business of getting it in, and taking a second chance of dropping it
on better holding ground.
"We were tossing upon the bar for an hour and twenty minutes, during
which time poor Bernardo was violently seasick. It made us laugh to
hear him apostrophising the launch in the words, 'Be--she make me----'
I will not conclude his sentence.
"At length, however, the Swede coaxed the engines into once more
performing their appointed duties, and as putting back would have been
a more difficult business than going forward, we began to forge slowly
ahead. It was now between five and six o'clock, and there was a
freezing south-west wind booming out of the Cordillera, but when
darkness fell this lulled for a short time and we made the most of our
chances to push forward. But, later, it came on to blow heavily, the
seas rose high and short, and in the night-sky overhead only a few
stars were visible through the racing clouds. The wind veered to the
south-west, and we were off a lee shore set with rocks and icebergs,
and there was no anchorage for another twelve miles at least.
"The wind again veered a point to the southward after a time, and it
soon became evident that the launch, quivering and swept continually
by the waves, was making but little headway, while our stock of fuel
was growing low, and would not last us for the run to the anchorage.
"I shouted the facts to Cattle, who was steering at the time, and he
suggested that we should try to make Ascensio's Bay--the place where
the famous horse-stealer and Gaucho, Brunel, used to hide and slay the
_tropillas_ he robbed from the Indians. As Cattle and I were
discussing the question in shouts, a big sea swamped us, almost
carrying Cattle overboard with it and billowing along the deck and
nearly drowning out the engine-room.
"Cattle had made some trips about Lake Argentino in a canvas boat, but
had never been in Ascensio's Bay. But, as the night was growing darker
and the gale rising, we resolved to make for it. At last, through the
noise and battering of the grey-black water, we reached the shelter of
the promontory by the bay and succeeded in feeling our way in. There
we dropped anchors from both bow and stern, drew off some water from
the boiler to make a _maté_ which we drank, and afterwards lying down
in the after-hatch instantly fell asleep. Bernardo occupied the
fore-hatch. We were too tired to dream of eating anything, and, in
spite of our close quarters and the cold, we did not wake till
morning.
[Illustration: WHERE THE SQUALLS CAME FROM]
"The 23rd dawned calm and fine, and the first view of the spot in
which we were anchored made me think that something more than mere
luck had been with us during our entry upon the previous night. The
mouth of the bay was dotted with an outcrop of toothlike rocks.
"The dawn developed into a morning with strong sun, and we were off
early. For two hours all went well. Then came a shiver creeping across
the glassy surface of the lake, after that a swell, and in a matter of
twenty minutes the quiet lake had become as nasty and as angry a piece
of water as can be imagined. This change is eminently typical of the
temper of the Andean lakes; they cannot be depended upon from hour to
hour. In the present instance at 7.45 A.M. we were steaming, as I have
said, through calm water, yet at 8.15 one sea of every four was
dashing in a cloud of spray over the boat. The reason of these sudden
changes is not far to seek.[23]
"Here, encircled by snow-capped mountains and bounded by high cliffs,
the waters of Argentino are often struck by swift squalls descending
from the gorges. The voyager may be, as we were, many miles distant
from the actual spot where the storm first strikes, but the squall
rushes down the funnel-like openings, bringing a heavy sea with it.
The seas are also very short, which more than doubles the difficulty
of navigation.
"On this occasion the sun was obscured and the outlook to the westward
became more and more menacing. The launch began to creak and groan as
usual, and to make but slight headway. Far away glimmered an iceberg,
which lay at the entrance of the bay that marked our next harbourage.
Soon it became clear that we should never be able to reach its
friendly shelter without gathering a fresh supply of fuel. There was
only one alternative left to us, and that was to put in close to the
shore, and either wade or swim off to get more.
"The squall had now more or less spent itself, so we ran in close,
gaining some small shelter from a promontory which ended in a big
boulder.
"To attain such shelter as the promontory offered it was necessary to
make our way through a group of rocks. This we did, and the wind
sinking, Cattle and I scrambled ashore with the axes and fell to work
while Bernardo remained on board.
"Before, however, we had gathered half the required quantity of wood a
second squall, more heavy than the first, came screaming across the
lake, tearing the launch from her anchorage and almost driving her
upon the beach. We stripped off some of our clothes and waded down
into the water, and after a ten-minutes hard struggle we succeeded in
getting her back into deep water, where she again dropped anchor.
"We returned to our work ashore, and cut and piled a good store of
fuel, almost as much as we needed, on the shingle ready to carry
aboard, but the violence of the waves put all hope of embarkation out
of the question for the time. This was about 10 A.M., and all day the
wind increased in violence. A stately procession of icebergs began to
float down from the northerly arms of the lake and squall succeeded
squall. Soon it became evident that the launch was drifting again, and
I shouted to Bernardo, who was now within hearing distance of the
shore, to break up an oar and use it for fuel. Luckily he had kept up
fire in the furnace and steam in the boiler, and as the weather was
growing rapidly worse, I ordered him to steam up over the anchor, and
afterwards to take the boat a quarter of a mile out and there drop
anchor with all the length of chain out that we possessed.
"What followed gave to us, I think, perhaps the most heartbreaking
moments we experienced throughout the whole trip. While Bernardo was
getting up enough steam to carry out orders, the launch, still
drifting, swooped nearer and nearer a reef of submerged rocks. As she
was in deep water, Cattle and I could do nothing to help; we were
compelled to watch helplessly from the shore and rage at our own
impotence. We called to Bernardo to keep her off with an oar, and
while he was unlashing one the stern of the launch and, more than all,
her precious propeller barely escaped being smashed to pieces as she
rose and fell on the rollers. To us, looking from the shore, it seemed
as if her last hour was come, and it appeared hard indeed that she
should have run safely through so many perils only to end her
existence in the lake before we had had time to carry out any part of
the exploration on which we had set our hearts.
"At the crucial moment, however, Bernardo managed to pole her clear
and give her steam. She moved slowly out and anchored far off shore.
"Evening drew on, but the wind showed no signs of dropping, as it
usually did at the rising or setting of the sun. There was nothing for
it but to make up our minds to a night ashore. We found ourselves in a
dilemma, for we had our whole supply of food on shore, while, with the
exception of my poncho, which I brought with me to dry, Bernardo had
all the rugs and blankets in the launch. However, we made the best of
it by building up a big shelter of drift-wood and bushes. Then we lit
a huge fire, for our clothes were soaking, and essayed to dry them.
"Meantime the launch was riding out the storm as well as could be
expected, but taking a good deal of water aboard all the same. It grew
dark and the last we saw of her that night, her anchor was holding and
a big sea was racing aft. Bernardo had got on the hatches and gone to
bed, we supposed, for we did not see him the whole time save once, and
then he was bailing furiously."
The sky was black with the promise of rain, so we heaped up the big fire,
filled the cooking-pots with water, and spreading the poncho on the
ground took our places upon it. It was not such a very bad night after
all. Things rarely fulfil their promise of disagreeableness--things of
this kind anyway. We passed the night somehow with the help of our
pipes and an occasional brew of sugarless tea. I never desired sugar
so much as then. Sugarless tea is far less warming than sugared. Sleep
was well-nigh impossible. It was too cold for that, and, besides, one
or other of us was always up and trying to pick out the launch from
the surrounding mass of spindrift and tumbling black and grey waters.
In those latitudes the wind generally rises or falls, as the case may
be, with the setting or rising of the sun, and eagerly we waited to
see if the dawn would bring any change in our uncomfortable position.
But at dawn it was blowing, if anything, harder than ever. The launch,
however, was all right, although there was no sign of Bernardo. We
were driven to make a breakfast of berries from the califate-bushes,
of which a few mean specimens grew sparsely on the hillside. It is a
desolate place, that northern shore of Argentino.
When the sun came out we lay down and slept in its liquid rays. A
little after midday we cooked some _fariña_ with mutton fat and ate
it. The gale was still tearing across the water, and we began to count
over our resources. We still had the greater part of the ostrich which
the hound Moses had killed on the way to the River Santa Cruz, but it
was an immature bird, and would provide us with no more than three
meagre meals. A couple of handfuls of _fariña_ were yet in the bottom
of the bag, we had a half-tin of tea and three-parts of a plug of
tobacco.
As for Bernardo, he had now been nearly thirty hours without food;
indeed, to be accurate, he had been fifty hours without food, thirty
of them in the launch, for we had started work on a _maté_. If we
could have made him hear, he might have attached a line to the
life-buoy and floated her off, and we could have sent him back
supplies.
We had made certain of another night of discomfort, so we gathered
another big pile of firewood. Cattle's leg, that he had strained on
the previous day, was giving him much pain. But when the sun was
already dipping behind the summits of the Cordillera the storm began
to lull. We had little hope that Bernardo could stand out much longer
against starvation, so after half an hour, as the seas were going
down, we thought it well to try and get off to the launch.
We went down to the beach, and, after much hailing, roused the Swede.
By signs I told him to come in as close as he dared, which meant to
within twenty or twenty-five yards of the shingle. This time he got
her in a better position, and we stripped and waded in with the wood.
It took us about forty journeys, and the water was abominably cold. I
do not think two men ever worked much harder during the time we were
at it, so before very long we were on board with everything.
Fearing to remain near the shore we got up steam, and with exceeding
thankfulness bade good-bye to that inhospitable beach. I asked
Bernardo how much longer he thought he could have held out. He said
two days, and, in fact, appeared to think he had been better off with
the blankets and his pipe and the warmth of the fore-hatch than we
with food on shore. First and last he was a fine fellow, patient,
quiet and hard-working. As to his being better off than Cattle and
myself, that was a matter of individual taste, I suppose. As a rule,
indeed, the average man will, as far as my experience goes, sacrifice
his food to his bed nearly every time, especially when the wind is
blowing out of the snows.
Evening soon settled down into night, and we ran on by starlight to
our next anchorage, an almost land-locked bay, where we made merry on
the remains of the ostrich. I also discovered some flour in the
afterhold which had been overlooked, enough to make three small
dampers. We were uncommonly glad to resume our rugs that night.
On the 24th we gathered more wood and put to sea. We meant to reach
the southern shore of the lake on the Burmeister Peninsula, and there
put in to a good anchorage not far from Cattle's headquarters. But to
do this it was necessary to pass across Hell-gate, the opening to the
north arm or North Fjord of the lake, always a difficult stretch of
water owing to the fact that squalls perpetually blew down upon it
from the funnel formed by the winding gorges of the upper lake. We
soon saw the two dark bluffs beyond which the water wound away behind
the outlying buttresses of the mountains, whose snow-caps glimmered
against the wintry sky. We did not escape scot-free, for a squall duly
caught us, and the tossing sent everything in the launch adrift. We
ran by five icebergs and once the pump refused to act, and things
looked awkward, but in the end, to make a long story short, we steamed
into our shelter, which we called Cow Monte Harbour, and tied up the
launch with no small thankfulness, for she was leaking badly through
the cracked plate I have before referred to.
As the grass was dry we could not, with safety, make a fire
sufficiently large to signal Burbury to bring up the horses, as had
been arranged, so we sent on Bernardo with a message. He started off
in his big boots and we had no idea of the mischief he was to drop
into before we saw him again. He was accustomed to the pampas round
about the town of Santa Cruz, where you can light a fire with
impunity, but amongst the high grass growing in the valleys of the
foothills of the Cordillera a fire is certain to spread over an
immense area. Finding the way long, perhaps, Bernardo sent up a brace
of smokes as signals. We saw them, and knew at once what was likely to
happen.
[Illustration: THE FIRE]
When the horses arrived we bundled on to them and rode away to try and
stop the conflagration. There were two fires raging, and our only
chance lay in being able to arrest their spreading beyond the shores
of a dry lagoon, which mercifully extended between them and the
summer-dried, well-grassed marsh lying under Mount Buenos Aires and
Mount Frias, where Cattle's pioneer-farm was situated. It would have
been a distressing return for his co-operation and help had one of
my men raised a fire to sweep over his land and destroy his whole
stock of horses, sheep and cattle, a result that was for a time
imminent.
We all provided ourselves with sheepskins and began our attempt to
beat out the fire. It was raging in bone-dry grass and thorn and the
flames leaped up and scorched our faces. Every blow with the sheepskin
sent up a shower of sparks that got into one's eyes and ears, and it
appeared as if we should never make headway against the blaze. We
might clear ten feet for a moment, but as we turned away the flames
would eat their way back and, rekindling, flare up in waving tongues
and roar again. Of course we were to windward, on the lee side the
smoke rolled away in a solid cloud. I do not know how long we worked
on that upper ring of fire, but slowly we succeeded in beating it out
by sheer weight and repetition of blows.
The wind had by this time dropped a little, and the course of the main
blaze set downhill. At length we had beaten out a half-circle and came
to the crux of the affair. If we could but blot out the fire to the
south, where it was burning savagely among high bushes and dry thorn,
it was probable the situation would be saved.
We took a short rest of four or five minutes and began again. The
smoke was gathering and rolling in great gouts, and we could see
nothing save the flames on the one side of us and the black blinding
dust on the other. As for ourselves, we were as black and scorched as
singed rats. We knew that the next ten minutes would decide the
matter.
Beside the fire ran a meandering cow or game track, and it was at this
line that we meant to try and cut off the flames, which were rapidly
spreading and getting out of hand. One was conscious of nothing but
the thud of the sheepskins and the figures of the workers leaping in
and out of the smoke and flame. I have never witnessed a wilder scene.
The men shouted as they worked. It was like a battle-picture seen in a
dream. All along the cow-track, where the fire lipped it, the
sheepskins rose and fell. A dense dun-coloured cloud rolled out and
up, lit every moment by explosions of sparks.
Presently it became a race for a spot some 200 yards ahead, where a
line of green damp grass might stop the fire and force it in another
direction. To cut it off at this point would make the remainder of our
task more easy. But just on the nearer side of the grass line a number
of high bushes were growing, and their strong roots and lower branches
gave the flames a definite hold. Now and again, too, one had to run
back and stamp out some sudden recrudescence of the flame. There is no
need to describe the last half-hour; only, when the yellow circle of
fire had given place to a smouldering black ring, we were ready to lie
down on our blackened sheepskins and feel neither glad nor sorry but
only wearily tired.
To beat out a fire is about the hardest sort of effort a man can make,
for no spell of rest can be obtained without losing the results of
previous labour. Afterwards, when we made a round of the fires to make
sure of safety, we found them sinking sullenly into black deadness.
We were especially lucky in the direction taken by the fire, as, had
it burnt along any other line, it is almost certain that our camp and
all that we possessed would have been destroyed. Such a disaster
actually occurred to Cattle some years ago in the north of the
country. He was then journeying with two companions, when a half-breed
boy he had with him was foolish enough to allow a camp-fire to spread
among the surrounding grass. The pioneers were able to save nothing
but a pair of _boleadores_ and a Winchester rifle with the seven
cartridges that happened to be in it. The party fortunately possessed
several hounds, by whose efforts the stock of meat was kept up,
otherwise it is more than likely that their case would have been a
serious one.
The interval between the time of our starting for Lake Viedma and our
return was in all but eleven days. During those eleven days much
happened that brought back most vividly to me old boyish dreams of
travel and romance. I had realised some of them, but risk and
adventure, which enchant us in the glamour of far-off contemplation,
are apt on nearer view to lose in romance what they gain in reality.
On the same day of the fire, news, brought by some wandering Indian
or Gaucho, reached us; rumours passing from mouth to mouth as they
will in a wonderful manner over the most sparsely populated country.
The first we heard was a report of war, a real war-scare, such as
might have originated from the fertile imagination of a Haïtian
journalist. The Russians were said to be marching upon India, and
France had joined hands with them against England.
It was but the barest outline, yet it shook and excited us out there
in the ends of the earth just as if we had formed items of a crowd in
Fleet Street.
Following on this came that other heavy tidings indeed, the death of
the Queen. We took off our hats, and at first nothing was said. The
news struck each man of us. There was a sense of loss and of the
blankness of a personal calamity, which expressed themselves at last
in a few odd homely words.
There, 7000 miles away, the abstract idea of the nation became
concrete. One had no picture in one's mind of England that did not
bear in the foreground, filling the heart and eye, that gracious,
royal, simple, noble figure, which for so long had drawn out towards
itself the highest patriotism of the race. The tumult of a nation's
mourning was taken up and echoed feebly here as in other remote
corners of the earth. Thousands of pens have borne witness to the
world-wide sorrow. No need to say more, but while I write the scene
comes back, as some moments of one's life will and do come--the broad
blue heavens, the wide lake, the wind, the smell of grass and
califate-bushes, the grasping after shattered fancies, and the heavy
acceptance of the hour assigned.
FOOTNOTE:
[23] This we came to understand very thoroughly at a later date, when
we penetrated to the end of the long twisting arms of the lake.
CHAPTER XVI
WILD CATTLE
Denseness of forest -- Wild cattle originally escaped from
early settlers -- Grown somewhat shaggy -- Indians will
not hunt them in forest -- Patagonia not a big-game
country -- Hunting wild cattle -- Disappointment --
Hunters paradise -- Twelve blank days -- Sport on Punta
Bandera -- Big yellow bull -- Losing the herd -- Baffling
ground -- Charge of bull and cow -- A shot at last --
Hunting in forests on Mount Frias -- String shoes --
Winter hunting -- Shoot bull -- Shoot huemul five-pointer
-- Wild-cattle hunting first-class sport.
Very different to the easy sport afforded by the huemul was our
experience of hunting wild cattle in the forests which clothe more or
less densely the ravines and slopes of the lower Andes. These forests,
which in some parts are absolutely impenetrable in the spring, because
at that season the _pantanos_ are saturated with the rains and melting
snow, give shelter to many scattered herds of wild cattle.
[Illustration: FORESTS UNDER THE SNOWS WHERE WILD CATTLE BREED]
Captain Musters, writing in 1871, speaks of hunting these animals
under the Cordillera, but their existence in a wild state dates from a
far earlier period--in fact, from the time of the first Spanish
occupation, when cattle escaped from the Valdez Peninsula, and roaming
over the pampas at length reached the high grass and sheltered places
of the Cordillera. Finding these entirely to their liking, they have
ever since lived and bred in that region; their numbers, no doubt,
being from time to time increased by deserters from the unfenced farms
on the east coast of Patagonia. It is a strange thing that cattle
which escape almost invariably head north-west towards the Cordillera.
This fact has been commented on to us by many different Gauchos and
cattle-owners up and down the east coast.
The older herds have lost the smooth aspect of domesticated animals
and thrown back to the shaggy front, longer horns and rough-haired
hide characteristic of wild cattle. As to the special parts of
Patagonia in which wild cattle are most plentiful, it would be of
little use to give a list of them. Should a herd stray in the plains,
the Indians will soon make them change their quarters and return to
take refuge among the woods and ravines of the foothills. Inside this
forest-land the Indians will never venture, and there the emancipated
bull thoroughly enjoys himself. Even the beasts belonging to the
farmers lead a wandering life, and at a short distance from the
settlements are shy of the approach of man, and have to be rounded up
by mounted Gauchos. Those of them that have been inside a corral and
regained their liberty are every whit as wild as the wild cattle
proper. Being caught with a lasso and branded is by no means an
experience calculated to instil any deep confidence in mankind into
the mind of a calf.
In the Cordillera the herds are extremely wideawake. When a point is
disturbed, they always go higher up into the mountains, and almost
invariably leave that particular neighbourhood under cover of the
ensuing night. Their climbing powers are extraordinary. Wherever a
guanaco can go, a wild bull can follow him. Their tracks are regularly
and clearly marked, and they appear to move along precisely the same
paths from feeding-place to feeding-place. The snows of winter force
them to lower ground, but in my opinion the herds never penetrate very
deep into the Cordillera. Precisely how far they go it would be hard
to determine, but they seldom ascend to the higher levels, preferring
to wander about the outer spurs of the lower hills. There is a spot on
the south side of the Lake Rica where they appear to make their way
farther into the recesses of the mountains than in any other district.
Patagonia, as the reader will by this time realise, cannot be called a
big-game country in the sense of affording any variety of large
animals for the benefit of the sportsman. But whoever goes into the
Cordillera will find the wild bulls of their forests well worthy of
his attention, for they give as excellent sport as any big game in the
world. A point which must tell greatly in their favour in the eyes of
some people is the fact that the pursuit of them is a pleasure by no
means unattended by danger.
The first day on which I attempted to find wild cattle we sighted two
herds, one about half way up the hillside and the other higher, almost
upon the snow-line. We had gone out rather with the idea of
prospecting, having but little hope of being so lucky as to get a
shot. Mr. Cattle, Burbury, and myself made up the party, and while
Cattle hid in the direction towards which the herd might be expected
to break, Burbury and I undertook the stalk. We separated, and I
finally got within two hundred yards of a dun-coloured bull; but his
position was so bad that it seemed a pity to shoot. The herd
ultimately moved into a strip of forest high on the shoulder of the
mountain, and we failed to locate it again.
Upon this followed a period when the memory of the shot I might have
taken rankled as a thorn in the flesh. The difficulty of finding a
herd was very great. We went out several days in succession and failed
to catch sight of a single horn. For twelve days we searched from dawn
to dark and found nothing. Yet these days, which resulted in a total
bag of two huemules, were infinitely more sporting than were those in
the neighbourhood of the River de los Antiguos, where a large number
of animals might have been secured. On four occasions fresh tracks
were found, and in that keen invigorating air the hunting of such a
quarry was a sport for the gods.
[Illustration: A GLADE IN THE LAKE RICA FOREST]
There is a picturesque sentence in one of Mr. Kipling's writings, in
which he speaks of a life "spent on blue water in the morning of the
world." Each savage of us has, I suppose, some such ideal existence,
and if that be so, mine would be passed in hunting some great horned
quarry upon frozen hills in a land where no wind too strong should
blow, and where the views of water and of peaks should be in all
shades of separate and glorious blue. What a splendid place such a
happy hunting-ground would be! Quite different to the happy
hunting-grounds of the North American Indian, the Tehuelche or the
Eskimo--the latter, by the way, looks forward to a paradise where
he will lie for ever upon the sleeping-bench in the warmth and eat
decomposed seals' heads! The nomad hunter races kill to eat in any
manner or by any means, the romance of sport is in one sense lacking
in them; but in my happy hunting-ground there will be Irish elk with
mighty spreading horns upon those wondrous hills....
We have wandered far away from our subject. I think it may be said
that during those twelve blank days every method of hunting wild
cattle had a fair trial. Upon the northern slopes of Mount Buenos
Aires (which, I must mention, is very far distant from Lake Buenos
Aires, being, in fact, surrounded on three sides by the waters of Lake
Argentino) there is comparatively little wood, although there is much
thick high brush, so that--as in Sardinian moufflon-shooting--one may
spy the ground two or three times in the day, and yet fail to discover
a herd hidden in the brush or in one of the many water-worn ravines.
Nevertheless, this place was the most open ground which we hunted, and
was far superior to the Lake Rica side of the mountain, upon which
cluster dense forests of antarctic beech, through which it is
impossible to see more than twenty or thirty yards, and often not so
far.
Once or twice I tried sitting up for bulls at their drinking-places,
but never with any success. The fact is, that the forests they range
through are so well watered with streams, _pantanos_ and springs, that
they have a score of drinking-places to choose from, therefore the
chances are twenty to one against getting a shot. But in a district
where water is scarce, it seems to me that this plan might meet with
success. The best sport was undoubtedly that which we enjoyed towards
Punta Bandera, a headland forming the north point of Mount Buenos
Aires.
It was here, upon the thirteenth day of my hunting, about an hour and
a half before dark, that I perceived a fine point of seventeen upon
the hillside in front of me. They were, however, in a spot utterly
impossible of approach, in the centre of a bald ridge upon the summit
of which they were silhouetted against the black background of the
mountain beyond them. Deep gullies cut up the intervening ground, and
after advancing as near as might be, I lay down and possessed my soul
in patience, waiting until the moment when the herd should choose to
move. They had left me time enough and to spare for observing them
through the glasses. Three black bulls, a yellow one and a red were
the pick of the herd, there were some cows and well-grown calves also,
and these last began to proceed very leisurely down a cow-track, which
would ultimately lead them on to ground where they might be stalked. I
had tied up my horse in a hollow among some bushes of _Leña dura_. It
was a glorious evening and the shadows stood out very distinctly, so
much so that from the slightly higher ground I could see with the
telescope the movements of the shadows of the bulls. The bases of the
mountain were steeped in clear still dusk, there was no wind, and the
whole scene lived again fantastically in the smooth waters of the
lake. When one is shooting, no matter how intent one may be upon the
game, it is natural to observe these things and enjoy them, in a
secondary sense possibly, but none the less keenly. Anyway, there was
plenty of time to observe, for the herd took it easy, and now and then
one of the big bulls would come to a standstill and stare about him.
The yellow bull especially took my fancy, the spread of his horns must
have been over four feet. At length, however, the last of the herd
disappeared into a gully and I hastened forward. About a mile
separated me from the point, and this I covered at good speed; the
final bit necessitated a crawl, which ended on the edge of a low rocky
plateau. Here I peered through some fuchsia-bushes. To my disgust the
herd had quickened their pace, and were a little beyond range upon a
space of level land beneath me; they lingered here for an uncommonly
long time, giving me ample opportunity to study the surrounding
cow-tracks and the grass-bare wallows. Meantime the precious light was
fading, and the reflections of the snow-peaks were beginning to blur
and darken in the mirror of the lake. Ahead of the herd were a number
of tracks, which ran parallel with each other for a certain distance,
but afterwards branched into different directions. I could see them
dimly through the telescope. Should they happen to take the lowest of
these, they would be delivered into my hands, for it led immediately
under a cliff over which I could get within a few yards of them. This
track finally emerged upon the shore of the lake. Under the leadership
of a yellow cow, the whole point began presently to descend this very
track. As soon as the last of them was out of sight, I rushed on to
secure my shot. On the way I spied from behind a boulder on high
ground the coveted old yellow bull knee-deep in the lake, drinking.
Over the first part, which was high, I had to be very careful, but
once this spot was passed, coming to the conclusion that as the light
was fading so fast the race would probably be to the swift, I hurried.
Alas! a deep gully again blocked my way, and it was necessary to make
a détour of about half a mile through breast-high bushes. While
passing amongst the brush much care had, of course, to be exercised to
avoid the breaking of twigs or branches, as the herd was not far off.
When at last I arrived at the cliff above the spot where the herd had
disappeared, I could not see the sights of my rifle. I would have
given much for two minutes of moonlight, for I could hear the noise of
the bulls moving within twenty yards, and the smell of them was
distinctly perceptible to my senses, sharpened by months of a natural
life. The whole herd had packed pretty close together on the edge of
the shingle, but it was already too dark for me to shoot, so I retired
after a while, comforting myself with the prospect of following the
herd in the morning.
Yet although I followed, I never found. The herd, as was to be read
from the tracks, struck upwards after leaving the lake and entered a
wide piece of forest, in which no day was ever long enough to find
them. Several times after this we were on the tail of a herd, and
again and again lost them in the dense forests. The ground over which
one had to move was extremely baulking to success; it was covered with
broken sticks, dead trees, and branches, dry, rotten, and ready to
snap beneath the smallest pressure. Sometimes after a long stalk one
found oneself in a patch of dry dead bushes, the breaking of any bough
of which would certainly spoil all chance of success. Again, one could
not see more than from twenty to fifty yards ahead, and in thick
forests much less. A herd will stand quite still till within thirty
yards if you have not perceived them, but the moment your eye catches
one of theirs the animal makes off, taking his companions with him.
A bull, if you wound him and he charges, will charge but once, and if
he misses you, will pass on. But a cow is quite another affair. She
will return to the charge again and again, and will kneel down in
order to horn her antagonist. She is at least twice as formidable an
antagonist as a bull.
The next time I saw wild cattle was once again upon Punta Bandera, and
upon this occasion I had my first shot. It was early in the morning
when I made out the point with the glasses, feeding about half-way up
a spur of the mountain-side. Determined this time not to be
disappointed, a whole day was spent in a series of very careful
manœuvres. All went well until I entered a patch of dry dead
growth, so thick as to make it impossible to move without giving
audible indication of one's presence. While lying among this stuff
debating what course to pursue, to my delight a black and white bull,
evidently the leader of the herd, rose, grunted once or twice, and,
followed by the whole of his companions, began to come towards me. He
got to within 150 yards, and there coming upon the edge of the dry
stuff among which I lay hidden, turned tail and moved slowly in the
opposite direction. To shoot through the undergrowth, which was about
five feet high, was, of course, impossible. Yet there was no chance of
the animals, while roving in search of pasture, reaching any better
position with regard to me, while any movement on my part to approach
them must have been through the dead bushes. There was nothing for it
then but to stand up and take the chance of a shot. A twig snapped in
my rising and the herd charged furiously away. A red bull, which had
travelled higher than his fellows upon the slope of the mountain, gave
very much the best chance as he raced along nearly broadside on.
He turned a complete somersault to the shot and lay so still that I
thought I had killed him. As I went towards him, however, he scrambled
to his feet and galloped after the retreating herd, and although upon
their tracks for the greater part of the evening, at no point on the
way, nor at the spot where he had fallen, did I find any traces of
blood. I therefore concluded that he had put his foot in a hole, and
that I had missed him clean. Since my return I have heard the end of
the history. The red bull was found dead quite close to where I had
shot him. He was, I understand, hit through the lungs.
[Illustration: THE FATHER OF THE HERD.]
After this shot on Punta Bandera, the herd left that locality, as they
invariably do, and most of the remainder of our hunting took place
upon the Lake Rica, or southern side, of the great mountain. One of
the pleasantest days we enjoyed was upon Mount Frias where a large
point of cattle had gone up beyond the snow-line. On that occasion,
when above the snow-line, I saw a pampa-fox, some guanaco and a few
ostriches. Quite a number of small birds that I was unable to
identify, as I could not shoot them, were feeding upon a red berry
which grows beneath the snow.
I think of earthly situations I would choose that for the location of
my happy hunting-ground where life throbs and quickens in the keen
air, and where, in the shelter of the black forest of antarctic
beech-trees, one can hear the wind from the snows moaning and crying
among the tree-tops, and dropping the leaves, painted with red and
yellow, upon the soft mossy mid-forest carpet.
While on Mount Frias my attention was drawn away from the cattle by
what I took to be an instance of albinism in the guanaco. There was an
immense herd of five hundred or perhaps more in an open hollow, and
among them I observed a very white specimen, but on looking at it
through the glasses it proved to be piebald rather than truly white.
My next excursion was made on much lower ground in the direction of
Lake Rica. We had observed some spots to which a herd returned night
after night.[24] The success with which the herds can pick their way
over bad ground such as this and through trees, and most of all across
the giant trunks, decaying and rotten, many of which must have fallen
years ago, is extraordinary. Had it not been for the openings broken
by the passage of the cattle, we should have been unable to penetrate
the denser parts of the woods without axes. In spite of his being such
a heavy brute, a bull can always overtake a horse in these spongy
swamps, or indeed in most cases over very bad ground.
In the winter, which was now only too quickly coming upon us,
wild-cattle shooting becomes, as does the shooting of all game in
Patagonia, much easier than it ever is during the rest of the year.
The herds descend to the low ground, being driven downwards by degrees
while the snows creep day by day lower on the mountain-sides. As they
desert the heights the area in which one may expect to meet them
naturally becomes smaller, and on the more level country they can be
followed with less trouble. The hunting in this big forest was quite
different to that on Punta Bandera, the sole method here being to find
comparatively fresh tracks and follow them up, there being no
possibility among that dense growth of spying animals from a distance.
One day I had entered an extremely wet and boggy strip of forest and
came upon new tracks, which I followed in and out among the trees for
some hours. At length they led me up another hill into another belt of
forest. I remember that under the hill I took a "spell," and at that
moment, although I could not see them, the cattle were within one
hundred and fifty yards of me. Fortunately I was very quiet and did
not light my pipe, but presently went on. Arrived at the top of the
hill, I peered through the branches and saw a fine brindled bull just
in the act of rising to his feet. One of the outlying cows had winded
me and had given the alarm. My bull was off at a gallop, and there was
nothing to do but to send the heavy Paradox bullet into the only part
of him that was visible as he dashed away. The shot took effect, he
staggered but the second barrel brought him down in good earnest. A
third hit him in the centre of the forehead, which is a deadly shot
indeed, but with a smallbore rifle one must be careful to place one's
bullet clear of the shaggy curl. The first shot had, I discovered,
gone forward and upward, touching the backbone; the second was a fair
behind the shoulder shot. I write this to illustrate the amount of
shooting that a wild bull will sometimes take.
[Illustration: AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING]
There are few higher joys in a sportsman's life than the pipe which he
smokes after a successful shot, but the skinning of the quarry that
comes later is a very different matter. This is especially the case
when the animal has dropped in such a spot that one cannot turn it
over owing to its weight.
[Illustration: EDGE OF FOREST]
For this forest shooting a 12-bore Paradox or jungle-gun is as good as
any. I had one which was made for me by Jeffrey and Co., and with it
one could make a very decent pattern at seventy yards. In open ground
I generally used a Mauser, but this rifle was, of course, not heavy
enough for forest shooting at a dangerous quarry, where most of the
shots were within forty yards.
Once again on Punta Bandera I saw the big yellow bull. One day I
watched the great herd of wild cattle straggling slowly down the
opposite hillside, the cows with their calves trotting alongside them,
and the magnificent yellow bull bringing up the rear in solitary
state. They were in a hopelessly unget-at-able position, so that one
could only watch them. The air was so clear that, with the telescope,
it was possible to make out the tracks of each separate animal as the
herd descended the incline.
While I was still engaged in watching the cattle, I saw something
brown move on a knoll above me and about four hundred yards distant. A
huemul doe had appeared upon it. She was not frightened, and was
entirely unaware of my proximity. Soon she was joined by a buck, a
four-pointer with nice clean horns. There were now two sporting
interests in the landscape, the greater and the less. The cattle had
turned and were moving relentlessly upwards over bare ground where a
stalk was out of the question. I turned my attention therefore again
upon the huemules, from whom I found myself separated by two deep
gullies.
In an hour's time the cattle had diminished to mere specks upon the
side of the mountain, and a strong wind having arisen, which blew from
the huemules towards me, I thought I might safely try a shot at the
buck. It knocked him clean head over heels. He proved to be in fine
coat, and I at once set to work to skin him. By the time I had
finished it had grown quite dark. As for the herd, they were too
clever for me. I never sighted them again, but that big yellow bull I
shall often see in dreams. Perhaps I may be permitted to meet with him
when I attain to the happy hunting-ground of my desires.
Apart from the rifle, there are other ways of hunting wild cattle, but
in the practice of these open ground is naturally a necessity.
_Boleadores_ will rarely stay on a bull, but the lasso is an efficient
weapon, and on horseback a Mauser pistol will take a lot of beating.
In the last instance the hunter gallops level with his quarry and
trusts to his horse to carry him clear of danger in case of accident.
As a rule, wild cattle avoid open ground, and if they chance to be
away from the cover of the forest keep a sharp watch. Their hides are
worth about £1 more or less when sold in the settlements, a value
which is enough to turn every man's hand against them, were there any
men in those districts whose hands might be so turned. But the wild
cow will long continue to breed in her chosen solitudes, and indeed
she is well able to take care of herself. From all I saw of wild
cattle, they yield the palm as a sporting animal to few others in the
world.
FOOTNOTE:
[24] To hunt this swampy ground in shooting-boots is an unnecessary
handicap, for the footing is so soft that one sinks to the knee in the
worst places. A pair of string-shoes called "alpargatas" are the most
useful and suitable footgear for this work, and the gain of their
lightness is an added advantage.
CHAPTER XVII
ON THE FIRST ATTITUDE OF WILD ANIMALS TOWARDS MAN
Opportunities for observation rare -- Migration of guanaco
limited -- Guanaco and man -- Upright and crawling
attitudes -- Will allow approach with horses -- Tame near
farms -- Easily domesticated -- Curious -- Shyness of
ostrich -- Huemul curious and confiding -- Instances --
Easily rendered timid -- Puma cowardly -- Attacks upon man
-- Tame cubs -- Cordillera wolf -- Very fearless --
Instances -- Pampa-fox also fearless, but in less degree
-- _Résumé_ of evidence.
It will be conceded that few subjects have more interest than the
attitude assumed by wild animals towards man on first acquaintance
with him. I think it may be claimed that we had exceptional
opportunities for the study of this very important question. In most
other districts into which white men have passed for the first time,
they have usually been preceded by aborigines, who have made that
declaration of war which must invariably be given forth between men
and _feræ naturæ_. But in Patagonia, when the beat of the Tehuelches
is left behind, there are many places to which one may penetrate where
the animals have never before seen man. We here come to a question
which is as old as the world--what were the original relations
existing between man and beast? On man's side we know the position; on
that of the wild animal we can rarely obtain evidence at first hand,
especially in these latter days, when the earth is overrun and
populated in almost every habitable region.
It will be seen from the description given of Patagonia that some of
its remoter portions offer a unique field for observing the effect of
man's appearance on the behaviour of animals that have had no previous
knowledge of him. These places present some of the few localities left
untouched by the presence of human beings. The value of any evidence
still obtainable as to the bearing of wild creatures when brought into
contact with human beings for the first time can therefore hardly be
over-estimated. The chances of observing details of conduct and the
spontaneous attitude of animals under these conditions have
unfortunately become exceedingly rare and are daily growing rarer.
Soon there will be no spot where such facts can be collected. Knowing
this, I made every effort to gather all the data possible.
Large herds of guanaco patrol the country in all directions; how far
they are local in their habits it is not easy to decide, but I was
informed by several people that such and such a marked guanaco had
been in such a district since such and such a winter, therefore I am
led to conclude that the guanaco are more or less local in their
movements. In the summer they are to be found on the high pampa, and
in the winter the herds descend to the lower ground. But all the
evidence that I could gather pointed to the fact that this periodic
migration is limited in extent, and that certain herds belong, as it
were, to certain districts and live and die within a comparatively
small area.
During peculiarly hard winters, however, they will gather in very
large herds and travel a good distance to the low grounds, where water
and some pasture are still to be procured.
The guanacos that we met with on the basalt plateau to the south of
Lake Buenos Aires probably visit the shores of the lake during the
winter time. In the inverse order of things no travellers ever cross
the basalt plateau in summer, nor do they visit the lake in winter; we
may therefore conclude that the guanaco were in that region
unacquainted with man. The following is taken from my diary while we
were crossing the plateau:
"_December 28._--To-day we saw great numbers of guanaco, many of which
have in all probability never before beheld a human being. They were
about as tame as English park deer, allowing us to approach on foot to
within seventy or eighty yards, and, in the case of the old bucks, to
within fifty yards. The females were, of course, much shyer. It was a
beautiful sight to watch the great herd leaping up and down the
hillside and dashing through the outcrop of black fragments of basalt.
The bucks almost invariably kept between us and their females. On some
occasions, when I came suddenly round a hill upon a herd, the old buck
would gallop up between me and the herd and stalk along, uttering his
peculiar neighing cry. There were numbers of young guanacos among
these herds. These very quickly attain considerable speed, and at a
fortnight old give the hounds some trouble to overtake them. Young
guanacos, when cut off from the herd, can be approached by man. This
morning I succeeded in galloping between one and the herd to which it
belonged. He allowed me, on horseback, to come within six yards, but
on a dog appearing in the distance he at once dashed away. Young
guanacos, when separated from the herd, will follow a troop of horses,
running fearlessly beside the riders."
[Illustration: GUANACOS ON SKY-LINE]
In contrast to the above I give a record of another meeting with these
animals at a later date. I find in my diary on May 13, 1901, written
in the _cañadon_ of the River Katarina at the upper end of the
north-west arm of Lake Argentino, as follows:
"I saw two herds of guanacos, which were certainly unacquainted with
man. They were extremely wild, not allowing me to approach within six
hundred yards. I to-day hunted these guanacos with the idea of
observing whether they would take to the water, or perhaps pass into
the forest, which was plentiful in patches. They did neither, but kept
to the bare cliffs on the edge of the peninsula, and when driven away
from the cliffs at one end simply sought the shelter of the cliffs at
the other."
Again, on the tableland between the River de los Antiguos and the
River Jeinemeni the guanacos were extraordinarily tame. Only one
traveller had been there before us (Mr. Waag). The guanacos permitted
us to advance to within two hundred yards, and one, which was lying
down, allowed me to come within sixty paces walking upright. At this
distance I determined to see what effect the crawling attitude would
produce, and for this purpose I retreated and again approached, this
time on my hands and knees. I was still one hundred and fifty yards
from the animal when he got up, and I had not proceeded many steps
nearer before he bounded away. From this instance it may be deduced
that while the herd evidently understood and feared the approach of
predatory enemies in a crouching attitude, man upright in his natural
position inspired relatively little fear but rather curiosity, for the
guanaco remained lying down and staring at me as long as I appeared
walking towards him.
On yet another occasion in the _cañadon_ of the River Katarina, the
first sight that a herd, seventeen strong, had of us, was when we were
on board the launch. They raced up to the bank of the river and stared
at us, only darting off ten or twelve paces when the irrepressible
Bernardo saluted them with a whistle. Shortly afterwards we anchored
and went ashore, but the guanacos would not allow us on foot to
approach within half a mile, although when we were hidden they
returned to the neighbourhood of the launch without fear. In the
evening they retired far up the valley, where I again saw them upon
the following day. They were very timid, and I could get no nearer to
them than three hundred yards, although I made one or two attempts to
do so.
There was one point which was distinctly noticeable, and which these
observations bear out. Guanacos, unacquainted with man, will allow him
to approach in the first instance much closer if he happens to be
accompanied by a troop of horses, as was the case with us in our
experience of the herds on the basalt plateau. In fact, guanacos will
reconnoitre a troop of horses, even though there may be men among
them, at a very much shorter distance than they will venture upon
with regard to a camp or a group of men without horses.
Districts where the Indians hunt the guanaco may be passed over as
having no bearing on the subject in hand. There the herds are, of
course, extremely wild and hard of approach. But it is interesting to
note that near the coast, where there are numbers of guanaco, they are
comparatively tame. Shepherds on horseback from the farms pass and
repass within sight of the herds, who grow accustomed to the
experience and become easy of access to within one hundred yards.[25]
One day in the October of 1900, when at the farm of Mr. Greenshields
at Bahia Camerones, I took a long ride through the _cañadones_ where
the shepherds were wont to pass. Again and again the guanaco herds
allowed me to ride up close to them, and I invariably found that a
single animal was shyer of approach than a herd.
Guanacos are very easily domesticated, and in time become obtrusively
playful and affectionate. It is a favourite trick with them to come
behind their human friends rearing and striking them in the back with
their knees, which results in a more or less painful fall.
Curiosity is a largely developed mental characteristic in the _feræ
naturæ_ of Patagonia. The first and overwhelming impulse of nearly all
the wild creatures (the ostrich, _Rhea darwini_, excepted) appeared to
be to investigate the aspect and actions of man. Upon the coast-farms
the guanaco, grown _blasé_ by familiarity, will not take any interest
in man's movements unless he indulges in some unusual and fantastic
antics, such as lying on his back and kicking his legs in the air.
Then an otherwise indifferent herd will gather and watch the
proceedings with much attention.
As far as my experience goes, no wild creature, save the ostrich, on
first beholding man, straightway travels out of sight. All the others,
according to whether they naturally are shy or the reverse, retire to
a more or less remote distance, and from there watch the doings of the
intruder upon their solitudes.
Of Patagonian game the least hunted is the deer of the Andes
(_Xenelaphus bisulcus_). We came in contact with these animals both
near Lake Buenos Aires and Lake Argentino. At the former place, my
friend, Mr. Waag, had marched through the Gorge of the River de los
Antiguos, where most of my observations were made. As he was working
very hard on his geographical surveys at the time, he did not shoot
much, and I think it more than probable that man was an unknown factor
of existence to the huemules of that region before we came upon the
scene.
My observations of huemules consistently show that their first
attitude towards man is one of curiosity and confidence. I instance
some cases to bear out this assertion.
On December 9, 1900, I had just shot a guanaco upon the western shore
of the River de los Antiguos, when a huemul buck about a year old, no
doubt startled by the noise, dashed past me within twenty yards, and,
catching sight of me, stopped quite still and fixed his eyes upon me.
As I remained motionless, he advanced several paces and again halted,
looking at me. I was sitting upon the body of the guanaco I had
killed, the wind happening to be blowing from the deer towards me. We
kept these respective positions for about five minutes. I then lit my
pipe. At the scraping of the match he retreated a little, but
gathering courage soon paused again. I rose slowly to my feet and
advanced steadily towards him. He waited until I was quite close
before he sprang away and disappeared from sight up the _barranca_.
Again in May 1901, being then in the _cañadon_ of the River Katarina
near Lake Argentino, I saw from the boat what I took to be the horns
of a huemul against the background of the low forest. I landed and
crossed the swamp in the direction of the thicket. Here, coming into
an open space, I saw the buck to whom the horns belonged. Behind him
the head and shoulders of a doe were visible projecting from a bush. I
continued to walk on till I came within something like one hundred
yards, when I sat down behind a fragment of rock and hid myself from
their view. The sun was, I remember, but a hands-breadth above the
Cordillera, and I made up my mind that I would not move until its lower
rim had dipped beneath the snow-peaks. At the time I had set for
myself I peered round the edge of the rock very carefully--as slowly
as one peers when one is observing the movements of a gaggle of Scotch
grey-lags. Imagine my surprise when there, not ten yards away,
appeared the face of the doe, her gaze fixed upon mine! On seeing me
thus suddenly she ran back to the shelter of the undergrowth from
which she had originally emerged, and from which the buck during the
interval had not stirred. The shades of evening were fast falling, and
I was obliged to make an end of my watching for lack of light.
But undoubtedly the most remarkable example of the natural tameness of
the huemul occurred on May 9. I was in the same _cañadon_, and on this
occasion had the luck to secure a photograph of the doe as she went
away. It was about noon that I, being on my way up the _cañadon_ in a
northerly direction, heard a stick break in a thicket near by, and a
moment afterwards a huemul buck came into view. Fortunately I had not
caught his eye, and he remained looking out from a patch of bushes,
wondering, I suppose, what strange animal this could be that was
coming towards him. Pretending that I had not observed him, I threw
myself down among the high grass and waited for developments. The buck
snorted twice or thrice and advanced to within thirty yards of where I
lay. He stood upon the side of a hummock, flanked by his two hinds.
They were shortly joined by a third, which came up out of the hollow
behind them. I lay perfectly still. The buck halted, but the hinds
came on till within a few feet of me. The buck now approached on the
right; he was a four-pointer. The does had winded me. Two of them were
mature, the third a half-grown hind. Before five minutes were over the
hinds had come so near as to be almost touching me. Presently the
half-grown hind sniffed my boot and started back, taking the other
three with her. They drew nearer a second time, the buck coming within
a yard of me, and dropping his horns as though to turn me over. I did
not quite like the action, as it might have meant more than a mere
push, and therefore raised myself gently to a sitting position. The
deer retreated about thirty yards, and there stood, not taking their
eyes from me for a considerable time. Seeing that no further approach
of the deer was likely, I finally got up and went my way. The does
followed me for fifty yards or so, the buck remaining stationary, and
then all four bounded off into the woods whence they had come.
In spite of this original confidingness exhibited by the huemul to man
when unknown, he appears to be readily rendered wild and timid.
Burbury saw some of these animals near the Engineers' camp above Lake
Buenos Aires. They had probably been hunted by Mr. Waag's party and
were excessively wild, flying on the farthest glimpse of man. This
observation was confirmed by Humphrey Jones, who told me that the
huemules living in the woods near the Welsh colony of The 16th October
are wilder than any other creature, and that to shoot one is a feather
in the caps of the local hunters. I cannot say whether they are easily
tamed when in captivity, for I came across no instance of a huemul
kept by man.
So far, then, my observations on the huemul.
Concerning the puma, I have never heard of any man being attacked near
the settlements by this animal, and, indeed, authentic instances of
its acting as the assailant are very few and far between. All those of
which I gathered reliable evidence occurred in remote places, distant
from the beat of man. Mr. Waag told me of a puma which did not retreat
from his party in the Cordillera, but gave manifest signs of anger and
a readiness to attack. Another case is that of Dr. Francisco P.
Moreno, who, upon the banks of the River Leona, a river which flows
between Lake Argentino and Lake Viedma, and is seldom visited, was
attacked by a puma. He was, he informs me, walking wrapped in the skin
of a guanaco, and he fancies the animal may have mistaken him for a
guanaco. It sprang upon his shoulders and tore him under the chin with
its claws, but was luckily beaten off by his companion and killed.
This puma was found to be in milk, a fact which, arguing the presence
of her young near at hand, probably accounted for the unusual outbreak
of fierceness. The young were searched for but not discovered.
A third instance is that of Mr. Arenberg, one of the Argentine
Boundary Commissioners, who was mauled by a puma in the neighbourhood
of Lake Buenos Aires, at a spot probably hitherto unvisited by man. He
was seriously wounded in the face. As a rule, the puma is a cowardly
animal, and is frequently killed by the Indians with a _bolas_.[26]
[Illustration: THE HUEMUL DOE WHICH TOUCHED THE AUTHOR. PHOTOGRAPHED
WITH SMALL CAMERA AS SHE RETIRED]
Although, during the whole of our journey, we were constantly coming
upon evidences of the presence of pumas round and about our camps, it
was not until we had entered the Cordillera that they actually
reconnoitred the camp. In a forest near Lake Argentino, one moonlight
night, two pumas circled round our camp, and for upwards of half an
hour kept uttering their peculiar cry. Pumas often stampeded our
horses and left plain tracks near the camp, but in spite of this they
killed no animal, not even a dog, belonging to us.
Puma cubs in captivity become very tame. One settler whom I met had
two cubs about a year old. They were attached to their new home, and
though they would follow a horse for two hundred yards or so, they
invariably returned after a short distance to the shanty of their
owner. Another puma cub had been kept by Mr. Cattle at Lake Argentino.
This cub was wont to fight battles royal with the hounds, but in the
cold of winter would lie among them for warmth. All these cubs were
those of _Felis concolor puma_. So long as they were well fed they
were docile, but when hungry their fierce nature reasserted itself.
Mr. Cattle had finally to shoot the cub that belonged to him. Mr.
Waring, however, still had his at the time of my departure. I heard
these two killed a colt in the month of May.
The study of the Cordillera wolf (_Canis magellanicus_) from the
present point of view is exceptionally interesting. To this animal man
is practically unknown, and it manifested the most utter fearlessness,
when brought into contact with human beings, during our expedition.
This wolf will advance within five or six yards of a man in open
daylight; it will walk over him when asleep in camp. They haunted our
camps about Lake Buenos Aires, lurking about all the night through and
eating everything that came within their reach; then, instead of
departing when daylight came, they usually remained crouching near by,
and put in an appearance during breakfast-time with an absolute
disregard or ignorance of probable danger from the neighbourhood of
man.
On the River Fenix one of these wolves came into Rosy Camp during the
night, stole a duck and a goose, and further gnawed my rifle-slings
within a few feet of where I was sleeping. We only discovered our loss
at dawn, and while we were still discussing it, I perceived the animal
itself lying under a bush close at hand calmly watching us. Deprived
of breakfast, I had no thought of mercy, and shot her with a Mauser.
She was an old female. That night her mate paid us a visit, and
frightened the horses, who seem to fear the large Cordillera wolf
almost as much as the puma. I was rather crippled at the time with an
injury to my knee, and was sitting by the fire. I happened to look up
and caught sight of the wolf standing within a few yards of me. He
quietly returned my look but made no movement to run away. In a moment
or two I got up and limped across to fetch my gun, the wolf watching
me with interest, but without the smallest sign of apprehension. As a
matter of fact, he came a few steps nearer to me, still gazing at me
fixedly. He also joined the majority in a very short space of time. We
could not afford to have such desperate thieves about our camp. At
another place in the same neighbourhood a wolf, coming in to
investigate our camp, was attacked by my big deerhound Tom. The wolf
made no attempt to escape but met his foe with a fearful bite, and in
the end we had to go to Tom's assistance before the wolf could be
killed.
[Illustration: CAMP THIEVES]
From these instances it will be seen that the Cordillera wolf has
absolutely no fear of man. The pampa fox shares this characteristic,
but possesses it in a much less prominent degree. When I have been
chasing one of these latter the animal has in more than one case
stopped to regard me steadfastly, not with the timid curiosity of the
huemul but with a fearless stare. Yet these foxes are hunted for their
pelts. One evening I fired at a pampa fox and missed him. He retired
at a slow lollop while I pursued him. When a couple of hundred yards
had been covered, he halted, chose a bush, deliberately lay down and
waited for me, his muzzle sunk upon his paws. I picked up a handful of
gravel and tossed it at him. He rose, snarled, looked at me for a
moment, and then walked slowly off.
The data given above suffice to show that different animals assume
very various attitudes with regard to man on first introduction to
knowledge of him. Not only this, but animals of the same species
behave variously under these circumstances. My experience of
Patagonian wild animals goes to prove that those to whom we were the
first human visitors regarded us with extreme curiosity, and though in
some cases there was a show of timidity, it was not to be confounded
with any apprehension of violence at our hands.
To sum up the relative confidingness of the animals I met with, I
propose to take the distance within which they will allow man to
approach as a sort of scale:
Guanaco. The evidence is contradictory, but it may be taken that these
animals will allow a man to proceed _towards_ them to within eighty
yards; at any rate, in most cases. But if a man remain stationary,
they will be inclined to approach him a little nearer.
Huemules will allow man to approach within fifteen yards. If he remain
perfectly still, they will go almost up to him.
Puma (_Felis concolor puma_). If unacquainted with man, will
occasionally attack him.
Cordillera wolf. Utterly fearless of man. Will, if approached too
closely, show signs of taking the offensive. Will stand over his kill
until the human intruder is within a foot or so.
Pampa fox. Will allow approach to within twenty yards.
I have already described the attitude of all these animals towards man
in the more settled districts, with the one exception of the
Cordillera wolf. Concerning this animal no data, so far as I know,
exists, as his range does not, in my experience--I am here open to
correction--extend beyond the foothills of the Cordillera.
The whole of my personal knowledge as to the behaviour of animals
toward man on first meeting with him leads me to believe that none but
extremely broad rules can be laid down on the subject. It would be
very difficult to prophesy the precise attitude likely to be adopted
by any individual animal under this condition, for the evidence
concerning animals of the same species varies so largely. I am,
therefore, driven to believe that the conduct of any given animal
depends on its own special turn of character; that it is, in fact, a
matter of individual temperament. In the case of a group of animals,
the note of the behaviour of the whole group would be given by either
the leader of the herd, or would depend on the first instinctive
action of that one of the group which was the first to perceive the
strange object.
But, having stated the evidence which I gathered, it will be better to
leave others to draw their own conclusions.
FOOTNOTES:
[25] Where there are sheep, and consequently mutton is procurable, the
guanaco is rarely hunted.
[26] This method has been referred to in another chapter.
CHAPTER XVIII[27]
THE LARGER MAMMALS OF PATAGONIA
Little known of natural history of Patagonia --
Distribution of principal mammals -- Huemul -- Range --
Habits -- Horns -- Not timid in remote districts --
Curiosity -- Common puma -- Immense numbers -- Destructive
habits -- Method of attack -- Silent -- Expert in hiding
lair -- Pearson's puma -- Points of difference --
Characteristics -- Guanaco -- Wide range -- Large herds --
Quantities of bones at drinking-places -- Hard winters --
Habits -- Lack of affection for young -- Patagonian cavy
-- Arbitrary limit of range -- Weight -- Habits --
Armadillo.
In commencing this chapter I may remark that, as far as English
publications are concerned, I have found nothing bearing on the
zoology of South-eastern Patagonia of later date than the book of
Captain Musters, published in 1871, and no work whatever dealing with
the mammals of the Cordillera.
Captain Musters traversed the country with a tribe of Tehuelche
Indians, and only at one point touched the Cordillera. His book is
essentially a book treating of these interesting Indians, and he does
little more than refer now and then to the zoology of the land through
which he passed.
Every one is, of course, familiar with the volumes to which the
voyages of the _Adventure_ and the _Beagle_ gave rise, but it must be
remembered that the most westerly point attained by the boat-party
from the _Beagle_, which ascended the Santa Cruz River, was Mystery
Plain. In no English work whatever has any mention been made of the
huemul (_Xenelaphus bisulcus_), a deer peculiar to the Southern
Cordillera, nor have we any account of the habits of the puma, or, I
should rather say, the pumas of Patagonia. During the time we spent in
Patagonia we covered a considerable portion of the country, and passed
some five or six months within the Cordillera, or in their immediate
neighbourhood, so that we had ample opportunity for making some
interesting observations.
To begin with, I should like to say a few words concerning the
distribution, broadly speaking, of the principal mammals of Patagonia.
Patagonia is divided practically into sections by its eastward-flowing
rivers. To-day the jaguar (_Felis onca_) does not, I am informed,
range south of the River Colorado, although specimens were killed in
the vicinity of the River Negro fifteen years ago. The River Deseado
forms the southern limit of the distribution of the Patagonian cavy
(_Dolichotis patagonica_). The armadillo (_Dasypus minutus_) is never
found south of the River Santa Cruz. During four months which I spent
south of that river I did not see one, but when for three days we
crossed to the north bank we met with four and killed one. _Dasypus
minutus_ is very common in the neighbourhood of Bahia Camerones. The
range of the huemul (_Xenelaphus bisulcus_) is confined to the
Cordillera or their close proximity, according to my experience, while
_Felis concolor puma_, and the guanaco may be said to cover the entire
country as regards the plains, and I have seen the animals or their
traces in various parts of the Cordillera.
So much for general distribution.
1. Huemul (_Xenelaphus bisulcus_).
(_Huemul_ or _Guemal_ of the Argentines and Chilians; _Ciervo_ of the
Gauchos of Southern Patagonia; _Shóan_ of the Tehuelches.)
In the neighbourhood of Lake Buenos Aires this beautiful deer first
came under my observation. On the south side of the River de los
Antiguos I saw a buck (which I shot), two does and a pricket. I was
told by my Gaucho, Humphrey Jones, that the huemul is found in the
forests as far north as the Welsh colony of The 16th October, about
lat. 43°; on the south its range extends to the Straits of Magellan.
The easterly limit of their present habitat may be said to be the
foothills of the Andes. Dr. F. P. Moreno, however, states that these
animals have been seen in the hills in the vicinity of Port Desire, on
the Atlantic Coast: I do not think that they are any longer to be
found there. As far as my personal observations go, I never came
across a specimen farther east than a couple of miles from the shore
of Lake Buenos Aires upon its north-eastern side. The Indians said
that these deer were at one time more numerous in that region.
[Illustration: BEST HEAD OF HUEMUL (_XENELAPHUS BISULCUS_) SHOT BY THE
AUTHOR. SIDE VIEW]
During the summer the huemules leave the lower grounds, where the
mosquitoes trouble them, and travel up to the snow-line of the
Cordillera and even beyond it. At this season I never saw a large
herd, but in the winter Mr. Cattle, a pioneer living near Lake
Argentino, informed me that he had seen a large herd of over a hundred
strong that visited the lake. In the warmer weather I noticed them
usually in small parties of two or three, seldom more.
These animals are in the habit of wandering outside the forests in the
evening and forenoon, but in the afternoon they generally retire to
their shelter, where they often lie down. I have found them inhabiting
the margins of the dense forests upon the slopes of the Cordillera
which border the lakes. They are excellent swimmers, and cross the
broad arms of Lake Argentino without hesitation.
In December the huemules which I shot were shedding their winter coat,
and I noticed the bucks were farther advanced in this matter than the
does. There were a few scraps of velvet clinging to the horns of one
of the bucks which I shot on December 9, 1901. It is curious to note
that the Indians, on seeing my reindeer-skin sleeping-bag,
triumphantly identified it as being made of the pelt of the huemul!
The best head that I secured carried five points. Mr. Von Plaaten
Hallermund, of the Argentine Boundary Commission, told me he had seen
a huemul's head carrying eight points in the neighbourhood of Lake San
Martin. One of my _peones_, Bernardo Hähansen, who had penetrated into
the same district, said he had also seen an eight-pointer. Mr. Cattle
and his companions shot two bucks, both of which were four-pointers.
Save for the attacks of pumas, the huemul lives pretty well
undisturbed in his fastnesses. The Indians do not hunt them, as in the
forest-land horses and _boleadores_ are comparatively useless. They do
occasionally kill a few of these deer, however, which may have strayed
to the foothills or to the shores of the lakes.
Huemules are, in general, very confiding, for their range is confined
for the most part to districts where they have little chance of making
acquaintance with the human race. But near the colony of The 16th
October, Jones told me that they had become very wary and difficult of
access, as was to be expected in a region where they are constantly
hunted. In the more unpenetrated parts the buck is very courageous in
the rutting season, and has been known to make some show of attacking
man. On open ground, in my own experience, they manifested wonderfully
little timidity, and would wait for the approach of man, but inside
the forests they invariably dashed away on catching a glimpse of one
of our party. If, however, you have a dog with you, they will in all
cases take to flight.
In the preceding chapter I have given various illustrations of the
natural tameness of the huemul.
When it has observed something unusual in its surroundings, this deer
will remain watching, and without moving, for a great length of time.
On one occasion I saw near Lake Argentino a buck and doe about a
quarter of a mile away. I was lying under a bush watching some wild
cattle, a herd of which were above me against the snow-line, and the
huemules stood and watched me for nearly an hour. They were some ten
yards from each other. Presently the cattle moved, and I followed them
upwards. I returned unsuccessful in the evening to the spot, not
having fired a shot, and found the two deer still watching my horse,
which was tied up on the shore of the lake.
On one or two occasions when I have fired at a huemul the others of
the herd have run towards the noise. Once this happened when I was in
full sight of the animals.
Musters, in his travels through Patagonia, mentions a "red" deer. Of
this I could find no trace, so that in all probability he alluded to
the huemul under that name; the reddish tinge of the huemul's hair
lends likelihood to this suggestion.
No. 2. Puma (_Felis concolor puma_).
(_Leon_ of the Argentines; _Gol_ of the Tehuelches.)
This is the silver-grey variety of puma most commonly met with in
Patagonia. The distribution of this animal extends over the entire
country. It is to be found in the Cordillera as on the pampas. I came
upon tracks of this animal at the end of the north-west fjord of Lake
Argentino about long. 73° 14´, and I also saw a puma at the
south-western extremity of that lake.
Evidence of their existence accompanied the whole itinerary of the
expedition throughout the entire route it covered. The number of pumas
in Patagonia is very great, more so than any zoologist has yet given
an idea of. During one winter two pioneers killed seventy-three near
Lake Argentino. Near San Julian immense numbers are yearly destroyed,
but lately, owing to the advent of settlers, they are becoming less
numerous. At Bahia Camerones, on the farm of Mr. Greenshields,
fourteen pumas were killed during the winter of 1900.
A female killed near Santa Cruz measured 6 ft. 10 in., and a male
killed near Lake Argentino 8 ft. 1 in.
The puma can easily be galloped down, as it rarely runs more than 300
yards or a quarter of a mile when pursued on horseback. It invariably
stands at bay with its back to a bush or a rock.
In strong contradistinction to the habit of the _Felis onca_ (jaguar),
_F. c. puma_, when hunting, kills a number of animals from a flock or
herd. To one only of these kills, however, does it return, and it
always makes some pretence of burying the victim singled out for its
meal, throwing upon the body in many cases merely a small bunch of
thorns. This custom of the puma is frequently taken advantage of by
the shepherds, who poison the chosen carcass. The puma, ninety times
out of a hundred, makes its first meal upon the entrails of the victim
or upon the thigh inside of the groin.
The destruction wrought by pumas upon flocks of sheep is immense. One
animal killed upwards of 100 head from among a single flock. One night
alone its total amounted to fourteen. Another point in connection with
the predatory habits of the puma is that it will travel a long
distance, even as much as ten or twelve miles, after killing.
Its method of attack, judging from an examination of its victims,
appears to be to spring upon the shoulders of its quarry and to break
its neck. Cases are reported of pumas attacking horses, but no
instance of this came under my own notice. They generally select a
stormy and tempestuous night during which to make their depredations.
It is rather curious, as occasionally happens, to see a herd of cows
with their calves take up the trail of a puma with a great deal of
lowing and fuss, but they do not follow it for any distance.
Darwin writes that the puma is a very silent animal, uttering no cry
even when wounded, and only rarely during the breeding season. One
moonlight night, in a forest by Lake Argentino, a couple of pumas came
out of the dark and began to walk round and round the camp, and
continued to do so for more than an hour, all the time keeping up
their peculiar cry. On no other occasion--though, as I have said,
pumas or rather the evidences of their presence, accompanied us
through our long journeys--did I hear them break silence.
[Illustration: PEARSON'S PUMA (_FELIS CONCOLOR PEARSONI_)]
Pumas are more often destroyed in winter, when the snow lies on the
ground, and their tracks can be followed to their hiding-places;
otherwise they are so marvellously expert in concealing themselves
that it is often impossible to find their lair.
Authentic instances of pumas having attacked man are few; but some
have certainly occurred.
No. 3. Pearson's Puma (_Felis concolor pearsoni_).
On my return from Patagonia I brought with me a puma-skin, which
seemed to me to differ in some essential respects from any known
species. Mr. J. G. Millais, on examining the skin, agreed with me, and
pointed out that it possessed several characteristics which do not
occur in _Felis concolor puma_. I took the skin to the Natural History
Museum, where Mr. Oldfield Thomas came to the conclusion that the
animal was a sub-species of _F. c. puma_, and named it _Felis concolor
pearsoni_.
The chief points of difference between the two species are as follows:
The very different general colour, _F. c. pearsoni_ being reddish-fawn
instead of silver-grey. The proportionately very short tail; light
instead of dark colour on the backs of the ears, which are, moreover,
sharply pointed in the case of the new sub-species, and there is an
absence of the dark markings round the digital pads which
distinguishes _Felis concolor puma_.
Several Gauchos, settlers and Indians informed me that there were two
kinds of pumas in Patagonia, one being very common, silver-grey in
colour and cowardly; the other they described as rare, much fiercer,
of a reddish colour, and somewhat smaller than the common grey
species. Amongst the seventy-three pumas killed by the English
pioneers near Lake Argentino, one, Mr. Cattle told me, differed very
much from the ordinary puma, and judging from the description he gave
of it, I have no hesitation in concluding that it was a specimen of
_Felis concolor pearsoni_.
No. 4. Guanaco (_Lama huanachus_).
(_Guanaco_ of settlers, Argentines and Chilians; _Rou_ of the
Tehuelches.)
During the whole course of our travels in Patagonia (save when in the
forests) a day rarely passed without our seeing guanacos. They may be
met within a few hours' ride of any settlement. The range of the
guanaco extends all over the plains of Patagonia. In my experience
they were most numerous in the _Cañadon_ Davis, in the neighbourhood
of Bahia Camerones, and on the high basaltic tablelands to the south
of Lake Buenos Aires. At the base of the Cordillera and in some of the
river-valleys under the edge of the mountains, the range of the
guanaco crosses that of the huemul. I do not think, however, that the
guanacos ever enter the forest, although I have seen them in the open
patches amongst the lower wooded parts of the Cordillera. As the
seasons change they move from higher to lower ground, but these
migrations are limited, and a white guanaco has been observed year
after year in the same neighbourhood. During the time I spent at Lake
Argentino--from February 1 to May 15--I saw but few of these animals,
for at that season all the herds migrate to the high pampa. A herd
four or five hundred strong inhabited the higher plateaus of Mount
Frias.
[Illustration: HEAD OF GUANACO]
FitzRoy, in his "Voyages of the _Adventure_ and the _Beagle_," writes,
"Do the guanacos approach the river to drink when they are dying? or
are the bones and remains of animals eaten by lions or by Indians? or
are they washed together by floods? Certain it is that they are
remarkably numerous near the banks of the river (Santa Cruz), but not
so elsewhere." It is true that, although one comes upon skeletons of
these animals upon the pampas, they are not crowded together as they
are in the _cañadones_ of the rivers or by the lakes near water. At
the edge of a lagoon at the eastern end of Mystery Plain I saw a great
number of skeletons in one place, possibly the very ones noted by
FitzRoy. They extended in a wide track down the hillside and to the
edge of the water. At Lake Viedma the margins of the lake, near the
outflow of the Leona, were covered with their skins and bones. The
meaning of this I gathered from Mr. Ernest Cattle. He told me that in
the winter of 1899 enormous numbers of guanaco sought Lake Argentino,
and died of starvation upon its shores. In the severities of winter
they seek drinking-places, where there are large masses of water
likely to be unfrozen. The few last winters in Patagonia have been so
severe as to work great havoc among the herds of guanaco.
At nightfall guanacos gather into close order, a large herd collecting
in a small radius. They seem to choose open spaces in which to pass
the hours of darkness. In moments of danger also they pack together
densely. At the sound of a shot, the outlying members of a herd will
close up and sway their long necks almost to the ground in unison. I
see that Darwin says that guanaco are "generally very wild and wary."
In places where they are hunted by the Indians this is undoubtedly the
case, but on this point no law can be laid down. In some districts the
guanaco is very difficult of approach, in others extremely easy. The
evidence that I can adduce concerning this point I have given at
length in another chapter. Their instinct of curiosity is very largely
developed. During our wanderings I studied the habits of the guanaco
with ever-increasing interest. In cold weather they become
extraordinarily tame, and will permit a man to walk among them as a
shepherd walks among his sheep.
The young are brought forth in the months of October, November and the
early part of December. In Southern Patagonia some are born as late as
the end of December. During the period of copulation the bucks fight a
good deal. I never shot an old buck which was not seamed and scarred
with the marks of these contests. When fighting they give vent to loud
squeals of rage, they strike with their forefeet and bite savagely,
mostly at the neck of the antagonist. The marks of these bites are
often deep and long. The skin of the neck is luckily very thick, so
little harm is done. As has been noted before, the guanacos drop all
their dung in one spot, and near these spots their wallows are
ordinarily to be found. I saw an old buck spend a long time over his
toilette while his wives looked on and waited. He would spend nearly
half an hour on his back with his legs in the air, at intervals
standing up to neigh and then rolling again.
[Illustration: GUANACO CHICO (CAPTURED WITH LASSOO)]
A guanaco descending a hillside is a truly wonderful sight. He
proceeds in a succession of bounds, on landing from each of which he
dips his head almost to touch his forefeet. The young guanaco keeps up
with his elders over bad ground in an extraordinary way.
The power of affection in guanacos towards their young did not appear
to me to be very strong. From time to time I had to shoot a young one
for food. Out of nine instances which I find in my diary, only twice
did the mother halt in her flight to see what had happened to her
offspring. On both occasions she stopped within two hundred and fifty
yards and stared towards me. If dogs enter into the chase the mother
deserts to a greater distance. One day, when I with the dogs had
killed a young guanaco, I left it lying and rode away with the dogs.
Returning alone, I took up my quarters in the heart of a bush, from
whence I observed the herd to which the mother belonged. They did not
return nearer than a quarter of a mile to the spot. On another
occasion when I shot a young guanaco and concealed myself for the
same reason, the whole herd came back and, mounting an eminence in the
neighbourhood, scanned the scene of the disaster. They did not,
however, venture near the place where the quarry was lying. Curiously
enough, wild cattle, though much more difficult of approach than
guanaco, often come back in the night lowing and bellowing to visit
the spot where a herd-mate has been killed, but before dawn they
invariably leave that part of the forest.
The young guanaco is an easy quarry. We caught a considerable number
of them for food with the aid of the hounds.
On one occasion a young one was simply headed off from the herd, its
portrait taken, and then it was set free again.
No. 5. Patagonian cavy (_Dolichotis patagonica_).
(Called "cavy" or "hare" indiscriminately by the English residents;
_liebre_ by the Argentines and Chilians; _Paahi_ by the Tehuelches.)
The River Deseado forms the southern limit of the distribution of the
Patagonian cavy. In 1833 Darwin writes concerning this animal, "They
are found as far north as the Sierra Tapalguen (lat. 37° 30´), and
their southern limit is between Port Desire and San Julian, where
there is no change in the nature of the country." As far as my
experience goes, I never observed a cavy after October 23, upon which
day I counted fourteen upon the pampa between Lake Musters and the
settlement of Colohuapi. The residents of Colohuapi informed me that
the place formed the southern limit of the distribution of the cavy.
It is, of course, impossible to lay down an exact line, but I think it
safe to say that the range of the cavy does not extend south of the
46th parallel. This limit is the more remarkable inasmuch as the
country south of lat. 46° does not in any way materially differ from
that over which the cavy is commonly to be met with. One most often
finds these animals on patches of dry mud. They are comparatively easy
to stalk, as easy as an English rabbit. The best method of shooting
them is, of course, with the rifle, though occasionally you may start
them from a thicket and shoot them as you would an English hare with a
shot-gun. They generally weigh between 18 lb. and 25 lb., though I
heard of one which I was assured weighed 31 lb.
The cavy will often lead the hounds a good chase, especially where the
ground is broken, in such places frequently making its escape.
After being frightened it very soon makes its reappearance, and when
it actually takes to flight it rarely goes more than a hundred yards
before it turns to see whether it is an object of pursuit. This is
only the case when man alone is the pursuer; when dogs are present
there is no time to be lost in speculation of any kind.
No. 6. Armadillo (_Dasypus minutus_).
(_Pichy_ of the Argentines and Chilians; _Ano_ of the Tehuelches.)
This animal is never found south of the River Santa Cruz. During the
four months I spent south of that river I did not see one, but when
for three days we crossed to the north bank we met with four and
killed one, as I have before mentioned. _Dasypus minutus_ is very
common in the vicinity of Bahia Camerones. I saw no specimen in the
forests of the Andes, but near Lake Buenos Aires and Lake Viedma we
found them about the foothills.
No. 7. The Grey or Pampa Fox; _Zorro_ of the Argentines; _Paltñ_ of
the Tehuelches.
To the east of the Andes, the pampa fox is to be met with practically
everywhere. There are two varieties of foxes upon the pampa. The
common pampa variety is a most inveterate thief, and causes endless
trouble to travellers by eating all and anything that the wind may
blow down from the bushes, upon which one's belongings are generally
hung by way of guarding against their depredations. If a horse is
_sogaed_ out with a _cabresto_ of hide, the foxes will very often gnaw
through the _cabresto_ and set the horse free. This trick has cost the
life of more than one Gaucho, who, travelling alone upon the pampa, in
some district hundreds of miles away from human habitations, has been
left quite helpless without his horse, unable to use his _bolas_ with
effect on foot, and so has starved to death.
In my experience the range of the grey fox seems to cease at the
foothills of the Cordillera, where the Magellan wolf (_Canis
magellanicus_) is to be found. Of course, in making this statement I
am open to correction. I can merely state that, during the time I
spent at Lake Buenos Aires and Lake Argentino, I never saw a pampa
fox, although evidences of their presence in the way of tracks were
frequent, upon the north shore of the former lake. Yet directly one
ascended the range of the hills towards the River Fenix, pampa foxes
were to be seen. On the top of Mount Frias I saw a pampa fox in the
snow. I never came upon the pampa fox in the forests which grow upon
the slopes of the Cordillera.
The fearlessness of the grey pampa fox is remarkable, even in
districts where it is chased by the Indians and their dogs. The pelts
are much used for making _capas_ or fur cloaks. During the early part
of January 1901, upon the pampa outside the Cordillera, we continually
came upon half-grown pampa foxes in twos and threes. Until they saw
the dogs they never took to flight.
No. 8. Cordillera Wolf (_Canis magellanicus_).
This is the animal locally known as the Cordillera fox. I have
elsewhere touched upon its strongest characteristic of courage, and
also the dread it inspires among horses. It is, of course, a much
larger animal than the pampa fox, which latter can wander about among
the troop without causing any disturbance. A single Cordillera wolf
will attack young huemules as well as the young of the guanaco.
Although found in the forest, this animal also frequents the plains at
the foothills of the Cordillera. Personally I never observed it
farther east than the River Fenix. In the one case that came under my
observation, when sheep had been brought within its range, its
depredations among them were considerable.
The measurements which I made of three of these animals were as
follows: Female killed at the River Fenix, Lake Buenos Aires,
thirty-nine inches; dog-wolf killed at the same place, forty-one
inches; dog-wolf killed at the Lake Argentino, forty-one inches. These
measurements were taken from the teeth to the end of the tail directly
after the shooting of the animals.
When with young the Cordillera wolf, indeed I may say the Cordillera
wolves, both male and female, will run growling towards man if he
attempts to approach their litter. As far as could be judged from an
examination of the lair of one, their bill of fare is very varied.
There were the remains of many kinds of birds, as well as the bones of
the young of guanaco and huemul.
There is another form of the wolf which I think should perhaps be
considered as a sub-species under the name of _Canis montanus_. Its
range is at present undefined. It is a red variety and lacks the dark
markings of _Canis magellanicus_. I hope shortly to have a series of
skins of this type. At present my readers can refer to the coloured
plate "Camp Thieves," and the photograph on this page. Its general
habits seem to be identical with those of _Canis magellanicus_.
No. 9. Skunk (_Conepatus patagonicus_).
(_Zorino_ of the Argentines; _wikster_ of the Tehuelches.)
The skunk is to be met with throughout the whole country, but we saw
perhaps more specimens of this animal in the neighbourhood of Bahia
Camerones than elsewhere. I have also observed it within ten miles of
the foot of the Cordillera. The skins are much prized by the Indians
for the making of _capas_.
Besides the animals enumerated above, an otter is common in most of
the rivers, but as all the skins I collected have not arrived at the
moment of writing, I will hold over any description of this animal
until a later date.
[Illustration: RED MOUNTAIN WOLF (CANIS MONTANUS)]
FOOTNOTE:
[27] This chapter embodies a paper read before the Zoological Society
of London on April 15, 1902, with some additional details.
CHAPTER XIX
FIRST PASSING THROUGH HELLGATE
Rumour of important undiscovered river -- Wish to settle
question -- Dr. Moreno's description of Lake Argentino --
Start for Hellgate -- Description of Hellgate -- Squall --
Sunshine -- Scenery -- Icebergs -- Danger-dodging --
Absence of life on banks -- West channel of North Fjord --
Events of voyage -- Giant's Glacier -- Camera -- Second
glacier -- Deep water -- End of west channel -- Return to
North Fjord -- Icebergs -- In difficulties with launch --
Escape from a reef -- Land on peninsula -- Guanaco -- Fish
-- Fish and fariña -- Heavy gales -- Photographs -- One
more attempt to go up North Fjord -- Driftwood -- Driven
back -- Return to Cow Monte Harbour -- South Fjord --
Storms -- Mount Avellaneda -- Small fjord -- Trouble with
launch -- Squalls -- Launch driven ashore -- On fire --
Fine weather -- Glacier calves -- Thousands of square
miles of forest unexplored.
"An important river flows into the end of the north fjord (of Lake
Argentino) with clear waters--a sure sign that it proceeds from
another great lake still unknown."
In these words, taken from the _Journal of the Royal Geographical
Society_ for September 1899, under the head of "Explorations in
Patagonia," by Dr. Moreno, you have the idea which was the spring of
all our efforts in bringing down the launch to Lake Argentino and the
aim of the subsequent voyages made in her.
The opening to the north passage or fjord is locally known as
Hellgate, so called on account of the rough weather which usually
prevails there. The spot is the opening of a long winding channel
that, running up between beetling cliffs and forested mountain-sides
as it were into the heart of the Andes, becomes simply a vast funnel
through which the winds and storms discharge themselves upon the lake
at all times and seasons. I cannot give a better description of Lake
Argentino than by using the following extract from Dr. Moreno's
account:
"Lake Argentino ... extends sixty miles to the west; and the fjords of
the extreme west divide into three arms, which receive the waters of
large glaciers from Mount Stokes up to the vicinity of Lake Viedma. An
important river flows into the end of the north fjord, with clear
waters--a sure sign that it proceeds from another great lake still
unknown. The western end is closed by the main chain of the Cordillera
with its glaciers, which cross to the Pacific fjords of Peel Inlet and
St. Andrew's Sound, and one can distinguish peaks more than 10,000
feet, as Mount Agassiz (10,597 feet)."
[Illustration: HELLGATE]
On March 11, having mended the launch to the best of our ability, we
intended to make a start from Cow Monte Harbour. As we rode down from
Cattle's, driving my troop of horses before us, the calm weather which
had attended the period of repairs broke up and a strong wind began to
blow out of the south-west. A start was, therefore, rendered
impossible. We accordingly camped beside the launch, to be ready for
an early departure. All night long the wind held, and the sheepskins
in the after-hatch, where I was sleeping, took in water. It needed
little waking, therefore, to get me out in the morning. The false
dawn was still lingering in the sky when the wind fell and we were off
in double quick time, heading in a northerly direction, and steering
by a clump of _Leña dura_ bushes on a promontory, behind which lay
Hellgate.
The swell of the previous night was yet big upon the water, and the
launch crawled over it at about three knots. The entrance to Hellgate
is possibly one of the most menacing and sinister-looking spots in
South America. The great grooved cliffs tower over the yeasty cauldron
of water, and down the channel between them, as I have said, the wind
hurtles as through a funnel. On this particular morning a squall had
darkened the great and houseless unknown beyond. Several icebergs were
huddled together, stranded upon the shallows of the eastern shore.
After running through the black throat of Hellgate we put in, beneath
a big rock, in order to take shelter from the squall that was fast
coming down upon us. We had started on a _maté_, and so, while we
waited, a roast was got under way. As we were eating, the squall that
had brooded so ominously in the west broke over the lake, and after
raging for a few minutes passed with a shiver that you could follow
with the eye, till it lost itself in the distance of the early morning
waters. Then the sun glowed out suddenly, as if some gigantic power
had lifted an extinguisher from its glory. The farther and middle
distances were peopled with snow-peaks, rising in minarets above their
girdles of dark forest, which last stretched downwards until they
lipped the black water at the mountain bases. For a moment after the
outburst of radiance the water alone remained black and angry, and
then the squall flicked away its skirts and passed from view, leaving
a picture of cold and austere purity extending to the rim of sight. In
words I cannot give you any reflection of the scene, and no photograph
could ever do more than reproduce its outlines, and yet I suppose few
human eyes will ever look upon it.
To describe the kaleidoscope of colours and the scenery through which
we passed in that north-west passage of Lake Argentino would merely
leave me a beggar in adjectives. Suffice it to say that for that day
at least the mist and gloom of the clouds shared short watches with
the gold and white of flying sunshine. For the first time in our
experience of her the launch played us no tricks, and our progress
went on at a steady three knots. Soon a gigantic glacier showed in the
channel, seeming to block all farther advance. The Fjord looked full
of icebergs; there must have been three thousand of them lying, an
inanimate fleet, in their mountain-bound harbour of wind and mist.
A nasty squall caught us as we dodged among the ice, the smallest
ripple set us gripping our frail craft, and I am afraid that a
moderate sea would have drowned her fires and sent us to explore
downwards rather than onwards. Indeed, our entire life on the launch
was one long history of danger-dodging. I do not give the details,
because some of the same sort have already been written, and
repetition is needless. I grant there was more risk in taking the
launch and using her in such waters than, perhaps, wisdom would have
approved. Without her, however, we could have had no chance of
exploring the North Fjord and solving the mystery of the "river with
clear waters." Moreover, those who accompanied me went of their own
free will, and I must here record my gratitude to Mr. Cattle, who
willingly risked his life on our voyages in the launch, and also to
Burbury--who accompanied me on my first journey--as well as to
Bernardo, who was with me throughout the whole of my Lake Argentino
experiences. Wherever I may travel in the future, I can wish for no
better companions.
[Illustration: THE NORTH FIORD]
Bernardo, the most willing of men, kept our nerves in a state of less
than pleasurable excitement. He drove the launch, when I took my eye
off him, with 145 lb. of steam in her worn-out boiler--her
safety-limit at the best of times had been 130 lb. On shore he
succeeded in firing off my jungle-gun by mistake, narrowly missing
killing himself at close quarters and myself at some few feet
distance. But even after this involuntary attempt at manslaughter one
could not be angry with him, he was so genuinely sorry, yet one could
not help foreseeing that he was eminently likely to do something of
the sort again. He was, to use slang, such a "decent chap," he never
grumbled when he had nothing to eat, or a bout of bitter cold labour
when we were obliged to turn out in the night to get up the anchor
or do some other job. He was also a glutton of the first water for
work, but we were all persuaded that he would end by slaying us, in
which case I have not the slightest doubt he would have said to me as
we were being ferried across the Styx, "By good, Mr. Preechard, I am
sorry, the old launch she bust up!" From looking on the launch, as he
did at first, with considerable awe and respect, familiarity with her
bred contempt, and all her parts lost their novelty to him, save the
whistle. When he blew that his face would betoken the intensest
satisfaction. In many ways the placid Swede caused us much amusement.
[Illustration: BEYOND MAN'S FOOTSTEPS]
One of the most singular things to be observed during that day was the
absence of life in the forest which bordered the shore. It was strange
to sail along under the vast masses of vegetation and rarely to see or
hear any sign of life. On March 12 we continued our advance, and
finding that the Fjord here split up into three or four channels, we
chose the most westward of them. Our progress was very slow owing to
the west wind having packed the ice. In the evening we made our camp
among some dead trees upon the margin of the water, and I wandered off
into the thickets, where I saw a Cordillera wolf. I picked up a stone
and threw it at him, but this had no effect until I hit him with a
small twig, which made him growl. Finally he took refuge in a bush.
It was while at this camp that we cut for the first time some _Leña
dura_ as firing for the launch. It proved better than califate and
gave at least three times the amount of heat to be had from
_roblé_-wood. Afterwards, whenever possible, we burned no other fuel
than _Leña dura_.
The following is from my diary:
"_March 21._--During this trip we have had a collapsible canvas boat
in tow of the launch, which boat has saved us many a wetting in
boarding and in leaving the launch. We go ashore in relays, one man
remaining on the launch. This evening, while Cattle, Burbury and I
were on the beach wood-cutting and tent-pitching, I heard Cattle
shout, and, looking round, saw, to my disgust, the canvas boat already
some twenty yards out and drifting quickly away from the beach. The
wind had caught her broadside on, and she was being blown out into the
current beyond the calm of our sheltering promontory. Cattle and I ran
down to the shingle, casting off our clothes as we went. I thought we
were in for a long swim, no pleasant prospect in that ice-cold water
among the floes. But, as luck would have it, there was a little point
of land projecting from the cliff of the promontory, and to this we
made our hurried way, leaving behind us a spoor of shed garments. We
arrived in the nick of time to secure the boat, and Cattle rowed her
round to the beach beyond the camp.
"There is one enormous glacier visible almost due north. It had
evidently been throwing many bergs of late. We called it the Giant's
Glacier. This glacier is marked with double lines of brown reaching
from the clouds right down to the margin of the water, for all the
world like the tracks of the chariot wheels of some giant. We are now
very much in the kingdom of the ice. Away beyond the immediate
foreground of the shores and forests is spread a panorama of unnamed
peaks. The silence is seldom broken save by the scream of the wind or
the crashing fall of some mass of ice from the glaciers.
"I find my camera has been damaged. This is unfortunate, but hardly to
be wondered at. It is a difficult matter to prevent mischief when the
launch rolls and everything gets adrift, and one's time is taken up
with keeping one's balance, steering, or in doing the myriad little
jobs that crowd one upon the other. Although the camera reposed in the
sheltering care of various rugs in the after-hatch, the heavy weather
defeated all our precautions. In this difficulty a novel of Miss Marie
Corelli's has been of the utmost assistance, and saved us from the
misfortune of being unable to take photographs. The colonial edition
of the 'Master Christian' has a thick red cover, and with the help of
some flour paste we have succeeded in making the camera light-proof.
Thus I owe a second debt of gratitude to Miss Marie Corelli, beside
the pleasure of reading her book."
The next day broke clear and still, raising our hopes as to our
progress through the ice. I must say that we took our fine blue
weather--little of it as we were blessed with--with a hearty pleasure,
and enjoyed it most thoroughly. We might be cold and wet an hour
later, but between the squalls it was not so disagreeable, and we made
the best of the breaks.
It was not long under these favourable circumstances before we reached
the last curve of the channel, and were confronted by another glacier
of considerable size, coming down through a depression in the midst of
a mountain. Below the glacier the shoulders and base of the mountain
were covered with dark forests. All round under the cliffs was, as I
have said, deep water, how deep I do not know, as we had no means of
taking soundings of such depth.
As there seemed little to be gained by landing at the foot of the
glacier we ran back to the camp of the previous night, where the
harbourage was at any rate somewhat better. While we were yet ashore,
a squall began to grow up in the sky to the west and came down upon
the water in an angry spatter of rain. It subsided, however, as
quickly as it had arisen, so we got afloat again. Running back through
the narrow throat of the channel, we found that the wind, which had
veered several points to the north, had almost blocked it with a fleet
of icebergs, that were grinding together on the swell of the water.
These we managed to make our way through, and it was with some
thankfulness that we presently reached the farther shore on the east
of the main Fjord. We had no sooner arrived than it began to blow in
heavy gusts, and five minutes after the first of them--so quickly do
the seas rise upon this lake--we had to shift our anchorage.
In an hour or two, having in the meantime laid in a good store of
firewood, and the heavy wind being succeeded by a series of cold
showers, we took advantage of the lull and headed up the main Fjord to
the north. But the wind, that had temporarily dropped, soon resumed
its fury, and the launch was hard put to it to keep her position, far
less to make any headway, and then, as was usual in moments of need,
the pumps ceased working altogether, and Burbury shouted that no more
than ten minutes' steam remained in the boiler. There was nothing for
it but to turn her and to run for the land. We found, however, small
hope of anchorage, for a bare fifty-foot cliff rose sheer out of the
water and so continued for a long distance ahead. Seeing we were
unlikely to discover a suitable position, we decided to cross the
lake, but we had not gone far when the propeller wheezed into silence.
Strong squalls caught us and made the launch roll and heave. Cattle
got into the canvas boat with the idea of trying to tow her, and I
forward, put out the long oar, which we generally used as one of the
bulwarks--and we both endeavoured to keep her from turning broadside
on to the waves, in which case she would have been swamped.
Cattle shortly gave up his attempt to tow her; in the sea then running
such an effort was hopeless. The wind increased. Cattle came aboard,
not without difficulty, and tried rowing with a short oar. Meantime
Burbury was baling water into the boiler with a cooking-pot. The
launch was rolling in a manner which made rowing a difficult matter.
Presently the oar I was using broke off short and the launch was
drifting ominously near to a reef. It was a race as to whether we
should get up steam before we were cast upon it. We watched the index
of the register slowly beginning to quiver, and when it marked 30 lb.
we were not much more than a score or so of yards from the rocks. This
was, however, enough to enable us to get way on and forge slowly out
of danger.
Our steam did not last much longer than to allow us to find shelter
under the lee of a line of low rocks, which thrust themselves out and
served as a little breakwater in the lake. We remained there while
Burbury again filled the boiler, and, having got up steam, we made the
mouth of a deep inlet which afforded us good harbourage. Here we
landed, and found ourselves upon a peninsula shaped like a spoon, the
handle that connected it with the land being very narrow. At its upper
end it joined the moraine of the great glacier which I had called
Giant's Glacier.
As we came in to the beach, three guanacos cantered down and stared
and neighed at us. The sight of these animals brightened the prospect,
as it was pleasant to see living creatures in what had hitherto seemed
to be an empty amphitheatre of hills. The bay where we had anchored
was a shallow lagoon, into which flowed a little stream that wound
away out of sight through a thin belt of forest over land
comparatively flat. This peninsula carried a light soil and good
grass, but bore the appearance of a spot that the winter would strike
with peculiar severity. The wood was all _roblé_ and _Leña dura_ and
the scrub included califate-bushes, from which last, however, the
purple berries had long since departed, much to our sorrow. Huemules,
guanacos, pumas, and the red fox gave evident signs of their presence.
I observed a pigmy owl (_Glaucidium nanum_) and several caranchos. In
the evening, when speaking upon the subject, Cattle informed me that
several kinds of fish were to be found in Lake Argentino. Often as we
used to make our meal of fish and fariña (a compound in the concoction
of which for good or evil Bernardo stood alone), I used to regret my
inability to bring back specimens of the fish from this lake, but I
had no means of preserving them.
"Fish and fariña," indeed, became a standing joke with us. We might
threaten to blow each other up by the agency of the launch's peculiar
engines, and the threats would pass as nothing; but the expressed
intention of any one of us who proposed to go and catch fish with a
view to preparing a meal of "fish and fariña" soon became too much for
the strongest and bravest among us. As a matter of fact, the fish was
far from tempting, having a muddy flavour and being full of small
bones, which mixed themselves up inextricably with the fariña.[28]
That night shut down with a gale and much rain. The trees groaned, and
one close to us was blown down. It was with a very thankful heart that
I woke up in the middle of the storm and reflected upon the glorious
safety of our new-found harbour. Next morning I was awakened sometime
in the dusky grey of dawn because a couple of Chiloe widgeon had come
in close to the launch, and roasted duck was voted good by the
wakeful Burbury. I sleepily thought the widgeon might have waited, and
after all something scared the ducks and they flew off to a distance
of a couple of hundred yards. My stalk only resulted in my securing
one of the birds.
The ice we had observed earlier in the mouth of the most westerly
channel had by this time completely blocked the opening. We spent the
day wandering about upon the peninsula, and I tried to get some
photographs, but the attempt was rather hopeless in the mist and rain.
Indeed, although advantage was taken of every lifting of the weather,
four pictures were all that this trip allowed of my completing.
The following day, in spite of bad weather, we made a third attempt to
head up the North Fjord, at the end of which we hoped to find the
"river with clear waters" mentioned by Dr. Moreno, and at the end of
that again the unknown lake. We made two hours very slow progress, the
north-west wind quickly beating up a troublesome sea. We observed bits
of wood travelling faster than is usual in cases of drift, and now
made sure that, could we but reach the end of the Fjord, we should
find the river whose current we believed to be responsible for the
comparatively rapid movement of the wood.
Our hopes were on this occasion destined to disappointment, for, in
spite of all our efforts, we were unable to go forward or to make head
against the bad weather, which continued for some days. Besides this,
the injector of the launch failed to perform its office, and as the
machinery was badly in need of repairs, and the cracked plate was
letting in water, I thought it better to run before the wind to Cow
Monte Harbour, which was, in fact, our headquarters, and where such
tools as we had were stored. One point that was always in our favour
while making these attempts to force our way up the North Fjord, lay
in the fact that the prevailing winds from north-west or south-west,
as the case might be, helped rather than hindered us on our return
passages.
[Illustration: OUR LAUNCH AMONG THE ICE]
During this interval, while waiting for a second opportunity of
attempting to gain the extreme end of the North Fjord of the lake, we
arranged to make a short voyage down the South Fjord, or, as it is
locally known, to Lake Rica. By doing this, moreover, we should
complete our circumnavigation of Lake Argentino. Before we left,
reliable news came up from the settlements with some belated Christmas
and other papers. We were very relieved to learn that the
Franco-Russian combination was no more than a camp-scare, nor was
Russia advancing on India, as the last rumours had told us. When one
has lost so large a slice of the general history of the world as we
did during the months passed on our expedition, it is hopeless to
imagine one can ever make up the loss. The events of that period must
always remain blurred and hazy in the mind, only a few ever attaining
an accurate outline. And then how greedy one becomes of news after an
abstinence so prolonged as ours from that daily mental excitement of
civilisation! It is difficult to describe how one grips the strayed
journal or periodical when one has been cut off for months from these
"curses of modern life."
On April 11 we left Cow Monte Harbour and steamed westwards down the
Punta Bandera Channel. In a short time the pump broke down and we had
some trouble in putting it right again. In defence of our engineering
skill I must say that we had against us the fact that a part of the
pump had been taken away for repairs to Buenos Aires by the
Commission. We camped at the mouth of a river coming down out of Mount
Avellaneda. Above us the bare volcanic summits of the mountains rose
starkly out of their circling forests, that were now turning crimson
with the brilliant colours of autumn. We could also see the great
glacier on the western side of the Canal de los Tempanos. Many
deer-tracks were visible, but we saw only one huemul buck in the edge
of the forest.
We made an early start next day, which luckily was calm, for the pump
gave us a good deal of bother. We proceeded down a smaller fjord lying
under Mount Avellaneda, which took us in a westerly direction, but
presently curved southwards and ended in a large mountain covered with
forest, which I named Mount Millais. The chief hindrances in these
winding passages were the constantly veering winds that we
encountered. Day and night we were obliged to keep up a constant
struggle against them. This was all very well during the daylight,
but to anchor the launch snugly and then to be waked by her bumping
and straining at her cable perhaps ten times in the night, and to have
to turn out in just what you happened to have on in the way of
sleeping apparel supplemented only by "the mantle of the night,"--for
there never was a moment to be lost at these junctures--was an
experience which quickly became monotonous and wearing to strength and
temper. During this South Fjord trip the launch certainly did herself
proud in this direction; she seldom gave us a couple of hours' quiet
rest, often forcing us to face the biting cold a dozen times between
dark and dawn.
The forests about this part of the lake were immense, and contained
trees and plants unknown in the outer Cordillera or, rather, I should
say, the foothills.[29] A bush resembling holly was conspicuous,
fuchsias also abounded.
I quote a short description of this region from my diary: "The
mountains go in and out of the mist, now seen, now lost. The mist
shrouds them at one moment, and the greyness reaches up to heaven and
down to earth--into a man's soul it often seems; the next instant
there may be gleams of a sad blue sky shining through the torn banners
of the haze, and glaciers assume a wonderful goblin hue, a pallid
violet." There was some sameness in our days, but the launch kept us
alive with anticipation. She seldom lacked the chance of giving us
some surprise. Often we asked each other, "Will she drown us after
all? And when and where?" A cold death and a deep grave she had it in
her power to give. The one good side to the situation was that when we
landed, as we often did, in a sleety drizzle on a swampy camp, we
forbore to grumble, but were, on the contrary, filled with a strong
thankfulness to have escaped from her even for a little time.
We had one particularly bad night, when a series of squalls came down
on us, and we spent the greater part of our sleeping-hours in poling
the launch off the shore, but at last the wind got the better of us
and literally hurled her on the beach.
How we managed to get her off it is impossible to describe; we did it
somehow. The next morning was still windy, but we steamed along the
Canal de los Tempanos under Mount Buenos Aires, and there it was that
a fire broke out on the launch. This was an accident we always
dreaded, for, having no room elsewhere, we were obliged to pile the
fuel round her engine, with the result that it occasionally became
dangerously heated.
[Illustration: GLACIER DE LOS TEMPANOS]
Landing at the end of the Canal de los Tempanos we found ourselves in
forests of magnificent timber. The vegetation was rank and luxuriant,
a mass of decay under a forest of life. From the swampy dank ground
tall stems sprang up straight and branchless as palms, while at their
feet grew a carpet of ferns.
We had some marvellous days of fine weather in the Cordillera, where
on the mountain slopes, as winter drew on, the crimson shades crept
deeper to mingle with and finally change the green. In due time we
reached the South Fjord by water. The account of a previous visit on
horseback has already been told. Then we turned homewards, and on the
way I secured some good photos of the great glacier of the Canal de
los Tempanos. As we passed down the canal, a big berg broke off from
the glacier ahead of us and plunged into the water, sending up a huge
wave, which luckily only touched us slightly. It was well we were no
nearer. We witnessed after this the fall of several lesser pieces of
ice, the noise of which resounded loudly among the gorges.
Our return voyage was eventless. While Bernardo was making our
camp-fire upon landing, he called to me to come with my rifle. He said
he had been attacked by a large Cordillera wolf, which snapped at his
legs. He retaliated with an axe, but it got away. Following in the
direction he indicated, I caught a glimpse of the animal crossing a
patch of moonlight, and fired, hitting it far back.
There are many thousands of square miles of unexplored forest in
Patagonia. It is a region unknown and mysterious, which has never been
deeply explored by man. As has been said, no man lives in them, and it
is a question whether man has ever lived there, for the one
all-sufficient reason--the practical absence of game on which he might
subsist.
I well remember my first sight of the forests, and the intense longing
that took hold upon me to make my way into their virgin fastnesses. It
is one of the traveller's most unquenchable desires, this hankering to
go where no other man has yet been. It springs, I suppose, from the
undefined thought that in the unknown everything is possible, though
few things perhaps come to pass.
[Illustration: ANOTHER VIEW OF THE GLACIER DE LOS TEMPANOS]
From afar the forests appear to rim the slopes and spurs of the
Cordillera with a seemingly impenetrable mass of blackness, reaching
towards and often running up into the snow-line; as you approach the
colour assumes its true hue, a deep dense green, a green that seems to
have the quality of absorbing light, so that, as you gaze upon the
expanse of foliage stretching back into the distances, fold beyond
fold, where the valleys and mountain-sides close in behind each other,
an impression of gloom and mystery lays hold upon your mind. Upon
still nearer inspection you find the trees ranked in heavy phalanxes,
while between their close-set trunks has grown up an under-tangle of
thorn. Old storms have overthrown many of the giants, so that they lie
in tens and twenties, or lean against their yet quick companions
awaiting the slow decay of things. But it is very hard to give any
adequate idea in words of these vast and nameless tree-kingdoms. Most
common among the trees was the antarctic beech. I observed also
redwood and cypress.
[Illustration: GLACIER AND GLACIAL DETRITUS]
There are some wild cattle and huemules to be found in the outskirts
of the woodlands; we also saw parrots, hawks and owls in some of our
wanderings, while in other spots there seemed no sign of life at all
save a few small rodents, and even those, as we pushed farther into
the thicker recesses, disappeared. And then we came under the sway of
that curious silence which broods among these forest depths.
The aspects of the various forests and the trees of which they were
composed varied greatly. Some were bare and devoid of undergrowth as a
northern forest; others were absolutely tropical in their heavy
luxuriance. In one, a majestic place, the tall antarctic beeches were
draped with long trailing Spanish moss, and on the carpet of moss
beneath them lay here and there a dead tree.
Few places are more mournful than this region when rain is falling.
After the rain ceases, mists arise and circle round you, shutting you
in, these in their turn often being dissipated by a sudden fierce
squall. In summer the climate is very humid, and many of the plants
have the fat damp aspect seldom observable save in the tropics. The
huge masses of rank vegetation seem to stifle you; once you have been
in that great black insatiable woodland you can never quite shake off
its influence.
In that particular forest was one glade by the outrunning of a little
brook where the ground was thick with orchids.[30]
One reads of "virgin forests," but one must behold them to comprehend
the reality that underlies the wording. For days you saw no living
thing, heard no human tones, nothing but the immense voices of the
thunder, the glacier and the everlasting wind. The solitude of
Patagonia, its peculiar characteristic of lack of human life in the
present and the past, was borne in upon one under that high dome of
foliage, and in those aisles abysmally vast, stretching north, south,
east and west. In any other country legends would have gathered round
these places, some touch of man's presence and adventure humanised
them, so to speak. In Patagonia the fancy had nothing to grip, to grow
upon, no story of joy or of sorrow. Solitude reigned alone, and nature
spoke only by the awful uninterpreted tongues of God's elements.
FOOTNOTES:
[28] Two kinds of fish came under my observation, but I understood
there were four.
[29] I hope in a future volume to publish a list of the plants we
collected. At the moment of writing all have not reached England.
[30] There were also orchids growing about the foothills of the
Cordillera. Those I brought back are now under the care of the Curator
of the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew. They should flower before this
book is in print.
CHAPTER XX
DISCOVERY OF THE RIVER KATARINA AND LAKE PEARSON
Fears of winter coming on -- Stormy days -- Quiet nights
-- Picnics in Patagonia -- Start by night -- Hellgate by
starlight -- Camp on beach -- Advance up North Fjord --
Approach to River Katarina -- Shallow water -- Leave
launch -- Advance with canvas boat -- Tameness of huemul
-- Anecdote of Canoe Indians -- White-faced ducks -- First
sight of lake -- Bernardo falls ill -- Immoderate bags of
so-called sportsmen -- Problem of shrinkage of Lake
Argentino -- Discovery of Lake Pearson -- Description --
Bernardo better -- Comet -- Obliged to turn back --
Hellgate by firelight.
After our return from our trip to the South Fjord the weather became
very threatening, and I was beset with many anxious fears that the
winter might set in rigidly, and entirely preclude any attempt to
solve the problem of the yet unvisited and unknown river and lake
whose existence was conjectured at the end of the North Fjord. Snow
fell and blocked the pass to Punta Arenas,[31] which was our south
road to the coast, but luckily a milder spell followed, the snow
melted and I was encouraged to remain just a little longer to carry
out my original idea of making another effort to thoroughly explore
the North Fjord.
Storms, however, swept over the lake, and although we undertook a
couple of short expeditions in the launch, we waited for better days
before again facing the difficulties of the Hellgate passage. Again
and again we saw squalls and waterspouts come curling down the channel
between the frowning cliffs. Day followed day with heavy winds, the
coming of the light seemed to be the signal for the gales to rise,
whereas on many nights the weather was fairly still, and the water in
consequence calmer. It was during this period of waiting that we
arranged the following programme, which I find scribbled upon a page
of my diary:
PICNICS IN PATAGONIA.
Arranged by the Patagonian Picnicking Company on the
most lavish scale.
On the Free Pampas!
Over glorious Lakes!!
Through illimitable Forests!!!!!
Ladies and gentlemen desiring to make this unique trip should
communicate _at once_ with the Secretary, Herr Bernardo Hähansen.
Unequalled Scenery!!! Horse Exercise!!!
Guanaco Shooting!!! Ostrich Hunting!!!
A special feature will be made of water-trips in the
magnificent steam-yacht, the fastest boat on Lake
Argentino, commanded by an officer of immense experience
and charming manners, who has instructions to do all that
he can for the comfort of the passengers.
WRITE EARLY.
Applications are pouring in. Only a limited number of
passengers can be accommodated. Don't be one of the
disappointed! You pay £500. We do the rest!!!!!!!
_N.B._--The cultured conversation of the Chief Engineer
free of charge. (Gratuities regarded merely as a graceful
compliment.)
Passengers are expected to insure their lives in favour of
the Company for sums of not less than £1000 each with
respectable Insurance Companies.
The engagement of picturesque heathen camp-servants will be
made a special study by the Company.
[Illustration: EVENTIDE]
At length, weary of waiting on the wind's vagaries, we determined to
start by night, during the quieter period we usually then enjoyed, and
make what progress we could up the intricacies of Hellgate.
Accordingly, at 1 o'clock P.M. on May 3, we began our voyage. We
passed through Hellgate and left many silent bays behind us as we kept
on our course just outside the inky shadow of the cliffs. The water
was still working after the blow of the daytime, but on the whole we
had favourable weather and the stars shone brightly. With dawn the
wind arose and we were forced to put in to an anchorage on the east
shore of the Fjord. Afterwards, travelling by day, we made our way
to the peninsula, rocks often jutted out into the fairway, but these
were easy to locate, as we had been through the channel before and had
some knowledge of its reefs. A number of icebergs had been blown down
out of the western channel, but the water had fallen considerably
since our last visit, and when we reached the peninsula we found it
impossible to resume our former camp there, so we were forced to pass
an uncommonly cold night on a bare bit of beach without so much as a
bush to shelter us.
From time to time we spent a good while on this peninsula. It was
studded with erratic boulders, and the soil on it varied from six to
twelve inches in depth. On this visit I saw a red-crested woodpecker.
The views from the higher part of the peninsula were infinitely grand.
The gigantic glacier, the dark forests, the innumerable icebergs
floating below the black cliffs--all these combined to make up
pictures which I should like to be able to reproduce.
In time the weather moderated, and we made a last essay to penetrate
to the farther end of the main Fjord. As we proceeded the water became
shallower, so that it was necessary occasionally to take soundings.
There were also many rocks. We once more noticed dry sticks and leaves
drifting past, and presently ahead of us, through a gap in the
Cordillera, we caught a glimpse of flat country. This time we
fulfilled our desire and attained to the termination of the Fjord,
where we came to the mouth of a river of considerable size. It swung
out from round the base of a cliff, and had thrown up a slight bar
where it joined the waters of the lake. I named it the River Katarina.
We camped at this point and began at once to explore the valley of the
river. It flowed over a stony bed, presenting much the appearance of a
large Scotch trout-stream. The _cañadon_ through which it passed was
very wide, and the stream wound greatly. At the time of our visit the
river was very shallow, and there was not water enough to float the
launch, in fact a stone picked up from the bottom lodged itself
between the blades of the propeller and we had to haul up for repairs.
This business of repairing was one we often had to perform, and
necessity being the mother of invention, the dodges we resorted to
were original. The launch, if once hauled up on the beach and sunk in
the sand, would have been too heavy for the three of us to get back
into the water. On these occasions we therefore used to cut the
largest tree-trunks available and roll them under the keel while still
half in the water, then the two heaviest of us would go into the bows,
which were, of course, in comparatively deep water, and our weight in
this position served to raise the stern sufficiently to allow of the
third man to execute the repairs needful to the propeller. In the
present instance it was found that the machinery was severely
strained, though fortunately no damage had been done to the blades of
the propeller.
Though the river was shallow in May, we saw abundant evidence that it
must carry a greatly increased volume of water in the earlier part of
the year. But not finding it possible to take the launch up the
channel, we decided on anchoring her as securely as we could and
continuing our expedition in the small canvas boat. This we did a day
or two later.
Our camping-ground on the bank of the Katarina was among high and
rather coarse grass, which would have made excellent feed for horses,
but I should not think it possible to keep horses in that _cañadon_,
as, being encircled by hills, the sun would seldom reach it during the
winter. There were many patches of wood, composed of rather stunted
trees, but it was difficult to penetrate among them, their trunks grew
so close together. A certain amount of game lived in the valley,
huemules, guanacos, pumas and Cordillera wolves.
The extraordinary tameness of the huemul here was, of course,
accounted for by their entire ignorance of man. During my wanderings
from the camp I had opportunities of making many interesting
observations on this point. They would almost always, if you kept
still and made no attempt to approach them, advance timidly towards
you. It was in this valley of the Katarina that I met with the most
remarkable instance of boldness on the part of these animals. I have
given this story in full in another chapter, but I may shortly allude
to it here. I was some miles from the camp, among thick grass and
scrub, when I perceived emerging from a thicket at a little distance
the spiked horns and red-brown sides of a huemul buck; behind him
were two does, half hidden in the thicket. Finding that they had
perceived me, I lay down on the grass and watched to see what they
would do. One could read in their movements and attitudes the battle
between timidity and curiosity that was going on within them. A third
half-grown doe now appeared, and all four began to drift, as it were,
slowly in my direction, keeping their eyes fixed upon me all the time.
Now and again they would stop, then move on a few steps nearer, but
after a long time they grew courageous enough to come right up to me,
and the younger doe sniffed at my boot, then started back some paces,
her companions naturally following her example. I could easily have
touched her with my hand during a good part of the time. At last the
buck lowered his horns as if with the intention of turning me over,
but the sun was now sinking, and I was obliged to take my way
homewards. As I stirred the huemules made off, but halted at a short
distance to stare again at the queer object which had for the first
time in their lives entered within their ken.
[Illustration: _CAÑADON_ OF THE RIVER KATARINA]
That evening, as we sat round the camp-fire, Cattle told us an amusing
story illustrative of the quickness with which the Canoe Indians of
the western or Pacific coast pick up the art of bargaining. He with
two companions was living in the eternal rain of the Chilian side of
the Cordillera, when one afternoon they struck a camp of Canoe
Indians, who ran away into the forest on seeing the boat of the white
men coming up the fjord. After a time, however, curiosity overcame
their terror, and an old woman advanced from under the trees and
commenced to open communications with the travellers by means of
signs. She was probably sent out on account of her uselessness to the
tribe, as, in the event of the white men being evilly disposed, her
loss would have been regarded as no great misfortune. By-and-by she
was joined by the other Indians, and the party fell to bartering. One
of the Englishmen bought a fine sea-otter's skin for a box of matches,
and the old lady, who had made the first advances, was asked by signs
if she had another to dispose of. She ran back into the forest and
presently returned with the half of a skin in each hand. She demanded
a box of matches for each piece, for, thinking to improve upon the
last bargain, she had cut the otter-skin in two with a bit of glass!
Our next move was to trace the river up to its source. After assuring
ourselves that the launch could not go up the stream, we made all
ship-shape in the camp and prepared to go ahead by putting our bedding
and food in the canvas boat. We set out one grey morning, following
the left bank of the Katarina. Parallel with the course of the river
ran a chain of small hillocks, and behind these again a series of
reedy lagoons. These last were literally black with duck, especially
the variety known locally as the "white-faced duck," otherwise the
Chiloe widgeon. The lagoons contained brackish water, and I fancy the
whole depression in which they lie is flooded in the spring.
On this day Cattle and I, from the top of a hillock, descried what we
took to be water in the north end of the _cañadon_. This was our first
sight of the lake the shores of which I afterwards reached.
In the evening we camped at a spot opposite to the mouth of a
tributary of the Katarina that flowed from the hills on the eastern
side. At this point Bernardo knocked up. He had had hard work all day
with the boat, for the stream was full of shoals, and wind and current
were strong against him. He had been in the river off and on, and as
he was already suffering from a slight cold when we set out this
treatment had not improved it. By night his chest seemed a good deal
affected, and his breathing was difficult. The rain of the afternoon
turned to snow in the night, and it became very cold, a comfortless
position for a feverish man. Our means for dealing with illness were
limited, but hot cocoa and rugs seemed the best treatment under the
circumstances, and we further sheltered him under the canvas boat,
which, being turned over, made a tolerable hut.
[Illustration: RIVER KATARINA]
Having brought a certain amount of provisions with us, we did not
shoot much. There can be little question that, had Patagonia been a
country rich in trophies, its less remote valleys would long ago have
known the crack of the rifle. Fortunately for its _feræ naturæ_, the
small horns of _Xenelaphus bisulcus_ do not offer sufficient
attraction. There is no sport on earth finer than big-game shooting in
moderation, but in all parts of the world I should like to see a
universal law prohibiting any one sportsman or professional hunter
from shooting more than a limited number of a particular animal in a
year. This idea, as a universal law, is, of course, impossible of
fulfilment, but surely in sport moderation and a due regard for the
survival of the various kinds of game should be the guiding rule and
principle. However, my pen has carried me away. I merely say that it
would be well if public opinion trended more resolutely towards
censuring the hunter who selfishly makes immoderate bags. At the
present moment he is looked upon as rather a fine fellow by those who
lack any real knowledge of the subject, for no man is more strongly
opposed to such doings than the true sportsman.
Owing to the unfortunate accident of Bernardo's illness, the general
advance of our party was out of the question. It only remained for me
to push on alone, and to give up any attempt to take the boat farther.
Cattle stayed with Bernardo, to look after him, while I went on up the
valley along the banks of the Katarina.
There can be little doubt that all the _cañadon_ of this river formed
at one time part of Lake Argentino, and that the hills in the valley
were merely small islands in the same. One of the most interesting
facts in connection with Lake Argentino is the large volume of water
that is precipitated into it by a number of rivers and mountain
torrents. Besides the Rivers Leona and Katarina, there are two or
three streams of considerable size and countless snow-fed cascades
falling from the cliffs. On the other hand, the only large outlet is
the River Santa Cruz, and though that river carries off an important
amount of water to the Atlantic, the quantity is not sufficient to
account for the fact that the great lake is surely if slowly shrinking
in size. The North and South Fjords with their adjoining reaches of
water at one time formed part of a wide-spreading lake, whose waters
washed completely round the bases of the mountains--such as Mount
Buenos Aires--and of hills that now stand upon out-jutting points of
land or actually upon the present lines of the shores. The reason for
this shrinkage of the lake, when appearances would seem to point
rather to increase of size, is difficult to discover.
[Illustration: THE LAST REACH]
The features of the _cañadon_ of the Katarina changed but little as
I walked on deeper into it. I saw two huemul bucks, one accompanied by
two, the other by three does; I also saw some guanacos. The Giant's
Glacier, which crosses the head of Lake Argentino as far as the
peninsula on which we camped, ran parallel behind the cliffs of the
western shore, glimmering out palely in the north-west ahead of me.
Presently I passed over a stream, and later topping a low bluff I
found myself on the shores of a lake, the distant gleam of whose
waters Cattle and I had seen on the previous day. I was, of course,
very eager to take a photograph of it, but everything around was
shrouded in mist, and I had with me only a binocular camera, the
mechanism of which did not permit of long exposures.
[Illustration: LAKE PEARSON]
I must admit that I was disappointed with the lake when I arrived at
it, as I had expected a much larger piece of water. The nearer shores
were somewhat low and covered with boulders, while upon the farther
sides rose a semicircle of hills whose escarpments fell in places
abruptly to the water. About the inferior spurs of a somewhat higher
mountain to the north a dense black forest clung. The morning was
grey and the water lay dark and ruffled under a chilling wind, while
about the distant cliffs of the northern shore wreaths of cloud hung
sullenly, only lifting at intervals here and there sufficient to give
a glimpse of the bare crags behind them.
Towards the afternoon luck befriended me, for the sky cleared and the
sun broke out for a short time, giving me the opportunity I had been
hoping for. I made haste to use the camera with such results as will
be seen on p. 285.
This lake I named Lake Pearson.
On my return to the camp I found the sick man improving, which was a
relief, as under the circumstances we had very little to give him in
the way of comfort. Bernardo was a cheery fellow, who met the
disagreeables of his lot good-temperedly, and I have no doubt this
helped towards his recovery. Eventually he became quite well.
During the night a comet was visible, hanging in the clear sky like a
white sword, hilt downwards. It was very brilliant and very beautiful,
seen as we saw it above the dark forest.
There were many reasons why I hoped to be able to push deeper into
this region, but it was growing very late in the season, winter with
its accompaniment of furious storms was almost upon us, and this fact,
joined with the strained and weakened condition of the engine of the
launch, compelled us to give up the thought of further exploration. We
therefore took advantage of a spell of rather better weather to make
our way back down the Fjord. The wind was blowing sulkily out of the
north, but this gave us the benefit of a following sea. Once or twice
during our passage squalls overtook us, but always blowing mercifully
in the direction of our course. Thus we had a following sea right up
to the cliffs of Hellgate. In one place a big iceberg had stranded
beneath the cliffs.
We landed under the bluffs of Hellgate and lit a fire of _Leña dura_,
which roared and crackled in the dusk, lighting up the gloom of
Hellgate with red light. Later we ran across safely to our anchorage
off the Burmeister Peninsula.
FOOTNOTE:
[31] Burbury made his way south just in the nick of time. I was
obliged to send him to the coast to meet Scrivenor, who was, according
to my arrangements, about to leave for England.
CHAPTER XXI
HOMEWARD
Winter comes on -- Departure from Lake Argentino --
Changed aspect of country -- Snow-clouds -- Indian
encampment -- Race with the snow -- River Coyly -- River
Gallegos -- Ford -- Signs of civilisation -- Gallegos --
Taking passage in steamer -- Lighted street -- Good-bye to
Bernardo -- Meeting with Mr. Waag and Mr. Von Plaaten
Hallermund on the _Elena_ -- What Patagonia taught me.
A fortnight before we started there was a couple of feet of snow on
the high pampa. Beside the lake it had been blowing heavily, and
storms of sleet followed each other in dreary succession. Every
morning we saw the white cloak of winter throwing its snowy folds
lower and lower upon the mountains. The severe season of the
Cordillera and Southern Patagonia was fast shutting us in; already the
Pass to Punta Arenas was closed feet deep in snow, and our only outlet
for the south lay towards Gallegos. It had been my wish to remain as
long as possible in the neighbourhood of the Andes, but I had
overstayed the utmost limit I originally set myself, and now there was
nothing for it but to make a rush for the coast while the journey
could still be made.
On May 15 we started in heavy rain. The horses were in excellent
condition; indeed, they were too fat, for of late they had not had
enough exercise to prepare them for a very trying journey. We took
three _cargueros_ besides the horses for riding, and the party
consisted of Mr. Cattle's shepherd, George Gregory, Bernardo and
myself. At the second camp Gregory was obliged to turn back, as his
horses--a troop of colts--had wandered during the night. This was at
the River del Bote; from there Bernardo and I went on alone. We found
the aspect of the country much changed since we had crossed it three
and a half months previously. The green grass had grown yellow, the
streams and the lagoons were drying up, numbers of guanaco had
descended to the lower grounds. An Indian trader, accompanied by a few
tents of Indians, had taken up quarters near the River Califate, a
spot formerly inhabited by wildfowl only. For three days we followed
the shore of the lake, but then our way led us up on to the high
pampa, where we made our camp in a bushless _cañadon_ beside a rocky
pool. By this time the horses were beginning to lose their tricks, but
at the outset they would hardly allow themselves to be caught, and
they wandered every night. The _cañadon_ was clear of snow, but the
sky was heavy with the promise of it. We hoped most heartily that it
would give us two more days' grace before it fell.
The next day we followed the _cañadon_, which was a shallow depression
running south-west. There was no fuel to be found but the thin roots
of the dark bush known as _maté negra_. The early frosts made
travelling difficult, as it was necessary to off-saddle early, that
the horses might not be turned out sweating into the cold. We covered
sixty miles, changing horses three times, for it was quite clear that
we must push on if we hoped to escape the snow. That was one of the
most fatiguing marches we had during the whole expedition. About three
o'clock I espied some herds of tame cattle in the distance by the side
of a lagoon. These proved to belong to some tents of Indians. The men
were absent hunting and the camp was given over to the women and
decrepit dogs. An enormous _china_ sat in the opening of the largest
_toldo_; she must have weighed twenty odd stone! We learned from her
that the season had been a good one for guanaco _chicos_.
In reply to our question as to how far we might be from the nearest
white man's habitation on the next stage of our journey, the fat lady
waved her hand picturesquely and vaguely towards the eastern sky but
did not commit herself to figures.
The Indian encampment made a singular picture against a somewhat
striking background. The western sky was piling up and bulged with
snow-clouds, while the sinking sun glowed like a red-hot cannon ball
on the rim of the pampa. Against this curtain of colour were set the
brown tents of guanaco-skin. In one of these a small fire was burning
with little flames about an old meat tin in which water was being
boiled for _maté_. Around the women sat in silence--saving only the
fat spokeswoman--inert and apparently content; occasionally one would
grunt or shift the child at her breast, but otherwise one heard scarce
a sound but the whimpering of the wind from the Cordillera or the
plashing of the wildfowl in the swampy margin of the lagoon.
I need not describe at length the days which followed. In due time we
came upon a wheeltrack and sighted the first fence. This was in the
valley of the River Coyly, a good place for pasturing sheep, but
inexpressibly desolate and monotonous in aspect. For two days we held
along in this valley or on the pampa immediately above it, but,
remembering our experiences near Santa Cruz, I resolved to sleep in no
_boliche_ until we reached Gallegos.
The _cañadon_ of the Coyly was fenced at intervals, the grass eaten
close to the ground by many sheep. Thousands of wild geese clamoured
on the banks of the river. In this river valley we made our last camp
in Patagonia. There was no wood for fire, and the horses found but
little to eat, the sun set among sickly green lights, and presently
rain came on. Altogether it made a dismal good-bye to the life we had
led for so many months.
The following day, striking across the pampa for the River Gallegos,
we knew ourselves to be entering on the last stage of our wanderings.
And here we very nearly had a disastrous accident. Meeting two
Gauchos, we asked them about the condition of the ford over the
Gallegos, which they told us had been but hock-high when they passed
through with their horses. Consequently, when we arrived at the ford
half an hour later, we took our troop down into the water, but seeing
it looked uncommonly deep for the description given us by the Gauchos,
we returned to the shore, and, as there happened to be a house at no
great distance, I sent Bernardo to make inquiries. He brought back the
news that the tide was running strong and the ford quite
impracticable, but it was possible that we might be able to cross
higher up at another spot. We followed this advice and crossed in
safety, I with my precious photographs tied round my neck; but had we
tried the lower ford I am very sure I should have lost them all, which
would have been a disappointment indeed, considering the
circumstances under which they had been taken and the impossibility
of replacing them.
Once across the Gallegos we emerged upon flat ground, and here we
found a road with a line of telephone-posts running along one side of
it. Gallegos was by that time only eighteen miles ahead, but with our
tired horses that appeared a long distance. The country was absolutely
featureless, the black posts sticking up against a dull sky, the brown
earth absorbing such light as there was. A very cold wind blew across
our faces, but there was one thing that cheered us, that told us our
wanderings were over--the humming of the wind in the wires overhead.
The road dipped and rose over the long undulations, and at last, as we
topped one of the many inclines, Gallegos straggled into sight,
obviously a frontier town, all wire fences, wooden and corrugated-iron
houses with painted roofs. The emotions with which one returns and
feels the long wanderings over are not easy to describe. I rode slowly
up the main street and passed the bank--for there is a bank at
Gallegos, and the fact gave one a sensation of being very civilised
indeed. I dismounted and went into the building to inquire about the
steamer for Punta Arenas, where I hoped to pick up a homeward-bound
boat. A steamboat was to have started for Punta Arenas that same
morning, I was told, but as the captain was in gaol, her departure had
been postponed for a day or so. The delay seemed a special
dispensation for my benefit, for, had she adhered to her original
date, I must have been too late to go by her. I understood that the
captain's crime lay in having drawn up his anchor without waiting to
receive a written permit.
Luckily I had not been preceded at Gallegos by any "lord," hence I
drew the cash necessary for my passage and payments at the bank
without any trouble. Then I went on to the hotel and put up my horse,
the good little big-hearted Moro, who had carried me a hundred and
fifty miles in three days and looked fat on it. Afterwards I bought a
cigar, a very bad one, but a cigar for all that, and so proceeded down
to the beach to secure my passage. Up on the shingle were several
ships high and dry, and out in the fairway about the very smallest
steamer I have ever seen, yet a good sea-boat, as I afterwards
proved. She rejoiced in a brilliant green deck-house two storeys high,
and the funnel was almost on top of the propeller!
When it grew dark it was strange to walk through the lighted streets
and to see the faces pass and repass beneath the lamps. There was a
delightful sense of newness about it all. But perhaps the most strange
sensation was produced by a visit to the hairdresser's shop, where one
could watch in the glass the swift transformation. Afterwards it was
quite good to smoke a second execrable cigar, and to listen to the
hotel-keeper in another room telling some of his friends how he had
mistaken me for a camp-loafer owing to my patched clothes and the
ragged remnants of my boots, and had, in consequence, led me to an
outhouse, proposing to allow me to sleep there!
Best of all, perhaps, was the civilised dinner, despite the attentions
of an intoxicated itinerant dentist, who kept on reiterating the same
question, "Have you ever been to Nahuelhuapi?" the _huapi_ ending in a
wail--"w-a-a-a-pi." Bernardo had not turned up from the farm where we
had left the horses, and a gentleman connected with the Government who
was present, understanding that I wished to see him before sailing,
offered to send a file of soldiers to look for him. Presently Bernardo
arrived, and then we went away and lit our pipes for a last talk over
it all.
Next morning on the wet shingle I said good-bye to him, and there he
stood for a while as the boat shoved off and we rowed away. A wild
figure was Master Bernardo, for he had not yet had time to clothe
himself in the garments of civilisation. With his ragged blue jersey
and his big boots of _potro_ hide, surmounted by his pleasant bearded
face, he watched us through the wind and the rain, and then he turned
and walked away, passing out of sight among the sheds. He was going to
Santa Cruz by the horse-track. Good luck to him, and may we meet
again!
I went aboard, little guessing the pleasure that awaited me, for at
the gangway-head I met Mr. Waag and Mr. Von Plaaten Hallermund, of the
Boundary Commission, who were on their way down from Santa Cruz to
Punta Arenas. Mr. Waag and I had just missed each other by a couple of
hours on the pampa up country some months earlier. We were soon deep
in talk about the Cordillera, and all that had happened to the three
of us since we last met at the Hotel Phœnix in Buenos Aires. Mr.
Waag had had a successful time about Lake Puerrydon, and Mr. Von
Plaaten Hallermund at Lake San Martin. Meantime the _Elena_ got in her
anchor, and we were in the Magellan Straits by nightfall.
[Illustration: PUNTA ARENAS]
And so we reached Punta Arenas, where I was shown much hospitality by
Mr. Perkins, and where I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Fred Waldron,
in whose company, as well as that of Mr. Waag and Mr. Von Plaaten
Hallermund, I made the passage to Buenos Aires by the Pacific
Company's steamship the _Orellana_, and so home.
To turn for a moment to the personal point of view. I had landed in
Patagonia with enthusiasm, and I left it not in the least damped or
disheartened in that enthusiasm, but very much the opposite. I had
learned many lessons of life, passed through many experiences,
explored a small part of the earth's surface, and made some original
observations with regard to the zoology of the country and other
matters, but I am inclined to think that the most useful lesson to
myself was one that sank deeper and deeper into my mind, I might say
heart, with every day lived in these great solitudes--and that was the
knowledge of my own ignorance. The long solitary days in the forests,
on the pampas, and about the stormy fjords of the Cordillera brought
me face to face with Nature. There are many voices in the silence of
Nature. The stars above, the waters beneath, and the earth all spoke
in a hundred tongues, and little enough of it all could I, with my
lack of knowledge, interpret. "There are many kinds of voices in the
world, and none of them is without signification," but so long as they
spoke to me in unknown tongues how much was I the better? And there it
was I learned the useful truth that, to be a traveller of any value, a
man must also be an adequate interpreter.
[Illustration]
A FEW WORDS ABOUT THE FUTURE OF PATAGONIA
It would be possible to write a very long chapter about the future of
Patagonia. I do not, however, propose to do this, but to write what I
have to say as briefly as possible.
To begin with, Patagonia can boast of a fine climate, for, though the
winters are certainly hard, no endemic disease exists. The country is
exceptionally healthy, nor are there any poisonous reptiles to
endanger life on its far-reaching pampas. There are few parts of the
earth of which so much can be said.
A large portion of the land is eminently suited for the support of
sheep, as the enormous and prosperous sheep-farms to be found along
the east and south coasts bear witness. Cattle and horse-breeding are
also successfully carried on, and although a portion of the country is
unsuited for agricultural purposes, it is equally certain that large
expanses of ground of great fertility and rich promise are to be found
here.
The tide of pastoral life from the thriving southern farms round and
about Punta Arenas on the Straits of Magellan, and Gallegos on the
Atlantic coast, is setting strongly north and west. The crying want of
the country is capital to open up means of communication with the
interior. At present there are no railways or other settled lines for
the transport of produce, although I believe a steam-launch has lately
been placed upon the River Santa Cruz. In consequence of this lack
some farmers have to carry wool two hundred miles by bullock-cart to
the coast; a few cover even a greater distance. To send wool two
hundred miles in bullock-carts means at least three weeks of travel.
To go and come from the farm to the coast would thus take up about two
months of a farmer's time. _Peones_ are necessary to look after the
carts, and their wage is at least £5 a month and their keep. Then
carts not infrequently break down upon the rough surfaces of the
pampas and in the _cañadones_, hence more delay. Even when the port is
reached difficulties have to be surmounted, for none of them, with the
exception of Punta Arenas, are served by any steamship lines. This was
so at the time of my being in Patagonia last year (1901). Government
transports from Buenos Aires had the whole of the coast service of
Argentine Patagonia in their hands, and these could boast of only very
uncertain dates of departure and still more uncertain dates of
arrival.
All these difficulties of transit do not make for prosperity. I
understand that of late a German line has undertaken to call at some
of the ports, and if they carry out their contract it should help
events in Patagonia to get into the stride of success.
On the coast-farms, where ships could and did occasionally put in,
especially in the wool season, money was made and men began to see
fortune ahead. But far away in the interior, where a very few pioneers
have made their homes beside a lake here and there, the wide and
uninhabited pampas lie between the producer and his market. Until
railways open up the land the position of these people cannot much
improve. They are too heavily handicapped in the race.
It is almost impossible to tell what enormous numbers of sheep and
cattle Patagonia could produce for the providing of the world if
capital and enterprise would but pave the way. In the meantime the
country remains the paradise of the middleman. At present there is
little money in hand, much of the trade is carried on by barter, and
on this system there is always an evil tendency towards profits
accruing mostly to the storekeepers, who gradually become more or less
masters of the situation. Many of the small farmers are deeply in debt
to this class. A hard winter--and there are often very hard
winters--fills the pocket of the storekeeper, for they advance
provisions, without which no man can continue to live, and they, of
course, thus secure mortgages on the farms.
This same unfortunate liability is observable in other countries where
similar conditions obtain, but the opening up of the interior of
Patagonia and the introduction of capital in the hands of employers of
labour would probably lessen the pressure of hard times on the poorer
farmers.
Beyond the pampas again tower the unnumbered peaks of the Cordillera,
and among them all things, minerally speaking, are possible. Perhaps
the future of Patagonia is to be found there. In a few years the
Patagonian Andes may be as commonly known a seeking-place for fortune
as Klondyke is to-day. But concerning this part of the subject I have
nothing to say, being no prophet of El Dorados.
Although during our travels we had little time to spare for
prospecting, or searching for the mineral wealth which may lie hidden
in the Cordillera, yet there was one obvious source of riches that was
always before our eyes in those regions.
The coast-towns of Patagonia are supplied with wood by sea from the
woodlands of Tierra del Fuego, and this while many square miles about
the bases of the Andes are covered with dense forests of magnificent
growth. Here are to be found beech, cypress and redwood, not to speak
of other trees, but the absolute absence of any means of conveying
logs to the coast has so far left this store of wealth untouched.
Until better means of transport can be developed, there are certainly
one or two rivers which might be made use of in this connection.
I can only insist upon the fact that Patagonia is a great though at
present undeveloped land; that it cries aloud to railway enterprise to
become its salvation. Nevertheless, it is even now a good country for
the man ready and able to work. A capable man will make £6 a month and
his keep, but he must know the work required of him; a considerable
time has to be spent in learning the skilled labour of camp life, and
very hard labour that sometimes is. An emigrant does not consequently
find it so easy to get employment. But, given vigorous health, an
aptitude for hard work, and a small sum in hand to keep him going
until he is broken in to the necessities of the life, and I know of
few countries more favourable to the _unmarried_ working man.
There is something further which I should like to suggest to intending
emigrants of my own nation.
The greatest of British exports is, one might contend, Britishers.
The attitude of the young Britisher abroad towards the rest of the
world in general is at once a source of great national strength and of
serious national weakness.
First, as we know, he is a poor linguist, who prefers to go on
speaking his own language, and, when not understood, attempting to
enforce comprehension by the very simple expedient of shouting louder.
The result of this uncompromising attitude, backed by a good national
financial status, is that as the mountain will not go to Mahomet,
Mahomet must needs come to the mountain, and the foreign Mahomet does
come, wrestling his way through difficulties of pronunciation. By his
attitude in this matter--an attitude dictated partly by a too common
lack of the linguistic faculty and partly by a certain rooted
conviction that a man who cannot speak English is a man of "lesser
breed"--the Britisher has to a certain extent forced English upon a
very unwilling world.
But whether this question of the one-language system is a loss or a
gain to the country, it is very certain that there is another
idiosyncrasy of the Englishman abroad which is an undoubted loss.
Every country has its own ways and methods, not only peculiar to its
inhabitants but adapted to their special needs. And here the brusque
unadaptability of the Englishman becomes pitifully apparent.
He loses immensely by it. He will ride on his English saddle because
he has been used to ride on it at home; he will wear his pigskin
leggings for precisely the same reason.
You cannot teach him that he who walks in a noontide sun in latitudes
near the equator is sometimes apt to contract a fever. Of course I
refer chiefly to the "new chum," but we have an unfortunate gift of
remaining new chums for an indefinite period.
Our young blood is very sure of himself, which is a first-rate
national trait, and one to which as a nation we, no doubt, owe much.
But it has its drawbacks. Thus, although he is physically excellent
beyond his fellows, his death-rate is usually heavier, which in the
nature of things it ought not to be.
But in cases where adhesion to the methods of the country to which he
has migrated touches not himself but his goods and his work he
needlessly--indeed, almost mischievously--handicaps himself. He takes
pride in occupying a position of more or less splendid isolation.
The Britisher lacks adaptability. He lacks suavity. He often lacks
common politeness. In fact, he is a good fellow when you know him, but
you have got to know him first. An excellent reputation to possess,
perhaps, apart from business, and when your position is assured. But
in foreign countries, and in the case of dealing with strangers of
other nations, who are very apt to like or dislike at first sight, its
results are disastrous, for they rarely reconsider their first
opinion.
The Continental races, on the other hand, aim at merging their
individuality in that of their temporary hosts. Actuated by a sense of
politeness or of self-interest--I do not know which--these peoples do
not thrust forward the fact that they are aliens, but rather try to
foster the idea that the land of their adoption is their own. But when
the young Englishman comes along, his manner placards him with his
nationality. He seems to say, "You fellows, I've got to live here,
Fate orders it. But I am not of you. Apart from business, leave me
alone."
He and his compatriots are sufficient unto themselves. And not
infrequently also, though strangers in a strange land, they are a law
unto themselves. Now this is all very well in its way, and we would
not, I suppose, have it otherwise; yet, if the English youth abroad
would modify their attitude towards the works of the alien, even
while, if they so choose, preserving it towards the alien himself,
they would rise to greater heights of success than they at present
touch.
The fact is that the alien thinks the Englishman is a fool of a very
notable kind, and in many cases he is right.
It is not in the excellence of their goods, or even in the cheapness
of their tariff, that the Germans are forging ahead of us in trade. It
is in their attitude towards those with whom they deal. They make an
art of selling a yard of red flannel to an elderly negress. The
negress feels the compliment, rather despises the complimenter, but
likes it on the whole--and comes again.[32]
While the German studies the people who are to buy his goods in a
spirit of subtlety, the Englishman makes up his mind without
considering anybody save himself and his own ideas. In the days before
competition assumed its present proportions this was all very well,
perhaps; or at least it was not the commercial suicide that it
certainly is to-day.
From the standpoint of the employer, the Englishman does not know his
work. He has no money. He must, therefore, earn something. He expects
to be allowed to earn and learn at one and the same time, which is an
absurd notion.
The cause of all this is the same as that which sends out first-rate
goods but to the wrong market.
The fact is, we do not study our markets seriously either for
mercantile or for human exports.
If the South Sea Islanders want red cloth we send them yellow, and if
in Patagonia there is an opening for men who are decent practical
blacksmiths, we send them a stream of youths who have never fullered a
shoe, but who are well up in the rudiments of Greek.
FOOTNOTE:
[32] I have watched with considerable interest the methods adopted by
the Germans as opposed to those of the young man of our own race. I
remember an instance of a German who set up as a chemist in a town out
Central America way, and whose chief source of income came from the
sale of drugs to rather impressionable negroes. In his place the
Englishman would have laid in decent English drugs, would have sat
behind his counter, and would have dispensed in stolid fashion to the
limit of the abilities with which he was blessed. Not so our German
friend. His drugs were good, but not supremely so; his prices were
cost prices, with a mere shaving of profit.
But his method was excellent.
He made a character-study of each of his customers. He sold a fine
tonic, coloured red and reported invincible. He put the title of Dr.
before his name, and advertised free consultations, provided the
patients bought their medicines at his store. He throve.
APPENDIX A
The expedition sent out to Patagonia under my charge by Mr. C. Arthur
Pearson owed its origin to the discoveries made in that country by Dr.
F. P. Moreno of certain remains of an animal, the Pampean Mylodon or
Giant Ground Sloth, long believed to belong to the category of extinct
prehistoric mammals. The marvellous state of preservation of the
remains found at Last Hope Inlet seemed to give some ground for the
supposition that the animal might possibly have survived to a recent
period. Professor Ray Lankester, the Director of the British Museum of
Natural History, in commenting upon the chance of the Mylodon being
still alive in some remote and unknown region of Patagonia, said: "It
is quite possible--I don't want to say more than that--that he still
exists in some of the mountainous regions of Patagonia." These words
from such an authority carried weight, and the question assumed an
importance that made it worth all practicable examination. I have in
the following pages put the whole case as clearly and as definitely as
lies in my power.
To begin with, I give the story of Dr. Moreno's discovery as he
himself told it to the Zoological Society, and the description of the
remains by Dr. A. Smith Woodward, LL.D., F.R.S.
I. ACCOUNT OF THE DISCOVERY. By Dr. MORENO.
In November 1897 I paid a visit to that part of the Patagonian
territory which adjoins the Cordillera of the Andes, between the 51st
and 52nd degrees of South latitude, where certain surveyors, under my
direction, were carrying out the preliminary studies connected with
the boundary-line between Chile and Argentina; and in the course of
this expedition I reached Consuelo Cove, which lies in Last Hope
Inlet. In that spot, hung up on a tree, I found a piece of a dried
skin, which attracted my attention most strangely, as I could not
determine to what class of Mammalia it could belong, more especially
because of the resemblance of the small incrusted bones it contained
to those of the Pampean _Mylodon_. On inquiring whence it came, I was
informed that it was only a fragment of a large piece of skin which
had been discovered two years before, by some Argentine officers, in a
cavern which existed in the neighbouring heights. Immediately on
receiving this news, I hastened to the spot, guided by a sailor who
had been present when the original discovery had been made. As, at
that moment, I had no means of making more than a few hurried
excavations, which gave no further traces of the discovery, I left
orders that the search should be continued after my departure; but
this once more also failed to give any ultimate results. Nothing could
be found but modern remains of small rodents, and these chiefly on or
near the surface of the ground. From the most careful inquiries which
I set on foot, it appeared that, when the first discovery was made, no
bones were found, the skin being half buried in the dust which had
accumulated from the gradual falling away of the roof of the cavern,
composed of Tertiary Conglomerate. It was only in the broad entrance
to the cavern that were found a few human bones, borne thence to the
shore of the Cove and afterwards broken up.
As already stated, the skin here presented to you formed but a small
part of a larger one. One small piece had been carried off by Dr. Otto
Nordenskjöld, and others by officers of the Chilian Navy, who later on
had visited the spot. The inhabitants of the locality looked upon it
as an interesting curiosity, some of them believing that it was the
hide of a cow incrusted with pebbles, and others asserting that it was
the skin of a large Seal belonging to a hitherto unknown species.
In Consuelo Cove, I embarked on board a small Argentine transport,
which had been placed at my disposal to carry out the study of the
western coast as far as Port Montt, in lat. 42°. At this latter place
I left the steamer, which then proceeded to make a series of surveys.
These lasted until her return to La Plata, at the latter end of July
1898, when she brought back to me the fragment of skin in question.
This is an accurate and true version of the discovery of this skin,
which gave rise to the publication of Señor Ameghino's small
pamphlet,[33] in which he gave an account of the discovery of a living
representative of the "Gravigrades" of Argentina, distinguishing it by
the name of "_Neomylodon listai_".
I have an idea that Señor Ameghino never saw the skin itself, but only
some of the small incrusted bones, of which he had obtained
possession. The vague form in which he draws up his account compels me
to believe this suspicion to be true.
My opinion is that this skin belongs to a genuine Pampean _Mylodon_,
preserved under peculiar circumstances resembling those to which we
owe the skin and feathers of the Moa. I have always maintained that
the Pampean Edentates, now extinct, disappeared only in the epoch
which is called the "historical epoch" of our America. In the province
of Buenos Aires, buried chiefly in the humus, I have found remains of
_Panochthus_, and others of the same _Mylodon_ from the seashore, all
of which present the same characteristic marks of preservation as the
remains of human beings discovered in the same spot. In this identical
layer of the sea-shore, close to the bones I have also found stones
polished by the hand of man, and flints cut like those found in the
Pampean formation. In 1884, in a cavern near to the Rio de los Patos,
in the Cordillera, I discovered some paintings in red ochre, one of
which, in my opinion, resembles the _Glyptodon_ on account of the
shape of the carapace.
Ancient chroniclers inform us that the indigenous inhabitants recorded
the existence of a strange, ugly, huge hairy animal which had its
abode in the Cordillera to the south of lat. 37°. The Tehuelches and
the Gennakens have mentioned similar animals to me, of whose existence
their ancestors had transmitted the remembrance; and in the
neighbourhood of the Rio Negro, the aged cacique Sinchel, in 1875,
pointed out to me a cave, the supposed lair of one of these monsters,
called "Ellengassen"; but I must add that none of the many Indians
with whom I have conversed in Patagonia have ever referred to the
actual existence of animals to which we can attribute the skin in
question, nor even of any which answer to the suppositions of Señor
Ameghino according to Señor Lista. It is but rarely that a few Otters
(_Lutra_) are found in the lakes and rivers of the Andes, as in the
neighbourhood of Lake Argentino, in the "Sierra de las Viscachas," and
in the regions which I believe Señor Lista visited, there are only a
few scarce Chinchillas (_Lagidium_), which have a colouring more dark
greyish than those found to the north, and are in every case separated
from these by a large extent of country.
The Pampean Edentata have in former days certainly existed as far
south as the extreme limit of Patagonia. In 1874, in the bay of Santa
Cruz, I met with the remains of a _pelvis_ of one of these animals in
Pleistocene deposits, and also remains of the mammals which are found
in the same formation, such as the _Macrauchenia_ and _Auchenia_. It
would not be astonishing that the skin of one of these should have
been preserved so long, because of the favourable conditions of the
spot in which it was found.
The state of preservation of this piece of skin, at first sight, makes
it difficult for one to believe it to be of great antiquity; but this
is by no means an impossibility, if we consider the conditions of the
cave in which it was found, the atmosphere of which is not so damp as
one might at first imagine it to be, although it is situated in the
woody regions near to the glaciers and lakes. It is well to mention
that in 1877, under similar conditions, and in a much smaller cave,
scarcely five metres from the waters of Lake Argentino, situated sixty
miles more to the north, I discovered a mummified human body painted
red, with the head still covered in part with its short hair
wonderfully preserved, and wrapped up in a covering made of the skin
of a Rhea, and holding in its arms a large feather of the Condor, also
painted red; this was all covered up with a layer of grass and dust
fallen from the roof of the cave. In another cave in the neighbourhood
I discovered a large trunk of a tree, painted with figures in red,
black, and yellow. The sides of the rock close to the entrance of the
cave were covered with figures, some representing the human hand,
others combinations of curved, straight, and circular lines, painted
white, red, yellow, and green. Now, this mummy, which is preserved in
the Museum of La Plata, does not belong to any of the actual tribes of
Patagonia. Its skull resembles rather one of those more ancient races
found in the cemeteries in the valley of the Rio Negro--a most
interesting fact, since they belong to types which have completely
disappeared from the Patagonian regions, and it is well known that the
actual Tehuelches may be considered to have been the last indigenous
races which reached the territory of Patagonia. Many a time the
Tehuelches have spoken to me of these caves as abodes of the evil
"spirits," and of the enigmatical painted figures they contained: some
attributed the latter to these same "spirits," others to men of other
races, of whom they have no recollection. In another cave, four
hundred miles farther to the north, in 1880, I discovered other human
bodies, more or less mummified and in good preservation, but of a
different type, and beside them some painted poles which served to
hold up their small tents, the use of which had already disappeared
more than three centuries ago; together with the upper part of the
skull of a child perfectly scooped out like a cup. And yet the
historical Tehuelches, the same as all the indigenous races in the
southern extremity of South America, hold their dead in great respect,
and never use such drinking-vessels.
These proofs of the favourable conditions of the climate and of the
lands near to the Cordillera, which are revealed to us by the
preservation of objects undoubtedly dating from very remote epochs,
strengthen my opinion that this skin of a huge mammal, which has long
since disappeared, may well have been preserved till the present time.
I may add that a further careful search is now being made in the earth
forming the floor of the cave, and I hope in due time to have the
honour of communicating the results to this Society.
II. DESCRIPTION AND COMPARISON OF THE SPECIMEN.
By A. SMITH WOODWARD.
(a) _Description._
The problematical piece of skin discovered by Dr. Moreno measures
approximately 0.48 m. in the direction of the main lie of the hair,
while its maximum extent at right angles to this direction is about
0.55 m. The fragment, however, is very irregular in shape; and it has
become much distorted in the process of drying, so that the anterior
portion, which is directed upwards in the drawing, is bent outwards at
a considerable angle to the main part of the specimen which will be
claimed to represent the back. The skin, as observed in transverse
section, presents a dried, felt-like aspect; but there is a frequent
ruddiness, suggestive of blood-stains, while the margin exhibits
distinct indications of freshly dried once-fluid matter, which Dr.
Vaughan Harley has kindly examined and pronounced to be serum. Its
outer face is completely covered with hair, except in the region
marked C and above B, where this covering seems to have been
comparatively fine and may have been accidentally removed. The inner
face of the skin is only intact in a few places, the specimen having
contracted and perhaps been somewhat abraded, so that a remarkable
armour of small bony tubercles, irregularly arranged and of variable
size, is exposed over the greater part of it. At one point there is an
irregular rounded hole about 0.02 m. in diameter, which might possibly
have been caused by a bullet or a dagger, but in any case was probably
pierced when the skin was still fresh. Owing to its direction, this
hole is partly obscured by the overhanging hair.
The skin in its dried state varies in thickness in different parts.
The average thickness of the flattened portion, which must be referred
to the back, is shown by the cleanly-cut right margin of the specimen
to be 0.01 m. This is slightly increased towards the posterior (lower)
end of the border, while above it the thickness becomes 0.015 m. The
latter thickness also seems to be attained in the much-shrivelled
corner marked C--a circumstance suggesting bilateral symmetry between
at least part of the two anterior outer angles of the specimen. The
thinnest portion preserved is the border above B; and the skin must
also have been comparatively thin in the region of the accidental
notch to the left, considerably below C.
The portion of skin above B is interesting not only from its relative
thinness, but also from the occurrence of an apparently natural
rounded concavity in the margin. This excavation, which measures 0.05
m. along the curve, is marked by the remains of a thin flexible flap,
which is sharply bent outwards, and is covered with short hairs on
its outer face. It is especially suggestive of the base of an
ear-conch; and if this appearance be not deceptive, it is worthy of
note that the dried skin hereabouts and in the region which would have
to be interpreted as cheek (C) is much more wrinkled than elsewhere.
[Illustration: SKIN OF GRYPOTHERIUM, OUTER VIEW. ¼ NAT. SIZE.]
[Illustration: SKIN OF GRYPOTHERIUM, INNER VIEW. ¼ NAT. SIZE.]
As already mentioned, the outer aspect of the skin is completely
covered with hair, which is very dense everywhere except on the left
anterior corner. Here it seems to have been removed by abrasion. A
small patch of hair has also clearly been pulled out near the gap in
the left border of the specimen; and close to the middle (where marked
D) there is a small hairless depression which may perhaps be
interpreted as a wound inflicted and healed during life. The hair is
only of one kind, without any trace of under-fur, and it is still
very firmly implanted in the skin, without signs of decay. Its
arrangement seems to be quite regular, there being no tendency towards
its segregation into small groups or bundles. It is of a uniform dirty
yellowish or light yellowish-brown colour, and, making due allowance
for slight ruffling and distortion of the specimen, it may be
described as all lying in one direction, vertically in the photograph,
except at the two upturned anterior corners of the specimen, where
there is an inclination from the right and left respectively towards
the centre. The longest hairs, which usually measure from 0.05 m. to
0.065 m. in length, are observed in the half of the specimen in front
of (above) the letter D. Those in the middle of the extreme anterior
(upper) border measure from 0.03 m. to 0.05 m. in length, those at
the hinder (lower) border about the same; while some of the
comparatively small and delicate hairs on the supposed cheek are not
longer than 0.01 m. The hairs are stiff, straight, or only very
slightly wavy, and all are remarkably tough. Examined under the
microscope, their cuticle is observed to be quite smooth, while the
much-elongated cells of the cortex are readily distinguishable. Mr. R.
H. Burne has kindly made some transverse sections, which prove the
hairs to be almost or quite cylindrical, and none of the specimens
examined present any trace of a medulla.
The dermal ossicles are very irregular in arrangement, but are to be
observed in every part of the specimen, even in the comparatively thin
region near the supposed ear. They form everywhere a very compact
armour, and some of them are quite closely pressed together; rarely,
indeed, there is a shallow groove crossing a specimen, possibly
indicating two components which were originally separate. As shown by
every part of the cut margin, and especially well in a small section
prepared by Prof. Charles Stewart, they are all confined to the lower
half of the dermis, never encroaching upon the upper portion in which
the hair is implanted. It is also to be observed that, where the inner
surface of the skin is intact, the ossicles are completely embedded
and only faintly visible through the dry tissue. The exposure of a
considerable number of them, as already mentioned, is due to the
rupture and partial abrasion of this surface. No tendency to
arrangement in parallel lines or bands can be detected; and large and
small ossicles seem to be indiscriminately mingled, although of course
allowance must be made, in examining sections and the abraded inner
view of the skin, for differences in the plane of adjoining sections
and varying degrees of exposure by the removal of the soft tissue. The
largest ossicles are oblong in shape when viewed from within, and
measure approximately 0.015 m. by 0.010 m.; but the majority are much
smaller than these. They are very variable and irregular in form; but
their inner face is generally convex, sometimes almost pyramidal,
while the outer face of the few which have been examined is slightly
convex, more or less flattened, without any trace of regular markings.
In microscopical structure the dermal ossicles are of much interest,
and I have examined both horizontal and vertical sections, one of the
former kindly prepared by Prof. Charles Stewart. The tissue is
traversed in all directions by a dense mass of interlacing bundles of
connective-tissue fibres, which exhibit an entirely irregular
disposition, except quite at the periphery of the ossicle. Here they
are less dense, and are arranged in such a manner as to form at least
one darkened zone concentric with the margin in the comparatively
translucent border. Occasionally, but not at all points, the fibres in
this peripheral area may be observed to radiate regularly outwards.
Numerous small vascular canals, frequently branching, are cut in
various directions; and the bony tissue, which is developed in every
part of the ossicle, exhibits abundant lacunæ. Nearly everywhere,
except in the narrow peripheral area just mentioned, it is easy to
recognise the bony laminæ arranged in Haversian systems round the
canals; and most of the lacunæ between these laminæ are excessively
elongated, with very numerous branching canaliculi, which extend at
right angles to their longer axis. Near the margin of the ossicle,
especially in its more translucent parts, the bone-lacunæ are less
elongated, more irregular in shape, and apparently not arranged in any
definite order. There is no clear evidence of bony laminæ concentric
with the outer margin, though appearances are sometimes suggestive of
this arrangement. A vertical section of an ossicle presents exactly
the same features as the horizontal section now described. It is thus
evident that the vascular canals with their Haversian systems of bone
have no definite direction, but are disposed in an entirely irregular
manner.
Taking into consideration all characters, and making comparisons with
the aid of my friend Mr. W. E. de Winton, I am inclined to regard the
fragmentary specimen as the skin of the neck and shoulder-region with
part of the left cheek. The apparent bilateral symmetry between at
least part of the thickened anterior outer angles of the specimen has
already been noted; and if this observation be well founded, the
middle line of the back extends vertically down the middle of the
photograph, p. 306. If the rounded notch above B be the base of the
external ear, as seems probable, the thick wrinkled skin (C) with fine
short hair still further to the left must be the cheek. The ear and
cheek on the right side have been removed; but at the base of the
outwardly-turned angle on this side of the specimen there are the very
long hairs which occupy a similar position on the left. It thus seems
possible to estimate the transverse measurement between the ears as
from 0.25 m. to 0.30 m., which corresponds with a tentative estimate
of the same distance in _Mylodon robustus_ based on a skull in the
British Museum.
(b) _Comparisons and General Conclusions._
The skin now described differs from that of all known terrestrial
Mammalia, except certain Edentata, in the presence of a bony dermal
armour. There can therefore be little doubt that the specimen has been
rightly referred to a member of this typically South American order.
Even among the Edentates, however, the fragment now under
consideration is unique in one respect; for all the ossicles are
buried deeply in the lower half of the thickened dermis and the hairs
are implanted in every part of its upper half, whereas all the forms
of bony armour hitherto described in this order reach the outer
surface of the dermis and are merely invested with horny epidermis.
This is the case, as is well known, in the common existing Armadillos,
in which the hair is only implanted in the dermis between the separate
parts of the armour. Even in the unique and remarkable skin of an
Armadillo from Northern Brazil, described by Milne-Edwards under the
name of _Scleropleura bruneti_[34] the bony plates and tubercles are
still covered only by epidermis, although most of them are reduced to
small nodules and might well have sunk more deeply into the abnormally
hairy skin. There is also reason to believe that in the gigantic
extinct Armadillos of the family Glyptodontidæ the same arrangement of
dermal structures prevailed; for one specimen of _Panochthus
tuberculatus_ obtained by Dr. Moreno for the La Plata Museum actually
shows the dried horny epidermis in direct contact with the underlying
bone, and seems to prove that the numerous perforations in the
Glyptodont dermal armour were not for the implantation of hairs (as
once supposed), but for the passage of blood-vessels to the base of
the epidermal layer. Similarly, among the extinct Ground-Sloths of the
family Mylodontidæ dermal ossicles have been found with the remains of
_Cœlodon_[35] and various forms (perhaps different subgenera) of
_Mylodon_; but the only examples of this armour yet definitely
described[36] exhibit a conspicuously sculptured outer flattened face,
and it thus seems clear that Burmeister was correct in describing them
as originally reaching the upper surface of the dermis and only
covered externally by a thickened epidermis. It is, however, to be
noted that Burmeister himself actually observed armour of this kind
covering only the lumbar region of the trunk. He believed that the
other parts of the animal were similarly armoured, because he had
found "the same ossicles" on the digits of the manus, where they were
"generally smaller and more spherical"; but he unfortunately omits to
make any explicit statement as to the presence or absence of the
characteristic external ornamentation on the latter.
The omission just mentioned is especially unfortunate, because on
careful comparison it is evident that the irregular disposition of the
small ossicles in the piece of skin now under consideration is most
closely paralleled in the dermal armour of the extinct _Mylodon_, as
already observed by Drs. Moreno and Ameghino. There is obviously no
approach in this specimen to the definite and symmetrical arrangement
of the armour such as is exhibited both by the existing Armadillos
and the extinct Glyptodonts. There are, then, two possibilities.
Either the dermal armour of _Mylodon_ varied in different parts of the
body, being sculptured and covered only by epidermis in the lumbar
region, while less developed, not sculptured but completely buried in
the dermis in the comparatively flexible neck and shoulder region--in
which case Dr. Moreno may be correct in referring the problematical
specimen to _Mylodon_; or the dermal ossicles of this extinct genus
may have been uniform throughout, only differing in size and
sparseness or compactness--in which case Dr. Ameghino is justified in
proposing to recognise a distinct genus, _Neomylodon_.
To decide between these two possibilities, it is necessary to wait for
additional information concerning the anterior dorsal armour of
_Mylodon_ as precise as that published by Burmeister in reference to
the lumbar shield. Meanwhile it must suffice to compare the
microscopical structure of the ossicles from the new skin with that of
the small sculptured tubercles of undoubted _Mylodon_. It must be
remembered that the specimen has been buried in the Pampa Formation
for a long period, and that the oxides of iron and manganese have
infiltrated the margin of the bone, rendering the structure of its
outer border more conspicuous than that of its central portion. It
must also be noted that some of the manganese has assumed its familiar
"dendritic" aspect, in this respect presenting appearances not due to
original structure. The calcified interlacing fibres of connective
tissue are as abundant here as in the ossicle of the so-called
_Neomylodon_; but in a very wide peripheral area they exhibit a marked
radial disposition, nearly everywhere extending in bundles at right
angles to the border. Rather large vascular canals, infiltrated with
the oxides of iron and manganese, are observed in places, often
bifurcated and usually bordered by a transparent zone free from the
connective-tissue fibres. Well-developed bone-lacunæ are very
abundant, many exhibiting short branching canaliculi, and most of the
others very irregular in shape, evidently furnished with canaliculi
which cannot be seen from lack of infiltration. The lacunæ are never
much elongated, and are not arranged in distinctly differentiated
Haversian systems in any part of the section; while the only regular
disposition of the bony laminæ is traceable near the circumference,
where the lacunæ are frequently arranged or clustered in parallel
zones concentric with the border. A vertical section of one of the
same specimens shows the connective-tissue fibres radiating outwards
towards the lateral margins, but not directly towards the upper
sculptured face. There are no bony laminæ clearly parallel with the
latter face, and at least one vascular canal in transverse section
seems to be the centre of a Haversian system.
The histological structure of the ossicles in the skin now under
consideration thus resembles that of the sculptured tubercles of
_Mylodon_ in all essential features, but differs in two noteworthy
respects. In the ossicles of the so-called _Neomylodon_, as already
described, the fibres of connective tissue do not exhibit much
definite radiation towards the lateral margin; while the bony tissue
at most points is disposed in definite Haversian systems. There is
thus enough discrepancy to justify the suspicion that the new and the
old specimens do not belong to the same animal. In fact, so far as the
differentiation of the dermal bone is concerned, the so-called
_Neomylodon_ is precisely intermediate between _Mylodon_ and the
existing Armadillo (_Dasypus_); sections of the scutes of the latter
animal, both in the Royal College of Surgeons and in the British
Museum, showing that in this genus nearly the whole of the osseous
tissue is arranged in Haversian systems, although abundant interlacing
connective-tissue fibres are still entangled in it, at least near the
border.
If the characteristic dermal armature does not suffice for the
definite expression of an opinion as to the precise affinities of the
specimen, a still less satisfactory result can be expected from a
comparison of the hair. For, in the first place, no hair has hitherto
been discovered in association with the skeleton of any extinct
Ground-Sloth; while, secondly, the hairy covering of a mammal is
perhaps that part of its organisation most readily adapted to the
immediate circumstances of its life. So far as their endo-skeleton is
concerned, the extinct Mylodonts and their allies are precisely
intermediate between the existing Sloths and Anteaters; they combine
"the head and dentition of the former with the structure of the
vertebral column, limbs, and tail of the latter."[37] It might
therefore be supposed that the hair of this extinct group would
exhibit some of the peculiarities of that in one or other of its
nearest surviving relatives. The epidermal covering of the piece of
skin now described, however, entirely lacks the under-fur which is so
thick in the Sloths; while the structure of each individual hair, with
its smooth cuticle and lack of a medulla, is strikingly different from
that observed both in the Sloths and Anteaters, and identical with
that of the hair in the surviving Armadillos. The large hair in the
Sloths and _Tamandua_ exhibits a conspicuously scaly cuticle; while
that of _Myrmecophaga_ is remarkable for its very large medulla. All
these animals now live in the tropics, either in forests or swamps,
whereas the Patagonian animal must have existed under circumstances
much like those under which the Armadillos still survive. Hence the
characters of the hair of the so-called _Neomylodon_ may be of no
great importance in determining the affinities of the animal, but may
represent a special adaptation to its immediate environment.
Finally, there is the question of the antiquity of the problematical
skin. On two occasions I have examined the mummified remains of the
extinct Mammoth and Rhinoceros from Siberia in the Imperial Academy of
Sciences at St. Petersburg; I have also carefully studied the remains
of the neck and legs of the Moa from a cavern in New Zealand, now in
the British Museum. Compared with these shrivelled and dried
specimens, the piece of skin from Patagonia has a remarkably fresh and
modern aspect; and I should unhesitatingly express the opinion that it
belonged to an animal killed shortly before Dr. Moreno recognised its
interest, had he not been able to give so circumstantial an account of
its discovery and strengthened his point of view by recording the
occurrence of a human mummy of an extinct race in another cavern in
the same district. The presence of an abundant covering of dried serum
on one cut border of the skin is alone suggestive of grave doubts as
to the antiquity of the specimen; but Dr. Vaughan Harley tells me that
similar dried serum has been observed several times among the remains
of the Egyptian mummies, and there seems thus to be no limit to the
length of time for which it can be preserved, provided it is removed
from all contact with moisture. I may add that I have searched in vain
in the writings of Ramon Lista (so far as they are represented in the
Library of the Royal Geographical Society) for some reference to the
statement which the late traveller made verbally to Dr. Ameghino; and
as the piece of skin now described certainly represents an animal
almost gigantic in size compared with the Old-World Pangolin, I fear
it cannot be claimed to belong to Lista's problematical quadruped,
whatever that may prove to be.
The final result of these brief considerations is therefore rather
disappointing. There are difficulties in either of the two possible
hypotheses. We have a piece of skin quite large enough to have
belonged to the extinct _Mylodon_; but unfortunately it cannot be
directly compared with the dermal armour of that genus, because it
seems to belong to the neck-region, while the only dermal tubercles of
a Mylodont hitherto definitely made known are referable to the lumbar
region. If it does belong to _Mylodon_, as Dr. Moreno maintains, it
implies either that this genus survived in Patagonia to a
comparatively recent date, or that the circumstances of preservation
were unique in the cavern where the specimen was discovered. On the
other hand, if it belongs to a distinct and existing genus, as Dr.
Ameghino maintains--and as most of the characters of the specimen
itself would at first sight suggest--it is indeed strange that so
large and remarkable a quadruped should have hitherto escaped
detection in a country which has been so frequently visited by
scientific explorers.
* * * * *
[P.S.--At the reading of this paper Prof. Ray Lankester remarked that
he should regard the characters of the hair as specially important,
and would not be surprised if the problematical piece of skin proved
to belong to an unknown type of Armadillo. This possibility had
occurred to me, but I had hesitated to mention it on account of the
considerable discrepancy observable between the arrangement of the
bony armour in _Neomylodon_ and that in the known Glyptodonts and the
unique Brazilian Armadillo (_Scleropleura_), which happen to exhibit
an incompletely developed (incipient or vestigial) shield. In each of
the latter cases, the armour is not subdivided into a compact mass of
irregular ossicles, but consists of well-separated elements which
could only become continuous by the addition of a considerable extent
of bone round their margins, or by the special development of smaller
intervening ossicles.
Since the paper was read, I have had the privilege of studying Dr.
Einar Lönnberg's valuable description of the pieces of the
problematical skin mentioned by Dr. Moreno as having been taken to
Upsala by Dr. Otto Nordenskjöld.[38] It appears that with the skin was
found the epidermal sheath of a large unknown claw, which may have
belonged to the same animal. This specimen proves to be different from
that of any existing Sloth, Anteater, or Armadillo, and is considered
by Dr. Lönnberg to belong probably to the hind foot of a Mylodont,
which did not walk on the exterior, lateral surfaces of the toes to
the same extent as _Mylodon_. In a section of the skin provisionally
ascribed to the leg, he observes that the small ossicles are very
irregular, and shows two instances in which two are placed one above
the other. In microscopical sections of the ossicles, however, he does
not find the distinct Haversian systems of bone so conspicuous in my
slides; and hence he fails to remark the differences between the
structure of the armour in _Neomylodon_ and _Mylodon_, which seem to
me to be particularly noteworthy. His so-called "pigment cellules" in
_Mylodon_ are the dendritic infiltrations of oxide of manganese and
stains of oxide of iron, to which I have made special reference. His
observations as to the absence of a medulla in the hair confirm my
own; but I have not seen any evidence of the suspected loss or
disintegration of the hair-cuticle. Finally, Dr. Lönnberg has boiled a
piece of the skin, thereby extracting glue, "which proves that the
collagen and gelatinous substances are perfectly preserved." The
latter observation confirms the evidence of the serum recorded above,
and indicates that if the specimen is "of any considerable age, it
must have been very well protected against moisture and bacteria."--A.
S. W.]
III. DESCRIPTION OF ADDITIONAL DISCOVERIES.
By A. SMITH WOODWARD.[39]
Last February, when presenting to the Zoological Society an account of
the skin of a Ground-Sloth discovered in a cavern in Southern
Patagonia, Dr. Moreno mentioned that further excavations were being
made in the hope of finding other remains of the same animal. The task
referred to was undertaken by Dr. Rudolph Hauthal, geologist of the La
Plata Museum, who met with complete success.[40] He not only found
another piece of skin, but also various broken bones of more than one
individual of a large species of Ground-Sloth in a remarkably fresh
state of preservation. Moreover, he discovered teeth of an extinct
horse and portions of limb-bones of a large feline carnivore, in
association with these remains; he likewise met with traces of fire,
which clearly occurred in the same deposits as the so-called
_Neomylodon_. All these remains were found beneath the dry earth on
the floor of an enormous chamber which seemed to have been
artificially enclosed by rude walls. In one spot they were scattered
through a thick deposit of excrement of some gigantic herbivore,
evidently the Ground-Sloth itself; in another spot they were
associated with an extensive accumulation of cut hay. Dr. Hauthal and
his colleagues, indeed, concluded that the cavern was an old corral in
which the Ground-Sloths had been kept and fed by man.
As the result of these explorations, Dr. Moreno has now the
gratification of exhibiting to the Society complete proof that the
piece of skin described on the former occasion belongs to a genuine
Pampean Ground-Sloth, not _Mylodon_ itself, but a very closely related
genus _Grypotherium_, of which skulls are already known from Pampean
deposits in the Province of Buenos Aires.[41] The collection which we
now have the privilege of examining distinctly supports his contention
that the large quadruped in question belongs to an extinct fauna,
though contemporary with man. The discovery is thus unique in the
history of palæontology, on account of the remarkably fresh state of
preservation of all the remains. Some of the new specimens exhibit no
indication whatever of having been buried. Many of the bones retain
their original whitish colour, apparently without any loss of
gelatine; while both these and other bones, which have evidently been
entombed in brownish dust, bear numerous remnants not only of the
dried periosteum, but also of shrivelled muscles, ligaments, and
cartilages. Very few of the bones are fossilised, in the ordinary
sense of the term.
An admirable brief description of this collection has already been
published (_op. cit._) by Dr. Roth, who was the first to recognise the
generic identity of _Neomylodon_ with _Grypotherium_. Some of the
specimens, however, are worthy of a more detailed examination; and Dr.
Moreno has kindly entrusted them to me for study in connection with
the collections in the British Museum and the Royal College of
Surgeons. The following notes, supplementing Dr. Roth's original
memoir, are the result of this further investigation.
1. REMAINS OF _GRYPOTHRIUM LISTAI_.
_Number of Individuals._
Among the fragmentary bones of the Ground-Sloth, it is easy to
recognise evidence of three individuals, which do not differ much in
size. There are three distinct examples of the occiput and fragments
of the dentigerous portion of three mandibles. It is also noteworthy
that the three malar bones preserved are all different in shape, while
three corresponding fragments of the acromial process of the scapula
differ in size. One portion of maxilla seems to represent a fourth
individual, being probably too small for either of the skulls to which
the occiputs belong. Finally, as Dr. Roth has pointed out, one shaft
of a humerus, which appears to be the bone of an adult, belongs to a
much smaller animal than is indicated by any other specimen in the
collection.
Remains of three individuals are thus recognisable with certainty; two
others can probably be distinguished; while some of the fragments may
even belong to a sixth specimen. It must also be noted that other
portions of jaws are said to have been discovered by E.
Nordenskjöld.[42]
_Skull and Mandible._
The largest portion of cranium (No. 1) is not stained in any way, and
does not retain a trace of the material in which it was buried in any
hollow or crevice. It does not appear to have been damaged during
excavation, but exhibits fractures which were almost certainly made
when the animal was freshly killed. The cranial roof near the
occipital region is battered in four places, though the injuries do
not affect the brain-case itself; while the right occipital condyle is
partly removed by a sharp, clean cut. There can, indeed, be no doubt
that the animal was killed and cut to pieces by man.
This skull is evidently that of an adult animal, all the sutures in
the hinder region being closed. The inner wall of the temporal fossa
is much flattened, without any irregular convexities, but marked with
the characteristic reticulately-decussating, fine ridges of bone, and
studded with adherent patches of muscle-fibre. The upper border of the
fossa is a remarkably sharp edge, while the narrow flattened cranial
roof is only marked by a faint longitudinal median furrow and by a
diminutive tuft of fibre in a small median pit near the occipital
edge.[43] The fractures exhibit the very large cancellated chambers
surrounding the brain-case dorso-laterally; while a median
longitudinal section shows both these cells and others in the
basi-sphenoid. The basi-cranial axis is nearly straight, inclining a
little upwards in front. The anterior condyloid foramina piercing the
basi-occipital are remarkably large, as usual; the basi-sphenoid is
very long and narrow, flattened mesially on its lower face, but with
one slight median prominence near its hinder end; the pre-sphenoid
forms a short acute rostrum, above which there are remains of the
vomer. The hinder ends of the pterygoids are shown to be inflated with
large cancellæ, but the sides of the base of the skull are somewhat
obscured by the dried soft parts. The mastoid process of the periotic,
with its articular facette for the stylohyal, seems to be rather
smaller than in _Mylodon_. The tympanic bone is preserved on the right
side, though wanting on the left. It is an irregular curved plate only
slightly bullate, but forming a complete floor to the tympanic cavity.
As usual in Edentata, it is not produced into an auditory meatus.
The right maxilla (No. 4) is in precisely the same state of
preservation as the specimen just described, and probably belongs to
the same skull. Its anterior margin is perfectly preserved, indicating
that the facial region is very short in front of the anterior end of
the zygomatic arch, which is pierced by a rather large suborbital
canal. Its upper border proves that the nasal region was raised into a
slightly convex dome; while its antero-superior angle is not rounded
as in _Mylodon_, but curves upwards and forwards and ends in a point
as in _Grypotherium_. At the oral border there are the shattered bases
of four teeth.
A fragment of the nasal region (No. 13) may also have belonged to the
same skull, but its state of preservation is a little different from
that of the two specimens just described. It has clearly been buried
in a powdery deposit, which has stained it brown; but the enveloping
dust must have been extremely dry, for fragments of cartilage adhere
to it, as well preserved as in the nasal chamber of the cranium itself
(No. 1). It also bears traces of the integument.
Judging by the figures of the skull of _Grypotherium_ published by
Reinhardt (_loc. cit._), this specimen seems to have occupied an
anterior position in the nasal region. It is thus of great interest,
because the three known skulls of _Grypotherium_ leave the precise
nature of the bony arcade separating the narial openings undecided.
According to Reinhardt, the nasal bones terminate as in _Mylodon_, and
the arcade is an element interposed between them and the premaxillæ.
According to Burmeister, the nasals themselves extend forwards and
constitute the greater part, if not the whole, of the problematical
bar. The fragment now under consideration is clearly in favour of the
latter interpretation. Its lower thickened end is a massive bone, not
bilaterally symmetrical, and not showing any trace of a median suture.
Its inferior face is irregular and roughened, and can scarcely be
regarded as an articular facette. Its upper portion consists of a pair
of bones separated by a very well-marked median longitudinal suture.
These are not thickened at their contracted upper end, where they have
evidently been broken, and are not quite bilaterally symmetrical. They
doubtless fuse at their lower end with the problematical azygous bone
already mentioned, but the arrangement is obscured by the enveloping
soft parts. A pair of bones, which may be regarded as nasals, thus
extend forwards in a narrow arch to a point just above the anterior
end of the premaxillæ; while the massive bone effecting a union
between the two normal pairs of elements is probably an ossification
in the internasal septum. It is interesting to note that there is an
incipient trace of a similar forward production of the nasals in the
genus _Scelidotherium_; while there is sometimes an ossification of
the internasal septum in _Megatherium_.[44]
The three specimens now described, when placed approximately in their
natural positions, afford a very satisfactory idea of the form and
proportions of the skull when complete. The malar bone is the only
important part to be added; but unfortunately it is impossible to
decide which of the three specimens of this element in the collection
belongs to the individual now under consideration. As already
mentioned, these three bones are all different in the shape and
proportions of the hinder bifurcated end. They are all very fresh in
appearance, but have been stained reddish-brown by the earth in which
they must have been buried.
The hinder portion of the second skull already mentioned (No. 2)
comprises the occiput and brain-case as far forward as the front of
the cerebral hemispheres. It is much battered and broken, and in quite
as fresh a state as the cranium already described, with a considerable
investment of dried soft parts on its base. It is only very slightly
smaller than No. 1, but is of interest as exhibiting some of the
sutures, besides a roundness and smoothness indicative of immaturity.
The supraoccipital is shown to be very large; a small median point of
it enters the foramen magnum, while the suture separating it from the
parietals and squamosals extends along the rounded lambdoidal ridge.
The horizontally extended suture between the squamosal and parietal on
the inner wall of the temporal fossa is seen in the position where
Owen determined it to occur in _Mylodon_.[45] Both tympanics are
preserved, but they are more obscured by soft parts than in No. 1.
To this cranium probably belongs a detached portion of the left side
of the facial region (No. 5), in a similar state of preservation and
slightly smaller than the maxilla (No. 4). The suture between the
frontal and the maxilla still persists, while the oral border is
preserved farther forward than in the last-mentioned specimen, showing
a fragment of the much-reduced premaxilla united with the maxilla by a
jagged suture.
The third imperfect occiput is about as large as the immature specimen
No. 2, but does not exhibit any features worthy of special note.
The largest and most important portions of the mandible are Nos. 9 and
11, which evidently belong to the right and left rami of one and the
same jaw. They are much broken and are in the same fresh condition as
the skulls, with traces of the periosteum and even considerable
portions of the soft parts of the gum. The right ramus is preserved
sufficiently far forwards to show that there was no caniniform tooth
in front of the series of four ordinary molars. Judging by the extent
of the latter series, the specimen probably belongs to the same
individual as the skull No. 1.
Another portion of a mandibular ramus (No. 10) of the left side is
slightly smaller than the last and may well have belonged to the
immature individual No. 2. It is similarly quite fresh in appearance,
and bears the shrivelled remains of the gum. It is interesting as
exhibiting the two posterior molars slightly different in shape from
those of the former mandible. In this specimen the longer axis of the
third molar is oblique, whereas in No. 9 it is coincident with the
axis of the mandible; while in the former the fourth molar is not so
long in proportion to its width as in the latter. Such slight
differences, however, cannot be regarded in the Edentata as more than
individual variations.
_Brain-cavity and Cerebral Nerves._
By the kind permission of Dr. Moreno, the cranium No. 1 has been
vertically bisected to display the character of the cranial cavity and
the nerve-foramina. An instructive plaster-cast of the cavity has thus
been made by Mr. C. Barlow, the Formatore of the British Museum.
The olfactory lobes are shown to have been well developed, projecting
a little in front of the cerebral hemispheres. These hemispheres are
together somewhat longer than broad, slightly broader behind than in
front, and a little constricted in the middle. They do not overlap the
cerebellum, which is relatively large. The origins of the nerves are
very imperfectly shown in the cast; only their exits from the cranial
cavity are clear. The most interesting are the optic and trigeminal
nerves, which pass out of the cranial cavity at first by a common
exit, which is soon subdivided by a bony partition into two canals,
the former no less than 0.08 m., the latter 0.045 m. in length. The
fourth, seventh, eighth and twelfth nerves are also recognisable on
the cast; and one prominence of plaster has filled the foramen lacerum
posterius.
Compared with the brains of _Mylodon_ and _Scelidotherium_, so far as
known from casts of the cranial cavity,[46] that of _Grypotherium_ is
observed to be more elongated, with less divergent and prominent
olfactory lobes, less constricted cerebral hemispheres, and a larger
cerebellum. In the form and proportions of the cerebrum and
cerebellum, it similarly differs from _Megatherium_.[47] The cerebral
hemispheres of the existing _Cholœpus didactylus_ and _Bradypus
tridactylus_[48] are more tapering forward, and their cerebellum is
relatively smaller than in _Grypotherium_.
_Auditory Ossicles._
The auditory ossicles were preserved in the tympanic cavities of both
skulls, Nos. 1 and 2, being retained by the dried soft parts. They
were detected by Prof. Charles Stewart, who kindly extracted them,
with great skill, from both sides of each skull. Comparing these
ossicles with the fine collection in the Royal College of Surgeons,
they prove to be closely similar to those of all the existing Sloths,
but most nearly resembling those of _Cholœpus didactylus_. The
malleus is bent exactly as in the latter species, and is of similar
shape. As observed by Prof. Stewart, it is remarkable in articulating
with the incus not only by the head, but also by a diminutive lower
facet, which is in contact with a small facetted process on the
anterior arm of the incus. A feeble indication of the same secondary
articulation is also observable in _Cholœpus_; but it is curiously
absent in the second specimen of _Grypotherium_. The two divergent
arms of the incus are equal in length, as usual in the Sloths. The
stapes is only very slightly perforated in both specimens; while a
small circular disc firmly fixed to the incus represents the orbicular
bone in the second skull. The auditory ossicles of _Grypotherium_,
therefore, are very different from those of _Myrmecophaga_, in which
the malleus is less sharply bent, the incus has divergent arms of
unequal length, and the stapes exhibits a large perforation.[49]
_Vertebræ and Limb-bones._
Nearly all the remains of vertebræ and limb-bones are in the same
state of preservation as the portions of skull and mandible already
described, with adherent cartilage and traces of muscles and
ligaments. With some of the ungual phalanges there are also
well-preserved examples of the epidermal sheath. As already remarked
by Roth, the edges of one sheath probably belonging to the fourth
digit of the manus, are quite sharp, and indicate that if the animal
walked on its fore feet it resembled _Myrmecophaga_ in the peculiar
twist of the manus.
All the specimens in this series seem to have been accurately
determined and sufficiently described by Roth. It is only necessary to
emphasise the fact that the two shafts of humerus with abraded, not
sharply broken, ends have a much more fossilised appearance than any
other specimen in the collection, and are deeply stained throughout by
ferruginous matter. The small shaft, No. 22, certainly seems to have
belonged to an adult animal, as remarked by Roth, and it was probably
much smaller than any individual indicated by the other remains.
_Skin and Hair._
The new piece of skin, which is stated by Hauthal to have been found
in the deposit of excrement, is not quite so well preserved as the
original piece. It is much folded in an irregular manner; and the
hair, which is yellower than in the previous specimen, is preserved
only in patches on the outer face. It must have been stripped from the
body of the animal by man; but the only distinct marks of tools, which
were evidently made when the skin was fresh, are a few indents and
small pits on the outer face. The indents must have been made by
oblique thrusts of a stick, or a small, blunt, chisel-shaped
instrument. The small pittings are nearer the middle of the specimen
and less conspicuous. A vacuity in the skin seems to be due to
accidental tearing or to a thrust after it was dry: it may even have
been caused by the fallen blocks of stone found lying upon it.
The specimen, as preserved, measures about a metre across in one
direction by 93 centimetres in another direction. As already observed
by Roth, its irregular folding makes the determination of its position
on the trunk very difficult; but I am convinced that its state of
preservation is not sufficiently good to justify an attempt to unfold
the skin by the ordinary method of steaming. Taking all facts into
consideration, Roth seems to be correct in ascribing it to the right
flank and the postero-superior part of one of the limbs. It most
probably belongs to the fore limb, as Roth supposes; but there is no
clear proof that it is not referable to the hind-quarters.
The original situation of the piece of skin being thus determined, it
is interesting to observe the disposition of the ossicles in the lower
layer. Owing to abrasion, contraction, and partial disintegration,
they are conspicuous in most parts of the specimen. They are very
irregular in shape and size, and closely compacted together, as in the
previous specimen. It is, however, to be noted that in some parts
there is a distinct tendency to arrangement in regular, straight,
parallel rows. The long axes of the elongated ossicles are nearly
always coincident with the direction of these rows. They are
especially well shown on the middle of the flank; and, as might be
expected, the rows are here disposed vertically, parallel with the
ribs.
In some parts of the skin the ossicles are exposed on their outer
face; but appearances render it almost certain that this exposure is
due to the disintegration and abrasion of the specimen. In one patch
thus uncovered by the removal of the soft parts, the ossicles are seen
to form a closely arranged, flattened pavement; and their outer face
is much more conspicuously marked by pittings than that of any ossicle
extracted from the first discovered piece of skin. In fact, as Roth
remarks, the pitting is here quite similar to that observable on many
ossicles dug up in association with the fossil skeletons of _Mylodon_;
though it does not form so regular a reticulate pattern as that of the
dermal ossicles of _Mylodon_ in the British Museum figured on the
former occasion.[50]
Another interesting feature of the new piece of skin consists in the
dwindling and even total absence of the ossicles towards the ventral
border. A section along the edge exhibits only two diminutive nodules
of bone in a length of 0.1 m.; while another similar section taken
vertically from the skin of the limb shows no trace of ossicles,
except perhaps two little specks. It must, however, be noted that the
limb was not entirely destitute of armour; for on the border the bones
are as well developed and conspicuous as on the middle of the flank.
In the newly-cut sections the skin has a translucent aspect, showing
that it is merely dried and not tanned in any way.
The hair on the new specimen varies in length from 0.07 m. or 0.10 m.
to 0.15 m. or 0.22 m. It is thus longer than that of the previous
piece of skin. Masses of still longer hairs--some 0.30 m. in
length--were found detached among the excrement, and these are also
believed by Roth to belong to the same animal. His determination is
probably correct; for, when examined microscopically, these long hairs
are observed to have a perfectly smooth cuticle, while some transverse
sections (kindly made by Mr. R. H. Burne) demonstrate the complete
absence of a medulla, exactly as in the short hairs. The latter
feature proves that they cannot be referred either to the horse or to
the guanaco.
_Excrement._
The large cylindrical pieces of excrement, which may be referred to
_Grypotherium_ without any hesitation, have already been described and
figured by Dr. Roth. They consist of irregular discoids of herbaceous
matter closely pressed together, the largest measuring no less than
0.18 m. in diameter. Mr. Spencer Moore has kindly examined them from
the botanist's point of view and reports that they are composed "in
large part apparently of grasses, as the haulms, leaf-sheaths,
fragments of leaves, &c., of these plants are frequent in the mass. A
spikelet, almost entire, of what seems to be a species of _Poa_, and
the flowering glume of another grass, probably avenaceous, have also
been found. Besides these there are at least two dicotyledonous
plants, one herbaceous and the other almost certainly so, the latter
having a slender greatly sclerotised stem. Unfortunately, as no leaves
have hitherto been observed attached to the fragments of stem, their
affinities are altogether doubtful. There are numerous silicious
particles in the excrement, and there are many pieces of the
underground parts of the plants, suggesting that they have been pulled
out of the ground. A few pieces of stems are sharply cut, not bruised
or torn at the end." The latter fact is especially important in
connection with Dr. Hauthal's discovery of cut hay in the cavern, and
his theory that the _Grypotherium_ was kept in captivity and fed by
man.
_Generic and Specific Determination._
The fortunate discovery of all parts of the skull and dentition
renders the generic determination of this Ground-Sloth now quite
certain. The teeth show that it belongs to the family Mylodontidæ; the
presence of only four instead of five upper molars separates it from
the genera _Mylodon_, _Lestodon_, and _Scelidotherium_; the forward
production of the nasals and the ossification of part of the
internarial septum place it definitely in the allied genus
_Grypotherium_, as originally diagnosed by Reinhardt. The only
question needing consideration is, whether the fragment of cranium
described by Owen in 1840 as the type of the genus _Glossotherium_[51]
is really identical with that subsequently described by Reinhardt
under the name of _Grypotherium darwini_, as now seems to be commonly
believed.
Darwin's original specimen, on which the genus _Glossotherium_ of Owen
was founded, is preserved in the Museum of the Royal College of
Surgeons. It has thus been possible to compare it directly with the
undoubted cranium of _Grypotherium_ from the Patagonian cavern. The
specimen is merely the left half of the hinder part of the cranium,
and is therefore very inadequate for discussion; but several features
seem worthy of note. Compared with the new skull No. 1, the fragment
named _Glossotherium_ has (i.) the inner wall of the temporal fossa
less flattened, (ii.) the digastric fossa deeper in proportion to its
width, (iii.) the hinder border of the inflated pterygoid vertical,
instead of sloping downwards and forwards, (iv.) a much larger and
deeper pit for the articulation of the stylohyal, and (v.) a longer
canal penetrating the base of the occipital condyle for the passage of
the hypoglossal nerve. In all these respects the so-called
_Glossotherium_ agrees much more closely with the typical _Mylodon_;
and Owen was probably correct in 1842 when he expressed the opinion
that the two are at least generically identical.[52]
I am therefore of opinion that _Grypotherium_ is the correct generic
name for the Ground-Sloth from the Patagonian cavern, while
_Glossotherium_ must be relegated to the synonymy of _Mylodon_.
The specific determination of the new specimens is more difficult. As
remarked by Roth, only two species of _Grypotherium_ seem to be
already known from the Pampa formation--_G. darwini_ by three
skulls[53] and _G. bonaerense_ solely by a maxilla.[54] The portions
of skull and dentition now under discussion indicate an animal much
larger than _G. bonaerense_ (assuming the original maxilla to be that
of an adult); while they are considerably smaller than any known
specimen of _G. darwini_. Moreover, the nasal arcade now described is
narrower and more concave on its outer face than that of _G. darwini_,
as already observed by Roth. It thus seems very probable that the
animal from the Patagonian cavern represents a distinct species, which
must bear the name of _G. listai_. This specific name was given by
Ameghino to a fragment of the first-discovered piece of skin, and the
curious argument which leads Roth to propose the substitution of a new
name for it does not affect its validity.
It may be added that Dr. Erland Nordenskjöld has recently compared his
specimens from the Patagonian cavern with the skull of _Grypotherium
darwini_ at Copenhagen, and finds no specific difference.[55] No
particulars however, have yet been published.
2. ASSOCIATED MAMMALIAN REMAINS.
_Felis_, sp.
A feline carnivore larger than the existing Jaguar (_Felis onca_), but
about the same size as an average Tiger (_F. tigris_), is represented
in the collection by the distal half of a right humerus (No. 44), a
left fourth metatarsal (No. 46), and the distal end of another
metatarsal (No. 47). These bones have evidently been buried in dust,
but are in the same fresh state of preservation as those of
_Grypotherium_.
Careful comparison of these bones shows that they are undoubtedly
feline; and there is no difficulty in determining that they belong to
_Felis_ rather than to the extinct _Machærodus_. A humerus of _M.
neogæus_, from a Brazilian cavern, now in the British Museum (No.
18972 _b_), is readily distinguished from the new Patagonian humerus
by the remarkable lateral compression of its shaft and the much
greater downward extension of its prominent and sharp deltoid ridge.
The humerus in all the large species of _Felis_, on the other hand,
only differs from the fossil now under discussion in very small
particulars. In fact, the humerus and metatarsals of the existing
_Felis onca_ are essentially identical with the bones from the
Patagonian cavern, except that they are rather smaller. I am therefore
inclined to regard the newly discovered remains as indicating a
comparatively large variety of _F. onca_, which once lived in the
temperate regions of Patagonia, beyond the present range of this
species. Such an occurrence would be a precise parallel to that of the
Cave-Lion in Europe. It is well known that nearly all the remains of
_F. leo_ found in the Pleistocene formations of the temperate parts of
the Old World indicate animals of somewhat larger size than any
surviving in the warmer regions to which the species is now
confined.[56]
It may be noted that bones of the Jaguar of ordinary dimensions have
been recorded from the Pampa formation of the Province of Buenos
Aires.[57]
_Arctotherium_, sp.
With the bones of _Felis_ just noticed, Roth provisionally associates
the imperfect distal end of a remarkably large right femur. He is thus
induced to suppose that the carnivore represented by the fragments
will prove to be a new genus and species of the Felidæ. He suggests
for it the name of _Iemisch listai_, on the assumption that it is the
mysterious quadruped which Ameghino states is known to the natives as
the Iemisch.
A comparison of the distal end of the femur in question with the
femora of Felidæ in the British Museum seems to prove conclusively
that it cannot be referred even to the same family. Its width across
the condyles is much greater, compared with its antero-posterior
diameter, than that observed in any feline. Moreover, the pit for the
tendon of the popliteus muscle below the external condyle is unusually
deep. In both these respects the bone closely resembles the distal end
of the femur of a Bear. I have been therefore led to compare it with
the corresponding part of the extinct Bear of the Pampean formation,
_Arctotherium_.
Fortunately, the fine and nearly complete skeleton of _Arctotherium
bonaerense_ in the Bravard Collection in the British Museum comprises
the right femur and enables direct comparison to be made. The fragment
lacks the inner condyle; but enough of the trochlea remains to show
its broad and gently-rounded form, with a wide and deep intertrochlear
notch, precisely as in _Arctotherium_. It has the same development of
the external condyle as in the latter, while the fossa for the
popliteal tendon is equally deep, only slightly differing in shape. In
fact, there is very little discrepancy, except in its smaller size;
and species of _Arctotherium_ smaller than _A. bonaerense_ are already
known both from the Pampa formation of Argentina[58] and the caverns
of Brazil.[59]
The fragment just described has evidently been severed from the rest
of the bone by a sharp, clean cut made by man; and Dr. Hauthal is
quite certain that this was not done by one of his workmen during
excavation (_op. cit._ p. 59). At least one medium-sized species of
_Arctotherium_ must therefore have survived until the human period in
Southern Patagonia.[60]
_Onohippidium saldiasi._
A horse is represented in the collection by an upper molar, a fragment
of premaxilla with two incisors, an imperfect atlas and two
well-preserved hoofs apparently of a fœtus or perhaps of a
newly-born animal. Of these remains only the upper molar is capable of
satisfactory determination.
This tooth is the second upper molar of the left side, and has been
exhaustively compared with corresponding teeth by Dr. Roth, who gives
a good series of figures. It is readily distinguished from the
homologous molar in the genus _Equus_ by the peculiar form of its two
inner columns--a fact which I have been able to verify by the
examination of an extensive series of specimens, both recent and
fossil, in the British Museum. Further comparison, indeed, shows that
it must be referred to the extinct Pampean genus _Onohippidium_.[61]
Roth assigns it, apparently quite rightly, to the same species as a
maxilla from the Pampean formation of the Province of Buenos Aires,
for which he proposes the name of _Onohippidium saldiasi_.
_Large Extinct Rodent._
The proximal end of the femur of a large rodent has already been
recognised by Roth, and compared with the extinct _Megamys_. It cannot
be more exactly determined.
_Existing Species._
One imperfect fragment of pelvis and sacrum seems to belong to a puma
(_Felis concolor_) of rather large size; but it is not sufficient for
precise determination.
The small mandibular ramus of a musteline referred by Dr. Roth to
_Mephitis suffocans_, does not pertain to this genus and species. Mr.
Oldfield Thomas determines it to belong to the rare _Lyncodon
patagonicus_, which still lives in Patagonia and has not hitherto been
found fossil. A slightly larger extinct species of the same genus has
been described by Ameghino on the evidence of a skull from the Pampean
formation near Lujan, in the Province of Buenos Aires.[62]
A cranium, some vertebræ, and a tibia and fibula appear to represent
the existing _Ctenomys magellanicus_, as noted by Roth.
The remains of the Guanaco (_Lama huanacos_) do not present any
features worthy of special remark.
Man is represented by a diseased scapula and by two bone awls, which
are clearly made from the tibia of a species of _Canis_ intermediate
in size between _C. jubatus_ and _C. magellanicus_.
3. RELATIVE AGE OF THE REMAINS.
As the result of Dr. Roth's researches, supplemented by the additional
observations now recorded, it is evident that the majority of the
mammalian remains from the cavern near Last Hope Inlet belong to the
extinct fauna which occurs in the Pampean formation of more northern
regions. To this category are referable the genera _Grypotherium_,
_Onohippidium_, _Megamys_, and _Arctotherium_; also _Macrauchenia_,
which is said to have been discovered in the same deposit on the floor
of the cave by Dr. E. Nordenskjöld. The large _Felis_ likewise
probably belongs to the same series. Remains of mammals of the
existing fauna, on the other hand, are comparatively few and
insignificant, referable to the genera _Ctenomys_, _Cervus_, _Lama_,
_Lyncodon_, and _Felis_.
Although Dr. Hauthal's explorations were rather hurried and Dr.
Nordenskjöld's results have only been published hitherto in
abstract,[63] their account of the deposits on the floor of the cavern
seem to confirm the suspicion that the remains of these two faunas
were introduced at two successive periods. According to Hauthal, the
remains of the Guanaco were found along with fragmentary bones of
Deer, shells of _Mytilus chorus_, branches of trees, and dried leaves,
in the superficial dust of the cavern near the outer wall. The skin of
_Grypotherium_ and all the other remains of this and the associated
Pampean genera were discovered in the deeper layer of excrement and
cut hay between the mound and the inner wall of the cavern. According
to Nordenskjöld, three distinct strata can be recognised on the floor
of the cavern as follows:
A. A thin surface layer, containing ashes, shells, and
bones of recent animals broken by man.
B. A middle layer, containing numerous branches of trees
and dried leaves, with remains of _Lama_ and the extinct
horse, _Onohippidium_. Said to be probably the stratum in
which the original piece of skin was found.
C. A bottom layer, usually about a metre in thickness,
without any traces of branches or leaves, but only dried
herbs. Remains of _Grypotherium_ numerous and confined to
this stratum, associated with its excrement and hair, also
with remains of a large variety of _Felis onca_,
_Macrauchenia_, and _Onohippidium_.
It is unfortunate that the question of the contemporaneity of the
various bones cannot be tested by the ingenious method of chemical
analysis which has been applied with success to similar problems by M.
Adolphe Carnot in France. The French chemist has shown that when bones
are buried in ordinary sediments they undergo changes which gradually
cause the percentage of contained fluorine to increase. According to
him, the longer a bone has been buried, the greater is the percentage
of fluorine found in it on analysis. In one case[64] he examined the
scapula of a deer and a human tibia, discovered together in fluviatile
sand near Billancourt (Seine); he found that the former had seven or
eight times its usual percentage of fluorine, while the human bone did
not differ in any respect from the normal in this constituent. He
therefore concluded that the latter bone was not of the same age as
the former, but had been introduced comparatively recently by burial.
In this and the other recorded cases, however, it is to be observed
that the sediment was of a uniform character and admitted of free
percolation of water. In the Patagonian cavern, on the contrary, the
bones occur partly in dust, partly in dried herbage, partly in dried
excrement, and partly in the burnt residue of the same. Moreover, they
must always have been subjected to intense dryness, and the usual
process of chemical alteration cannot have taken place.
Considering all circumstances, I think that, even without chemical
evidence, zoologists and geologists cannot fail now to agree with Dr.
Moreno and his colleagues of the La Plata Museum, that the remarkably
preserved _Grypotherium_ from the Patagonian cavern belongs to the
extinct Pampean fauna of South America, and need not be searched for
in the unexplored wilds of that continent. If we accept the
confirmatory evidence afforded by Mr. Spencer Moore, we can also
hardly refuse to believe that this great Ground-Sloth was actually
kept and fed by an early race of man.
IV. NOTE CONCERNING TEHUELCHE LEGENDS.
By HESKETH PRICHARD.
I now proceed to give the testimony of Dr. F. Ameghino, whose brother
Carlos was well acquainted with the country and who early gave it as
his opinion that the animal, which is named the _Neomylodon listai_,
was still living in Patagonia. In support of his opinion he adduced
tales which Carlos Ameghino had gathered from the Indians, who roam
the pampas, of a vast mysterious beast said by them to haunt the
distant lagoons and forests of the unexplored regions near the Andes.
These stories had, moreover, been confirmed in Dr. Ameghino's opinion
by the experience of the late well-known geographer and traveller,
Señor Ramon Lista, who verbally told both Dr. Ameghino and his brother
that he had seen and fired at a mysterious creature, which, however,
disappeared in the brushwood and could not afterwards be traced. He
described it as being covered with reddish-grey hair, and he believed
it to be a pangolin or scaly-anteater.[65] Taking all things into
consideration, Dr. Ameghino announced his conviction that the
mysterious animal referred to was the last representative of a group,
long believed extinct, related to the Mylodon.
According to Dr. Ameghino the Indians had bestowed upon the mysterious
animal the name of Iemisch. Nothing would induce them to penetrate
into the supposed haunts of this monster. It was described as
amphibious, equally at home on land or in the water; in remote
mountain recesses it lurked in caves, or had its lairs by the shores
of lonely lagoons and rivers, or at times lay in wait among the lower
passes of the Cordillera. In habits it was nocturnal, and its strength
so great that it could seize a horse in its claws, and hold itself
down to the bottoms of the lakes! The head was supposed to be short
and without external ears, but showing enormous dog-teeth: the feet
short and bear-like, armed with formidable claws united by a swimming
membrane; the long tail, tapering and prehensile, the hair hard and of
a uniform yellowish-brown. In size it far exceeded any creature they
knew of, its legs, though short, being almost as great in girth as its
body. It followed, naturally that narratives of personal experiences
and encounters with this terrific animal were varied.
These data, it must be confessed, were bewildering. In fact, as
described by the Indians the Iemisch was scientifically absurd; but
the Indian is like a child in many ways and would naturally endow a
creature he feared with extraordinary attributes.
I will quote here an extract from Winwood Reade's "Savage Africa," one
of the finest books of travel ever written.
"It must be laid down as a general principle that man can originate
nothing; that lies are always truths embellished, distorted, or turned
inside out. There are other facts beside those which lie on the
surface, and it is the duty of the traveller and the historian to sift
and wash the gold-grains of truth from the dirt of fable.... It is
true that some of the ancient myths have been sobered down to natural
beings. The men with dogs' heads of whom Herodotus speaks are the
barking baboons which I saw in Senegal: the men with their head under
their shoulders, their eyes in their breast, are the ill-formed
negroes, whose shoulders are shrugged up, and whose heads drop on
their breasts: the mermaids of the Arab tales are the sea-cows of the
African rivers, which have feminine dugs and a face almost human in
expression: the huge serpent which opposed the army of Regulus is now
well known as the python: the burning mountains which Hanno saw, and
the sounds of the lutes which were believed to proceed from the strife
of the elements, are only caused by the poor negroes burning the grass
of their hill-tops: the music being that of their flutes, as I have
heard it often in those long and silent African nights far away.
"Incredulity has now become so vulgar a folly, that one is almost
tempted, out of simple hatred for a fashion, to run into the opposite
extreme. However, I shall content myself with citing evidence
respecting certain unknown, fabulous and monstrous animals of Africa,
without committing myself to an opinion one way or the other;
preserving only my conviction that there is always a basis of truth to
the most fantastic fables, and that, by rejecting without inquiry that
which appears incredible, one throws away ore in which others might
have found a jewel. A traveller should believe nothing, for he will
find himself so often deceived: and he should disbelieve nothing, for
he will see so many wonderful things; he should doubt, he should
investigate, and then, perhaps, he may discover."
It was in this spirit that I set out for the interior of Patagonia.
Although the legends of the Indians were manifestly to a large extent
the result of imaginative exaggeration, yet I hoped to find a
substratum of fact below these fancies. After thorough examination,
however, I am obliged to say that I found none. The Indians not only
never enter the Cordillera but avoid the very neighbourhood of the
mountains. The rumours of the Iemisch and the stories concerning it,
which, in print, had assumed a fairly definite form, I found nebulous
in the extreme when investigated on the spot.
Finally, after much investigation I came to the conclusion that the
Indian legends in all probability refer to some large species of
otter. Musters, in his book "At Home with the Patagonians," makes
mention of an animal much feared by the tribe with whom he travelled,
which they called "water-tiger," and which they said lived in a rapid
and deep river near to Nahuel-huapi, a lake the name of which lends
colour to the tale, for it means Tigers' Island. Musters says he
himself saw two ostriches, that, being considered in too poor a
condition to be worth taking to camp for food, were left on the bank
of the river referred to, torn and partly devoured when on the
following day he and his party revisited the spot. Tracks of an animal
were also plainly visible leading down into the water.
Compare this with a story told me by Mr. Von Plaaten Hallermund. He
described the case of a mule which had fallen over a precipice in the
vicinity of the River Deseado. When on the following day the _peones_
climbed down to salve its cargo, they found the animal on the edge of
the water half eaten, and in its neighbourhood were tracks strange to
them. "Like those of a puma, yet not those of a puma," as they said.
The manager of Messrs. Braun and Blanchard's store at Santa Cruz gave
me a description of a skin brought in by Indians which, though not a
puma-skin, was quite as large as the skin of the common silver-grey
puma generally is. I myself saw a very large otter in the River
Senguerr, but unluckily had not my rifle with me, and although I
returned as quickly with it as I could, all trace of the otter had
vanished.
Taking into consideration the amphibious nature attributed by the
Indians to the Iemisch, there seems to be little reason to doubt that
the real animal underlying the rumours of a mysterious monster is a
sub-species of the large Brazilian otter (_Lutra brasiliensis_).
To return to the possible survival of the Mylodon, as far as our
travels led us both north and south on the eastern side of the
Cordillera, we could discover no trace whatever either by hearsay or
from the evidence of our own experience to warrant the supposition
that it continues to exist to the present day. But there are hundreds
of square miles of dense forest still unexplored along the whole
length of the Patagonian Andes, and I do not undertake to declare
positively that no such animal exists in some unknown and hidden spot
among their recesses. Roughly speaking, there are many thousand square
miles of snowy summits, ravines, high plateaus and valleys in this
region. The task of finding a final answer to the Mylodon problem on
the drag-net principle of passing to and fro throughout the whole
district would be so gigantic and prolonged where the natural
difficulties are great, as to be practically impossible. Such an
answer must be left to time and the slow process of things. In the
meanwhile I can merely state my own conviction that the odds are very
heavily against the chances of such a survival. The probable habitat
of the Mylodon would naturally be the forests. I penetrated these in
more than one direction, and one of the most striking characteristics
of the forests was the absence of animal life, evidence of which grew
less and less the farther we forced our way into their depths. It is a
matter of common knowledge that, where the larger forms of life are to
be found, there also a liberal catalogue of lesser creatures co-exist.
The conditions which favour the life of the greater favour also the
existence of the less. This is presumptive evidence only, and though
it has certainly influenced my own conclusions, I do not wish to force
it upon others. I have stated the case as fairly as I can, and I leave
my readers to form their own opinions.
FOOTNOTES:
[33] F. Ameghino, "Première Notice sur le _Neomylodon listai_, un
Représentant vivant des anciens Edentés Gravigrades fossiles de
l'Argentina" (La Plata, August 1898); translated under the title "An
Existing Ground-Sloth in Patagonia," in "Natural Science," vol. xiii
(1898), pp. 324-326.
[34] A. Milne-Edwards, "Note sur une nouvelle Espèce de Tatou à
cuirasse incomplète (_Scleropleura bruneti_)," Nouv. Arch. Mus., vol.
vii. (1871), pp. 177-179, pl. xii.
[35] P. W. Lund, K. Dansk. Vidensk. Selsk. Afhandl., vol. viii.
(1841), p. 85 (footnote).
[36] H. Burmeister, Anales Mus. Publico Buenos Aires, vol. i.
(1864-69), p. 173, pl. v. Fig. 8.
[37] Flower and Lydekker, "Introduction to the Study of Mammals," p.
183.
[38] E. Lönnberg, "On some Remains of '_Neomylodon listai_," Ameghino,
brought home by the Swedish Expedition to Tierra del Fuego, 1895-1897,
Wissensch. Ergebn. schwedisch. Exped. Magellansländ, unter Leitung v.
Otto Nordenskjöld, vol. ii. pp. 149-170, pls. xii.-xiv. (1899).
[39] "On some Remains of _Grypotherium (Neomylodon) listai_ and
associated Mammals from a Cavern near Consuelo Cove, Last Hope Inlet,
Patagonia." _Proc. Zool. Soc._, 1900, pp. 64-79, pls. v.-ix.
[40] R. Hauthal, S. Roth, and R. Lehmann-Nitsche, "El Mamifero
Misterioso de la Patagonia, _Grypotherium domesticum_," Revista Mus.
La Plata, vol. ix. pp. 409-474, pls. i.-v. (1899).--F. P. Moreno,
"Note on the Discovery of _Miolania_ and of _Glossotherium
(Neomylodon)_ in Patagonia," Geol. Mag. [4] vol. vi. pp. 385-388
(1899).
[41] J. Reinhardt, "Beskrivelse af Hovedskallen af et Kæmpedovendyr,
_Grypotherium darwinii_, fra La Plata-Landenes plejstocene-Dannelser,"
K. Dansk. Vidensk. Selsk Skr. [5] vol. xii. (1879), pp. 353-380, pls.
i. ii.--H. Burmeister, "Atlas de la Description physique de la
République Argentine," sect. ii. (1881), p. 119, woodc. (_Mylodon
darwinii_),--R. Lydekker, "The Extinct Edentates of Argentina," Anales
Mus. La Plata--Paleont. Argentina, vol. iii. pt. 2 (1894), p. 85, pl.
liv.
[42] R. Hauthal, _op. cit._ p. 4.
[43] See S. Roth, _op. cit._ pl. ii. Fig. 1.
[44] R. Lydekker, Anales Mus. La Plata--Paleont. Argentina, vol. iii.
pt. 2 (1894), p. 73, pl. xlv. Fig. 1.
[45] R. Owen, "Description of the Skeleton of an Extinct Gigantic
Sloth, _Mylodon robustus_, Owen" (1842), p. 18.
[46] P. Gervais, "Mémoire sur les Formes Cérébrales propres aux
Édentés vivants et fossiles," _Nouv. Arch. Mus._, vol. xv. (1869), p.
39, pl. iv. Figs. 1, 2.
[47] P. Gervais, _loc. cit._ p. 39, pl. v.
[48] _Ibid._ p. 38, pl. iv. Figs. 3, 4.
[49] J. Hyrtl, "Vergleichendanatomische Untersuchungen über das innere
Gehörorgan des Menschen und der Säugethiere" (1845), p. 135, pl. v.
Fig. 6.
[50] _P. Z. S._ 1899. pl. xv. Figs. 4-6.
[51] R. Owen, "The Zoology of the Voyage of H.M.S. _Beagle_.--Part I.
Fossil Mammalia" (1840), p. 57, pl. xvi.
[52] R. Owen, "Description of the Skeleton of an Extinct Gigantic
Sloth, _Mylodon robustus_, Owen" (1842), p. 154, foot-note.
[53] Described respectively by Reinhardt, Burmeister, and Lydekker,
_loc. cit._
[54] F. Ameghino, "Contribucion al Conocimiento de los Mamiferos de la
Republica Argentina" (1889), p. 738, pl. xliv. Fig. 8.
[55] E. Nordenskjöld, "La Grotte du _Glossotherium_ (_Neomylodon_) en
Patagonie," Comptes Rendus, vol. cxxix. (1899), p. 1217.
[56] Dawkins and Sanford, "The British Pleistocene Mammalia" (Palæont.
Soc., 1869), p. 150.
[57] F. Ameghino, "Contribucion al Conocimiento de los Mamiferos de la
Republica Argentina" (1889), p. 342.
[58] F. Ameghino, _op. cit._ (1889), p. 317.
[59] H. Winge, "Jordfundne og nulevende Rovdyr (Carnivora) fra Lagoa
Santa, Minas Geraes, Brasilien" (E. Museo Lundii, 1895), p. 31.
[60] Dr. Moreno has lately received reports of bear-like tracks in
remote parts of the Cordillera, which he thinks may imply that a
species of _Arctotherium_ still lives in Patagonia.
[61] F. P. Moreno, "Revista Mus. La Plata," vol. ii. (1891). p. 56, R.
Lydekker, "Anales Mus. La Plata--Paleont. Argentina," vol. ii. pt. 3
(1893), p. 77. pl. xxix.
[62] F. Ameghino, _op. cit._ (1889), p. 324.
[63] E. Nordenskjöld, "La Grotte du _Glossotherium_ (_Neomylodon_ )en
Patagonie" Comptes Rendus, vol. cxxix. (1899), pp. 1216, 1217.
[64] A. Carnot, "Sur une Application de l'Analyse chimique pour fixer
l'Age d'Ossements humains préhistoriques," Comptes Rendus, vol. cxv.
(1892), pp. 337-339.
[65] Pangolins, armadillos, and sloths are more or less related.
APPENDIX B
_On a new Form of Puma from Patagonia._
By OLDFIELD THOMAS, F.R.S.
The National Collection owes to the generosity of Mr. C. Arthur
Pearson the skin of a fine puma, obtained by Mr. Hesketh Prichard
during the recent _Daily Express_ expedition to Patagonia. The skin is
remarkably unlike any known form of puma, and appears certainly to
represent a new sub-species.
Dr. Matschie has already shown[66] that the red puma of the tropics to
which he restricts the name _Felis concolor_, is replaced south of 25°
S. lat. by the silver-grey form for which Molina's name, _F. puma_, is
used.
Now, again, south of about 44° S. lat., there proves to be another
form, represented in the British Museum not only by Mr. Prichard's
skin from Santa Cruz, but by a second much younger specimen from the
Rio Senguerr. Both show the same characteristics, and are equally
different from the Argentine silver-grey form.
In commemoration of Mr. Pearson's scientific spirit in sending out the
expedition, and in presenting the specimen to the National Museum, I
would propose to call it
_Felis concolor Pearsoni_, sub-sp. n.
General build thick and sturdy, with comparatively short limbs and
tail. Fur thick and woolly, the specimens evidently in winter pelage.
General colour nearest to Ridgway's "clay-colour," therefore
exceedingly different from the nearly "drab-grey" of _F. c. puma_.
This colour is most vivid along the back, paler laterally on the
sides, but there is nothing that can be called a distinct dorsal dark
line. Undersurface whitish-fawn, the hairs sandy at their bases,
whiter terminally. Face very much like back, darker markings
practically obsolete; the usual lighter markings near the eye present
but not conspicuous. Ears of normal length, their backs uniformly
whitish-fawn, without darker markings. Outer sides of limbs like back,
inner sides like belly; ends of fingers and toes whitish, without any
darker markings round the pads. Tail proportionally very short,
brownish clay-colour above, whitish below, the tip not or scarcely
darker.
Dimensions of the typical skin, which has been tanned and stretched,
so that the measurements are merely approximate:--Head and body 1370
millim., tail 530, ear 80.
_Hab._ Santa Cruz, Patagonia; about 70 miles inland.
_Type._ Female. B.M. No. 1. 8. 12. 1. Brought home by Mr. H. Prichard
and presented by Mr. C. Arthur Pearson.
The skin was bought by Mr. Prichard from Indians in the region
mentioned, so that neither flesh-measurements nor skull were obtained.
The second skin is that of a young male, killed on the Senguerr River,
in March 1897, by one of the collectors from the La Plata Museum, by
whom it was presented to the British Museum. Owing to its youth, its
peculiarities had not been previously noticed.
_F. c. Pearsoni_ is distinguished from _F. c. puma_ not only by its
very different general colour, but also by its shorter tail,
light-coloured ear-backs, and the absence of the dark markings round
the digital pads.
FOOTNOTE:
[66] SB. Ges. nat. Fr. Berlin, 1892, p. 220; 1894, p. 58.
APPENDIX C
LIST OF PLANTS.[67] BY JAMES BRITTEN, F.L.S., AND A. B. RENDLE, M.A.,
D.SC.
Hamadryas Kingii, Hook. fil. Top of mountains.
Ranunculus peduncularis, Sm. Low slopes of mountains.
Anemone, _cf._ lanigera, Gay. Low slopes and pampa.
Berberis buxifolia, Lam.
Berberis empetrifolia, Lam. Slopes of mountains.
Senebiera pinnatifida, DC. Low slopes of mountains.
Thlaspi gracile, Phil. Swamp.
Draba Gilliesii, Hook. High slopes and top of
mountains.
Cardamine pratensis, L. var. Swamp.
Nasturtium, _aff._ palustre, L. Sheltered slopes of
mountains.
Viola maculata, Cav. Sheltered slopes and
forests.
Polygala Salasiana, Gay. North slope of Mount
Frias.
Lychnis magellanica, Lam. High slopes of mountains.
Stellaria debilis, D'Urv. Low slopes of mountains.
Cerastium arvense, L. Low slopes of mountains.
" " var. Low slopes of mountains.
Arenaria serpens, H.B.K., several forms Low slopes of mountains,
beach, lake and
sheltered pampa.
Calandrinia cæspitosa, Gill. Top of hills among stones.
Geranium magellanicum, Hook. fil. Low slopes of mountains.
Erodium cicutarium, L'Herit. Low slopes of mountains.
Oxalis enneaphylla, Cav., var. pumila,
Hook, fil. High slopes and top of
Mount Frias.
Oxalis sp. Bare sandy ground.
Colletia discolor, Hook. Low slopes of mountains.
Adesmia boronoides, Hook. fil. Low sandy ground.
Astragalus _cf._ alpinus, L. High slopes of mountains.
Lathyrus nervosus, Lam. Low slopes of mountains.
" _cf._ pubescens, Hook. & Arn. Low slopes of mountains.
Vicia, _aff._ bijuga Low slopes of mountains.
" sp. Low slopes of mountains.
Anarthrophyllum desideratum, Benth. Top of Mount Frias.
Potentilla anserina, L. Swamps in open places of
forests.
Geum magellanicum, Comm. Slopes of Punta Bandera.
Acæna adscendens, Vahl. By springs and streams.
" cuneata, Hook. & Arn. Low sandy soil.
" sp. _aff._ multifida, Hook. fil. Pampa slopes and low
slopes.
Saxifraga Pavonii, D. Don. On rocks, low slopes
overhanging lake.
Donatia fascicularis, Forst. Top of mountain.
Escallonia macrantha, Hook. & Arn. Low slopes, Mount Buenos
Aires.
" _cf._ alpina, Poepp. Low slopes, Mount Buenos
Aires.
Ribes cuneifolium, Ruiz & Pav. Valleys and low hillsides.
Hippuris vulgaris, L. Standing water.
Œnothera odorata, Jacq. Mountain slope and low
slopes.
Fuchsia coccinea, Ruiz & Pav. Low slopes and Punta
Bandera.
Epilobium, _cf._, densifolium, Haussk Bed of dried up stream.
" sp. Punta Bandera.
Grammatocarpus volubilis, Presl. Low slopes, Mount Buenos
Aires.
Azorella trifurcata, Hook. fil. Top of mountain.
" sp. _aff._ bryoides, Phil. Mountain tops.
" _cf._ trifoliolata, Hook. fil. Shingle on beach.
Mulinum spinosum, Pers. Pampa under Mount Buenos
Aires and low slopes.
Osmorrhiza chilensis, DC. Forests of Mount Buenos
Aires.
Bowlesia, sp. Low slopes of mountains.
Sanicula macrorrhiza, Colla. Top of Mount Buenos Aires.
Oreopolus glacialis, Schlecht. Tops of mountains.
Galium Aparine, L. Forest, Mount Buenos
Aires.
" sp. Mountain slopes and low
slopes, shingle banks
of stream.
Valeriana carnosa, Sm. Low slopes, Mount Buenos
Aires.
Boopis sp. Nitrate pampa.
" " Top of mountains and
shingle beach.
Nardophyllum Kingii, A. Gray. Mountain tops.
Chiliotrichum amelloides, Cass. Springs in slopes of
mountains.
Erigeron alpinus, L. Low slopes of mountains.
Erigeron sp. Mountain slopes, Mount
Buenos Aires.
Baccharis sp. Beach, Punta Bandera.
Antennaria sp. Pampas.
Gnaphalium spicatum, Lam. Low slopes of mountains.
Madia, _cf._ viscosa, Cav. Slopes of mountains.
Matricaria Chamomilla, L. Low slopes of mountains.
Senecio magellanicus, Hook. & Arn. Among stones, top of Mount
Buenos Aires.
" albicaulis, Hook. & Arn. Mountain slopes.
" Kingii, Hook. fil. High slopes of mountains.
Chabræa purpurea, DC. Pampa and high slopes of
mountains.
" multifida, DC. Low slopes of mountains.
" sp. East slope of Mount Frias.
Perezia linearis, Less. High slopes of mountains.
Panargyrum Darwinii, Hook. & Arn. Tops of mountains.
Nassauvia, sp. Tops of mountains.
" " Beaches and mud flats.
" pygmæa, Hook. fil. Top of mountains.
Hieracium patagonicum, Hook. fil. Low slopes of mountains.
Achyrophorus tenuifolius, DC. Low slopes of mountains.
Taraxacum officinale, Wigg., var. Low slopes of mountains.
Sonchus asper, Vill., var. Punta Bandera.
Pernettya pumila, Hook. Mountain tops.
" mucronata, Gaud., two forms Low slopes of mountains, high
and wooded slopes of Mount
Buenos Aires.
Primula magellanica, Lehm. Swamp.
Samolus spathulatus, Duby. Swamp on pampa.
Armeria chilensis, Poepp. Low slopes of mountains.
Phacelia circinata, Jacq., two forms North slope Mount Frias.
Collomia coccinea, Lehm. Low shingly ground.
" gracilis, Dougl. Low slopes of mountains.
Amsinckia angustifolia, Lehm. Forest on mountain slope
and low ground.
Calceolaria Darwinii, Benth. High slopes of mountains.
" sp. aff. lanceolata Low slopes of mountains and
banks of streams, low
ground.
Veronica peregrina, L. Sheltered pampa.
Verbena _aff._ microphylla, Phil. Mount Buenos Aires.
Micromeria _cfr._ Darwinii, Benth. Pampa.
Scutellaria nummulariæfolia, Hook. fil. Shingle beach.
Plantago uniglumis, Wallr. Stony top of mountains.
" maritima, L. Nitrate pampa.
Rumex crispus, L. By water slopes of pampa.
" magellanicus, Griseb. Shingle beach.
Embothrium coccineum, Forst. Low slopes of mountains.
Myzodendron punctulatum, Soland. Forests on mountains;
parasitic on _Fagus
antarctica_.
" quadriflorum, DC. Forests, parasitic on
_Fagus antarctica_.
Arjona patagonica, Hombr. & Jacquem. Low slopes and pampas.
Quinchamalium procumbens, Ruiz &
Pav. Pampa.
Euphorbia portulacoides, Spreng. Pampa.
Urtica magellanica, Poir. Low slopes of mountains.
Fagus antarctica, Forst. Forests and mountains.
Empetrum nigrum var. andinum, DC. Grassy top of mountain.
Chloræa magellanica, Hook. fil. Slopes of Mount Buenos Aires.
Asarca araucana, Phil. Slopes of Mount Buenos Aires.
" _cf._ cardioglossa, Phil. Slopes of Mount Buenos Aires.
Stipa sp. Sandy slopes of foothills.
Phleum alpinum, L. Mountain slopes.
Alopecurus alpinus, Sm. Springs.
Arundo pilosa, D'Urv. Low slopes of mountains.
Poa pratensis, L. Sheltered pampa.
Festuca sp. Pampa.
Bromus sp. Pampa.
Hordeum jubatum, L. Slopes of mountains.
Carex Banksii, Boott. Swampy springs in forest on
mountain slope.
Sisyrinchium filifolium, Gaud. Pampa.
Aspidium mohrioides, Bory. Low slopes.
" coriaceum, Sw. Punta Bandera; mountain
slope; bush slope.
Lomaria alpina, Spreng. Swamp.
Cystopteris fragilis, Bernh. Forest.
Bryum sp. (immature) Wet forest.
Marchantia polymorpha, L. Forest swamp.
Usnea barbata, Ach. Growing on _Fagus
antarctica_.
" melaxantha. Ach. On rocks.
FOOTNOTE:
[67] Owing to the very short time allowed before going to press we are
unable to furnish a complete list. We hope, however, to give in a
future number of the _Journal of Botany_ a full list with notes on
critical or otherwise interesting species.
GLOSSARY
_Alazan_, a chestnut horse.
_Alpargatas_, shoes made of canvas with jute or hemp soles.
_Asado_, roast meat. In the camp cooked on a spit over the fire.
_Asador_, the spit on which meat is roasted.
_Asulejo_, a blue-eyed, grey and white horse.
_Bandurria_, an ibis.
_Barranca_, cliff-like banks of river or lagoon.
_Bayo_, a cream-coloured dun horse.
_Blanco_, white; a white horse or cow.
_Bocado_, a thong of raw hide passed twice round the lower
jaw of a young horse as a bit.
_Bolas_, _Boleadores_, three balls of stone covered with
raw hide and attached to one another by twisted thongs of
raw hide; used for catching wild animals.
_Boliche_, a small drinking-store.
_Bombilla_, a metal tube for sucking the tea from the
_maté_ cup.
_Bozal_, a halter.
_Cabresto_, a leading rein always attached to the _bozal_
for tying up the horse; from the Spanish word _cabestro_.
_Cacique_, an Indian chief or leader.
_Cañadon_, a dale or dip of low land between stretches of
high land.
_Capa_, a cape or cloak.
_Carancho_, the large, eagle-like carrion hawk (_Polyborus
tharus_).
_Carguero_, a pack-horse or mule.
_Carpa_, a tent, or shelter of a movable kind.
_Casa_, a house, even if only a mud hut.
_Cebruno_, a dark mouse-coloured horse with a reddish
tinge.
_Chico_, little.
_Chimango_, a harrier-like carrion hawk (_Milvago
Chimango_).
_China_, Indian woman; also a native Criska woman.
_Chiripá_, a loin-cloth the size of a _poncho_, and worn so
as to form loose, baggy trousers.
_Cinch_, English spelling of "Cincha," the raw-hide girth
used with native saddles.
_Colorado_, red; a bay horse.
_Cordillera_, the chain of mountains called the Andes.
_Cruzado_, a horse having crossed white feet--_i.e._, one
fore-foot white and one hind-foot of opposite sides; always
expected to be good horses.
_Estancia_, a farm in Argentina.
_Estanciero_, a stock-farmer in Argentina.
_Gateado_, a yellow dun horse with a black stripe down the
back.
_Gaucho_, the Argentine cowboy.
_Horqueta_, a fork; the separation of two streams forming a
fork; name of a horse with a forked cutting in the ear.
_Macho_, a male animal; especially a mule.
_Madrina_, the bell-mare followed by all the horses or
mules of a _tropilla_.
_Manada_, a herd of mares.
_Manea_, hobbles for a horse made of raw hide generally.
_Mañero_, a cunning, tricky horse or person.
_Martineta_, the "large partridge" (_Calo dromas elegans_).
_Maté_, the small gourd in which the _Yerba_ tea is made;
also the tea itself.
_Moro_, a dark blue roan horse.
_Mula_, female mule.
_Muy limpio_, literally "very clean."
_Oscuro_, a dark or black horse.
_Overo_, a spotted or splashed horse.
_Palenque_, posts or rails put up for tying-up horses.
_Pampa_, the great plains of South America.
_Pampero_, the south-west wind, often a hurricane in South
America, blowing across the Pampas.
_Pangaré_, a bay horse, with the peculiar mule-like
colouring of the nozzle.
_Pantano_, a mud hole; a sticky muddy place.
_Peon_, a working man or porter.
_Picaso_, a black horse with white feet and face.
_Plaza_, open square in a town.
_Poncho_, the rug or shawl, with a hole in middle, to slip
over the head.
_Potro_, a colt or wild horse.
_Puchero_, mutton or beef boiled with rice, and vegetables
when there are any.
_Rincon_, a corner.
_Rosado_, a light strawberry roan horse.
_Rosillo_, a red-roan horse.
_Soga_, a cord or strip of hide.
_Toldo_, an awning; the Indian tent of raw hides.
_Tordillo_, a grey horse.
_Tostado_, a dark chestnut horse.
_Travesia_, a desert.
_Tropilla_, the troop of horses or mules driven in front of
travellers in South America.
_Vaqueano_, a guide.
_Vega_, a valley.
_Yerba_, the Paraguayan tea, universal in Argentina.
_Zaino_, a brown horse.
INDEX
Alazan, 59, 139
Alpargatas, 231
Andes, _see_ Cordillera
Antiguos, Rio de los, 144-155
Arctotherium, 326-327
Ariel, _see_ launch
Argentino, Lake, 181, 188, 214
description, 190, 262, 263, 284
fish, 269
forests, 224, 272, 273, 274-276
glaciers, 266-268, 272-275
Lake Rica or South Fjord, 193, 271-74
North Fjord, 262-270, 278-279
storms, 215-219, 267-269
Armadillo, 40, 67, 248
Ascensio's Bay, 214-215
Asulejo, 53, 54, 167
Banduria, 135, 187, 189
Barckhausen, F., 31, 148-153
Basecamp, Horsham, 123, 124, 168
Beech, antarctic, 126, 149, 233, 275
Belgrano, River, 174
Bernardo, _see_ Hähansen
Bernicla poliocephala, _see_ ashy-headed goose
Boat, canvas, 266, 282
oleadores, 32, 52, 62, 81, 90, 234
Brunel, Ascensio, 194-195
Buenos Aires, Lake, 120, 121, 126, 130-143, 159
Burbury, T. R. D., 20, 26, 37, 47, 109, 181, 201, 242, 264, 268,
277
Califate-bush, 78, 99, 100, 203, 218, 265, 269
Calodromas elegans, _see_ martineta
Canis griseus, _see_ pampa-fox
Canis magellanicus, _see_ red-fox
Canis montanus, 260
Camera, 266
Carancho, 191
Cat, wild, 151
Cattle, E., 86, 193, 197, 206-219, 244, 249, 253, 255, 264, 266,
268, 282
Cattle, wild, 79-81, 140, 224-234
Cavy, 27, 46, 60, 67, 248, 257-258
Chico, River, 43, 46, 47, 58, 59
Chimango, 191
Chloephaga magellanica, _see_ upland goose
Christmas Day, 167-168
Colohuapi, 61, 63-65, 257
Colhué, Lake, 61
Columba maculosa, _see_ pigeon
Como No, 117, 118
Condor, 45, 147, 161, 164, 187, 191
Conepatus patagonicus, _see_ skunk
Cordillera, 2, 8, 121, 188, 215, 296
Corelli, M., 266
Coyly, River, 76, 289
Cruzado, 59, 137
Cygnus nigricollis, _see_ black-headed swan
Cypress, 275
Dafila spinicauda, _see_ brown pintail
Darwin, 2, 9, 27, 163, 181, 185, 187, 192, 252, 255, 257
Dasypus minutus, _see_ armadillo
Deseado, River, 136
Dogs, 46, 60, 245
Indian, 92, 111, 117-119
Dolichotis patagonica, _see_ cavy
Drake, Francis, 7-8
Duck, rosy-billed, 136
Farina, 269
Felis concolor puma, _see_ puma
Felis concolor pearsoni, 155, 253, 334-335
Felis onca, _see_ jaguar
Fenix, River, 127, 133
Fires, pampa, 140, 142, 143, 154, 220-222
FitzRoy, 254
Flamingo, 136, 187, 189
Forests, 224, 233, 265, 272-276, 296
Fox, pampa or grey, 26, 120, 231, 245-246, 258-259
red or Cordillera wolf, 132, 134, 142, 244-246, 259-265, 269,
274, 280
(Canis montanus), 260
Fuchsia, 228, 272
Gallegos, 2, 287, 289-291
Gateado, 51, 55, 61
Gaucho, 1, 12, 13, 32, 35-36, 38, 141
Genguel, River, 75, 120
Glaciers, 266-268, 272-275
Glaucidium nanum, _see_ pigmy owl
Gleditzsch, Fritz, 36-37, 68-69
Goose, ashy-headed, 37
upland, 73, 76, 79, 107, 123, 136
Grebe, 126, 209
Greenshields, 17, 30
Guanaco,
description, 27, 31, 81, 83, 105, 156, 256
habitat, 68, 107, 236, 254, 269, 280
habits, 43, 147, 236-239, 246, 255, 256
hunting with bolas, 105-107
with dogs, 106, 169, 237, 257
with rifle, 31, 49, 59-60, 138-140
mortality, 189, 203, 254
numbers, 27, 169, 189, 231, 254
skins, 83, 95
Gun, shot, 78
Hæmatopus palliatus, _see_ American oyster catcher
Hähansen, Bernardo, 183, 205-207, 213, 217, 264-265, 283, 286,
291
Hardy, Mrs., 185
Hawk, 275
Hell Gate, 220, 261-263, 277, 278
Hollesen, 68
Horqueta, 56
Horses, branding, 66
buying, 22
cargoing, 50-51, 55-56, 74
crossing river, 199, 211
friendships, 52
Indian, 110
names, 35
number, 26, 33
shoeing, 183
shooting with, 160
size, 110
straying, 37, 39
taming, 35, 36, 110
Huemul,
description, 146, 243, 249-250
habitat, 128, 248-249, 269, 280
habits, 163, 240-242, 249-251
Ibis, black-faced, 135
Icebergs, 267, 270, 274, 279
Incensio, 90
Indians, _see_ Tehuelches
Indian trail, 5, 109, 140, 171
Jaguar (felis onca), 68, 248, 325-326
Jeinemeni, River, 159, 161
Jones, H., 23, 76, 77, 139, 158, 166, 178, 242, 248
Katarina, River, 261, 279, 283-285
La Cancha, Laguna, 117
La Gaviota, 177, 179
Lama huanachus, _see_ Guanaco
Lapwings, cayenne, 187
Lasso, 77, 80
Launch,
breakdown, 213, 268, 271
description, 197, 200-201
passage of Leona, 204-212
North Fjord, 262-270, 278-280
South Fjord, 271-274
Leña dura, 228, 263, 265, 269, 286
Leona, River, 198, 201-212
Lion, _see_ puma
Madrina, 34
Magellan, 5, 87
Mareca sibilatrix, _see_ widgeon
Martineta, 49
Maté, 28, _passim_
Mauser, 49, 151, 157, 164, 233
Metopiana peposaca, _see_ rosy-billed duck
Mirage, 4, 29, 47
Moreno, Dr. F. P., 10, 242, 248, 261-262, 301-304
Moro, 290
Musters, Capt. G. C., 79, 88, 93, 99, 101, 247, 251, 332
Musters, Lake, 61
Mylodon, antiquity, 312-313, 315, 317, 329, 330
description of auditory ossicles, 321
brain cavity, 320
excrement, 323-324
skin, 305-309, 322-323
skull and mandible, 317-320
vertebræ and limb-bones, 321
discovery of remains, 302-304, 315-316
identification, 309-315, 324-325
number, 316
Tehuelche Legends, 330-333
Olin, River, 172
Onas,
hunting, 107
ill-treatment of, 109
physique, 108
weapons, 7
women, 108
Onohippidium saldiasi, 327
Orchids, 276
Ostrich, 26, 42, 43, 106, 231, 239
eggs, 45, 63, 146, 163
feathers, 119
habits, 136, 163, 239
hunting, 136, 137
Otter, 260
Overo, 41, 52
Owl, 275
pigmy, 269
Oyster-catchers, 117
Pampas, 1, 2, 4, 29, 30, 192
Paradox, 233
Parrot, 275
Patagonia,
climate, 5, 294
exploration, 5, 6-10
physical features, 2-4, 13
settlements, 11, 21-23
Pearson, Lake, 283-286, 334-335
Pearson's puma, 155, 253
Phœnicopterus ignipalliatus, _see_ flamingo
Picnics, 278
Pigafetta, 6
Pigeon, 158
Pintails, brown, 58, 74-78, 136
Plover, cayenne, 27
Primero de Mayo, 15-19
Puerto Belgrano, 17
Puerto Madryn, 19
Puma,
description, 45, 251
destructiveness, 30, 252
habitat, 44, 68, 212, 251
habits, 62, 242-244, 252
hunting, 62, 251
number, 251
size, 251
Punta Arenas, 2, 292
Querquedula cyanoptera, _see_ blue-winged teal
Querquedula versicolor, _see_ grey teal
Redwood, 275
Rhea Darwini, _see_ ostrich
Rica Lake, _see_ Lake Argentino
Roblé-wood, 265, 269
Rosada, 34, 52, 53
Santa Cruz, 178-180, 182, 192
Santa Cruz River, 181, 184, 198-199
Sarcorhamphus gryphus, _see_ condor
Scorpion, 127
Scrivenor, J. B., 17, 39, 49, 170, 181
Senguerr, River, 71, 72
Sheep farming, 17, 29, 62, 177, 294-295
Shoveller, red, 136
Skunk, 260
Snipe, 76, 189
Spatula platalea, _see_ red shoveller
Swan, black-necked, 78, 136
Teal, grey, 61
blue-winged, 77, 136
yellow-billed, 169
Tehuelches, 82-115
cacique, 7, 101
ceremonies at birth, 96
at marriage, 93
at burial, 97
character, 87, 90, 91, 92, 101-103
comparison with Esquimaux, 100
Tehuelches, comparison with Onas, 107-108
dance, 92
dress, 87, 94
drink, 88-89, 96, 102, 111-114
food, 87, 100
half-bloods, 91, 93, 94
horses, 99, 106, 110
hunting, 104-117
language, 101
marriage, 93
numbers, 88, 101, 109
occupation, 88, 94-95
physique, 6, 8, 9, 87-88, 90, 99, 101
religion, 97-99
skull-deformation, 92
smoking, 100-101
superstition, 86, 96-98
toldos, 82, 83, 85
weapons, 7, 89-90
women, 90-94, 288
Temperature, 58, 67, 120
Tent, 127, 173
Theristicus caudatus, _see_ black-faced ibis
Traders, 111-113, 295
Trelew, 20-22
Trelew, Mrs., 52, 170, 182
Vanellus cayennensis, _see_ cayenne plover
Ventana, Sierra, 175
Viedma, Lake, 9, 197, 203
Waag, H. P., 10, 62, 129, 174, 242, 291
Waggon, 42, 44, 47-49
Waldron, 11
Welsh colonies, 11, 21-23
colonists, 12, 22, 23, 64
Widgeon, 49, 58, 61, 133, 136, 269, 282
Wind, 116, 127
Wolf, Cordillera, 132, 134, 142, 244-246, 259-265, 269, 274, 280
Woodpecker, red-crested, 279
Xenelaphus bisulcus, _see_ huemul
Zaino, Little, 160, 167
old, 55, 71
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