THE PATAGONIANS

LONDON: PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
AND PARLIAMENT STREET

WÁKI KILLING A PUMA

AT HOME
WITH
THE PATAGONIANS

A YEAR’S WANDERINGS OVER UNTRODDEN GROUND
FROM THE STRAITS OF MAGELLAN
TO THE RIO NEGRO

BY GEORGE CHAWORTH MUSTERS

RETIRED COMMANDER R.N.

WITH MAP AND ILLUSTRATIONS

LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
1871

The right of translation is reserved

TO MY FRIEND
F. W. EGERTON,
ROYAL NAVY,
THIS NARRATIVE IS DEDICATED.

PREFACE.

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In submitting the following pages to the public, I am conscious that some readers who desire exact and scientific descriptions of the geography and geology of Patagonia will be disappointed; but it must be urged as an apology that instruments could not be carried nor safely used under the circumstances. The course travelled was as carefully laid down, by the help of a compass, as was possible; and the map of the country is so far accurate, and, if incomplete, at least is not imaginative. To others who may perhaps eagerly expect tales of stirring adventure and hair-breadth escapes, such as are usually recounted as the every-day occurrences of uncivilised life, I can only express the hope that this faithful record of life with the Indians all the year round, if not very sensational, will serve at least to make them really at home with the Tehuelches. It is a pleasanter task to record my thanks to those by whose assistance the results of my journey have been utilised; foremost of whom is the venerable ex-President of the Royal Geographical Society, Sir RODERICK MURCHISON, whose kindly reception and introduction of the returned traveller to the Society are gratefully acknowledged. My obligations are scarcely less to CLEMENTS MARKHAM, C.B., whose unrivalled knowledge of the early history as well as the geography of South America has been freely placed at my disposal; and to Dr. HOOKER, Director of the Royal Gardens, Kew, for his courteous assistance in identifying some of the plants observed: while to Mr. RUDLER, of the Museum of Mines, I am indebted for a careful classification of the various specimens of rocks and minerals collected in the country. Lastly, the reader will share in my gratitude to Mr. ZWECKER, whose able pencil has created, out of rough outlines sketched in a pocket-book, the vivid and faithful illustrations which bring before his eyes the scenery and incidents of life in Patagonia.

G. C. M.

September 1, 1871.

CONTENTS.

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

INTRODUCTION.

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Three hundred and fifty years ago the great navigator Magellan anchored in a port on the eastern coast of an unknown shore, part of the seaboard of the vast continent of South America, to which he gave the name of St. Julian. Starting from this point, the pilot Serrano explored the coast to the southward, and discovered a river, which he named Santa Cruz. His ship was wrecked near the mouth, and left her timbers on the rocks, the first of the long list of vessels lost on that ironbound coast which, from the mouth of the Rio Negro to the Straits, offers but one or two safe harbours, while submerged reefs, fierce gales, strong tides, currents, and overfalls combine to render it nearly the most perilous known to navigators.

Magellan remained at Port St. Julian and Santa Cruz from April till October of 1520, when he sailed southward, and discovered the Straits which bear his name. Two months after his arrival at Port St. Julian a man of gigantic stature appeared on the beach, ‘larger and taller than the stoutest man of Castile.’ Eighteen natives afterwards arrived, dressed in cloaks of skins and shoes of guanaco hide, which made huge footmarks, whence they were called Patagonés, or ‘large feet,’ by the Spaniards; and thus originated in a nickname the name of the country, Patagonia. These men used bows and arrows, and had with them four young guanacos

, with which they decoyed the wild ones within shot. Two young men were treacherously seized and carried off, howling and calling on their god Setebos. The natives naturally resented this return for their ready friendliness, and, attacking a party sent after them, killed one Spaniard with their arrows. Enough, however, was seen of them to furnish Pigafetta with some details. ‘Their tents were light movable frames, covered with skins; their faces were painted; they were very swift of foot, had tools of sharp-edged flints, and ate their meat nearly raw.’

That the first knowledge of Patagonia was diffused in England by Pigafetta’s narrative is suggested by Caliban’s lines in the ‘Tempest:’ ‘he could command my dam’s god Setebos;’ but it was not till 1578 that the newly-discovered country was visited by Englishmen.

Sir Francis Drake in that year anchored in Seal Bay—probably a little to the south of Port Desire—and saw several Indians. His chaplain narrates their method of stalking the ostriches: ‘They have a plume of ostrich feathers on a long staff, large enough to hide a man behind, and with this they stalk the ostriches.’ He further says: ‘They would have none of our company until such time as they were warranted by their God “Settaboth.” They never cut their hair, which they make a store-house for all the things they carry about—a quiver for arrows, a sheath for knives, a case for toothpicks, a box for fire sticks, and what not; they are fond of dancing with rattles round their waists; they have clean, comely, and strong bodies, are swift of foot, very active, a goodly and lively people. Magellan was not altogether wrong in naming them giants, yet they are not taller than some Englishmen.’ Drake next visited Port St. Julian; and, curiously enough, as Magellan had in this place put to death two and marooned a third of his captains who mutinied, so this harbour was the scene of the execution of Mr. Doughty, who chose rather to be beheaded than to be put on shore. The ensuing year Sarmiento was despatched from Callao to examine the Straits in search of the daring Englishman. He saw natives who chased their game on horseback, and brought it down with bolas. But fifty years had elapsed since horses had been imported by the Spaniards of the Rio de la Plata, and already the Indians in the far south had become horsemen, and would seem to have exchanged their bows and arrows for the bolas.

In 1581 Sarmiento was sent from Spain with 2,500 men in twenty-three ships, to found new colonies in the Straits, and established a settlement, leaving 400 men and thirty women, furnished with eight months’ provisions. On his way home his ship was captured by the English, and the unhappy colonists were altogether forgotten and neglected by their Government.

Five years after, Thomas Cavendish anchored in a bay to the south of St. Julian, called by him Port Desire, which perpetuates the name of his little craft of 120 tons. Here the natives attacked his men with bows and arrows. Visiting the Straits, he arrived at the settlement, and found only twelve men and three women surviving, the rest having perished of slow starvation and disease; and the name of the place, Port Famine, conferred by him, still recalls the miserable fate of these ill-fated colonists.

On his next voyage, in 1591, Cavendish died; but John Davis twice visited Port Desire, and explored the river for twenty miles. During his stay some 1,000 natives visited the strangers, and Knyvet describes them as being fifteen or sixteen span high.

Passing over the visits of Van Noort and Schouten, in the reign of Charles the Second Sir John Narborough took possession of the country near Port Desire in the name of the King. But few natives were seen, and the mate, Mr. Wood, boastingly declared that he himself was taller than any of them.

In the eighteenth century Byron and Wallis successively visited the shores of Patagonia, and made friends with the natives, whose height was found to be from 5 feet 10 inches to 6 feet, while some were nearly 7 feet high.

In 1774 the Jesuit Father Falkner published his work on Patagonia, containing all the information procured by himself and the other Jesuit missionaries who had attempted to obtain a footing on the western and northern boundaries. His account of the Tehuelches, or Tsoneca Indians, was evidently derived from personal communication with them, although his knowledge of the topography of their country seems to have been procured from the reports of others. By this work, which produced a great sensation, the jealous fears of the Spanish Government were aroused, and they hastened to despatch an expedition to form settlements on the coast of Patagonia.

Of the brothers Viedma, who were sent in command, Francisco founded Carmen at the mouth of the Rio Negro, and Antonio, after first fixing on Port Desire, determined finally on Port St. Julian as the site of another colony. He thence undertook the first exploration of the interior in search of timber for building, in the course of which he reached the great lake at the foot of the Cordillera, from which flowed the Rio Santa Cruz. Both on the coast and in the interior he received much friendly aid from the Indians, of whom he formed a most favourable opinion.

Under his brother’s auspices the Rio Negro was ascended as far as the mountains by Villarino, to whose expedition reference will be made in the proper place.

No further knowledge was gained of the interior of Patagonia until the survey of the Beagle, so ably performed and so admirably described by Fitzroy and Darwin; during which the ascent of the Santa Cruz river for 200 miles enabled the latter to observe the remarkable formations which he has so aptly described in his work on the Geology of South America.

This brief but perhaps tedious account has been given to show that although the coasts of Patagonia had been explored and surveyed, yet the interior of the country, though pierced by the expeditions of Viedma and Fitzroy, remained up to a late date still almost unknown. Its inhabitants, the Tehuelches, had been often communicated with, their stature noted, and their friendly disposition commended; but their real manners of life as they wandered through the country, and their relations with, or difference from, the Araucanian and Pampa Indians, had remained almost as much a mystery as they were in the last century.

During the last thirty years the Governments of Chili and of Buenos Ayres have shown themselves inclined to claim the possession of the coast, the former trying to advance from the Straits, and the latter from Patagones; and the natives have acknowledged the influence of either Government as they happened to be in the northern or southern parts respectively. Our missionaries also have not left the Patagonians without some efforts to instruct and evangelise them; and although these efforts have been necessarily limited to the coast, yet the fruits of Mr. Schmid’s sojourn with the Tehuelches remain both in their friendly feelings and in the lasting record of the vocabulary of the Tsoneca language published by him. And the intercourse of these Indians with Argentines and Chilians, and more especially with English officers, sealers, and missionaries successively, all of whom have testified favourably to their character, has tended to make them more open to access, and to give them a knowledge of foreigners; so that in this respect I can feel that to all those who have been mentioned as having thus preceded me, this brief record is due from a traveller who has experienced the friendly feelings of the natives towards strangers, and especially Englishmen.

While engaged in preparing the ensuing pages for the press, I have had an opportunity of perusing the work of M. Guinnard, first published in French, and recently given to the English public in a spirited translation, entitled ‘Three Years’ Slavery among the Patagonians.’ The name necessarily attracted me, but to my great surprise careful perusal led to the distinct conviction that the author’s personal experiences were altogether confined to the Pampas Indians north of the Rio Negro. From his own statements and omissions it is quite evident that he was not carried by any of his successive masters across this river, which he clearly and accurately defines to be (p. 40) the northern boundary of Patagonia. The name of Patagonians is, therefore, a complete misnomer; and the curious account (pp. 72-3) of the ‘Tchéouelches,’ or Foot Nomads, clothed in seal skins and accustomed to live on fish, and literally destitute of horses, is applicable to no tribe whatever east of the Cordillera, the Fuegians being the only race presenting any of the characteristic habits attributed to this so-called Patagonian tribe.

I hope I may not be supposed to be desirous of impeaching the accuracy of M. Guinnard’s account of the hardships endured in his captivity, or of the customs of the Indians into whose hands he fell, much of which I can corroborate; but it is to be regretted that he was induced, probably by others, to describe under the name of Patagonians, the Pampas Indians, who, by country, race, language, and character, are marked as being altogether distinct from the Tehuelches of Patagonia.

AT HOME
WITH
THE PATAGONIANS.

—•◊•—

CHAPTER I.
FROM THE STRAITS TO SANTA CRUZ.

Journey Planned.—Preparations.—Passage from Stanley.—The Straits.—First Footsteps in Patagonia.—The Narrows.—Punta Arenas.—Commandante Viel.—The Colony.—The Town.—Chilotes and Convicts.—Resources.—Visit to the Coal Bed.—Lieut. Gallegos.—The Start.—Rio Chaunco.—The Patagonian Pampas.—Our Party.—Cabecera del Mar.—Oazy Harbour.—A useless Chase.—A Fireless Night.—Volcanic Hills.—Pampa Yarns.—Rio Gallegos.—First Indians.—Sam Slick.—Rio Cuheyli.—Meeting with Tehuelches.—Caravan of Women.—‘Anglish’ Politeness.—Desert.—Santa Cruz at last.

In April 1869 chance took me to our remote colony of the Falkland Islands, with the purpose of taking thence a passage to Buenos Ayres to arrange some business matters. During my stay in the settlement, the coast of Patagonia, in the survey of which H.M.S. Nassau was then engaged, formed a frequent topic of conversation. I had formerly, when stationed on the south-east coast of America, read with delight Mr. Darwin’s work on South America, as well as Fitzroy’s admirable Narrative of the Voyage of the Beagle, and had ever since entertained a strong desire to penetrate if possible the little-known interior of the country. Now, at length, a favourable opportunity seemed to have arrived for carrying out the cherished scheme of traversing the country from Punta Arena to the Rio Negro, Valdivia, or even to Buenos Ayres. The accounts given me of the Tehuelche character and of the glorious excitement of the chase after the guanaco, graphically described by a seaman, Sam Bonner, who had been much on the coast and had resided at the Santa Cruz station, made me more than ever anxious to prosecute this plan; and, having a tolerable acquaintance with Spanish, which language many of the Indians know well, it seemed to me possible to safely traverse the country in company with some one or other of their wandering parties. Accordingly I bestirred myself to obtain information as to the best way of getting such an introduction to the Indians as would probably secure their consent; to which end most material assistance was afforded by Mr. Dean, of Stanley, who kindly provided me with letters of introduction to Captain Luiz Piedra Buena, an intelligent Argentine well known in Stanley, the owner of a schooner, in which he worked the seal fisheries on the coast, and also of a trading station at the Middle Island, on the Santa Cruz river. Mr. Dean was of opinion that I should be almost certain to meet with Don Luiz in the Straits of Magellan, and that he would willingly exert his influence with the Indians to enable me to carry out my plan of travel. I was furthermore provided with letters of credit to the firm of Messrs. Aguirre & Murga, at Patagones, or, as it is most commonly called at Stanley, the Rio Negro.

Thus armed with credentials, and equipped with a guanaco skin mantle, lazo and bolas, I availed myself of the offer of a passage to the Straits made by an old friend who was bound to the westward coast.

In the first week of April we sailed from Stanley, and, after a boisterous passage of eleven days, anchored in Possession Bay, just within the entrance of the Straits, to wait for the turn of the tide, as the extreme velocity with which the tides ebb and flow through these channels renders it impossible for any vessel not possessed of great steam power to proceed except the tide is favourable. Our first view of the Straits did not impress me favourably. On either hand the shores looked bleak and barren, though far away to the south and west the mountains of Tierra del Fuego could be distinctly seen. As we anchored early in the afternoon, a descent on the coast of Patagonia was proposed, and a party speedily volunteered—well provided with guns and other arms, for the purposes of sport and self-defence in case of necessity—and were soon in the boat. As the tide was out, the shoal water did not permit us to reach the shore, so we had to wade some two or three hundred yards over beds of sharp-edged mussels, and, after a climb up the steep cliff, found ourselves on the verge of a barren plain which seemed perfectly destitute of life.

After a tramp of some distance we came to the edge of a gully running down to the coast, where finding the torn carcase of a guanaco, we stopped to examine what was to most of us an unknown animal; and our speculations as to the curious hybrid form of the odd-looking ‘camel-sheep’ were put an end to by the discovery close by of the fresh footprints of a puma. These were eagerly tracked, in the hopes of a little entertainment; but after some tedious searching we abandoned the pursuit, and again resuming our excursion, tramped along through high, coarse grass, and sparsely scattered thorny bushes; some of the sportsmen varying the monotony by an occasional shot at a snipe. The day was very genial, the warmth of the bright sunshine was tempered by a wind just cool enough to make a walk pleasant, and the Patagonian climate was pronounced by all hands to be agreeable. Whilst we were beating a rough bit of ground, to our utter amazement and delight our friend the puma jumped out of a bush; but the first surprise was so great, that the opportunity of giving him a long shot was lost. Away we all started in chase, hoping to be able to keep him in sight from a small adjacent eminence; and after a good breather two of the party succeeded in viewing him to somewhere near the edge of the cliffs, mainly guided by a retriever dog, which seemed as anxious as anybody to see what the catamount hide was made of. On arriving at the cliff, a seaman observed his tracks on the soft clay of the shelving brow, and soon proclaimed his discovery of the puma in a hole or small cave just below, by the exclamation of ‘There he is!’ at the same time thrusting the stick he had been beating with nearly into the mouth of the ‘lion,’ which had set our dog, and appeared about to spring on him. Two shots were fired in quick succession, but apparently without effect, as he made good his retreat, affording us a fine view as he went off, springing in great bounds, along the beach. Pursuit was of course organised, but night being near failed to afford us an opportunity of a closer study of this specimen of the feline race; and we accordingly started again for the ship, after firing a shot or two into the numerous flocks of oyster-catchers and shags which were domiciled on the rocks and about the cliffs. The number of these and other sea-birds was incalculable; the numerous beds of mussels furnishing them with constant food.

Next morning we were under weigh with the flood-tide, and rapidly ran through the narrows at a speed of eighteen miles an hour. The scenery on the northern side of the Straits offered little variety until we sighted the Barrancas of San Gregorio, a range of somewhat picturesque hills, rising near the north shore of the bay of the same name, and running along for some miles in an easterly direction. On the southern or Fuegian side of the Straits the land was low for some distance from the coast, and resembled the northern shore, but high mountains were visible in the background. After passing the second narrows, an hour or two’s run with the flood-tide and a good head of steam brought us opposite to the ‘Island of San Isabel,’ or Elizabeth Island; after passing which the snow-clad peaks of Mount Sarmiento, in the southern part of Tierra del Fuego, came into sight, appearing to rise out of the water, ninety miles distant, if not more. Steaming along the coast through numerous beds of the characteristic kelp seaweed, which in the most forcible way attracted our attention, by fouling the screw, and holding the ship as if anchored for about an hour, we passed Cape Negro, and opened completely different scenery. Instead of undulating plains, hills thickly wooded were seen; at the foot of one of which, on a low piece of flat ground, numerous horsemen, dressed in gay-coloured ponchos, were visible, careering about.

It was the afternoon of Sunday, which in all Spanish South American countries is a gala day, more or less appropriated to horse-racing. However, the sight of a steamer appeared to cause a diversion, and, in fact, a general race to the settlement ensued, all being apparently anxious for anything new or strange. The anchor was soon dropped, near an American schooner lying off the Sandy Point, from which the Chilian settlement of Punta Arenas derives its name.

There was no sign of the Nassau, then engaged in the survey of the Straits, which we had hoped to find in this anchorage; but from the Chilian officer, who speedily boarded us, we learned that she had sailed to the westward a day or two before our arrival, and was expected to return immediately. The results of the careful observations made by Mr. Cunningham, of the scenery and natural history of the Straits, have appeared while these pages were in preparation for the press; and it affords me pleasure to refer such as desire more scientific accounts of the botany and zoology, at least of Southern Patagonia, than it was in my power to obtain, to his work.

My own object in visiting Punta Arenas was to proceed thence to Santa Cruz with the Indians, or in whatever way might prove feasible; but, in truth, it was by no means clear to my mind how it was to be accomplished; it was, therefore, with great relief that I learned from the Chilian lieutenant that a small expedition was about to be despatched by the governor to Santa Cruz in pursuit of some runaways from among the deserters who were serving their term of punishment in the colony. He suggested that the Commandante would, doubtless, give permission to accompany this party; and, without delay, I accompanied him on shore, and was introduced to Commandante Señor Viel.

Nothing could exceed the kindness and courtesy with which the Commandante entered into my plans; he at once not only gave me permission to accompany the party, but, unasked, offered me the use of a horse, and told me not to trouble myself about the commissariat for the road. It was possible, however, that the deserters might be overtaken in the Pampas, in which case the party would return without proceeding as far as Santa Cruz; he therefore advised me to secure the services of some one acquainted with the route, who could act as guide in the event of our having to proceed without the rest of our companions.

I was afterwards introduced to Señora Viel, a fair Limena possessing all the proverbial charms of the ladies of Lima, and who bemoaned bitterly the isolation and ennui of life at Punta Arenas; she had literally no equals of her own sex, and scarcely any of the other, to speak to. Señor Viel had formerly commanded a Chilian ironclad, instead of which he had accepted the government of this distant colony; his zeal and energy in discharging the duties of his office were unceasing, and his naval habits asserted themselves in the strictness of discipline maintained, which was absolutely necessary to keep in order the motley population. But as a residence, viewed from a social point of view, Punta Arenas must have been unimaginably dull. The Commandante kindly pressed me to make his house my home, promising quarters for the night—which his own limited accommodation could not supply—in an adjacent house. So after two days, agreeably spent in the interchange of courtesies and visits, I bade adieu to my shipmates, who were to sail at daylight for the Western Straits, and removed myself and traps to a wooden house close to the Cuartel, the quarters of Don Centeno, the engineer in charge of the Government works. The next morning, accompanied by Captain Cushing, of the schooner Rippling Wave, I set out to procure some few necessary supplies, and make inquiries for a guide. We bent our steps to the store of a man named Guillermo, and after purchasing tobacco and other necessaries, the talk turned on gold, of which Don Guillermo showed us some specimens, obtained from the banks of a neighbouring stream. One of the crew of the Rippling Wave grew greatly excited and exclaimed, ‘Ah, that’s the stuff we used to grub up in a creek in Californy; I guess if the old boat lays her bones on these here shores, I’ll stop and turn to digging again.’ Hanging up in the store were some Indian bolas and a belt made of beads, studded with silver bosses, which the owner informed me was a woman’s girdle, and, with the bolas, had been left in pawn by the Indians. They had not, however, visited the colony, at least for trading purposes, for several months, as they had taken umbrage about a dispute between a Chilian and an Indian, in which they considered their comrade to have been treated with injustice. The party described by Mr. Cunningham evidently arrived with doubtful intentions, and the tact displayed by Señor Viel removed their resentment. This information explained what had previously mystified me, viz., that nothing was to be seen or heard of the Indians with whom I had hoped to make acquaintance. My good fortune in arriving on the eve of the departure of the expedition, and the Commandante’s courtesy, were now even more keenly appreciated by me, as otherwise I should have been simply stranded in Punta Arenas. The guide difficulty was not long of solution, although, from the natural dislike of most of the unofficial population to take part in the recapture of runaways, it had seemed rather perplexing. After we had quitted the store, we were accosted by a man named J’aria, who came to offer his services. A short examination of his knowledge and recommendations proving satisfactory, he was engaged on terms which certainly were far from exorbitant, and he deserves to have it recorded that he fully earned his pay. My equipments and preparations for the journey were now made complete by the thoughtful good nature of Captain Cushing, with whom I proceeded on board his vessel, where he provided from his stores, and forced on my acceptance, several most useful articles; and it is pleasant to be able to publish my sense of the kindness received from one of our American cousins, who are always ready to sympathise with and befriend a Britisher, at least according to my experience.

A stroll of inspection round the settlement was extended to the saw-mill, not far distant, worked by water-power; where, under the direction of Mr. Wells, an American, the trees when cut down are converted into boards to build the houses that take the place of the forest. Proceeding thence to the half-cleared outskirts, we found the Commandante supervising numerous labourers, principally of the convict class, who were busily engaged in felling trees, clearing stumps, and otherwise preparing the way for the future development of the settlement.

To anyone unaccustomed to frontier towns, the coup-d’œil of the town presented an irregular and random growth of wooden houses; but the plan which was indicated in outline was laid out after the usual Spanish American fashion, as originally prescribed by the Council of the Indies. A main street ran near and parallel to the beach, crossing a large vacant square—the Plaza, out of which, and at regular intervals from the main street, ran other embryo streets intersecting at right angles, so that the houses, whenever they should be built, would form blocks or ‘cuadros.’ In the Plaza were the church and a large unfinished school-house. Chilian ideas as to the public duty of education are advanced, and the schoolmaster is a state functionary, combining at this time at Punta Arenas the duties of secretary to the Governor with those proper to his office. The excellent sketch of Staff-Commander Bedwell (Cunningham, ‘Straits of Magellan,’ p. 70) shows the Governor’s house nearly at the end of the main street, and beyond it was the Cuartel, a palisadoed inclosure, containing the barracks, the gaol or lock-up, and the guard-house, irreverently termed by the officers of the Nassau ‘The Punch and Judy House,’ and shown in the same sketch.

From this a constant look-out is maintained, and a light displayed at night. The transverse streets, running up almost to the uncleared forest, were only indicated by scattered houses, and in the line of the main street two or three detached dwellings a mile distant were only separated from the trees by patches of potato ground.

The first penal colony planted in the Straits by the Chilian Government was established in 1843, at Port Famine, the ominous name of which recalls the miserable fate of the colonists left there by Sarmiento in 1581. The superior anchorage was the inducement to select the same place for the modern colony, but the same evil destiny seemed to cling to it. After struggling on for some years, during which the inhabitants were frequently reduced to great distress by the failure of supplies of food from Chili, it was sacked and destroyed by the convicts, who mutinied and killed the Governor and Padre. They afterwards seized a vessel in which they attempted to escape, but were pursued by a man-of-war, and met with deserved punishment.

The colony was subsequently removed to its present position, and in addition to the involuntary immigrants, chiefly deserters from the army, settlers were tempted by liberal grants of land, and a large number of Chilotes or natives of Chiloe were introduced. These men, who are of mixed Spanish and Indian blood, are a hardy, sturdy race, accustomed to the use of the axe in their own thickly-wooded country, whence they export quantities of timber. They are very Paddies in their diet, living almost altogether on potatoes, which grow freely in Chiloe, but in Punta Arenas do not attain large size. Besides land, the Chilotes receive wages from the Government for their labour, and are the most industrious portion of the population: the men are hard working, but also hard drinking, and the women are said to be very lax in their notions of fidelity. Of the convicts, some were allowed, for good behaviour, to live in their own houses, subject to certain restrictions; but many of them were utterly reckless, and needed to be kept under the strictest surveillance, and locked up in the Cuartel every night. Notwithstanding all precautions, escapes are continually contrived, and the runaways face the difficulties of the Pampas, sometimes succeeding in joining the Patagonians, but as often losing their way, and perishing of starvation, or becoming a prey to the pumas. Thus, ten or a dozen had succeeded in escaping just before my visit, necessitating the despatch of the expedition in chase of them. The garrison consisted of some fifty or sixty regular soldiers, besides irregular employés, who hunt wild cattle or deserters, as occasion requires. The number of troops is quite insufficient to defend the place against an attack of the Indians, but the southern Tehuelches are not naturally inclined to raids, and if well and fairly treated are more willing to avail themselves of the trading facilities afforded by the half-dozen stores, the existence of which could only, in my mind, be accounted for by the hopes of Indian barter, for they were far in excess of the wants of the colony. Still the permanent population was certainly a thirsty one, and seemed to do its best to encourage trade, at least in grog: drunkenness in the streets is, however, an offence punishable by imprisonment, and at the time of my visit the blacksmith was in durance vile, whence the Irish Doctor had only just been released for this venial offence.

There appeared to be little cultivation, with the exception of potatoes. The climate does not permit wheat or barley to ripen, though, perhaps, oats or rye might succeed. The tame cattle seemed to me stunted and miserable, but in the forests there are others of a wild breed, which are said to be large and of excellent quality; these, as well as the red deer, afford, during some portion of the year, occupation to a few hunters, who obtain high prices for their meat, but the supply is too scanty and irregular to prevent fresh meat from being a rare luxury. The resources and prospects of the colony naturally formed the subject of conversation at Señor Viel’s, and Don Centeno, who was in charge of the survey of the newly-discovered coal bed in the vicinity, invited me to join him the next day in a visit of inspection.

Next morning we accordingly set out, and crossing a small stream, shortly arrived at the commencement of the forest, through which a straight road was in course of formation. Numerous groups of Chilotes were employed on all sides, some levelling the way already cleared, others at work felling trees, others applying fire instead of the axe. The timber consists chiefly of Chilian beech (Fagus antarctica) and Winter’s bark, described by Mr. Cunningham, the former of which splits readily and is available for most purposes.

After Don Centeno had completed some minor details of surveying, we struck into the dense forest, and followed a winding path until we arrived at the bed of the stream, which debouches at the colony. This we followed up for some time, and eventually arrived at a ravine, the sides of which were as regular as if navvies had been employed to form a cutting, in which, at a point sixty yards above our heads, the seam of coal was visible. Here we dismounted and scrambled up a slippery path to a spot where a shaft, or rather burrow, had been driven into the bed, to the depth of perhaps fifty or sixty feet, made apparently for the purpose of examining the quality, regularity, &c., of the seam. The coal did not appear to me of a very good quality; but I have since heard that it gave exceedingly favourable results. My companion also pointed out to me a place in the opposite bank where some men had been washing for gold, the specimens of which I had seen in the town; and their labours were said to have been attended with good returns. As the day was advancing and rather chilly, a fire was kindled; and after a warm thereat, mounting our horses, we returned homewards down the ravine. On emerging from the forest, we observed a large steamer just on the point of anchoring; so we hurried on to obtain news and despatch our letters if it should prove the Magalhaens—one of the line of packets from Liverpool to Valparaiso. On the beach we found the Commandante and Mrs. Viel, the latter having visited the vessel and obtained some English newspapers. After dinner, accepting the Governor’s offer of his boat, I proceeded on board, and found her to be a magnificent steamer of great power and good accommodation. The establishment of this line of steamers will doubtless have a most beneficial effect on the prosperity of Punta Arenas; as, though agriculture and Indian trade are not likely to reward industrious or speculative immigrants, the discovery of the coal-bed is of the most obvious importance as affecting the future of this colony. It will now be possible to maintain powerful steam-tugs to tow sailing-vessels through the Straits, and thus avoid the passage round Cape Horn; whereas up to the present time the navigation of the Straits has been almost closed to sailing-ships; while, owing to the great steam-power required, even steamers, whether war or merchant ships, are frequently obliged to buy wood at Sandy Point; and then, owing to the vast quantity used to keep steam, not unfrequently are obliged to stop again before entering the Pacific to renew their supply wherever they could cut it. Now this will all be changed, and a steam-launch will probably be kept to tow the lighters to and fro, and thus materially facilitate coaling. As population and colonisation increase, encouraged by the accommodation afforded by the Pacific steamers—which at this present date run every month, bringing the Straits of Magellan almost within hail—the interior of the country may become opened up, in which case, probably, other sources of mineral wealth will be discovered and made productive.

Our departure having been definitely fixed for the morrow, I proceeded to review and arrange my equipments for the journey, a list of which may gratify intending explorers of Patagonia. Two saddle-bags contained my kit and necessaries, consisting of a couple of shirts and a jersey or two, a few silk handkerchiefs, and soap, lucifer matches, writing materials, fishing lines and hooks, quinine and caustic, and a small bottle of strychnine. The armoury comprised a rifle in case complete, and two double-barrelled breech-loading pistols, hunting-knives, a small ammunition-case of unfilled cartridges, and a supply of powder. The only instrument ventured on was a small compass. My personal equipment was a shooting suit of tweed and a Scotch cap, and a most excellent pair of boots made by Thomas, to which for comfort were superadded a guanaco skin mantle, two ponchos, and a waterproof sheet. In the evening Señor Viel introduced me to my future travelling companion, Lieutenant Gallegos, who was to command our party. He was a short, thick-set man, with a dark, almost Indian complexion, and looked all over what the Commandante declared him to be, ‘a man for hard work.’ In his native province of Arauco he had been for many years employed in the frontier wars with the Indians, and could handle the lazo or the lance with wonderful dexterity. He spoke with great cordiality of the officers of the Nassau, and seemed well inclined to the company of one of the same service; indeed, I am strongly inclined to believe that he is introduced into the foreground of Commander Bedwell’s sketch—at all events, if any reader wishes to know his appearance, the occupant of the fallen tree presents a strong resemblance to the leader of our party. Our arrangements and prospects were fully discussed; and after bidding farewell to Captain Cushing, who was to sail the next day, and to my most kind and courteous host and hostess, we parted, agreeing to meet at daylight ready for the road.

At an early hour of the morning of the 19th of April I was awoke by J’aria, and with him and my small belongings proceeded to the Corral, where the horses were being caught and loaded. Here we were joined by Gallegos, and when everything was nearly ready for the start adjourned to his house close by for a cup of coffee. The Señora seemed to regard me with great commiseration, and recounted various dismal tales of the dreadful cold winds, hardships, Indians, and other disagreeables to be encountered; her consolations were cut short by the entrance of J’aria with the news that all was ready. After a parting glass of something stronger than water, we got into our saddles, and the cavalcade, consisting of Gallegos, myself, one regular soldier, three irregulars or employés of the Government, and J’aria, with twenty-one horses, left the town. As we passed the cuartel, the guard turned out in the balcony and presented arms, and the bugler executed a musical salute. It was a fine frosty morning, and we rode on in high spirits, accompanied by two or three horsemen, who were going to spend their Sunday festa in duck shooting, and had made an early start to escort us a little way. Scarcely had we crossed the stream when one of the baggage horses kicked his load off; this was soon replaced; but when the bustle was over and the cavalcade reformed, J’aria and one of the employés, to whom I had confidingly entrusted a bottle of rum, were missing, and they did not turn up again for some time, and the bottle never again. We rode along the coast until we reached the outpost called Tres Puentes, where a narrow pass, between the forest on one hand and the sea on the other, is barred by a gate house tenanted by two men, posted there to prevent desertion; they turned out, and we lingered for a farewell chat, during which one of the sportsmen stalked and shot some ducks; at the report of his gun the regular soldier’s horse, not being used to stand fire, shied and threw him, capsizing his saddle-bags, and strewing the beach with tortillas (cakes) and coffee, with which his no doubt provident and thoughtful ‘she’ had stored them. Gallegos sat in his saddle and laughed at the scene; but as the others could not catch the horse, he gave us a proof of his dexterity with the lazo. After this little diversion we pursued our course along the beach as far as Cape Negro, where the forests terminated, and our accompanying friends bade us adieu after taking a parting glass all round; J’aria and the other absentee overtaking us in time for this part of the performance.

Our horses’ heads were then turned from the coast in a north north-west direction, and after half-an-hour’s ride a halt was called for breakfast under the lee of a sheltering hill. To the southward we viewed the counter slope of the wooded hills, below which on the other side lay Punta Arenas. A thick growth of shrubs covered the ground, but beautiful glades of luxuriant pasture were visible; one of which opened just to the south of our camping place, and others appeared east and west like oases of green. Their appearance caused me to remark that as a settler I should choose this location for my hut. Gallegos, however, replied that the pastures could not be used for the cattle of the settlement during the summer, as neither the Indians nor their own men could be trusted; the latter would desert, and the former would steal the beasts. After a pipe we remounted, and having crossed the hill we descended to the valley of a small but deep stream, called the Rio Chaunco, having forded which we ascended the opposite border slope, and entered on the Pampa, which name is universally used in Patagonia to designate the high undulating plains or plateaux, frequently intersected by valleys and ravines, or rising into successive or isolated hills, which generally occupy the crest of the country. The Indians, indeed, who know a little Castilian, apply the word Pampa indiscriminately to any tract of country hunted over by them. After a successful day’s sport, and the contentment consequent on a hearty meal, they will ask with great satisfaction, ‘Muy buena Pampa? No?’ really meaning ‘Is not the wild life the best?’ But English readers, who have derived their idea of a Pampa from Head’s delightful work, or from other experiences of the unlimited grassy or thistle covered plains which roll away for miles in the Argentine States, and offer no obstruction to the stretching gallop of the untiring gaucho, must not transfer that pleasing picture to Patagonia. The Pampas, properly so called, of Patagonia, occasionally indeed present a tolerably even and uniform succession of rolling plains covered with coarse grass, but more frequently the surface, even when unbroken by hills and suddenly yawning ravines, is sterile, with a sparse vegetation, consisting of stunted bushes and round thistle clumps; and even these are often wanting, and nothing clothes the bare patches of clay or gravel; elsewhere it is strewn with huge round boulders, and again rugged with confused heaps or ridges of bare sharp-edged rocks, many of them of volcanic origin: this more particularly applying to the northern part of the country. The only uniformity of appearance is afforded in the winter, when the white sheet of snow covers rocks, grass, and shingle; but one accompaniment is the same, whatever be the nature of the soil or surface; and the word Pampa invariably recalls to one’s shuddering memory the cutting blasts which sweep almost without intermission from various points, but chiefly from the west, over the high country, till, reaching the heated atmosphere of Buenos Ayres, the cold Patagonian wind becomes the Pampero, the sudden and terrific blasts of which cause so many disasters among the shipping. The descent from these Pampas to the valleys, or more sheltered and fertile level ground bordering the banks of the streams and rivers, is commonly termed ‘Barranca,’ or bank, from the scarped slopes, varying in depth from fifty to two or three feet, and in angle from an easy to an almost perpendicular descent, but often fissured by ravines or gullies, affording roads, down all of which, however, the native riders gallop with equal recklessness.

The Pampa we were now traversing presented an expanse of undulating or rolling plains covered with a uniform growth of coarse grass interspersed with barberry bushes, and occasional lagoons in the hollows. No living creatures except ourselves appeared on the waste. To the westward the snow-clad peaks of the mountains bordering the Sarmiento Straits greeted us with an icy blast which made my thoughts longingly revert to the cosy cabin and my late shipmates, who were, no doubt, threading the intricacies of its channels. But the good guanaco mantle kept out the wind, and our motley party pushed briskly on in good order. Lieutenant Gallegos has been already introduced: as to the others, J’aria was a small man, of rough exterior, of doubtful extraction, and more than doubtful antecedents, who looked fit for any business except good; but he served me most assiduously, and with unlooked-for care. The soldier was a fine-looking fellow, new to the Pampas, whose carbine, which he duly carried, proved a source of great embarrassment to him; and his horse being by no means too manageable, he was considerably bothered, much to the delight of the rest. Two others were hybrids, between gauchos and sailors, having, like our marines, been equally accustomed to service per mare, per terram; but, like the jollies, they were unmistakeably useful and good men. The last of the party was of the J’aria type. All were well mounted, and provided with a spare horse. We carried for provisions biscuit, charqui or dried meat, roasted wheat meal, and coffee and sugar, and were furnished with an unusual but welcome luxury, a small tent, underneath which we cared little for the bitter frost outside.

After riding over the Pampas for three or four hours we encamped for the night in a hollow by the side of a lagoon, having selected a suitable spot for pitching the tent on the sheltered slope, well out of the sweep of the wind. The lagoon was covered with black-necked swans and other wild fowl; so, as soon as the horses had been unloaded and looked after, a fire lit, and all arrangements made for camping, two or three of us went out to try and shoot some wild fowl; but our sporting endeavours were not crowned with much success, and a little before dark we returned to a supper of charqui, and after a talk over the fire, turned in, and slept sound and warm, though outside the frost was severe. My mind was much disquieted, first by the discovery that the box of rifle ammunition which J’aria carried had been dropped by that worthy at the scene of the baggage horse escapade, and secondly, by the mysterious absence from my shot-belt of all my coin, consisting of an onza and a few sovereigns. I said nothing, however, until next morning, when I proceeded quietly to search, remembering that I had taken off my accoutrements before the tent was pitched, and dropped in the grass I found the missing coins. The story afforded J’aria a great theme for jokes, and he often adverted to the chance of inheriting my ounce, in a way that might have made a timid traveller expect foul play, though nothing was farther from my guide’s thoughts. At seven o’clock, after coffee and a biscuit, we were again en route, and about ten arrived close to the head of Peckett’s Harbour. Here one of the party discovered a horse, which was chased into our troop, but as it appeared lame was not pressed into our service; it had probably belonged to the Indians. As in a long voyage, so in a journey of this description, the slightest novelty serves to relieve what it is needless to say becomes the slightly monotonous task of trotting along behind the troop of horses over barren wastes, so we were always on the qui vive for something to chase. One of the men had a dog with him, and shortly after the excitement about the horse we started some ostriches, which, however, proved too swift for the cur, and escaped over some muddy plots close to the ‘Cabecera del Mar.’ This is a large inlet or arm of the sea, running up some miles from Peckett’s Harbour, with which it communicates by a very narrow channel, which can only be crossed at low water; it was our good fortune to arrive at this period, thus escaping a long détour round the inlet. But our crossing was not effected without trouble; the flood-tide rushing up like a mill-race, and proving almost too much for the steadiness of one of the baggage-horses. After clearing the channel, in our farther progress we passed several small streams with swampy ground, all of which probably discharge themselves into Oazy Harbour, and arrived towards evening at an old Indian encampment situated under a range of hills, running more or less north and south, forming one barrier of a broad and well-watered valley, bounded on the eastern side by the well-known ‘Barrancas’ of San Gregorio.

Our station was just within the opening of the valley, which, being sheltered from the wind, is the favourite winter quarters of the Southern Tehuelches, whose encampment is usually pitched near Oazy Harbour, called by them ‘Ozay Saba.’

Westward the low flats which bordered the shores of the Cabecera del Mar terminated in irregular hills, beyond which higher peaks rose, and they in their turn were overlooked by distant snow-clad summits on the horizon. Among the blue hills of the middle distance floated wreaths of light haze so much resembling smoke that Gallegos, ever on the alert for signs of the deserters, proposed to deviate from our route to investigate, and only my strongly pronounced opinion in favour of haze versus smoke induced him to give up the idea. The Argentine Government formerly planned a settlement in this valley, which was not carried out, and the missionaries also proposed to fix a station hereabouts, with Oazy Harbour as a depôt, but the Chilians of Punta Arena set up their claims and compelled the missionaries to desist.

After camp was arranged, the weather, which since our start had been bright with cold winds and moderate frosts at night, changed to rain, and Gallegos proposed to me that, in the event of its continuing bad, we should remain under the shelter of the tent. However, though the night was rough and rainy, morning broke fair and the sun rose bright and warm, so we started, following a path along the base of the before-mentioned range of hills until about ten o’clock, when, just after passing a beautiful little stream where I noticed fish darting about in the pools, a herd of guanaco, hitherto concealed by a small eminence, came into view. Chase was immediately given, but most of our horses were soon blown, and Gallegos, the soldier, and myself having ascended the hills over which the herd had taken flight, as it appeared useless to continue the chase, stopped on the crest and watched the animals as they streamed up an opposite hill. One of the party was missing, and suddenly an exclamation from the Lieutenant ‘What is it?’ caused us to turn our eyes in the direction to which he pointed, where some fancied they descried a man. The idea of deserters immediately occurred to their minds, so they started off, asking me to tell J’aria (who had remained with the horses) to travel on to a given spot at the head of the valley. Having descended the hill, which was tunnelled with burrows of the Ctenomys Magellanicus,[1] the crowns of which, yielding to the horses’ tread, proved a series of dangerous traps, I rejoined J’aria and we pursued our way for a few miles until we reached a small lagoon at the head of the valley, covered with thousands of widgeon and duck. The sight suggested the thought that no man need starve in this country, so abundant seemed the supplies of animal life. Here we waited, and in the course of half-an-hour the remainder came up with their horses blown, one of the party having a piece of guanaco meat hanging to his saddle. This was José Marinero, one of the hybrids, who had succeeded in lazoing a guanaco, at which he appeared intensely delighted. The ‘man,’ as I had previously supposed, proved imaginary. I regretted not being up at the death, as it turned out that José had been close to us, but hidden from sight by a rise. After a pleasant and refreshing rest and a draught of café Quillota (parched corn meal and water), we resumed our route north. After leaving the lagoon, a scarcely perceptible slope ascended from the valley, and a more undulating course was traversed until we reached a small cañon, which, after a gradual descent, dipped down between walls a hundred feet high, sloping up at either hand, and finishing in a rounded summit leading to the high plain. ‘Here,’ said J’aria, ‘there is no firing, and those stupid Indian women actually carry loads of it from the next stage.’ But the event proved that the Indians were wiser than ourselves. Following this we arrived at another cañon running at right angles, east and west, on one of the grass-covered sides of which we observed a couple of horses feeding in a hollow which looked more verdant than the rest of the ground, but the animals being caught and examined proved unsound and useless. In the bottom of the cañon there flowed a small but deep stream spreading into lagoons in places. We crossed this and encamped on the northern side, and found J’aria’s words, as to no fuel to be found about this valley, verified, much to our discomfort. Towards evening we went out and shot some ducks, but having no fire to cook with, were content to turn in on meal and water. During the night the tent pole, having been first soaked with rain and then frozen, snapped in two, and down came the spread of wet canvas; and altogether we did not spend a very pleasant time.

Misfortunes never come single; at daylight no horses were to be seen, and we had to wait until near ten o’clock before they turned up. During this interval we burnt the tent pegs and some chips from the tent pole, and raised sufficient fire to make coffee. J’aria informed me that this cañon extends from the Cordillera to the sea, but runs in a tortuous manner, and we afterwards again struck either the main line or some cañon leading from it. Having scaled the precipitous banks, we headed towards a range of peaked hills, curiously resembling one another, and after passing down one or two more cañons, where we refreshed ourselves with the berries of a barberry (Berberis axifolia), called by the Chilians califate, and also saw plenty of the red and white tea-berries, so common in the Falklands, we entered a wide plain or valley, at the farther end of which rose a peculiar pointed hill, one of a range that stretched away east and west, pierced by a pass. In the midst of it a huge square flat rock shone white in the sunlight, forming a striking object: it looked like a megalith, deposited by giants to cover the grave of some deceased hero. Others of less dimensions lay strewn here and there, giving somewhat of a graveyard aspect to the scene. As we advanced the ground was encumbered with rocks and scoriæ, lying in heaps in all directions, making it very difficult travelling for the horses, and on arriving at the hills themselves their appearance was decidedly volcanic. The whole immediate vicinity of this range of hills presented a peculiarly wild, blasted, and weird appearance; nevertheless ostriches and guanaco were observable in great quantities. My first thought on passing one hill, where, among the other fantastic forms into which the rocks had been tossed, was a natural corral, or circle of huge fragments, built with apparent regularity, but of superhuman dimensions, was, ‘What a hell this must have been when the volcanoes were in an active state, belching out the streams of lava and showers of rock, and that perhaps at no distant period!’ While at Santa Cruz, Casimiro told me of an active volcano situated at a distance and in a direction which would fix it as belonging to this range. Formerly its neighbourhood had been frequented by the Indians, as the guanaco resorted thither in great numbers during the winter; but the Indians’ horses had most of them been poisoned by drinking the water of a stream close to the range, and soon after all the toldos were shaken down by an earthquake or the vibration of an explosion, and since then they had not ventured to go near the place. Casimiro and Gonzalez had, however, subsequently ascended the volcano, and had killed numbers of guanaco in the neighbourhood. It was also mentioned that when they were encamped on the Cuheyli, or Coy Inlet River, tremendous volumes of thick black smoke, rolling from the west, enveloped the Indians and terrified them exceedingly. No signs were afterwards found of burned pasture, and it was conjectured that the Canoe Indians of the Chonos Archipelago had fired the western forests, but it was much more likely to have been due to volcanic eruption. While trotting along the defile through these hills formed by a chasm, with perpendicular walls of rock rising on each hand, as evenly scarped as the sides of a railway cutting, I observed several caves, which J’aria had a tradition the Indians formerly used as dwelling places. This pass led into another valley still more rugged and strewn with sharp angular fragments of rock, amongst which stunted shrubs began to appear; and lagoons, some of which were encrusted round the edges with saltpetre, and contained brackish water, might be seen at intervals. Towards evening we encamped by the side of a small lagoon of circular form, with wall-like cliffs rising some 200 feet from its banks, and nearly surrounding it. I took a stroll, rifle in hand, whilst the men were getting firewood; and plenty of guanaco were visible, but I only succeeded in wounding one, which escaped on three legs. Traces of a puma, in the shape of carrion, were also there, but Leon himself was hidden. So I returned empty-handed to the fire, where I found a cheerful supper of wild duck and guanaco meat just ready. The moon was beautiful, and the air just frosty enough to be bracing and exhilarating, so some of us staid smoking and spinning yarns until the small hours. The stories were chiefly of adventures on the Pampas. José narrated how, when in pursuit of a party of runaways in the depth of winter, when the snow lay thick on the ground, he and his comrade rode into a valley where countless guanaco had taken refuge from the storm in the upper heights, and stood huddled together, too benumbed by the cold to attempt to escape, and were slaughtered like oxen in the shambles. In another hunt the party overtook the deserters, housed in the toldo of an Indian, and a fight ensued, ending in the death of one of the pursuers; the deserter who shot him was pistolled, and J’aria and José carried the dead body of their comrade on horseback to the settlement, sixty miles distant, proceeding without a halt all through the night, and accomplishing their ghastly journey by the next morning. J’aria related how he had been drifted in a launch among the ice in the Straits, and carried over to Tierra del Fuego, where they found rocks so magnetic that iron nails adhered to them. He further amused us by a short dissertation on his domestic arrangements; how, when his last wife died, he married a Chilote to be mother for his children and wife for him, and he always called her in conversation the ‘Madre Muger’—wife mother.

Next morning we started early, and varying our march with one or two races after foxes, which generally met their death in a very short time, and an engagement with a female puma, which one of the men despatched by a splendid revolver shot through the head, traversed some uneven Pampas, with occasional hills, and arrived at the descent of the valley of the Rio Gallegos, where the very remarkable bench formation, afterwards observed on a smaller or larger scale in other Patagonian rivers, first arrested my attention. To the west, some miles away, a high hill, apparently of basalt, the square summit of which with seemingly regular walls and towers mimicked the distant view of an extensive fortress, served as a landmark for the break in the barranca, which formed a natural road, by which we reached the first or upper bench, a mile and a half in width; from this a drop or scarped slope of 50 feet and upwards descended to another terrace or plain of equal extent, and terminating in another fall, at the bottom of which lay the bed of the river; it is fordable in the summer months, I believe, in many places, but when we crossed the water about reached where one’s saddle flaps would be if riding on an English saddle. After crossing the ford a halt took place to smoke a pipe, whilst doing which we watched the gyrations of a huge vulture of the condor species; he hovered for some time, and at length boldly settled on a point of rock about a hundred yards distant; so the soldier, whose carbine was always ready, took a shot, but missed, much to the grief of Gallegos, who asserted that the heart of the vulture is a good remedy for certain diseases. We then mounted, and riding about a mile halted for the night by a spring gushing out of a ravine in the slope between the upper and lower benches, where the pasture was good, as J’aria declared that water was scarce for some leagues farther on. The bivouac arranged, José and myself proceeded to try and shoot a guanaco, but the plain was too open, so, after lighting up a bed of dry grass to attract any neighbouring Indians, we very foolishly indulged in a bathe in the river. The water was intensely cold, and the ill effects of this ill-timed indulgence were felt for a long time after. The soldier meanwhile was away on horseback chasing a large herd, but he returned about dusk empty handed. Next morning we started about 9 o’clock, having been, as usual, delayed by the horses having strayed some distance. Ascending the slope we crossed the higher bench, a barren, dreary waste, for about a league, until we came to a lagoon covered with upland geese, and lying just below what may be termed the barranca of the Upper Pampa. Halting here for a smoke and warm to dispel the effects of the intensely cold wind, we were about resuming our route to ascend the steep slope of the upper plains, when large columns of smoke, in answer to the signal fire we had left behind us, rose up to the sky in a N.E. direction. We moved on, and arriving at the summit of the ascent, looked eagerly round for signs of the fire, but nothing was visible. The plains lay before us apparently destitute of life, excepting a stray guanaco here and there. J’aria then set light to a neighbouring bush, which gave out dense clouds of black smoke, and in a few minutes this was answered in the same direction as that previously observed. A horseman was at length espied galloping towards us, who proved to be an Indian named Sam, son of the chief Casimiro, who has been mentioned in the missionary reports. After conversing for a short time with J’aria and Gallegos, he turned to me and said, in English, ‘How do you do? I speak little Anglishe,’ which he had learned during a visit to the Falklands, where also he had acquired his sobriquet of Sam Slick. He then galloped away at full speed, and brought up his companions, who had been concealed from view in a neighbouring hollow; the party consisted of two men and a boy, and two women, all mounted, and apparently having just finished hunting, as they had plenty of fresh guanaco meat with them. We halted by a bush, and in a few minutes had a fire kindled, and the pipe being handed round, I had an opportunity of observing them closely. The men were fine muscular specimens. One, whom they called Henrique, was a Fuegian, formerly, I believe, a captive, but now doctor, or wizard. He travelled with this party separate from the remainder of the tribe on account of some suspicion of his having caused the death of a chief. One of the men, taller than the others, was a Tehuelche. The boy was bright looking and intelligent, and it afterwards appeared that Don Luiz Buena had kept him for some time, vainly endeavouring to teach him Spanish. They were very cordial, and especially forced on me more meat than I could carry; but there was a certain constraint visible in their manners, probably owing to their being conscious of some dealings with the deserters, whom J’aria counselled them to despatch whenever they might meet with them. The women carried bottles of water, which they readily gave us, to our great refreshment and relief, for we were all parched with thirst.

Gallegos asked Sam whether he was willing to guide us to Santa Cruz, J’aria not being over certain of the route. The tracks made by the guanacos are easily mistaken by almost anyone but an Indian for the trail of ‘chinas,’ or caravans of women and laden horses; and this, combined with the want of landmarks on the Pampas and the confusing succession of hills closely resembling each other, renders it only too easy to lose the right direction. As examples of this, out of ten deserters of whom the party was in search, six were never more heard of. Our guide J’aria himself, when travelling from Santa Cruz to the colony, lost his way, and would inevitably have starved had he not fortunately been fallen in with by a party of Indians. Sam having agreed to come with our party, we bid adieu to the Indians, who, in return for their presents of meat, were gratified with a little tobacco, and rode off. Suddenly a fox started up from a neighbouring bush. The soldier giving chase, Sam shouted, ‘Stop, I’ll show you:’ at the same time putting spurs to his horse, and cutting Reynard off, he put his hand to his waist-belt, drew out his bolas, gave them two turns round his head, and in another minute the fox was lying dead, with his ribs crushed completely in where the metal hall had struck him. Under the directions of our new guide, who rode ahead with me, we traversed a succession of high barren plains, sinking into frequent irregular hollows, without streams, but usually containing lagoons of salt or brackish water, until, about 4 P.M., we descended into the valley of Rio Cuheyli, or the river, which debouches at Coy Inlet. The bench formation, though noticeable, is not here so decidedly marked. For some time we pursued the trail in an orderly march; but an ostrich springing nearly under our horses’ feet, and escaping over some marshy swamp, where horses could not follow, roused Sam’s hunting propensities, and he proposed to myself, the soldier, and José to leave the path—which he said, with emphatic disdain, was good for women, not for men—and ride up the barranca to see him ball an ostrich; so having regained the Pampa, we formed into line, about two hundred yards apart, to drive a certain area of ground down to a point where there was a gentle slope to the valley, so as to meet the advancing cavalcade of the rest of our party. We saw nothing except one ostrich vanishing at great speed towards the valley at another point, and a pair of doves, which I remarked with interest; so we returned to the track, and as night was closing in, pushed on, wishing to cross the ford of the river and encamp on the other side. At seven o’clock, having reached a nice spring flowing from the barranca, where there was firewood in profusion, Gallegos ordered a halt, although Sam wished to proceed, observing that the moon was so bright it was ‘all the same as day.’ We accordingly encamped for the night, after making a good supper off guanaco meat, which was a pleasant change after our previous charqui. The valley of the Cuheyli slightly indicates the bench formation, though it does not present so distinctly marked terraces as those which border the Gallegos River; but the lowest or river plain, which is nearly two leagues wide in the neighbourhood of the ford, is of a more fertile character, the pasture being luxuriant and good. One or two of the springs—notably the one the water of which, contrary to our guide’s advice and example, we drank—had a strong taste of iron, which caused all the party to suffer from internal derangement; and Sam stated that near our encampment there was a deposit of the black earth with which the Indians paint their bodies. Starting early, after a night of severe frost, we soon struck the ford. Our guide had vanished; but while rearranging the packs, we saw a volume of black smoke rising to the east, caused by Sam, who, having thus signalled his countrymen, rejoined us on the march across the slightly ascending plain. We then observed numerous Indians galloping in our direction, and crossing the stream at various parts, as J’aria remarked, quite regardless of fords. We halted, and were soon surrounded by about forty or more, most of them riding useful-looking horses barebacked. As they appeared very friendly, Gallegos gave them some biscuit and charqui; their chiefs—the head cacique being a nephew of Casimiro—forming them into a semi-circle, in tolerably good order, to receive the present. There were undoubtedly some very tall men amongst them, but what struck me particularly was their splendid development of chest and arms. Although the wind was very sharp, many of them had their mantles thrown back in a careless way, leaving their naked chests exposed to the air, and appeared not the least incommoded. They readily recognised me for an Englishman, coming and examining me closely, and asking for tobacco with a broad grin on their faces, exposing a wonderfully clean and regular set of teeth. My gratifying their importunate requests for tobacco made Sam very jealous, and for some time he bothered me with remarks such as ‘Me very cold, no got poncho,’ ‘Me no got knife, me no got “pellon”’ (saddle-cloth), until, finding it useless to beg, he relapsed into sullen silence. A smoke of the pipe, however, brought him back to his usual cheerful temper, and as we galloped along he chanted an Indian song, which consisted of the words ‘Ah ge lay loo, Ah ge lay loo,’ expressed in various keys.

After a ride of some leagues in a rather more open but still undulating country, a break in the Pampas was reached. Hills of irregular and picturesque outlines, with labyrinthine valleys or ravines, not running in parallel order, but communicating with each other, occupied an extensive district, and though travelling was considerably more difficult, yet the change in the aspect of nature was grateful after the barren monotony of the plains.

We halted in an Indian encampment, situated in a valley underneath a peaked hill called ‘Otiti,’ where there were pools of fresh and salt water in close proximity. Amongst the incense and thorn bushes, which grow at intervals in these regions, we passed to-day another description of shrub with a thick rough bark, which is readily detached and leaves a long rattail-like sort of twig. From the Rio Gallegos the soil had become generally of a yellower colour than on the south side of that river, although in the valleys and hollows dark peaty earth was generally to be found, and the surface of the Pampas had assumed a more desolate appearance, being strewn with small pebbles, and studded with bushes—generally of a thorny species. Round clumps of prickly thistles, which burn like tinder on applying a lighted match—and a few stray tufts of withered grass, only made more desolate the hungry barrenness of the deserts, over which the wind blew with cutting violence, yet they are the home of large herds of guanaco, ostriches, puma, and armadillo, though the latter were at this period comfortably hybernating.

Next morning no horses were visible, and as time went on till ten o’clock without any appearance we all began to suspect Indian treachery. Sam volunteered the remark that if they (the Indians) had played us such a trick, he would go and clear all their animals out the following evening. This threat there was fortunately no occasion for him to put into execution, as the troop proved only to have strayed into another valley. As we were now nearing Santa Cruz, which the last of the Indians were just leaving, having completed their trade and finished all the grog, we saw numerous columns of smoke, caused by their hunting parties. After passing the broken ground and reaching the high Pampa, Sam and myself rode on ahead, amusing ourselves by fruitlessly chasing guanaco or ostrich, but Sam’s dexterity with the bolas was frustrated by his being mounted on a horse belonging to the expedition and unused to this work. Towards evening, after again passing numerous salt lagoons, we came to a descent of 300 or 400 feet leading to a valley containing a large salina, and halting, made our fire by the side of a spring, near which, Sam informed me, were the graves of two Indians, which he mentioned with the deepest respect and in an awe-stricken undertone.

Our signal smoke, which was as much to attract Indians as to give the direction of our route to Gallegos and J’aria, was soon responded to from the opposite hills on the northern side of the valley, and shortly a line of mounted women and children descended the slope in front, making for our fire, which Sam informed me was their intended camping place. We advanced to meet them, and Sam conversed in their tongue, interpreting to me that they had left Santa Cruz two days previously, and that Don Luiz P. B. had quitted his settlement on the island to sail in his schooner to Buenos Ayres; while the Northern Indians, encamped to the north of Santa Cruz, with whom I hoped to proceed to the Rio Negro, had no intention of marching until the ensuing spring. On leaving those ladies, amongst whom was a young and rather pretty girl, I lifted my cap in salute, which called forth a burst of laughter from the whole group and cries of ‘Anglish, Anglish!’ amidst which we rode off to join the remainder of our party, who were crossing the valley to the eastward, having intentionally deviated from the straight route; and although Sam used every effort to induce Gallegos to stop at the Indian encampment, the latter wisely determined to proceed about a league farther, knowing that a halt here would cause a considerable inroad to be made in the stock of provisions, which, in view of the return journey, with perhaps an increased party, it was desirable to avoid. We accordingly left the sheltered valley and encamped on the plateau in an exposed situation near a lagoon, the ice of which had to be broken to secure a supply of water. The frost was keen, and the tent afforded but a partial protection from the biting wind; so that the economical foresight of our leader resulted in all the party spending the coldest night hitherto experienced by us.

During the evening we were visited by several Indians, bringing presents of ostrich and guanaco meat. I was presented by the soldier with a piece of the gizzard (the tid bit), which he had cooked on the end of his ramrod; but I must confess I did not appreciate it at the time, though later on in my journey I learnt to relish this and other strange delicacies. Amongst the Indians who gave us the benefit of their company this evening was ‘Pedro el Platero,’ mentioned in Mr. Gardener’s mission book; also an old squaw rejoicing in the name of ‘La Reina Victoria’ (Queen Victoria), who was the occasion of much chaff, my Chilian friends declaring I ought to salute the sovereign of the Pampas in due form; but having obtained a charge and a light for her pipe, all she required, she was soon lost sight of in the dark. We gladly left the camp early the ensuing morning, the cold continuing unabated; the wind blew strong in our faces, and though from the northward, was so keen that Sam and myself kept galloping on and kindling fires at intervals.

Thus we rode on over a tract of country surpassing in desolation all the districts hitherto traversed. As far as the eye could reach stretched a level waste unrelieved by even an eminence or hollow; the aspect of the low withered shrubs, coarse parched grass, and occasional patches of pebble-strewn ground which for thirty miles wearied the eye with dreary sameness, produced an extraordinary feeling of depression, which was afterwards recalled when journeying through the Travisia, bordering the Rio Negro, which this district resembles, though on a smaller scale. Occasional frozen lagoons, doubtless supplied by rainfall, only added to the desert aspect of this trackless wilderness. The situation was not improved by Sam pulling up and remarking that he was by no means sure that he had not lost himself. The only variety was afforded by an unlucky fox which we chased till he escaped, as he thought, on to the ice of a lagoon, but the treacherous surface gave way, and poor Reynard, after a vigorous struggle, sank out of reach of a lazo. At last, about two o’clock, the desert terminated in a cliff rising from the valley at our feet, and we looked down upon the winding river of the Santa Cruz.

Having waited till the rest came up, we descended by a gorge to the valley, when, after refreshing ourselves by a drink of water, we struck into a trail which followed the river downwards. We were all in high spirits at the prospect of a speedy and felicitous conclusion to our journey; and J’aria was continually questioned as to the distance of the settlement. His answer was invariably ‘a league;’ and we rode along vainly expecting every moment to see the place, rounding innumerable promontories or points where the barranca advanced into the valley. Each of these projecting cliffs, which stood like outposts of the Pampas, J’aria declared in succession to be the last, Sam all the while maintaining a dignified silence, until at length, at 7.30, when we had almost despaired of ever arriving, we came to the ford opposite the island of the settlement, and a barking of dogs saluted our ears. After Sam had hailed, an answer came back, that if we were going across that night we must look sharp, as the tide was flowing. We accordingly proceeded to cross at once, narrowly escaping having to swim our horses, which on a cold frosty night would have been anything but a pleasant business.

My ideas as to the size and extent of the settlement—and it must be confessed my visions of a ‘cheerer,’ and even of wine, to put some warmth into my chilled frame—were sadly dispelled by the reality; the thriving, though small, town of my imagination being represented by one house, and all wine and liquor proving to have been exhausted. But this was fully made up for by discovering in Mr. Clarke—or, as the Indians called him, ‘Clakalaka’—an old acquaintance, whom I had known some years previously in the Falklands. His utter surprise at the sudden appearance of one whom he thought far away may be imagined. But, to my great delight, he thoroughly approved of the proposed excursion. His cordial welcome and hot coffee soon cheered up our spirits, and when warmed and rested we discussed my plans. It appeared that the Indians had not reported wrong as to Don Luiz Buena’s movements and the intentions of the Northern party; but Mr. Clarke believed that the schooner was still detained in the river mouth waiting for a fair wind, and undertook to send off a messenger to communicate with him: my object being to obtain permission to reside in the settlement until the return of the schooner, so as to equip myself with stores as presents for the Tehuelches. After an agreeable ‘confab,’ I turned in on a shakedown on the floor, well satisfied with having accomplished the first stage, and deriving a good omen for the remainder of the journey from this successful trip to Santa Cruz.

CHAPTER II.
SANTA CRUZ.

Introduction to Chiefs.—Orkeke.—Chilian Deserters.—The Settlement.—Island of Pabon.—Natural Advantages.—The Mission Station.—Mr. Clarke.—Our Circle at Pabon.—Expedition to Lake Viedma.—Winter Occupations.—Work and Play.—Casimiro’s Adventures.—His Character.—A Winter Hunting Excursion.—A Pampa Snow-storm.—The Santa Cruz Valley.—Up the River.—The Northern Hills.—Pumas.—Devil’s Eyes.—Hunting on Foot.—Intense Cold.—Return of the Deserters.—Visit to the Indian Camp.—First Night in a Toldo.—Towing a Horse.—Adieu to Santa Cruz.

Our first business next day was to despatch a messenger to board the schooner, if she should prove to be still in the mouth of the river. My Chilian friends had found some of the deserters, who had been taken into employment, and subsequently detained as close prisoners by the Mayor Domo, at the instance of a serjeant sent round from Punta Arena in the schooner, to solicit Don Luiz’s assistance in their capture. About noon Casimiro, soi-disant chief of the Tehuelches, and father of Sam Slick, rode in from a hunting excursion, mounted on a tall, shapely horse, and carrying a guanaco on his saddle. I was formally introduced, and my plans and purpose fully explained to him; and soon after Orkeke, the cacique of the party of Northern Tehuelches, encamped on the Rio Chico, arrived. His consent was necessary to enable me to accompany them in their journey, and by means of Casimiro as an interpreter, as the chief spoke but little Spanish, my request was preferred. He confirmed the statement of Mr. Clarke, that his people intended to winter in their present encampment, and then proceed northwards; but did not seem at all disposed to welcome the addition of an Englishman to his party, urging the difficult nature of the road, length of time, chances of fights, &c., &c. However, I hoped that during the enforced delay opportunities would arise of improving our acquaintance, and obtaining his consent. I was much struck with the grave and dignified bearing of the old chief. Standing fully six feet, and with a well-proportioned muscular frame, no one would have guessed him to have passed his 60th year; and whether vaulting on a bare-backed steed, or leading the chase, he displayed an agility and endurance equal to that of any of the younger men: his thick black hair was slightly streaked with grey; and the bright intelligent eyes, aquiline nose, and thin firm lips were very unlike the popular idea of Patagonian features; a retreating forehead rather marred the expression of his face, which was, however, grave and thoughtful, and at times strikingly intellectual. Months passed in his company gave me afterwards ample opportunity of studying his powers of reflection, which were great, and often found expression in pithy and amusing sayings. Although particularly neat in his dress, and cleanly in his habits, he was troubled, like all the Indians, with vermin; and one night he roused me up to have a smoke, and after sitting for some time, apparently lost in deep thought, he remarked, ‘Musters, lice never sleep!’ He would sometimes, but rarely, indulge in intoxication, but never quarrelled, and it was an understood thing that either he or his brother Tankelow should on occasions of a general drinking bout remain sober to protect their families. He was himself childless, and had adopted a little terrier named Ako, which enjoyed the place and honours of an only child; but he displayed great affection towards his nephews and nieces, some one or other of whom might often be seen in his arms on a march, or after the return from the chase. During our first acquaintance I was most pleased when, as often happened, he joined our little circle, and in the company of his old friend, Mr. Clarke, unbent from his gravity and laughed and talked in a way that seemed quite foreign to the usually serious chief. It must be confessed that he was jealous and suspicious, and a little stingy, preferring to increase rather than lessen his large stock of horses, gear, and arms; but from the time I became his guest his conduct to myself was irreproachable.

In the evening the messenger returned; he had of course completely mistaken his instructions, and informed Don Luiz that the Englishman desired to proceed in the schooner to Buenos Ayres, and accordingly a boat arrived with the morning flood-tide to take me off. Mr. Clarke good naturedly undertook to go himself and explain matters; and returned with a kind message, offering me quarters and every hospitality if I chose to remain in the settlement for the next two months, at the end of which period the schooner might be expected to return. Lieut. Gallegos strongly urged me to accompany him back to Punta Arena, painting in strong colours the tedium and discomfort of a winter at Santa Cruz. But it was plain that the opportunity of cultivating the acquaintance and securing the confidence of Orkeke would thus be thrown away, and with it the prospect of traversing the country. Gallegos believed that this plan was fraught with danger, and indeed almost certain destruction; but as I was immovable, we took an affectionate farewell of each other. He and all his party had treated me, an utter stranger, with the greatest kindness, and I bade adieu to them as true comrades. They departed on their return journey, taking with them the four prisoners, who, however, are destined to appear again in these pages. These men had undergone much hardship to obtain the liberty of which they seemed again deprived; three of them had managed to secure a horse, and walking and riding in turns had found their way to the Indians. Two of them, Olate and Rosa, the latter, though a mere boy, with a thoroughly evil and murderous countenance, were incurably bad; but Meña

, a youth of nineteen, attracted one’s sympathy by his handsome frank face and cleanly smart appearance; the fourth, Arica, had made his way on foot from Punta Arena to Santa Cruz, without any knowledge of the country, and only guided by a vague notion of the existence of the settlement to the north. He had for twenty-seven days followed the line of the sea-coast, subsisting on shell fish and sea-birds’ eggs; the toil and hardships thus undergone must have been indescribable, and his eventual safe arrival was a miracle of patient endurance. He brought in news of the loss of a tender to the schooner, a decked launch, in which Captain Warren and three men had sailed from Staten Land and been no more heard of; of their fate there was now little doubt, as he had found her dingy cast up on the beach, and a piece of the mainsail out of which he had supplied himself with clothes.

The promising élève of the mission, Sam Slick, also accompanied the party. Before his departure he offered to give a specimen of his education by singing a hymn, with a broad hint that grog was a fitting accompaniment; but as none was forthcoming, we lost the chance of being edified by his performance.

We watched the cavalcade till it disappeared in the distance on the upper plains, and then returned to the station, where I settled myself to pass the ensuing three months of the Patagonian winter. The settlement or trading station of Santa Cruz consists of only three houses, built on an island called ‘Pabon,’ marked as Middle Island, in Islet Reach, in Fitzroy’s chart. It is owned by Don Luiz P. Buena, who holds by virtue of a grant from the Argentine Government, which has also conferred on him the commission of captain in the navy, with power to prevent all foreign sealers from trespassing on the valuable seal fisheries on the coast. The island is about a mile and a half long, and has an average breadth of some 350 yards. Access is obtained from the south shore by a ford, about fifty yards across, only passable at low water. The northern channel is wider and deeper, and the swiftness of the current renders it impassable save by a boat, which is moored ready to ferry over Indians desirous of trading, and is also useful for bringing wood for fuel, which is not obtainable on the island. About a hundred yards from the ford stands the principal house, substantially built of bricks, with tiled roof, containing three rooms, and a sort of porch to shelter a nine-pounder, commanding the entrance. It is further defended by a stockade, over which floats the Argentine flag, and beyond it a fosse, which is filled with water by the spring tides. The object of these fortifications is to afford protection in case of the Indians proving troublesome when under the influence of rum. Though Mr. Clarke narrated some queer scenes he had witnessed, his excellent management had hitherto obviated any danger, and the fairness of his dealings with them had secured their friendship, a regular tariff with equitable prices having been fixed, and scrupulously adhered to, by which their barter of ostrich feathers and peltries was regulated; and although they are keen bargainers, often spending two or three hours in debating the price to be given, they appreciated the fairness with which they were treated. A second house was situated about fifty yards off, and being generally used as a store, bore the name of the Almacen: at this time being empty, one room served as a sleeping-place for some of the men, and the other had been given up for the accommodation of Casimiro and his family. A third house, which stood at the eastern end of the island, was unoccupied. Near it a small plot had been tilled, and potatoes, turnips, and other vegetables had been successfully raised. At the time of my visit no corn had been tried, but a subsequent experimental sowing of one and a half fanegas[2] gave a field, though little pains were bestowed on the crop, of twenty fanegas. As the lower part of the island is liable to be overflowed at high springs, a ditch had been cut across to drain off the water, and there was consequently no lack of irrigation. The ground was covered with stunted bushes, and the small spike-thorn round thistle, and coarse grass. The few sheep appeared to thrive well, but decreased very sensibly in number during the winter, as on days when game was scarce one fell a victim to the ravenous appetite engendered by the keen air of Patagonia. A numerous troop of horses grazed on the mainland, in a tract below the Southern Barranca, called the ‘Potrero,’ where the grass, though coarse, grew in rank luxuriance. When wanted for hunting, the entire stud was brought across the river in the morning and driven into the corral; but ordinarily one alone was kept on the island ready for emergencies.

STATION ON PABON ISLAND, RIO SANTA CRUZ.

It should be mentioned that a small stock of cattle, and also some pigs, had been imported; these, however, being necessarily left to graze on the mainland, had wandered, and become wild; the cattle probably falling victims to the Indian hunters; but the pigs will no doubt multiply, and become the founders of a race of hogs, destined hereafter to add pig-sticking to the amusements of the future settlers or of the wandering Tehuelches.

Above the island of Pabon there are several smaller islets, but as they are liable to be overflowed by the highest tides, they cannot, without artificial drainage, be made available for tillage. From one which had been occupied and tilled with root-crops, we obtained a quantity of well-grown turnips. It was a singular mistake of the Spaniards to form a settlement at Port St. Julian and overlook the far superior advantages presented by Santa Cruz. The plains and islands of the latter present good grazing grounds and tillage lands, as well as a site for a town secure from sudden Indian surprises; and as regards fitness for a shipping station, there is no comparison between the two localities, as ships can be beached at Santa Cruz in a sheltered place with the flood-tide; while the timber, in search of which Viedma made his expedition, was to be had in abundance by ascending the river. At the present time the knowledge of the navigation of the Straits would make it much easier and cheaper to import timber from Punta Arena than to send lumberers into the Cordillera and raft the timber down to Santa Cruz.

Near the potrero, on the southern shore, there is a natural salt lake or salina, which must have been overlooked by the Beagle expedition, as Mr. Darwin fixes the southern limits of salinas at Port St. Julian. In the summer, and until the winter rains and snow set in, an inexhaustible supply of excellent salt can be obtained. It is at present worked only to furnish, besides the salt for home use, what is required for the annual sealing fishery; but if labour were more abundant, the salt would be found to be a valuable article of export to the Falkland Islands; the salina being situated less than half a mile from the beach, where there is good anchorage.

The river also yields abundant supplies of fish—a species of bass and others—which when cured keep well: some which had been cured over a year proved excellent. These might be profitably exported to Rio Janeiro, &c., where cured fish are always in demand.

Notwithstanding these natural advantages, Santa Cruz could hardly at this period be considered a settlement. Subsequently to my visit, two Frenchmen from Buenos Ayres proposed to try sheep farming in the valley, but with what result I have not heard. As already mentioned, the station existed as a depôt for sealing, and as a trading post, to which the Tehuelches resorted to exchange their ostrich feathers, and puma, guanaco, and ostrich skins, for tobacco, sugar, ammunition, and above all, rum. There was little or no trade going on during the absence of the schooner, as all the stores had been exhausted; but after the summer campaign some of the Tehuelches invariably resort thither, and the vicinity has always been a favourite winter quarters. The missionaries, Messrs. Schmid and Hart, endeavoured to avail themselves of this opportunity for essaying the conversion and civilisation of the Indians. They resided for some time in 1863 at a spot near Weddell Bluff, about ten miles from the mouth of the river. To quote Mr. Sterling’s description, the station was at the mouth of a valley which ‘retreats towards the south-west for a considerable distance inland; a stream of pure water flows perennially through it, and a broad belt of grass, offering fine pasture for cattle, gives a cheerful, fertile aspect to the low land; the hills on either side are intersected with ravines, or lift up their bronzed faces out of some intervening dale, and refresh the air with the aroma of shrubs and plants growing everywhere about them.’

This was written after a visit in the summer month of January, and the picture drawn presents the landscape in its fairest colours; very different from its bleak aspect as viewed by myself in the winter. This valley still bears the name of Los Misionarios, but this is the only existing trace of their settlement. Mr. Schmid, however, during his sojourn and journeys with a party of the Indians, compiled a vocabulary of the Tsoneca language, as spoken by the southern Tehuelches. Their plan for establishing trade at Santa Cruz, in order to secure the regular visits of the Indians, was not approved of by the managers of the mission, and they were obliged to abandon the scene of their praiseworthy but unsuccessful efforts—to instruct at least ‘the little bright-faced Patagonian children,’ of whom they speak in their journals with warm affection.

The counter attractions of rum supplied by a trader who visited the river were felt by Mr. Schmid to be very destructive of his influence, but it cannot be doubted that their store, if established, would have had no chance against any rival that supplied rum to his customers; for though there are many exceptions, the Indians too eagerly expend the spoils of their hunting and industry in liquor. Their wives, however, when they accompany them, take care to manage their business with discretion, and reserve sufficient stock to barter for more useful and innocent luxuries as well as necessaries. There is no doubt that in the event of the future development of this settlement, it might serve as a point d’appui to raise the Tehuelches to the level of a more cultivated and settled mode of existence; but speculations on this point are not within my province, and it is time to introduce the members of the party with whom my winter was agreeably spent on the island of Pabon. With Don Luiz P. Buena and his amiable and accomplished señora I subsequently made acquaintance, which ripened into friendship; but though his guest, I was at present personally unknown to him. In his absence, his representative, Mr. Clarke, who, as already mentioned, was an old acquaintance, did all he could to make me feel at home. He was a handsome young fellow of twenty-five, and an excellent specimen of the versatile and cosmopolitan New Englander, ‘raised’ in Salem, Massachusetts, where he had been brought up as a builder, though he afterwards ‘shipped himself on board of a ship.’ In his nautical life he had been mate of the Snow Squall, in a homeward voyage from Shanghai, when she was chased off the Cape of Good Hope by the Alabama, and but for the pluck of the captain and crew, and the wonderful sailing powers of the craft, another item would have been added to Mr. Adams’s ‘little bill.’ As it was, the beautiful vessel fairly outsailed the swift steamer. The steadiness of the crew, and their well-deserved attachment to the captain, were most strongly proved on this occasion. As there was no alternative between putting in for water at St. Helena—where it was too probable the Alabama would pounce upon the prize—and running home upon half a pint per diem each man, the captain left it to the crew to decide, and they chose the latter course.

Mr. Clarke had spent three months travelling and hunting in company with the Tehuelches, which had made him a most expert hand with lazo or bolas, and well acquainted with the Indian character; and it was pleasant to hear that he entertained a very high opinion of their intelligence and generous dispositions. He treated them with fairness and considerate kindness, and they repaid him by confidence and friendship.

Five other employés made up the rest of our party. No social distinctions, however, prevailed, and the inhabitants of Pabon lived in pleasant equality. The charge of the dogs and horses, and the duty of supplying meat, devolved on two: Gonzalez, a gaucho, a native of Patagones, who was as much at home in the schooner on a sealing excursion, as in the saddle balling an ostrich; and Juan Isidoro, a swarthy little man whose sparkling black eyes told of his Indian blood, a native of Santiago del Estero; he had been sent as a soldier to Rio Negro, whence he had managed to desert, and make his way with Orkeke’s Indians to the settlement. Next comes Juan Chileno, a bright, fresh-complexioned youth of nineteen years, to look at whom was refreshing, after the swarthy and weather-beaten physiognomies of the others. Then Antonio, a Portuguese, by turns gaucho, whaler, or sealer, always ready with a song or a merry jest, and on occasion equally quick with his knife. Holstein furnished the last, but by no means least important; a strong-built, good-natured, rather stupid fellow, generally selected as the butt of the rest, who always styled him ‘El Cookè,’ a sobriquet earned by his many voyages in that capacity on board various ships. Curiously enough he proved to possess information on a topic to me of great interest, as he had been one of a party which, about a year previous to my visit, had ascended the river Santa Cruz to its source. The expedition was organised by an American well acquainted with the Californian mining, who proposed to explore the mineral resources of the valley. Unfortunately, during the ascent of the river, a quarrel broke out, and the American left the others, and found his way alone to the Indians, thence returning to Santa Cruz. The loss of the only man capable of scientific observation rendered their journey almost useless; still the party proceeded, and about midsummer reached the lake, near which they remained some days, but were unable to penetrate the thick forests beyond its shores. In the valley they found meat tins and other traces of Fitzroy’s expedition. El Cookè described the river as running from the lake in many small streams, and flowing over a rocky bed. The lake, which was covered with wild fowl, had floating ice upon it, and large glaciers were visible in the neighbouring mountains, while the weather experienced was cold, with continuous drizzling rain. His account confirmed my own conjectures as to the cause of the great difference between the periods of the highest floods in the Rio Gallegos, which is at its height in December and January, and the Santa Cruz, which is then at its lowest. This is owing to the lateness of the period at which the ice breaks up in the lake Viedma, situated, as it probably is, on a high plateau. About the lake the explorers found traces of herds of large deer, and always in close proximity those of a large fox or wolf, but they did not succeed in killing any. A specimen of the only mineral brought back appeared to be iron pyrites embedded in quartz. The journey from the lake to the settlement would require eleven days for baggage horses, but could be performed by horsemen within four. Of course the information was not too clear or reliable, but El Cookè, though not brilliant, seemed to possess the Northern quality of telling the truth, by the absence of which the Southern and Indian natures are, to say the least of it, often characterised. El Cookè was fond of hard work, and his greatest enjoyment was to set out in search of fuel, and lay on with his axe in a way that would have done honour to a Canadian lumberer, but was sadly thrown away on the incense bushes of Santa Cruz.

All these men, who had drifted together from various quarters, and, if truth be told, had all ‘run,’ for obvious reasons, from their own homes, worked by turns at hunting, trading, sealing, and raising salt from the Salina. They received a fixed salary, which, however, generally proved to be balanced by an account with the store for clothes, &c. In sealing expeditions all went shares, like our own mackerel and herring fishermen; while for working at the Salina, extra pay was given and well earned, especially at this time, since it involved sleeping out in the open for several successive nights, and that in a Patagonian May. Such were the companions of my residence at Pabon, besides whom more than a score of dogs of all sorts slept anyhow and anywhere, and followed anybody, giving their masters the preference.

A short time after our arrival, Mr. Clarke took stock of the stores of provision, which could not be replenished until the return of the schooner. The result was that the amount of biscuits and sugar was found to be about equal to a month’s consumption. These articles were accordingly divided into equal portions, and each man received his share, to husband or improvidently use, according to his bent. There was abundance of coffee, black beans, tobacco, and maize, which accordingly were used at discretion. The next thing was to accumulate a good stock of fuel before the snow should render it difficult, if not impossible, to transport it.

Every Sunday all hands except one—the cook of the week—left on guard, went hunting, and, as occasion required, during the week, the gauchos would proceed to supply the larder with guanaco or ostrich, the latter being, however, rare. Idleness was unknown; when not hunting, wood-cutting, or salt-raising, manufactures were the order of the day. We picked stones and worked them round for bolas, and covered them with the hide stripped from the hock of the guanaco, the soga or thong connecting the balls being made from the skin of the neck, the method of obtaining it being as follows:—The head having been cut off, and an incision made just above the shoulder, the skin is dragged off in one piece; and after the wool has been picked off, is softened by hand and carefully cut into strips, which are closely plaited. Of this leather we also made serviceable bridles, lazos, stirrup-leathers, and, in fact, horse-gear generally. Sometimes we would have a fit of making pipes, and all hands would be busy sawing out wood or hard at work boring the bowls; at others, spurs were the rage, made by the simple Indian method of sticking sharpened nails into two pieces of wood, secured together by thongs fastened under the foot and round the leg; or again, we would work silver, and come out with our knife-sheaths glittering with studs. On non-hunting days, I invariably practised the use of the bolas, and caught almost every shrub on the island.

The evenings were passed in playing the American game of brag. Cash being unknown, and no one being disposed to risk the loss of his gear, the stakes were simply so many black beans to a box of matches; and as much excitement prevailed as if each bean or perota had been a five-dollar piece.

Both in our hunting parties and in the house which he had been allowed to occupy, though he occasionally visited the camp on the Chico, I sedulously cultivated the acquaintance of Casimiro. Both the missionaries and Her Majesty’s surveyors have made frequent, and often by no means honourable, mention of this Indian, who has always evinced a wish to conciliate the friendship of the English visitors to Patagonia. His history, as I learned it from himself, was a very curious one, and aptly illustrates the conflicting claims of Chilians and Argentines, and the confused politics of the Indians themselves, his father having been killed in an engagement with the Araucanian or Manzaneros Indians. His mother was a Tehuelche: being an inveterate drunkard, whilst visiting the settlements of Rio Negro she bartered the child for a cask of rum to the governor of the fort, a Frenchman named Viba, who was connected with the slave-trade, for at that period Indians seem to have been made slaves of as well as blacks. Viba had Casimiro christened—whence his name Casimiro Viba—and brought up at the Estancia, or sheep-farm, where he learnt to speak Spanish fluently. When thirteen years old he ran away and rejoined the Tehuelches Indians, with whom he remained in obscurity for some years, until being in the Southern district, near the Chilian colony of Port Famine, he gained the friendship of one Santorin, a native of Patagones, who had been taken captive by the Indians, but having adopted their manners and customs, and marrying one of the tribe, had risen to the position of a chief. Together these two performed a voyage to Chili, to negotiate with the Government in some matters regarding the protection of Port Famine from Indian raids. Santorin died during the voyage, but Casimiro was well received at Santiago by the then President, Señor Bulnés,[3] loaded with honours, and given the rank, pay, and rations of captain in the army. He then returned to Port Famine, where he resided, off and on, for some time. By his own account, he was absent on a hunting excursion when the émeute took place which resulted in the destruction of the colony. The old wandering habits appeared to have taken possession of him, for he subsequently returned to the Rio Negro, and having entered the service of the Buenos Ayrean Government, again proceeded to the South. During this time he resided occasionally with the missionaries, during their journey in the South, and at their station at Santa Cruz, and entrusted to them his two sons for the purpose of education. The missionaries soon discovered that his objects were purely selfish, and that he had no idea of allowing others to participate in the advantages they could offer; and I am afraid that the labour and cost bestowed on the boys were thrown away, as neither of them appeared to have profited much by their chances. Sam, indeed, could still sing a hymn if there were grog to the fore, and had a lively recollection of material advantages, often saying, ‘He was good man, give me gun,’ &c. But the youngest, ‘Graviel,’ who also understood a little English, was one of the laziest of the lazy, and had very undefined notions as to meum and tuum, as personal experience taught me.

In 1865 Casimiro made a voyage to Buenos Ayres, where the Government on this occasion recognised him as head chief of the Tehuelches, and assigned him the rank and pay of Lieut.-Colonel in the Argentine Army. He was then despatched, in company with an Argentine named Mendoza, to form a settlement at Gregorio Bay. They travelled by land as far as Santa Cruz, at which place Mendoza disappeared, being supposed to have lost himself, but in reality having been killed by an Indian, jealousy being, I believe, the cause of the murder. With his right-hand man gone, Casimiro abandoned himself to drinking, a habit which, as Mr. Cunningham mentions, he had before acquired—perhaps by hereditary development—and ultimately became reduced to the state of poverty in which I found him, owning but two horses for himself, his wife, daughter, and son, with hardly any gear. Indeed, he would have been reduced to great straits but for the kindness of Don Luiz and Mr. Clarke, who, for old acquaintance sake, helped him as much as possible; though his habitual drunkenness made it useless to give him anything valuable whilst there was liquor to be had, as he would exchange anything for drink. As it was my object to have a friend in camp, I made friends with him, and tried to induce him to go north to the Rio Negro, which he at length agreed to do, although he was in great fear of getting into trouble about the loss or death of Mendoza. This man when sober was quick and intelligent, and a shrewd politician. His extensive connections by marriage with all the chiefs, including Rouke and Calficura

, gave him considerable influence. He was also an expert worker in various Indian arts, such as making saddles, pipes, spurs, lazos, and other gear. He was a powerfully built man, standing fully six feet in his potro boots, with a not unpleasing expression of face, although he had a scar or two which did not add to his beauty. Of his personal bravery ample proof will afterwards be given; but, like all drunkards, he was uncertain and not to be depended on. This veritable old Blue Beard informed me that he had been married six times; certainly, if all his wives were of the appearance and disposition of his last venture, it is not to be wondered at if he disposed of the former ones; for an uglier, dirtier, more contumacious old hag never burdened the earth with her weight, owing probably to which latter quality, or quantity, she never, if she could possibly help it, quitted her room. Early in June an Indian, known in Santa Cruz as El Sourdo, or the left-handed man, came across the river and pitched his toldo on the island. He was the husband of two wives, who lived together in perfect felicity and took care of one another’s children. This Indian was, as most of them are, very ingenious in working wood and silver, and was a good addition to our hunting parties; he also quickly learned to play at brag. Casimiro would never descend from his lofty pinnacle of self-importance so far as to enter the kitchen when the general revels were held, but occasionally joined Mr. Clarke and myself at supper and sat telling stories for an hour or two.

The sketch of our life at Pabon would be very incomplete without asking the reader to accompany us on a hunting excursion; so I will describe one which took place after El Sourdo had arrived on the island. Game had become very scarce in our immediate vicinity, and our only farinaceous food was black beans varied by maize, which was too troublesome in the preparation to be much used. The meat went wonderfully quickly, so we determined to extend the sphere of the hunting a little more a-field. Accordingly, one fine frosty morning at daylight, the horses were brought up, caught, and saddled; mantles and spurs donned, and eight of us, including the two Indians, Casimiro and El Sourdo, set off to make a circle, i.e. enclose and drive an area of land on the southern shore of the river, finishing at the Missionaries’ Valley. Casimiro and Gonzalez accordingly started, and the remainder followed in turn. During our drive down, one guanaco was captured by El Sourdo and Isidoro, and on our arrival near the valley of Los Misionarios I chased a guanaco, but, being without dogs and a tyro with the bolas, failed to capture him. However, on rejoining my companions, who had now finished the circle, I found that they had only killed one ostrich, which, through the carelessness of some of the party, the dogs had mauled to such an extent as to render the greater part of the meat unserviceable. The day had been unusually warm, without any wind. Though a bank of white clouds on the horizon seemed to threaten snow, it was agreed to camp out and try our chance of getting a good supply of meat on the following day; so we proceeded to a sheltered place in the valley, and bivouacked under the lee of a big incense bush, while the horses were turned loose, and a fire was made, on which the remains of the ostrich were soon cooking under the master hand of Casimiro. After supper, which was rather stinted in quantity, we smoked a pipe and lay down to sleep. About three I woke up, feeling, as I thought, a heavy weight pressing on my mantle, and found that above two inches of snow had fallen and that it was still snowing. At daylight it came on to rain, but quickly changed to snow again; so we made a fire and waited for an hour to see if the weather would clear. At last, on a gleam of sickly sunshine appearing, we proceeded to arrange the circle, Casimiro starting first. Emerging from the valley and ascending to the high pampa, we met a terrific gale of wind from the south, driving before it small snow in freezing blasts; but two ostriches jumped up from behind a bush, and Mr. Clarke balled one of them with great dexterity. This was very cheering, as we were all very hungry. But, as it was impossible to face the driving sleet and wind, which prevented us from seeing ten yards before us, we adjourned to the valley, leaving Casimiro, who was not visible, to his own pursuits. Suddenly El Sourdo discovered smoke behind a clump of trees, and, to our great delight, there was our friend before a good fire, nicely sheltered from snow and wind, within an arbour neatly cut out of a bush. We adjourned to the fire and had breakfast; invigorated by which, and encouraged by a lull in the storm, we started off to renew the chase, but soon got separated by the thick snow-storm. Mr. Clarke, El Sourdo, Gonzalez, and myself, who were together, came close upon a herd of guanaco, making for the coast to escape the gale. The dogs gave chase and killed some, others were balled; in fact a regular slaughter took place, and eight or ten carcases were soon lying on the plain. Now came the tedious job of cutting up. I found myself standing alone by a dead guanaco, none of the others being visible, though not fifty yards distant. I proceeded as best I could to arrange the meat, and was about half through the task, with fingers nearly frozen, when I discovered Mr. Clarke and El Sourdo, and shortly after it cleared up, and the remainder of our party, all loaded with meat, arrived. Thus supplied, we turned our faces homewards, and arrived at Santa Cruz a little before sundown, where a steaming kettle of coffee soon dispelled our cold and put us into good spirits.

Mr. Darwin and Admiral Fitzroy have thoroughly described the configuration of the Valley of Santa Cruz and its surroundings, so that a lengthened attempt to portray it is not necessary. I would particularly refer the reader to the accurate and picturesque description by the former of the bench formation which causes the western part of the environs of the river to present the appearance of the shores of former successive estuaries—of a vast river or fiord.

Near the settlement the ascent of the Southern Barranca immediately leads to a level plain extending for the space of a couple of miles; then there is another rise of perhaps fifty feet, and another plain, which extends for about the space of a league to a range of successive ridges, which we called the Blue Hills from their peculiar appearance on clear days. These, eastwards, lose their elevations, and merge into the undulations of the high Pampa and a rolling cheerless waste of stones, coarse grass, and incense bushes; its uneven surface often traversed by ravines running in various directions. Amongst these hills there is a large lagoon which Casimiro informed me he used to visit whilst residing with the missionaries for the purpose of procuring wild fowl, of which there were then great numbers, but they had latterly given up this resort. There are other lagoons scattered at intervals in the before-mentioned plains, which, during the winter, were frozen, and the beautifully smooth ice often caused Mr. Clarke and myself to long for a pair of skates; indeed, we tried to manufacture a pair, but without success.

Towards the sea coast from the Blue Hills the slope appears gradual, until nearing the coast, when the plain is intersected by gullies and deep fertile valleys, which render hunting very tedious work, as it is necessary to trust almost entirely to the dogs. Game abounds in this direction, especially during the winter. We made numerous excursions up river, generally staying away from the settlement three or four days, our favourite rendezvous being a place about sixty miles distant, called ‘Chickrookaik,’ marked by Fitzroy as an Indian Ford or Pass of the river Santa Cruz, which statement both El Sourdo and Casimiro confirmed. At this point the river narrows considerably, and on the south side there are steep cliffs almost overhanging the water, a cave in which cliffs was always a sure find for a puma. Both above and below this point are large wide plains extending from the ‘banks’ or cliffs to the river, which may easily be encircled; and the game being hemmed in between the horsemen and the river are readily captured. Sometimes the ostriches take to the water, but in the winter this saves trouble, as their legs get frozen, and on landing they are unable to move. We made an excursion on one occasion some miles higher up the river, and found abundance of game. We had previously on our road had good luck, but, as is often the custom, left the slain animals concealed in bushes, with a poncho or something over them. During the interval of our absence severe weather set in, and on returning to examine our caches the foxes and birds of prey had accounted for the meat. The foxes are a great trouble to the hunters, as, frequently, whilst they are encircling the herds of guanaco, and taking the greatest care to keep out of sight, one of these brutes will jump up, the dogs give chase, and then good-bye to all chance of sport. Fitzroy remarked the number of guanaco bones found in his ascent of the river Santa Cruz, which appear to have puzzled him, but the cause is not far to seek. During the very severe winters which occur I believe about once in three years, these animals, finding no pasture on the high lands, which are covered with snow, are necessarily driven down to the plains fringing the river, where they die from starvation. There is also a disease prevalent amongst them something similar to scab in sheep. On one occasion a hunting party killed ten guanacos, all of which were scabby, or, as we called it, ‘sanoso;’ and, consequently, unfit for food. Mr. Clarke told me that after one severe winter he found ostriches lying in heaps, dead under the bushes, and also guanacos. The difficulty of getting the horses across the swift and deep stream, with its banks encumbered by ice, prevented us from making frequent excursions to the northern side of the river. A level plain extends from the banks for about a mile, bounded by a chain of irregular hills; near the foot of these I picked up many specimens of a spiral shell, apparently a Turritella, which appeared to have been vitrified; and some were as translucent as glass, and of different colours. Beyond these hills rolled a succession of uneven plains diversified by ridges and hills; the general slope of the ground being apparently from west to east, and the hills towards the west often assumed the form of abrupt lofty cliffs. Near a laguna at the foot of a cliff a hundred feet high I found boulders incrusted with sulphate of iron, such as had been pointed out to me in the Falklands, and numerous oyster shells and other marine shells occurred in various localities. There are no streams, but frequent lagoons in the hollows, and surrounded by a luxuriant growth of incense bushes. The unbroken plains abound in round thistle, califate, and the curious shrub called ‘ratstail,’ from the appearance of its twigs when the thick bark is pulled off. When burned it emits a dense black resinous smoke. To the north the horizon is bounded by a lofty range of hills which form the barrier of the valley of the Rio Chico, about sixty miles distant. These northern hills abounded with puma, some of which, killed in our hunts, were of unusual size, measuring fully six feet exclusive of the tail, which is generally half the length of the body. They are, of course, most numerous where the herds of guanaco and the ostriches abound; in the southern part of Patagonia their colour is more of a greyish-brown than that of the species found in the Argentine Provinces. These ‘Leones,’ as they are universally called in South America, always appeared to me to be the most cat-like of all the felidæ. They are very timid, always running from a man on horseback, and, by day at least, from a pedestrian; they run for a short distance in a series of long bounds, at great speed, but soon tire and stand at bay behind or in the midst of a bush, and sitting upon their haunches, spit and swear just like a monstrous tabby; sometimes endeavouring to scratch with their formidable claws, but rarely springing at the pursuer. Mr. Clarke on one occasion had his mantle torn off in this manner. At another time, when hunting in the vicinity of Santa Cruz, I observed from a distance Gonzalez hacking with his knife at a big incense bush, and, on reaching the spot, found him occupied in clearing away branches to allow him to knock a huge puma on the head with his bolas. He was dismounted and attended by his dogs, which bayed the animal. Still, had the puma not been a cur, he could doubtless have sprung out and killed or severely wounded the gaucho. The Indians affirm that the puma will attack a single man alone and on foot, and, indeed, subsequently, an example of this came under my notice; however, if a person should be benighted or lost, he has only to take the precaution of lighting a fire, which these animals will never approach. They are most savage in the early part of the spring or breeding season, when, according to my experience, they are found roaming over the country in an unsettled manner; they are then also thinner than at other times, but, like the wild horse, they are generally pretty fat at all times of the year. The females I saw were sometimes accompanied by two cubs, but never more. The meat of the puma resembles pork, and is good eating, though better boiled than roasted, but one or two Indians of my acquaintance would not touch the meat. The hide is useful either for saddle-cloths or to make mantles of; and owing to its greasy nature it can be softened with less trouble than that of the guanaco. In Santa Cruz one of the men had a pair of trousers made of lion’s skin, which worn with the hair side out was impervious to wet. From the hock and lower part of the hind legs boots may be constructed similar to those made from horse hide, and in common use amongst the Indians and also the gauchos of Plata. These, however, are only made from pumas of large size, and they wear out very quickly. To kill a puma with a gun is rather a difficult matter, as, unless the ball enters his skull, or strikes near the region of the heart, he has as many lives as his relation the cat. I once put three revolver bullets into one, and ultimately had recourse to the bolas as a more effective weapon. When wounded they become very savage, but they are at all times bad customers for dogs, which they maul in a shocking manner. The Indian dogs are trained to stand off and bay them, keeping out of range of the claws; nevertheless they not unfrequently get killed. Perhaps the simplest way of taking the pumas is to throw a lazo over them, as directly they feel the noose they lie down as if dead, and are easily despatched. I was particularly struck, as are all hunters, with their eyes, large, brown, and beautifully bright, but with a fierce glare that does not appeal to any feelings of compassion. I shall never forget the expression in the eyes of one puma, best described by the remark made by one of the Indians as he reined back his horse, expecting a spring: ‘Mira los ojos del diablo!’ (‘Look, what devil’s eyes!’)

One expedition on the northern shore was long remembered and talked of over the fire; and, indeed, might easily have had a very disastrous conclusion.

Towards the latter end of July I proposed to Mr. Clarke that we should proceed on foot, and investigate more closely the bed of fossil shells mentioned as situated on the hills about a mile from the north bank of the river. Accordingly, one morning we prepared to cross the river, and the remainder of the men, hearing of our intentions, volunteered, together with El Sourdo, to accompany us, and, after having visited the hills, to organise a hunting circle on foot: we started about sunrise and crossed the river to the north side, where we secured the boat above high-water mark; we then all proceeded to the hills, investigated the beds of fossil shells, and gathered many beautiful specimens. The hunt was then formed, so many dogs being apportioned to each person, and the circle being directed to close on a point on the bank of the river about three or four miles west of the settlement. The ground was very favourable for our operations, as the dips, or slightly-depressed valleys, hid us from the view of the game. On emerging on the plain at different points we saw several guanacos and some ostriches; and those nearest them slipped their hounds, following on foot at their topmost speed. Mr. Clarke, Isidoro, El Sourdo, and myself were in the centre, and killed amongst us two guanacos and an ostrich. Antonio, who was pointsman, disappeared to the westward with El Cookè, following their dogs in full chase of a herd of guanacos. Our party lit a fire, ate the ostrich, and conveyed what meat we thought advisable to take back with us towards the boat, following the river bank, which was strewn in many places with cornelians and flint-agates, and occasionally with fossilised shells. On our arrival at the boat we launched her down the beach, and, as the wind had by this time risen to a severe gale and the tide was rapidly ebbing, watched anxiously for the return of the two defaulters; for the navigation of the river is at no time very easy, and when the tide is low, even in daylight, nearly impracticable. At length, after dark, when the squalls of bitterly-cold wind had become very violent, we saw fires in the distance, and, almost half an hour afterwards, our missing men appeared, each with a load of meat on his shoulders. They arrived considerably exhausted, so we gave them a rest, and then dogs and all got into the boat and we shoved off, Mr. Clarke steering. We proceeded all right for a few yards, and then stuck on a bank; after several ineffectual efforts to shove the boat off, we all jumped into the water and fairly hove her over the bank until the water was up nearly to our shoulders, and then got in and pulled across. Owing to the violence of the wind and the strength of the current, we only succeeded in landing fully three-quarters of a mile from the house; here we secured the boat, and ran up as fast as we could to get our now frozen clothes off and a drink of hot coffee. We all agreed that on another expedition it would be advisable either to encamp on the northern shore until daylight, or come back early enough to be able to get across while it was possible to see the banks. But the general conclusion was, not to go again at all.

The weather in July was intensely cold, the lowest reading of the thermometer, which was duly examined every morning, being 8°. Washing our clothes became impossible, as during the process the water froze and the garments became stiff as boards. When crossing the ford, if the potro boots of the rider happened, as was not unfrequently the case, to get filled with water, in a few minutes not only were the boots coated with ice, but the inside resembled an ice-pail. The effect of the river ice piled up on the shore by the tides was very striking. Huge floes had accumulated to the height of fifteen feet and upwards, and, besides rendering the passage difficult, had buried the carefully-stacked wood-pile under a small mountain of ice. This was in the comparatively sheltered valley. On the Pampas, when the fierce south wind blew, as it almost invariably did, it seemed impossible to face it and live. One attempt made nearly resulted in Gonzalez being overcome by the sleep which is a forerunner of death, and the horses of all the party absolutely could not advance. The snow lay eighteen inches deep, and we had flattered ourselves that the guanaco and ostrich would prove an easy prey. They could not run—but we could not chase, and were thankful to make our way, slowly and laboriously, down from the desolate and storm-swept Pampas.

The Indians from the Rio Chico occasionally visited us, and Orkeke’s objections to my company were gradually giving way. He had probably feared that an English Señor would require a considerable amount of attention, and give constant trouble; but during our intercourse he found that the stranger could (and did) groom his own horse, and wait on himself generally, as well as take his part in whatever was being done, even to sleeping out with no shelter but the ample guanaco mantle. Casimiro also, according to promise, visited the camp, and argued in my favour, finally obtaining from the chief a somewhat reluctant permission for me to join his party. Towards the end of July some of his Indians had come to the settlement to inform us that the scarcity of game in their vicinity had compelled them to shift their quarters to a place higher up the Rio Chico. They anxiously enquired if the schooner had arrived; we were as eagerly looking for her, but day after day passed, and the looked-for boat did not appear.

On the 24th of July everybody had gone hunting, except Juan Chileno (who was cook for the week), and myself, whom a hurt received in my foot had compelled to remain quiet. I was employed reading a book, ‘Charles Dashwood,’ for perhaps the twentieth time, when Juan came in to say that the hunting party had returned. As it was only ten o’clock, my first idea was that the schooner had arrived with Don Luiz. However, this was dispelled by Juan, who had gone out to reconnoitre, rushing in with the news that ten Chilians had arrived on the south side with twenty-one horses. Shortly afterwards Mr. Clarke himself came in and corroborated the intelligence. These men proved to be deserters, who had escaped by night from Punta Arena, taking with them nearly all the horses in the corral. They had left on the 2nd of July at 2 A.M. Four of the number were those previously recaptured in Santa Cruz, who had been kept in irons and closely confined at night; but by a supreme effort they had broken their chains, and, together with the others who had everything arranged outside the cuartel, had effected their escape. The sufferings these men must have undergone during the twenty-two days’ journey over the Pampas, exposed without shelter to the fierce winds, and sometimes with the snow up to their horses’ girths, must have been something frightful, and many of them were frost bitten. It was out of the question for us to receive them, as our own supplies were failing, and in truth we congratulated ourselves on the horses being secured in the corral, and anxiously watched the movements of the new comers. The party during the afternoon succeeded in crossing the river to the north side, swimming their horses; and disappeared in the direction of the Rio Chico.

By this time even the kind companionship of Mr. Clarke failed to reconcile me to the tedious monotony of our life. The game also became scarcer and scarcer, and the chance of the schooner’s coming appeared so indefinite, that at the beginning of August I began to think it would be better and more amusing to migrate to the Indian camp, where, at any rate, plenty of meat was procurable. Accordingly, when the Indians came over again on a visit on the 7th of August, I bought a horse, or rather changed away a revolver for one (a three year old, newly broken), and started in company with Orkeke, Campan, Cayuke, and Tankelow, four Indians, all of whom were previous acquaintances. Casimiro followed with his family, taking one of the horses from Santa Cruz to assist in the transport of his household. This horse was one I had been accustomed to ride in Santa Cruz, and on arriving at the Indian camp was lent me as a second horse. Shortly after passing the first hills on the northern side, our party not being burdened with women and children, started off at a hand canter, which was kept up until a puma suddenly sprang out of a bush, when chase was immediately given; he, however, got into a thick tangle of incense bushes, from which we tried in vain to dislodge him, and although pelted with stones he lay there spitting like a great cat. Cayuke wished to fire the bush, but Orkeke would not waste time, so we mounted and proceeded on our journey. We continued riding over plains and ridges until about 4 P.M., when we reached a large laguna, close to which grew some high coarse grass and shrubs; here several ostriches were started, and one killed by Orkeke. On reaching the range of hills before described as the southern barrier of the valley of the Rio Chico, we halted, and shortly had the ostrich cooking on a good fire. We looked back for Casimiro, but could not see him, so after supper and a smoke pursued our journey by the soft light of a young moon. As I pointed it out to my companions they all saluted it by putting their hands to their heads, at the same time muttering some unintelligible words. This reminded me of the English custom of turning money at first seeing the new moon. We rode on until about 9 P.M., when we reached the Indian encampment. We had been previously puzzled by seeing fires burning a considerable distance up the valley, and found that our chief, Camillo, had already marched in that direction. One of the first persons who accosted me was Arica, and I shortly discovered that all the Chilians were installed with the Indians in different toldos, which was rather an unpleasant surprise. I was ushered into Orkeke’s toldo with due ceremony, and we took our seats by the fire. I had brought a bag of coffee with me, so we set to work and roasted some, after which one of the Chilians was given the task of pounding it between stones, and we all drank what the Indians not inappropriately term ‘potwater.’ Many Indians crowded in to have a look at us, and amongst others that I noticed was a remarkably pretty little girl of about thirteen years of age, a niece of Orkeke’s, who took some coffee when offered in a shy and bashful manner which was delightful to contemplate. In due time we all retired to rest, and a little before daylight I was woke up by the melodious singing of an Indian in the next toldo. Shortly afterwards Orkeke went out and harangued the inmates of the remaining toldos, and presently the horses were brought up, and most of the men started for the chase. Snow had fallen during the night, a biting cold wind was blowing, and Orkeke told me there were very few animals about. I took this as a hint not to ask for a horse, so contented myself with sauntering round and examining the encampment. Some of the men were playing cards, one or two sleeping, whilst the women were almost universally employed in sewing guanaco mantles. About 3 P.M. Casimiro arrived with his family, and proceeded to the tent of a southern Indian, named Crimè, and shortly afterwards the hunting party returned by twos and threes, but the chase had not been attended with much success. We passed the evening pleasantly enough, making acquaintance with each other, and Keoken, the little girl, instructed me in the Indian names of the various objects about the place. Next morning the order was suddenly given to march. As this was totally unexpected, and I was not prepared for departure, I made up my mind to return at once to Santa Cruz, and fetch my clothes and other small articles; also to take back a colt, promised by an Indian called ‘Tchang’ to Mr. Clarke. After some little difficulty, as the Indians did not wish me to go alone for fear of getting lost, or any other mischance befalling me, Graviel, the youngest son of Casimiro, started with me. We had to take the colt, what a sailor would term, in tow, that is, drag it for some distance with a lazo. As Graviel’s horse was shy, this work fell to my share. Shortly after the start, rain, or rather sleet, came on, and the contrariness of the brute at the end of the lazo claiming all my attention, I could not manage to keep my mantle tight round my shoulders, and getting thoroughly wet, and losing one of my knives, cursed Tchang, colt and all, freely. After a short time, however, when well out of sight of the Indians, I cast off the towing line, and we drove our ‘bête noire’ before us. We returned by a different route to the one travelled on the outward journey, guided a good deal by my pocket compass. Towards nightfall, deceived by the appearance of a hill, I flattered myself that we were near Santa Cruz. But, alas! it was still miles away, and we got into fresh difficulties with our charge, which, being tired, absolutely refused to go down the hill, and had to be taken ‘in tow’ again and dragged along, and it must have been nine or ten before we reached the banks of the river. Here, after unsaddling our horses, we vainly attempted to kindle a fire, but everything, like ourselves, was so saturated with snow and wet that all attempts were fruitless; so, fairly tired out, and without fire or supper, we laid down under a bush, and, ensconced under our mantles, were soon in the land of dreams.

Next morning Graviel acted like a dutiful boy for once in his life, and left in search of the horses. Meanwhile the boat came over, and I was anxious to expedite matters; so, after splashing barefooted through several yards of sharp-edged ice on my way to the boat, which had grounded some distance from the shore, I got over to the island, where I was not sorry to get something to eat and a fire to warm my frozen limbs. I packed up my few things, ready for a start later on; but when the flood-tide made, a heavy gale of wind sprang up, and it was with great difficulty that the boat could bring over Graviel and the colt. The cheerful news also awaited me that my horse was missing, and that Graviel and El Cookè had seen a large puma on the river bank, which had probably watched in close proximity to us whilst sleeping the night before. Owing to the gale, it was impossible to cross that evening, so we made up our minds to stop and sleep on the island.

Next day, my horse not appearing, Mr. Clarke lent me one, sending Isidoro to bring the horse back, in the event of our not meeting with the missing steed. About 4 P.M. I bid adieu to my friend, whose kindness during my stay had proved him a friend indeed. Having shaken hands with the remainder of the boys, who one and all heartily wished me luck, we started; and after vainly searching for the missing horse, rode on till about 10 P.M., when we halted and bivouacked by the side of a laguna. Next morning early we arrived at the Rio Chico, which we crossed on the ice, and about 2 P.M. reached the toldos. The men were away hunting, the smoke of their fires being visible, rising from the higher plains to the northward. As we had eaten nothing since our supper the night before, which was furnished by a small skunk (which, though very palatable, was unfortunately very thin), we were in urgent need of something to eat, and Arica hastened to cook some guanaco meat on the asador or iron spit.

When the hunters arrived, Orkeke gruffly asked Isidoro what he had come for, and seemed, naturally enough, the reverse of pleased at the information of the loss of his horse; and, altogether, the old chief’s behaviour did not seem auspicious; but, without appearing to notice it, I made myself at home in the toldo, and took up my quarters as one of the family.

CHAPTER III.
THE RIO CHICO.

Breaking up of the Camp.—An Idle Day.—A Rash Start.—A Dilemma.—Alone on the Pampa.—Reunion.—The Kau or Toldo.—The Domestic Interior.—The Indian Tribes.—Three Races.—Order of the March.—The Hunt.—Indian Game Law.—Tehuelche Cookery.—Basaltic Hills.—An Indian Festival.—My First Tehuelche Ball.—Mrs. Orkeke’s Spill.—Fording Rio Chico.—A Battle.—Death of Cuastro.—Dangerous Times.—Chilian Conspiracy.—Obsidian Plain and Pass.—First Ostrich Eggs.—Amakaken.—Lifting the Boulder.—The Devil’s Country.—God’s Hill.—Condors and Dinner.—Sunrise on the Cordillera.—The Plague Herald.—Gelgel Aik.—Escape from Matrimony.—Téle.—Eyes of the Desert.—Preparations for War.—Another Fight.—Water Tigers.—Indian Bravoes.—Iron Ores.—Ship Rock.—Perch Fishing.—Appley-kaik.—Casimiro’s Escape.—Arrival at Henno.

The morning after we had rejoined the Indian camp was marked by a general breaking up of the party. Camillo and some others had already left, and by this time were several marches in advance; Orkeke and Isidoro started off to Santa Cruz, in search of the lost horse, and charged with some little commissions for me. Finally, Casimiro and all the rest broke up their encampment and started, intending to overtake Camillo. Before leaving, Casimiro came to me, and affecting great interest in my welfare, confidentially urged me to accompany himself and live as an inmate of his (or rather Crimè’s) toldo, adding that he had been informed that Orkeke had no real intention of marching northward, but designed to keep me in his toldo until, by some means or other, he could possess himself of my arms and ammunition. As I saw no reason to believe this story, I declined to comply with the proposal of Casimiro, who, having consoled himself by begging a little coffee, took his departure, and the encampment was reduced to the toldo, of which I was to consider myself an inmate, and another, belonging to the only Indians who remained—Tankelow, Orkeke’s brother, and his son, a youth of about eighteen. Besides these, there were three of the Chilian deserters who as narrated had escaped from Punta Arena; one was attached to the household of Tankelow, and the other two to that of Orkeke. One of these was Arica, already mentioned, who being a very clever worker in hide, had employed himself in adorning saddles and bridles for the Indians, by which he had acquired a pretty good stock of gear. The condition of all three was, however, not enviable. They had lowered themselves at first by volunteering to discharge the drudgery of fetching wood and water, and by this time were little better than slaves, obliged to perform the menial offices, which before had been the task of the women. These fair creatures, headed by Mrs. Orkeke—a young woman almost six feet in height, and displaying a corresponding breadth across the shoulders—employed themselves in cutting out and sewing guanaco mantles, weaving fillets for the head, and chattering. Tankelow and his son presently started for a hunt; but as I was not offered a mount, and deemed it more reasonable to give my only charger a good rest and feed, I could only accompany them to the river, the frozen surface of which they crossed, and disappeared up a cañon that led up the Barranca, on the northern limit of the valley, to the Upper Pampa. Having wistfully watched them, I reconnoitred the valley of the Rio Chico. Behind me, to the south-east, the river wound through plains covered with withered coarse grass, some eighteen inches high, extending on either bank for several miles till terminated by the rising barranca. Snow lay here and there in patches on some of the higher ground, and increased the dreariness of the prospect. About two leagues below the river divided into two branches, which reunited beyond an island of some extent. Looking up river in a north-westerly direction, the valley soon narrowed in, the southern barranca sloping down to within a couple of miles of our camp; and the view was closed by two remarkable hills resembling fortresses, which seemed to stand on guard on either side. I made a slight sketch of the outlines of the view, which forms the background of the hunting scene.[4] Having strolled back to the toldo, I was greeted by the women with the usual demand, ‘Mon aniwee’—Anglicè, ‘Lend us the pipe,’ which was duly charged and handed round. We then sat and watched the proceedings of Keoken, Tankelow’s pretty little daughter, just budding into womanhood, and a small boy to whom I gave the name of Captain John, who were amusing themselves by catching and riding some of the horses which were tamer than the others. The urchins soon grew tired of their equestrian feats; and, prompted by the spirit of mischief, which seems ever to haunt children, and especially Indian boys, came and begged a match of me. Not suspecting their purpose, I gave them the coveted prize, with which they hurried off in high delight, and in a very few minutes had set fire to the rank, withered herbage, some distance off the toldo, but to the windward. The conflagration was at first unnoticed by us; but at dusk, when Tankelow returned from hunting, with a supply of meat, it was palpably dangerous. So all hands had to set to work, and by dint of tearing up the grass, with great trouble we stopped its progress, which if aided by a breeze in the night would very probably otherwise have consumed the toldo and endangered the inmates. Of the culprits no notice was taken, the occurrence being apparently regarded as all in the day’s work. After our supper off guanaco meat, and a smoke, I turned in, and slept soundly on my Tehuelche bed of hides and bolsters which had been carefully arranged by the tall hostess.

The next day was got through by having a thorough ‘wash’ of my clothes, and cultivating a closer acquaintance with the Chilian Arica, from whom I obtained a dog in exchange for an old guanaco mantle. But as on the third day no signs of the return of Orkeke appeared, the inaction became insupportable, so after the departure on a hunting excursion of Tankelow and his son, Arica and myself determined to start in pursuit of Casimiro and his party. As Arica had no horse, it would be necessary for us to ride and tie; but even thus we could make quick travelling. Accordingly at 2 P.M. we started, much to the astonishment of the ladies, who protested that we were certain to lose our way or be killed by the pumas. One old lady, Orkeke’s sister, after trying in vain to dissuade us, presented me with a slice of charqui, which with a few handfuls of coffee formed our stock of provisions. That day we did not get very far; but in the next march, as the track of the Indians was plain, we had made thirty miles by the time we halted, at nightfall, at a place where another valley from the northward joined that of the Rio Chico. Our charqui had barely sufficed for an evening meal, so this day we satisfied our appetites with a supply of the tuberous roots of a plant which grows in great quantities in most parts of Patagonia.

HUNTING GUANACO AND OSTRICH, VALLEY OF RIO CHICO.

The plant, which in its growth resembles very closely the balsam bog of the Falkland Islands, and might be easily taken for it but for the absence of the gum, which perhaps was attributable to the quality of the soil or the season of the year, is easily recognisable by its mass of tiny green leaflets, and presents the appearance of a small hillock of earth crowned with delicate moss. By digging down into the heap, one large and several small tuberous roots are found, which when roasted in the ashes prove sufficiently palatable to hungry men.

We went to sleep in the open air, rolled up in our guanaco mantles, but awoke to find that a heavy fall of snow had covered everything a foot deep, and totally hidden all trail of the Indians. In this dilemma, quite uncertain which of the two valleys to ascend, and feeling extremely cold, we first looked out for a place of shelter. This was afforded us by a little dell or recess in the side of the barranca, which was thickly overgrown with incense bushes. Betaking ourselves thither, we speedily had a blazing fire kindled, and while warming our chilled limbs held a council. It was decided that I should mount, and proceed to hunt for some food; and then, if the weather moderated, we could proceed. Arica was left in charge of the fire, with a strong caution from me to keep it up, and to make as much smoke as possible, by way of signal to the Indians. After a good deal of difficulty my horse, which was only half broken, and had a playful way of rearing up and striking with his forefeet, was curbed with the leathern thong which forms the Indian bit. I then proceeded to scale the barranca bordering the river valley, and soon reached the desolate undulations of the higher Pampa. As a necessary precaution against losing my way, I was careful to take two or three bearings of conspicuous hills, visible in the northern limits of the valley; for the monotonous and dreary waste of the Pampa, strewn with boulders and shingle, alternated with tufts of grass, presents no track or landmark to guide the wanderer. It was not long before two or three herds of guanaco were sighted; but the dog, which had probably during the night foraged for himself, and found some half-eaten carcase, would not run, and a gallop of some twelve miles proved fruitless. Just as I was about giving up in despair, I observed a herd in a hollow, which I was able to approach unobserved. Knowing that our chance of food for the day depended on success, I warily approached, and then charged, and to my delight succeeded in entangling one with the bolas. He was soon despatched; and while I was busily cutting off a supply of meat, to my sudden surprise an Indian came galloping up. The newcomer proved to be Tankelow, who was in search of me. He brought word that Orkeke had found the strayed horse, and had returned; and that the party were marching as fast as they could to overtake Casimiro. He had been detached, partly to hunt and partly to find us. In reply to my inquiries about Arica, he assured me that he was all right, and as there seemed no reason for disbelieving the statement, we speedily rode back to the party, and rejoined them on the march; being received with shouts of laughter by the ladies; but as Arica was nowhere to be seen, I expressed my determination to ride back in search of him. This, however, they would not allow, but despatched a mounted Indian and spare horse to bring him in, and a good piece of meat for his refreshment. We then proceeded at a brisk rate, and by nightfall reached the camp. Orkeke at first seemed rather to resent my having started off alone, as if it argued a want of confidence in him; but his delight at having recovered his horse assisted him to recover his good humour. Mr. Clarke had sent me by him some powder, which he said he had lost, and some articles, such as linen and tobacco, and my presenting them all to him quite did away with any traces of ill feeling.

The several detachments were all now reunited, and the party mustered altogether, besides the Chilians and myself, eighteen able-bodied Tehuelche or Patagonian men, with a proportionate number of women and children. The most important among the Indians were Orkeke, the actual cacique, and his brother Tankelow, who possessed the greater number of horses; Casimiro, whose leadership was still rather in posse; Camillo, Crimè, Cuastro, Cayuke, &c. One more must be mentioned by name, Wáki; a perfect Hercules in bodily frame, and a thoroughly good-natured fellow, with whom I became great friends. Of all these men, who were in the camp by the Rio Chico on August 15, but eight survived to reach the Rio Negro in the following May; the rest had, at one time or another, been killed or had died. The secret feuds, which were before long to endanger the safety of us all, were as yet concealed, and all appeared to be good friends. The whole were housed in five toldos—by which Spanish name the Indian kau, or tents, strongly resembling those of our own gipsies, are known. They were pitched in a sheltered hollow, with their fronts facing the east, to avoid the bitter violence of the prevalent westerly winds.

Fitzroy has given an excellent description of the toldo; but to those readers who are unacquainted with it a brief sketch will not be unacceptable. A row of forked posts about three feet high is driven into the ground in a slightly slanting position, and a ridge pole laid across them; in front of these, at a distance of about seven feet, a second row, six feet high, with a ridge pole; and at the same distance from them a third row, eight feet high, each slanting a little, but not at the same angle. A covering made of from forty to fifty full grown guanaco skins, smeared with a mixture of grease and red ochre, is drawn over from the rear, and the great drag of the heavy covering straightens the poles; it is then secured by thongs to the front poles, while hide curtains fastened between the inner poles partition off the sleeping places, and the baggage piled round the sides of the tent excludes the cold blast which penetrates under the edge of the covering. The fire is kindled in the fore part, or ‘mouth of the tent.’ In very bad weather, or when encamped for the winter, an additional covering is secured to the front poles and brought down over an extra row of short posts, making all snug. It is a common arrangement for relatives or friends to combine their toldos, when, instead of bringing down the coverings to the ground at the side, they are made to overlap, and thus one tent roof will cover two or three distinct domestic interiors.

The furniture of the toldos consists of one or two bolsters and a horse hide or two to each sleeping compartment, one to act as a curtain and the other for bedding. The bolsters are made of old ponchos, or lechus, otherwise called mandils, woven blankets obtained from the Araucanos, who are famous for their manufacture, stuffed with guanaco wool and sewn up with ostrich or guanaco sinews. The bolsters do duty as pillows or as seats, and help to form the women’s saddles on the march. Besides these, the women all own mandils for their beds. The men occasionally use the cloths worn under the saddles for seats when the ground is damp, but as a rule all the inmates of the toldo squat upon Nature’s carpet, which has the advantage of being easily cleaned, for the Tehuelches are very particular about the cleanliness of the interior of their dwellings, and a patch of sod accidentally befouled is at once cut out and thrown outside by the women.

The cooking utensils are simple, consisting of an asador, or iron spit, for roasting meat, and an occasional iron pot, which serves for boiling and also for trying out ostrich grease and marrow, which is employed both for cooking and for mixing with the paint with which the faces of both sexes are adorned. To these, wooden platters and armadillo shells, to serve broth in, are sometimes added. The duty of pitching and arranging the toldos on the halt and striking them for the march, as well as loading the poles, covering, and furniture on the horses, devolves entirely upon the women, who display great strength and dexterity in the work.

About the toldos were innumerable dogs of all sizes and breeds, and Mrs. Orkeke rejoiced in the possession of two fowls brought from the settlement, and the all important possession of the Indians, horses, completed the bustling liveliness of the scene. There were not less than 150 belonging to the various members of the party, Orkeke and Tankelow owning about forty, besides mares and skittish colts of all ages, which ran about so that they could not be counted. The reader can imagine what a scene the march and encampment of such a party presents, and the care with which the Indians must select their route so as to be sure of game for themselves and pasture for their animals. Of the dogs and horses in use by the Tehuelches a fuller description will be given hereafter.

But, to convey a clear understanding of the relations between the tribes which will be mentioned in the ensuing pages, it is as well here briefly to distinguish them. In the various maps and accounts of Patagonia extant, numerous tribes, with different names, are marked and recorded. These accounts, so far as my observations enabled me to judge, have arisen from the custom of parties of the tribe combining to travel or fight under the leadership of a particular chief, and being described by themselves, when met with, by his name. I have been enabled to recognise thus the Moluches, who were so called from Malechou, a hereditary chief of that name; and the celebrated chief Lenketrou united under his leadership men of several tribes, and is said to have commanded 1,500 men in his great raid on the Rio Negro settlements. There are now between the Rio Negro and the Straits about 500 fighting men, giving at a rough estimate a population of about 3,000. The Tehuelches, or Patagonians proper, exclusive of the Foot Indians of Tierra del Fuego—who are distinct, though they may be of the same original stock—are divided into two great tribes, the Northern and Southern. They speak the same language, but are distinguishable by difference of accent, and the Southern men appear to be, on an average, taller and finer men, and are more expert hunters with the bolas. The Northern range chiefly over the district between the Cordillera and the sea; from the Rio Negro on the north to the Chupat, occasionally descending as far as the Santa Cruz River. The Southern occupy the country south of the Santa Cruz, and migrate as far as Punta Arena. The two divisions, however, are much intermixed and frequently intermarry; always, notwithstanding, preserving their clannish division, and taking opposite sides in the frequent quarrels. Our party was composed in almost equal parts of both Northern and Southern, and one inmate of our toldo was a Southern named Hummums, a brother of Mrs. Orkeke. From the Rio Negro as far as the Chupat, another tribe, speaking a different language, is met with, having their head-quarters at the Salinas, north of the Rio Negro. These are the Pampas, called by the Tehuelches ‘Penck,’ whence I believe the name Pehuelche has been corrupted. Several clans of this nation extend over the plains north of Rio Negro, and make frequent inroads into the Argentine settlements as far as the province of Santa Fé, and even, I believe, to Cordova and Mendoza. The Pampas of the north of Patagonia sometimes keep cattle and sheep, but generally subsist by the chase. A third tribe appear, by their language and physique, to be a branch of the Araucanos of Chili. These are the people called by the Tehuelches Chenna, and also the Warriors; they are otherwise known as Manzaneros, from their head-quarters Las Manzanas, so named from the groves of apple trees; once a station of the early Jesuit missionaries, who vainly endeavoured to convert and civilise these tribes. They are less migratory and more civilised in their habits than the Tehuelches, and are said to keep herds of cattle and sheep in the sheltered valleys of the Cordillera, and sometimes till a little maize. I do not know whether the Jesuit Fathers taught their disciples the art or no, but from the apples of Las Manzanas these Indians brew a very tolerable cider, besides making an intoxicating liquor from the beans of the algarroba. The Tehuelches altogether depend for their stimulants on the chance supplies of rum procured in trade at the settlements, and this and disease, small-pox especially, are rapidly diminishing their numbers.

We remained in our encampment by the Rio Chico for one day, during which the missing Arica arrived. He was received with very black looks by Orkeke, who from this time, although still allowing him a place in his toldo, and a horse to ride, seemed to have conceived a violent aversion to him, which argued badly for the Chilian’s future safety. It appeared that during my absence he had given way to the desire of providing something to eat, and had left the fire to burn out, while he foraged for roots. On returning he saw a huge puma couched by the extinct ashes of the fire. Just, however, as Arica was about to fire the revolver which I had lent him, the beast bounded away into the bushes. But as he was convinced that the puma was close at hand waiting for an opportunity to attack, he spent several hours on the watch with his revolver ready. His delight may be imagined when, worn out with want of food and rest, he was relieved by the arrival of the Indian with the meat and a horse for him to ride.

The next day we made a short march up the river valley, the caravan of women and horses, as usual, proceeding along the track, while the men hunted in the adjacent plains. I was fortunate enough in the hunt to kill a guanaco and an ostrich, and duly shared them with Casimiro. The order of march and method of hunting which constitute the daily routine are as follows: the Cacique, who has the ordering of the marching and hunting, comes out of his toldo at daylight, sometimes indeed before, and delivers a loud oration, describing the order of march, the appointed place of hunting, and the general programme; he then exhorts the young men to catch and bring up the horses, and be alert and active in the hunt, enforcing his admonition, by way of a wind up, with a boastful relation of his own deeds of prowess when he was young. Sometimes the women, while the chief is haranguing, rekindle or blow up the embers of the fire and prepare a slight breakfast, but not invariably. Some cold meat is also occasionally reserved from the evening meal, and placed in a hide bag to be carried with them on the march, to be given to the children when they are hungry. But the general custom for the men is to wait until the day’s hunt has supplied fresh meat. When the Cacique’s ‘oration’—which is very little attended to—is over, the young men and boys lazo and bring up the horses, and the women place on their backs the bolsters of reeds, tied with hide thongs, mantles, and coloured blankets, which form their saddles; others are strapping their belts on, or putting their babies into wicker-work cradles, or rolling up the skins that form the coverings of the toldos, and placing them and the poles on the baggage-horses; last of all the small breakers, which are carried on the march, are filled with water. The women mount by means of a sling round the horses’ necks, and sit astride of their bolster-saddles; their babies—if they possess any—and their pet dogs are hoisted up, the babies being stowed in the cradles behind them; then they take their baggage-horses in tow and start off in single file. The men, who generally wait until all are ready, then drive the spare horses for a short distance, and having handed them over to the charge of their wives or daughters, retire to a neighbouring bush, where a fire is kindled, pipes are lighted, and the hunt commenced in the following manner:—Two men start off and ride at a gallop round a certain area of country, varying according to the number of the party, lighting fires at intervals to mark their track. After the lapse of a few minutes two others are despatched, and so on until only a few are left with the cacique. These spread themselves out in a crescent, closing in and narrowing the circle on a point where those first started have by this time arrived. The crescent rests on a baseline formed by the slowly-proceeding line of women, children, and baggage-horses. The ostriches and herds of guanaco run from the advancing party, but are checked by the pointsmen, and when the circle is well closed in are attacked with the bolas, two men frequently chasing the same animal from different sides. The dogs also assist in the chase, but the Indians are so quick and expert with the bolas that unless their horses are tired, or they happen to have gambled away their bolas, the dogs are not much called into use. Puma are very frequently found in the circles, and quickly despatched by a blow on the head from a ball. On one occasion I saw Wáki completely crush, by a single blow, the skull of an unusually large one. The Indian law of division of the game prevents all disputes, and is as follows: The man who balls the ostrich leaves it for the other, who has been chasing with him, to carry or take charge of, and at the end of the hunt it is divided; the feathers and body from the head to the breast-bone and one leg belonging to the captor, the remainder to the assistant. In the case of guanaco, the first takes the best half in the same manner; the lungs, heart, liver, kidneys, and the fat and marrow bones are sometimes eaten raw. The Tehuelches also cut out the fat over the eyes, and the gristly fat between the thigh joints, which they eat with great gusto, as also the heart and blood of the ostrich. Owing to the entire absence of farinaceous food, fat becomes a necessary article of diet, and can be consumed in much larger quantities than in more civilised countries. That this is not merely owing to the inclemency of the climate is proved by the appetite for fat which the gauchos in the Argentine provinces acquire. When the hunt is finished, and the birds cut up and divided, fires are kindled, and whilst stones are heating the ostrich is plucked, the wing feathers being carefully tied together with a piece of sinew. The bird is then laid on its back and drawn; the legs are carefully skinned down, and the bone taken out, leaving the skin; the carcase is then separated into two halves, and the backbone having been extracted from the lower half, and the meat sliced so as to admit the heated stones laid in between the sections, it is tied up like a bag, secured by the skin of the legs, with a small bone thrust through to keep all taut; this is placed on the live embers of the fire, a light blaze being kindled when it is nearly done to perfectly roast the outside meat. During the process of cooking it has to be turned frequently to ensure all parts being thoroughly cooked. When ready it is taken off the fire, and the top part being cut off and the stones extracted, the broth and meat are found deliciously cooked. The party, generally consisting of twos or fours, sit round the dish and eat the meat, sopping it in the broth. The back part, which consists nearly altogether of fat (when the ostrich is in good condition), is then divided, pieces being given to each, and reserved as tid bits for the women and children. When the head and breast half are to be cooked, the bone is not extracted, but the wings turned inside and the breast cavity filled with heated stones, and tied up with half of the skin of the legs, which have been divided, additional pieces of meat from the legs having been placed in the breast cavity. The fat of the breast is divided amongst the party at the fireside, the owner in all cases reserving none or a very small piece for himself, as the others who are cooking at the same fire are sure to give him plenty. The cacique generally receives the largest share, or if he is not present, the greatest friends of the owner. The wing feathers are carefully taken to the toldos and stored with others for future trade. The ostrich is most thoroughly eaten; the gizzard, which is large enough to fill both hands, being carefully cooked by the insertion of a hot stone and roasted; the eyes, too, are sucked, and the tripe devoured; but when the birds are thin they are simply skinned, and the carcase left to the pumas. After the meal, concluding the hunt, is finished, a pipe is handed round, saddles are re-adjusted, and the game placed on them, and the party adjourn to the toldos, which by this time have been pitched and arranged by the women.

Guanaco are not much killed, unless a long stay in a place is intended, or an Indian feels inclined for blood, or ostriches, which are always eaten in preference, are scarce. The meat of the guanaco is, however, excellent; the haunches are generally what is termed in Spanish ‘charqueared,’ which means that the meat is cut off in thin slices, and, after a little salt has been sprinkled over it, is dried in the sun. When thoroughly dried it is roasted in the ashes, pounded between two stones, and mixed with ostrich or other grease; this preparation, like pemmican, is very useful for a man going a long journey, as it can be carried in a small compass, and a mere handful satisfies the appetite.

START FROM THE CAMP AT MÔWAISH OR WINDOW HILL.

It would be tedious to describe every day’s march, and the routine of hunting, as we made our way slowly up the valley of the Rio Chico, which was still frozen over. The weather was cold, and occasional showers of snow accompanied the strong piercing westerly winds which blew every day. The valley sometimes opened out into wide grass-covered plains, dotted with incense-bushes, then rose again in huge bare ridge and furrow-like undulations. Occasionally there occurred patches of swampy ground with frozen lagoons, and here and there open springs, the resort of numerous waterfowl. The hills on the northern side appeared bare and rugged, rising abruptly out of irregular forms, while the southern heights were lower, and presented more of the steep declivities known as barrancas, interrupted at intervals by high rugged hills of basalt, often assuming the appearance of ruined castles, closing in at the bends of the winding river. To one of these—a remarkable hill under which we were encamped on August 23, about 120 miles from Santa Cruz—I gave the name of Sierra Ventana, from a window-like opening through its peak; the Indians called it Môwaish. (See [Illustration].) In many places the bases of these hills were formed entirely of a description of lava, and one of the Chilians informed me that whilst passing over a ridge, he had observed several large masses of pure iron: this, however, I was inclined to disbelieve, as although farther up the country iron ore exists in large quantities, I only observed in this part a species of ore similar to that common at Drobak, in Norway.

On one occasion, while marching, we observed smoke in our rear, which was thought to be caused either by a messenger in search of us announcing the arrival of the schooner, or else by a party of the Southern Indians who had some idea of marching north. However, no scout was sent back to discover the truth, so we remained in ignorance. On the 26th we halted, and encamped by the side of the river in a broad opening of the valley; here there was a lagoon, not completely frozen, in which grew a description of flag, of which the root, or rather lower stem, is eaten by the Indians, and is succulent and juicy, with a pleasant taste. The boys and girls soon brought a large supply into the toldos. The day after our arrival in this place, the attainment of the age of puberty of one of the girls was celebrated according to custom. Early in the morning the father of the child informed the cacique of the event, the cacique thereupon officially communicated the intelligence to the acting doctor or medicine-man, and a considerable shouting was set up, while the doctor adorned himself with white paint and was bled in the forehead and arms with a sharp bodkin. The women immediately set to work to sew a number of ‘mandils’ together. When the patchwork was finished, it was taken with pomp and ceremony by a band of young men, who marched round the poles—already fixed to form a temporary toldo—singing, whilst the women joined in with the most dismal incantations and howlings. After marching round several times, the covering was drawn over the poles, and lances were stuck in front, adorned with bells, streamers, and brass plates that shook and rattled in the breeze, the whole thing when erected presenting a very gay appearance (its Indian name literally meaning ‘The pretty house’). The girl was then placed in an inner part of the tent, where nobody was admitted. After this everybody mounted, and some were selected to bring up the horses, out of which certain mares and fillies were chosen, and brought up in front of the showy toldo, where they were knocked on the head by a ball—thus saving the blood (which was secured in pots) to be cooked, being considered a great delicacy. It is a rule amongst the Indians that anyone assisting to take off the hide of a slaughtered mare is entitled to a piece of meat, but the flesh was on this occasion distributed pretty equally all round. Whilst the meat was cooking, Casimiro, who was ruler of the feast, sent a message for me to come to Crimè’s toldo, where I found him busy working at a saddle, in the construction of which he was, by the way, an adept. His wife had a large iron pot bubbling on the fire, containing some of the blood mixed with grease. When the mess was nearly cooked, we added a little pepper and salt, and commenced the feast. Previous to this I had felt a sort of repugnance to eating horse, as perhaps most Englishmen—except, indeed, the professed hippophagists—have; but hunger overcame all scruples, and I soon acquired quite a taste for this meat. On this occasion everybody ate where they liked, in their own toldos. Casimiro informed me, after the meal was concluded, that there would be a dance in the evening. I looked forward with great anticipation to this ‘small and early,’ and shortly saw some of the women proceed to collect a considerable quantity of firewood, which was placed outside the tent. Presently, towards dusk, a fire was made, first outside the sacred precincts. The women all sat down on the grass round about, but at some distance from the men, who were all seated on the grass, except four and the musicians. The orchestra consisted of a drum made by stretching a piece of hide over a bowl, also a sort of wind instrument formed of the thigh-bone of a guanaco, with holes bored in it, which is placed to the mouth and played, or with a short bow having a horsehair string. When all was ready, some of the old hags all the time singing in their melodious way, the band struck up, and four Indians, muffled up in blankets, so that their eyes only were visible, and their heads adorned with ostrich plumes, marched into the ring, and commenced pacing slowly round the fire, keeping time to the music. After two or three promenades, the time gradually quickened, until they went at a sort of trot; and about the fifth round, dancing fast to the music, they threw away their mantles, and exhibited themselves adorned with white paint daubed all over their bodies, and each having a girdle of bells extending from the shoulder to the hip, which jingled in tune to their steps. The first four consisted of the chiefs Casimiro, Orkeke, Crimè, and Camillo, who, after dancing with great action (just avoiding stepping into the fire), and bowing their plumed heads grotesquely on either side to the beats of the drum, retired for a short time to rest themselves, after which they appeared again and danced a different step. When that was over four more appeared, and so on, until everyone, including the boys, had had a fling. Sometimes, to give greater effect, the performers carried a bunch of rushes in one hand. About 9 P.M., everybody having had enough, Casimiro gave the sign. The band stopped playing, and all retired to bed. The dancing was not ungraceful, but was rendered grotesque by the absurd motions of the head. It was strictly confined to the men, the women being only allowed to look on.

On the second day’s march from the scene of my first Indian ball we crossed a rocky ridge abounding with a description of vesicular lava; the ridge ran out from the southern limits of the valley and terminated in precipitous cliffs, round the base of which wound the river. The surface of the ridge was fissured in many places with deep chasms like Alpine crevasses, on the brink of one of which my horse stopped just in time to escape a fall. The caravan had gone a more circuitous route to take advantage of the lowest and easiest crest. On the other side of the ridge the valley suddenly spread out to the extent of several miles, and on the western horizon a line of snowy peaks was visible, their summits capped with clouds: this was our first view of the Cordillera. The low ground was cut up by streams and small lakelets of water, formed by the overflow of a small fork of the river, which glistening in the afternoon sunshine presented a beautiful silvery appearance, very refreshing to the eye wearied with alternate gazing on withered grass and black volcanic rocks. However beautiful to look at, this scene would clearly prove difficult travelling, so a halt was called, and our course debated on; ultimately it was resolved to cross the river and encamp on the northern bank, where the ground was higher and free from floods, so loads were carefully adjusted, and children transferred to the arms of the men, to give the women more freedom of action; baggage-horses were also taken in tow by the young men, and Casimiro and another volunteering to lead the van and act as pilots, we proceeded to make our way to the river-bank, which rose by a gradual elevation from the lower inundated plain. After much floundering about in water-holes, and various spills, which caused great merriment, especially when Mrs. Orkeke and all her gear came down by the run, an iron kettle of which she was very proud clattering down so as to frighten several of the horses into what threatened to become a general stampede, the bank was safely reached; the river was swollen high, and its rapid current running six or seven miles an hour, was bringing down huge sharp-edged masses of ice. It seemed almost impossible for the women and baggage animals to cross. However, Orkeke, taking a long pole to sound with, led the way, and by watching their opportunity to dodge the floating ice, which cut the horses’ and riders’ legs cruelly, all got safely over. A wilder scene could hardly be imagined—dogs howling on the bank fearing to pass, women singing out to their various friends and relations, and here and there an adventurous Indian, who scorned to go by the ford with the rest, disappearing for a second in the river, horse and all, but ultimately emerging some distance down the stream. The water was bitterly cold, as may be imagined, and the piercing wind benumbed our dripping bodies; so on arriving at the north bank, where there were some small sandy hillocks, we kindled a large fire, and had a warm and a smoke whilst the women were employed pitching the toldos. It had been decided to remain here some days and then proceed to the vicinity of the Cordillera for the purpose of catching wild horses. But, as will be seen shortly, ‘l’homme propose et Dieu dispose.’ Looking up towards the Cordillera from our encampment, the valley appeared to expand a few miles up into one immense plain, and the Indians informed me that before reaching the mountains there is a great drop or basin where the wild horses are found. This was probably, at the period of our visit, a vast sheet of water from the melting snows. Lake Viedma lies some miles to the southward from the head of the valley, and I should be inclined to think that the course of the Rio Chico, which undoubtedly flows from it, would be found to come from the south to north, and bend easterly at the head of the valley, where it unites the numerous streams as described by Viedma in his journey in 1580. I am also inclined to think that Viedma being taken twice across the Rio Chico mistook the river at the second crossing for another, which he has marked as the Chalia, a name, by the way, unknown to the Indians, save as applied to an unsavoury parasite only too common among them. The following morning, September 2, we were sitting quietly round the fire discussing a breakfast of boiled ostrich prepared by the lady of the house, when suddenly the clash of knives was heard, and we saw two Indians, destitute of mantles, with naked swords in their hands, run across from Camillo’s to Crimè’s toldo. In a minute everything was in an uproar; arms were produced, guns and revolvers loaded, and some of the Indians equipped themselves in coats of mail, and others, with the assistance of the women, padded themselves about the chest and upper part of the body with thick blankets and corconillas or saddle-cloths. Knowing what was about to happen, the women, and with them all the Chilian deserters except one, beat a retreat to a safe distance from the toldos. Having assumed my arms, and feeling thoroughly mystified as to the real cause of this excitement, I went to Camillo’s toldo, where the scene explained itself. He was lying on his bed dead, with a frightful gash in his side, having been murdered by Cuastro, one of the Indians whom we had seen running to Crimè’s tents. On issuing from the toldo Casimiro met me, and asked for a revolver, as he had no firearms, and I lent him one accordingly. The Indians showed by their changed countenances all the fury of fight; their very complexions seemed ghastly, and their eyes glared and rolled, seeming to see blood. The two opposing parties, the Southern Indians—friends of Crimè, who was a cousin of Cuastro—and Orkeke’s and Casimiro’s people or the Northern party, were soon ranged in open line at some twenty yards distance from each other. Cuastro was conspicuous by his tunic or ‘buff coat’ of hide studded with silver, while his only weapon was a single sword or rapier. The fight commenced with an irregular discharge of guns and revolvers, which lasted a few minutes, till some of the Northern or Orkeke’s Indians, led by Casimiro, closed up, and a hand to hand contest with swords and lances took place, resulting in the death of Cuastro and the severe wounding of two or three Southern Indians. The Northerns then drew off to reload, and were about to renew the action, when Tankelow proposed a truce, which was accepted on the understanding that both parties were to march at once in the same direction. The women and children were then recalled from the bushes whither they had retired, the horses brought up, and the dead buried. The Tehuelches’ lance is entirely different to that of the Araucanos or Pampas, and is only used when fighting on foot; it consists of a heavy shaft eighteen feet in length, at the extremity of which a blade is fixed about eighteen inches long, constituting a most formidable weapon in the hands of an expert Indian. Cayuke, whom I have before mentioned, in this fight was armed with the lance, and ran Cuastro through the body, although protected by his mail and endeavouring to parry the point with a sword. This Cuastro was a brave man; when dying, with several bullets in his body, and several lance thrusts, he sprang up to his full height and called out, ‘I die as I have lived—no cacique orders me;’ his wife then rushed up to him crying and sobbing, but he fell down dead at the same moment. Casimiro had a narrow escape; he parried a blow of a sword with what may be termed the slack part of his mantle, but if the blow had caught him on the head, as intended, it would have ended his career then and there. The casualties were a wound in Crimè’s leg, and a lance thrust clean through the thigh of Hummums, a young Indian, who seemed to care very little about it. The fight originated out of a vendetta between Cuastro and Camillo, the latter having some years before caused the death of a member of the family of the former, who had on a previous occasion endeavoured to avenge it on Camillo, and he had only attached himself to our party, in company with Crimè, in order to obtain an opportunity of assassinating Camillo. This Cuastro had been suspected on good grounds of making away with Mendoza, the Argentine sent from Buenos Ayres in company with Casimiro, and who mysteriously disappeared; and he had certainly, when under the influence of rum, at Santa Cruz, murdered his own wife Juana, a daughter of Casimiro, so that brave as he was he had richly deserved the fate he met with.

After the obsequies of the dead had been hurriedly performed—a description of which is reserved for another place—the tents were struck, and all marched off, the men remaining armed, and each party travelling separately. Cayuke was sent back some miles to ascertain if there were any signs of the other Southern Indians, who were half expected to overtake us; but he returned some hours later with no intelligence. We marched a few miles up the valley, rather coasting the northern hills, and encamped by a most beautiful circular spring, the water bubbling up through pure white sand and forming a tiny brook, while little fishes darted across in the basin. The Indians still remained with arms ready to hand—were very silent and ate nothing. Several of the Northerns came into our toldo towards evening, and remained a long time conversing by the embers of the fire, and ever and anon one of the widows of the deceased would break out into a wail of lamentation, sobbing in the most dismal and melancholy manner, the lament at times being taken up by some of the older hags.

On the following day Crimè sent for me to dress his leg, imagining, of course, that I understood surgery; so I washed the wound and bandaged it with cold water bandages, which appeared to be successful, as in a few days it inconvenienced him but little. Thence proceeding to Casimiro’s toldo—the smallest I ever saw—I got him to cover my saddle with a guanaco skin I had obtained on the road. The children appeared to be the only members of the party unaffected by the prevailing gloom. They had found a snow-bank in a nook, and amused themselves sliding down it on a bit of wood à la Russe. This evening things looked very black again. A consultation was held in Orkeke’s toldo, and although it was carried on in a low tone, and I was little conversant with the Tehuelche tongue, I heard my name frequently mentioned in connection with a revolver, and also the Chilians. I was much puzzled at what was going on, but as Mrs. Orkeke brought me some supper in the most gracious and smiling manner, did not trouble myself more than to overhaul my arms quietly, and see they were ready for use. I subsequently found out that a plot had been set on foot amongst the Chilians to rise, rob, and murder the Indians, and escape with the horses. Some, however, my informant among the number, refused to join. The Indians, who are naturally quick-sighted, had conceived a suspicion that all was not right, and were debating whether it would not be better to kill the Chilians at once, before they became more troublesome; but Casimiro prevailed on them to let them remain until they did something to necessitate their destruction; and so they escaped for the present.

September 5th, at an early hour, we were awoke by Orkeke’s marching harangue; and after coasting the hills bordering the valley for a few miles, bade adieu to the valley of the Rio Chico, and struck into a gorge of the northern hills, leading into an uneven valley lying between low irregular hills of decomposed lava, which we followed, passing several small lagoons in the lower hollows, around which there was invariably a yellow description of clay. The hills were everywhere covered with scrub, and presented a wild, bleak appearance, the grey rocks only appearing now and then. After some hours’ travelling through this dismal district in a north-west course, we emerged on a large plain at the western side, bounded by a range of hills 1,000 feet high, forming a spur of the Cordillera. The weather was stormy, and we could only catch occasional glimpses, through the driving clouds and snow-storms, of the loftier peaks of the more distant mountains. Our expedition in search of wild horses was, of course, after the recent troubles, abandoned; and forced marches, to escape the Southern Indians, in the event of their following from Santa Cruz, were the order of the day. Hunting, however, was resumed by the unwounded, and several ostriches were caught during the day. Towards evening the encampment was fixed near a lagoon, the environs of which were barren, and destitute of anything except a small low shrub which served for firewood. Although the wind was northerly, it was bitterly cold; and as I had for some days past adopted the native costume—keeping my ‘store clothes’ stowed away under charge of Mrs. Orkeke—I felt it exceedingly. The 6th, 7th, and 8th of September were occupied in making forced marches northward, accompanied by the usual hunting; and although both parties continued armed, and appeared to be rather suspicious of each other, things went on pretty smoothly. The country traversed on the 6th and 7th was a large arid plain, dotted with a few stunted shrubs, enclosed by the before-mentioned spur of the Cordillera on the western side, and on the east by a low range of sandy-looking hills. The whole of this plain was strewn with small pebbles of porphyry, quartz, silica, and obsidian; also with small pieces of silicified wood. On the 8th we crossed the spur by a pass walled on either hand with rocks of vesicular lava. Here we halted for a quarter of an hour, and everyone broke off pieces of stone suitable for making hand-balls for bolas. The descent on the western side was no easy matter, the declivity being strewn with large masses of rock and loose boulders, and the wind blowing bitterly cold, and with such force that some of the women’s horses could hardly face it. Ultimately all managed to reach a spacious elevated pampa, on the western side of which, some fifteen leagues off, rose the Cordillera of the Andes. In the pass I observed several large pieces of obsidian, so clear and peculiarly round-shaped that I at first imagined that a demijohn had been carried thither by some previous party and broken. Of this the women gathered some pieces, to serve as scrapers for cleaning guanaco skins. We traversed the usual barren high pampa—interspersed with low shrubs, coarse grass, and here and there an incense bush of considerable size, which afforded a moment’s shelter from the cutting wind—for some distance, till we at length reached a cliff, below which lay a grassy plain, watered by a small, rapid stream. About thirty miles in the background were visible the lofty mountains of the Cordillera. The inviting appearance of the pasture determined us to remain for a couple of days to rest the horses, after the unusually long marches of the preceding days. The following day was occupied chiefly in making hand-balls for bolas from the soft porous stone obtained in the rocky pass. Towards noon a frightful gale of wind sprang up, which blew down most of the toldos; but ours, thanks to the strength of arm of Mrs. Orkeke, who had securely fixed the poles, remained firm, only one or two of the poles being broken. The river, here flowing in an eastward direction, was the first stream met with since leaving the valley of the Rio Chico. In the descent to it, the bench formation, although recognisable, was not so much marked as in many of the other rivers. After two days’ rest, we resumed our journey; and having traversed the grassy valley for, perhaps, a mile, ascended a slight ridge to a higher plain of the usual sterile nature, in which the first ostrich eggs met with were found. Our course was directed nearly north-west, to a range of hills 800 feet in height; on their summit was a plateau strewn with large stones and rocks.

We formed another hunt, in which numerous ostriches and several pumas were killed. From the western side of the plateau we overlooked a large plain, extending to the immediate vicinity of the mountains, but near the side of which there appeared to be a cutting or steep descent, just like a railway embankment. As it had been announced in the cacique’s address that we were to encamp near a spring on the eastern side, and I had killed an ostrich, which, after giving a sharp run of half a mile, had been turned by the cavalcade of women, I proceeded in company with Casimiro and another to have some dinner. We accordingly selected a bush, cooked, and ate our bird, and at the conclusion of our meal mounted and proceeded to where we expected to find the encampment. But, arriving at the spot, we found nobody, and looking over the plain caught a glimpse of a belated woman just vanishing down the cutting above mentioned. We accordingly followed, and an hour’s gallop brought us up with the remainder. The sun had set, but the light of a young moon enabled us to make our way to the second bench. I may say the formation altogether much resembled that of the river Cuheyli; but the river which flowed in this valley was of small size, although, as we found, the banks were boggy and almost impracticable. The moon had by this time set, and after a considerable deal of confusion in the dark, all got across, and night being far advanced encamped about a mile to the northward. When daylight enabled us to examine the locality, we found ourselves in a valley, walled in by lofty abrupt cliffs on both sides, while a stream—bordered by marshes, containing numerous snipe and teal—flowed swiftly down the centre of the glen. To the north the valley appeared to bend westwards, so having nothing to do, I strolled up to the turn and found that the high cliffs ceased, and were replaced by the ordinary steep barrancas, covered from the top to the bottom with incense bushes. The valley nowhere exceeded a mile in width, and the gloom and oppressive effect of the prison-like walls of cliff rendered it by no means a desirable place of abode, but the pasture skirting the marsh was green and luxuriantly tender. While I was endeavouring to secure some ducks and teal with the bolas, two of the Chilians came up searching for firewood. They bitterly bewailed their lot in having to work and slave for a parcel of savages, but finally forgot their grievances in a slumber under a bush. Not caring to be supposed to have been in their company, I returned to the camp, and examined the rocks, which were different to those previously observed, showing in many places granite, with schistose veins, and what appeared to be a species of grey marble. A stay was made in this place of some four days, and would have been longer, but that on the third day some of the party, chiefly boys, who had strolled away a short distance, balling small birds, came in with the news that Indians were coming from the south. A scout was immediately sent out, horses brought up, and arms got ready. Casimiro came to me for a supply of cartridges for the revolver, saying, ‘Now we shall have to fight; for if those Southern Indians beat us, they will spare neither man, woman, nor child.’ This was cheering news, seeing that the odds were likely to be about ten to one against our side. However, just as we were mounting, the scout returned with the news that he had found no traces of Indians; the supposed enemy being only a troop of guanaco coming down to water. Cayuke, on its being ascertained that there was really no danger, had one of his horses killed as a thank offering; the meat of course being distributed for food amongst his friends. There is in this place, which is called by the Indians ‘Amakaken,’ a large spherical boulder of marble, which it is the custom of the Indians to try their strength by lifting. Casimiro informed me that this stone had been there for many years, and the custom was very old. It was so large and heavy that I was just able to grasp it with both arms, and raise it to the level of my knees, but some of the Indians managed to lift it to their shoulders. The night subsequent to the false alarm, snow fell heavily, notwithstanding which on the following day the Indians, who did not appear to feel secure, marched again in a northerly direction. Before quitting this valley, I was fortunate enough to find an ostrich nest with four eggs in it, which we devoured later on, cooked in the ashes by the simple method of placing the egg upright, with a hole broken in the upper surface, through which a piece of stick is inserted to stir round the yolk and white, a little salt being thrown in, and the egg turned to ensure all sides being equally done; the result being an omelette in the shell of most appetising flavour, but a novice in this cookery is apt to burn his fingers in turning the egg. Towards night we entered a dark and gloomy gorge, winding amongst fantastic and confused cliffs and peaked hills, thrown together in utterly chaotic confusion, which appeared to form a barrier east and west. But it was impossible accurately to distinguish the line, so inextricably were the heights jumbled together. My powers of description are utterly inadequate to convey the idea of the formless irregularity of this region of rocky hills.

At a late hour we encamped in a glen, or corrie, apparently without a second outlet, and walled in by frowning cliffs, down the midst of which a torrent foamed in a rocky channel. All the next day our march continued through a barren desert of rocks, frequently intersected by deep ravines with precipitous cliffs, the faces of which in many places displayed beds of red and yellow ochre, visible at a great distance. From some of these the women, after a scramble, replenished their supplies of paint. The whole face of this district was torn and tossed, as if by tremendous explosive force; and, except in some deep-lying clay bottoms, where an occasional shallow lagoon was to be met with, the track was waterless; snow lay on the heights and in some places on the ground traversed by our march, in the course of which a number of the large ibises, called in Chili bandurria (Theristicus melanopis), were seen. The nature of the country rendered hunting laborious and useless. Tankelow, however, found an ostrich and nest, the eggs from which, about thirty in number, he, according to Indian custom, divided among those who came up before they were removed from the nest; among these lucky individuals was myself; for, seeing him make to the spot, and the male bird get up, and being, moreover, well mounted and exceedingly hungry, I was among the first arrivals. Far away to the right of our track, extending thirty or forty miles eastwards, lies a district called by the Indians ‘The Devil’s Country,’ which, they assured me, is never entered, probably from the barren and impracticable nature of the surface, which seems, from description, to be even worse than the wilderness traversed by us. Beyond this district there is a practicable track, sometimes followed by the Indians, leading northward, probably used as a route to the Chupat; but from that line to the sea the country is so impassable that the Indians say it would require two years to proceed by the sea-coast from Santa Cruz to the Rio Negro. The existence of such tracks as these, and the desolate Travisias encountered near the coast, have probably caused Patagonia to be described as an arid, almost waterless country; but, in reality, after passing the coast barrier most of the interior abounds in lagoons, springs, and frequent streams; and, even in the Travisias, the numerous wild animals met with show that water exists.

Towards evening we left the snow behind us; and descending a lofty hill, which had bounded our view all day, came to a large swelling down, from which the prospect was far more encouraging. Rolling plains extended to the north and north-east, whilst the Cordillera rose like a wall on the western side. This hill is called by the Indians ‘God’s Hill;’ and the tradition, as communicated by Casimiro, relates that from this spot the Great Spirit dispersed the animals which he had made in the caverns. But some of the animals must have remained behind, as, out on the lower slope of the downs, two pumas were chased and killed. An hour’s ride over a sandy plain brought us to a valley with a stream flowing through beautifully green pasture. This was the spot chosen for our encamping, and some of the women were already busy planting the poles that form the skeleton of the toldos; so, turning my horse adrift, I started down to the stream, and, after the luxury of a bath, lay down and smoked until the toldos were thoroughly arranged. The following day a short march was made, in a north-west direction, to a valley containing better pasture; here it was intended to give the horses much-needed repose. Meanwhile, however, meat fell short, so a circle was organised; my horse was too tired; but Orkeke, seeing me standing unprepared, said, ‘Ask Ako (his pet dog, and adopted child, and in virtue of his office the owner of several horses) to lend you a horse.’ As Ako had no objection I was soon mounted, and started for the chase in high spirits. On our previous journey we had remarked numerous tracks of what appeared to be ostrich near the ground where our present circle was to be formed (viz., in the direction of the Cordillera), and all expected to find plenty of game. The circle was formed, myself going as one pointsman; and, after arriving at the point, I watched anxiously for some time, but the only animal that appeared was a male guanaco, which, as he did not see me crouched behind an incense-bush, until he came within shot, I successfully balled and killed. After waiting a little longer, and the Indians being moderately near at hand, I changed my position a few hundred yards, to a more likely spot; but no animals appeared, so I proceeded in search of Orkeke, whom I shortly discovered smoking on the top of a small eminence. After the pipe had been passed in silence, I asked him what he had killed. ‘Nothing,’ was the answer; ‘let’s wait and see; perhaps some other Indian has an ostrich.’ A careful survey, however, failed to discover anyone so lucky, although several had killed guanaco. So we retired to where my dead guanaco lay uncovered: at our approach two or three condors rose heavily up; and shortly about twenty or thirty more spread their huge wings, sailed away, and perched on a neighbouring rock. As for the guanaco, in the short half hour of my absence it had been literally torn to pieces; so, after extracting and eating the marrow-bones, we returned to camp, on our way capturing two armadillos. During the past day or two the temperature had considerably risen, the wind, though westerly, was mild and genial, and the Indians affirmed that farther north it would be so warm that I should require some covering for the head. We found on our return that Arica during our absence had gone off somewhere on foot. As he had that morning asked and obtained some tobacco from me, it seemed probable that he had determined to attempt to make his way alone to reach civilisation at some point or other. During our stay in this valley Casimiro requested me to write a letter for him to the commandante at the Rio Negro, inquiring whether the Argentine Government still allowed him his ration and pay as lieut.-colonel in their service. I also wrote some letters to my friends, but without much hope of their being ‘mailed;’ though Casimiro assured me that when we joined the Northern Indians they would forward them to the Araucanos, whence they might go on by the people who went to Rio Negro to fetch the chief’s allowance of cattle; remote, however, as were all these contingencies, still it was a pleasure to write. We quitted the valley after three days’ rest, during which Arica had not appeared, and he was concluded either to have fallen a prey to a puma, or to have gone off on his own account. We journeyed all day over a rough hilly country, encumbered with large stones and occasional patches of scrub of considerable height; ostriches abounded, and large quantities of eggs were found. During a long march of about thirty miles no water was seen until we reached the camp at sunset, situated in a cañon; but along the route an occasional patch of snow sufficed to quench our thirst. As I rode along in company with an Indian, named ‘Tchang,’ he began asking me questions: first, ‘Who is cacique of the English?’ I explained to him that it was Her Gracious Majesty. ‘Is she married?’ ‘She is a widow.’ ‘Has she any children, and how many? Has she lots of horses and mares and silver ornaments?’ And so on, until I had satisfied him; after which he rode along, repeating, ‘A woman cacique! A woman cacique! Four sons and five daughters! Lots of horses, mares, sheep, and cattle!’ On the 22nd of September we left the encampment in the cañon about sunrise, and, mounting the ridge on the north side, halted close to the grave of an Indian; the broad and high cairn of stones erected over it denoting him to have been a cacique of importance, which fact was communicated to me in a low whisper by Wáki. Here a fire was made, and a few stones added to the pile. Whilst the Indians were warming themselves the sun rose, and the view of the Cordillera, seen through the clear atmosphere, with the sun’s first rays illuminating the snowy mountain summits with a roseate flush, was magnificent. We pursued our route over sandy plains, crossed at intervals by shallow streams of water, and halted near some lagoons in a place called by the Indians ‘Kinck.’

The following day we marched again, hunting as usual on the way. A fat ostrich at this time of the year was a rarity, but eggs abounded, and formed the main staple of food; and the armadillos were also getting into condition, and assisted to furnish a repast at the camp fire. On the 27th we arrived at a place named ‘Gelgel,’ situated on the banks of a rapid river, probably that debouching at Port Desire. This was the point of divergence from the northern route to Patagones for any party proceeding to hunt in the western plains. During our stay in Gelgel we hunted in the surrounding country, and on several occasions observed columns of smoke to the south, as if made by a party approaching. These at last appeared nearer, and as no distinct answer was made to our signal fires, scouts were sent out, but returned with no information, one, however, asserting that he had found the tracks of many horses, but his known character as an incorrigible liar made his statement valueless. Still everybody became at last convinced that the Northern Indians were at war with the Araucanos, and consequently preparations to fight were commenced. After a watchful night, all fires out, and silence strictly observed, all armed, and mounting their best horses, sallied out. After a while the cause of the whole disturbance turned out to be Arica, who had wandered for eleven days on foot, following our track, subsisting on birds’ eggs, and narrowly escaping the pumas, though he had been more than once attacked by them in broad daylight, and had killed one with his knife, his story being vouched for by the boots he had contrived to manufacture out of his deceased enemy’s skin. He looked worn and haggard, his feet were sore, and he told me that another night would have finished him. The Indians, who—owing to his desertion and subsequent pursuit of us—had been kept on the alert all night, without fire, and prohibited from conversing, were naturally indignant, and wanted to kill him. But Casimiro and Orkeke interceded for him, and he was brought back to the toldos behind another horseman. Casimiro, apropos of these signal fires, related to me a curious story, as follows:—‘Many years ago, when I was quite young, I was travelling a few leagues to the northward, under my mother’s charge. The party encamped near a large lagoon not far from the Sengel river, and were occupied in hunting in the neighbourhood. On several days in succession smoke was observed in different directions, which approached nearer and nearer each time. Being naturally supposed to be caused by the Indians, it was answered, and scouts were at last sent to ascertain the cause, as no messengers appeared. They returned, however, stating that they could discover nothing. At the end of four days an Indian, tall, gaunt, and emaciated, mounted on a very thin mule, arrived in the camp, and asked for a chief whose name was unknown. The stranger was taken, as is customary, to the chief’s toldo, and his mule turned loose; but, strange to say, it never moved from the spot where it was unsaddled, and the Indian during the time he remained in the toldo neither ate nor drank. At the end of three days he mounted his mule, which appeared as fresh as when he arrived, and rode away to the northward. On the following day, whilst hunting, a sickness struck the Indians—some falling dead from their horses, while others, though able to return home, only survived a short time. As is usual when disease breaks out, the toldos were removed to some distance from each other, to escape infection, but many men, women, and children died.’ Of the fact that a plague or sickness did cause the deaths of many Indians within a few days at some encampment in these plains, I received further and reliable confirmation, my informant, who was in the party, stating that the Pampa tribe was decimated.

In the cliffs above the river on the eastern side of our encampment I observed many balls of sandstone of various sizes. On breaking one in two, a piece of what seemed to be ironstone formed a nucleus, around which layers of sand appeared to have been aggregated. By what process these balls could have been formed was to me a mystery; but they proved very handy for bolas, only requiring to be slightly reduced in size. Hunting to the westward from the encampment, we came across several muddy, or rather clayey bogs, into one of which, when in full pursuit of an ostrich, I rode, and my horse sank deep, throwing his rider a complete summersault; and with much ado I first picked up myself, and then with greater difficulty extricated my horse from the tenacious morass.

After Arica’s return, the Chilians manifested a restless spirit, and frequently asked me the direction of the Chupat settlement. I replied that it lay about 150 leagues to the E.N.E. from this point, as far as I could judge; but that it would be better for them to remain with the Indians, and do the women’s work of providing wood and water, &c., than to start off into a wild and dreary pampa, where they would inevitably starve without a knowledge of the route or guides.

During our stay here I nearly fell a victim to a matrimonial entanglement. A fair young Indian, whose hair cut across the forehead denoted widowhood, moreover having several mares and considerable possessions, to whom I had perhaps paid some slight attention, proposed that I should set up toldo with her. This was quite out of my programme of the journey, but inasmuch as the alliance might prove useful, as well as agreeable, and feeling lonely in the absence of any particular friend, I half agreed; so a go-between was despatched to arrange the dowry, and it was settled that I should give a revolver in exchange for two horses to be provided by the fair one’s friends. However, the evening before the happy day on which we were to have been united, the alarm came, and as she belonged to the Southern Indians, I thought better of giving up my arms; so I assigned as a reason for withdrawing from the bargain, that I did not wish to leave my friend Orkeke’s toldo. I have no doubt that her people, desiring the help of my firearms, had suggested the match to secure me to support their side. The lady at first was rather disgusted, but soon got over it, and we remained on our former friendly terms.

In this encampment two disagreements occurred between Indians and their wives, which were the only matrimonial squabbles that came under my notice during my wanderings in their company. One occurred between Tankelow and his spouse in our toldo. It began by Tankelow’s striking his daughter, which his wife angrily resented; from words they came to blows, and the squaw was getting rather the best of it, when Mrs. Orkeke interposed with a strong arm, and forcibly put a stop to the disturbance.

The following day Tankelow drove his horses off separately, but towards evening a reconciliation was effected. On the 3rd of October we left Gelgel-aik and marched west in the face of a bitterly cold wind. In the hunt not less than seven pumas were killed, which were, as usual at this time, very fat, and were duly boiled in the iron pots, furnishing an excellent supper, the meat closely resembling boiled pork. During the day seven of the Chilians were missed, and on our arrival at the toldos, it transpired that they had determined to try and find their own way to the Chupat settlement; and as they had left in an underhand manner, which the Indians look upon as tantamount to a declaration of war, some of the people wished to pursue and kill them, but this proposition was overruled by Orkeke and Casimiro. The encampment was sheltered by a hill named ‘Téle,’ close to a large lagoon, covered with waterfowl, into which flowed a beautiful spring issuing from the hill; along the margin of the clear pure water grew a profusion of a sort of green cress, and at sunset flights of flamingoes (Phœnicopterus tgnipallo) and rose-coloured spoonbills (Platalea ajaja) came to the lagoon to feed. One day’s hunting was done in the surrounding plain, which to the west presents several of the remarkable drops or basin-like formations described by Darwin as existing on the eastern side of the Cordillera. On October 5th we broke up the camp and marched in a northerly direction, until a stream of considerable size was arrived at; this some of us crossed at once, although it was deep and the banks rotten and unsound. The women and remainder of the party diverged to a ford, old Orkeke sending one of the Chilians to take care that his little dog (on whom he lavished his paternal affections) did not get wet. In half an hour’s time the whole party—Ako included—had crossed in safety, and the camp was pitched on a peninsula between this river and another which joined it lower down. The united streams may or may not form a tributary of the Chupat, as the Indians disagreed on this point, some averring it to be so, others stating that the river flowed into a large lagoon. The weather had changed to drizzling rain, and the wet and sloppy state of the toldos was very disagreeable. It did not, however, much affect our clothing, as it is easy to dry a guanaco mantle by the fire, but care must be taken only to expose the furred side to the heat, otherwise the hide will become dried and apt to tear easily. Whilst in this encampment lookouts were posted, and one came in stating that he had seen smoke in a northerly direction. Consequently, on October 9, having rested our jaded horses, which were rapidly improving in condition, from grazing on the young green grass now springing abundantly in all the valleys, we crossed a barren, clayey pampa, interspersed with bogs and marshes at intervals, and on the 10th arrived at a small range of hills, running east and west, under one of which the toldos were pitched, near to another of those beautiful circular springs which frequently occur in Patagonia; from the centre of the smooth white sand which formed the bottom, the water bubbled up like liquid crystal, and silvery fishes could be seen darting about in the circular basin. The Indians delight in laving their hands and feet in the springs, and will sit there for a long time admiring the beauty of these ‘eyes of the desert.’ As, on our arrival, the women had not yet completed the domestic arrangements, after throwing the spoils of the chase off our saddles, a party of us ascended an adjacent hill to have a look round. The day was magnificent, and the sun, just setting, bathed the whole country in a flood of red tints. To the N.E. we observed three distinct columns of smoke which the Indians averred to be caused by the five Chilian deserters, and were very bitter against them, as they were supposed to have lost their way, and to be desirous of returning again to the toldos. In this place I found my compass would not act, owing, as I supposed, to having been disabled; but as it subsequently behaved properly, its temporary derangement must have been due to some local attraction. To the northward, as well as I could guess the bearings, ran a long range of hills, terminating in a peculiarly-peaked mountain, below which the Indians pointed out the trees which fringed a river—according to their statements, a tributary of the Chupat. To the west extended rolling plains, which appeared to stretch away into the distance, interrupting the chain of the Cordillera, as though there were a depression or break in the mountains, no hills of large size being visible on the horizon. Whilst lying down smoking on this hill, I picked up several pieces of opal and cacholong combined, and as I was idly forming them into different patterns on the ground, and had arranged a circle resembling a miniature Indian grave, one of my companions observing what I was doing, grew very angry and said, ‘That will bring ill luck,’ evidently believing that I was mentally compassing the death of some one by witchcraft. As I had no wish to be killed by way of prevention of any imaginary spells, I quickly gathered up the specimens, many of which were afterwards lost in the ensuing journey. The Indian name for this place is Yaiken-Kaimak, signifying that it is the hill whence they espy the signal smoke denoting the approach of the Indians from the north.

We remained five days in this encampment, a general uneasiness prevailing, and arms being kept ready to hand. In addition to the usual hunting, under the orders of the cacique, we were engaged in performing exercises on horseback; this mounted drill being intended as a preparation in case we should find the northern Tehuelches at war with the Araucanos or Manzaneros Indians. The plains to the westward abounded with guanaco, some thousands being enclosed in the circle at one time. One day that I had not accompanied the hunting party, I was strolling across the camp, having volunteered to occupy the post of the vidette on an adjacent hill, when I observed a guanaco, very tired, coming towards me; so, hiding behind a bush, I waited till he unsuspiciously approached, and then rushing out, balled him with a pair of ostrich bolas. As he was so close to me, his forelegs were perfectly tied up, and I had not much difficulty in despatching him with a blow on the head from another set of bolas. By this time I had attained tolerable dexterity in the use of the bolas, and it was my invariable custom when not otherwise employed to stroll about and practise. Besides their use, my practical training had enabled me soon to acquire the art of manufacturing them, and our many idle hours were employed in plaiting ostrich sinews, so that I contrived to fit up an extensive assortment, some of which I used to barter for tobacco. The weather during our stay here became worse, rain, sleet, and gales of wind prevailing; and the toldos, from the continuous rain and the marshy nature of the ground, became so wet and wretched as to be almost uninhabitable, so that we marched on the 16th over a level pampa—smoke to the eastward being observed and duly answered during the journey. We encamped at night on the north side of a small rapid stream, in a place called ‘Pelwecken,’ situated a league from the wooded river, the trees of which were visible from the encampment. I here saw a new game played by the Indians which resembled that known amongst schoolboys as ‘knucklebones,’ being played with small stones in lieu of the bones, and heavy stakes were lost and won on the chances. On Sunday, the 17th, the Indians started to hunt in the vicinity of the wooded river, and Casimiro proposed that I should accompany him to the woods to cut poles for the toldos, and timber for working saddles. Orkeke, however, for some reason or another, recommended me to stay quietly in the toldos; and, as advice is sometimes almost the same as a command, I acquiesced, although longing to enjoy a close view of a tree again after so much wandering over the treeless pampas. As the day was warm and fine, I strolled down the river in search of the eggs of the upland goose (Chloephaga magellanica), yellow-billed goose (Cygnus coscoroba), and other water fowl, and returned about 2 P.M. with plenty of spoil. The women were superintending the cooking of some of these, when one of them rushed into the toldo and cried out that the Indians were returning and a fight had taken place. A glance at the coming horsemen was at once sufficient to convince us that she was right. They came galloping back by twos and threes, swords drawn, mantles hanging off their shoulders, and their faces glowing with fury. They at once proceeded to get their guns and revolvers to renew the fight. Orkeke, however, arrived and made a long speech, and ultimately quiet was restored. One man—a brother of Camillo—had been killed and left on the pampa. The sister of the deceased was frantic at his death, and, arming herself with a knife, attempted to avenge him; but she was soon stopped, disarmed and quieted. The deceased was armed with a six-shooter, and his assailant had only a sword; one shot missed him and the next barrel missed fire, whereupon he closed and ran his adversary through the body. Casimiro returned shortly after the remainder, and when he heard of the fight and the result, was for some time eager to renew it and avenge the slain man, who was a relation of his own, but at last yielded to Orkeke’s arguments. The following day the smoke to the east appeared pretty close, and, when we had marched on a little, two young men were despatched in its direction with private instructions from Orkeke, and we proceeded to the wooded river, where we luxuriated for a short time under the shade of a description of birch tree and then forded the stream, which is of considerable width and very rapid. The Indians declared that it was impossible for any man to swim across the river in the deeper portion below the ford, on account of some ferocious beasts which they termed water tigers—‘Tigres de l’agua’—which would certainly attack and devour anyone in the water. They described them as yellow quadrupeds, larger than puma. It is certain that two ostriches which, being too poor for use, had been left on the bank, were found by us next day in the shallow water, torn and half devoured, and the tracks of an animal resembling those of a large puma were plainly visible leading down to the water; but a puma invariably drags its prey to a bush; and, though jaguar will take the water readily, I have never known one devour its prey except on land, nor, as far as I know, are they found so far south. The animal may be a species of the large brown otter with orange-coloured fur on the breast, found in the Parana; but the Indians’ account is curious as bearing on the name of the lake—‘Nahuel Huapi,’ or Tigers’ Island. It is possible that the aguarra found in the valley of the Rio Negro may also haunt these districts. They further told me that stags had been seen on the banks of the river, but none were heard of during our stay in the neighbourhood. A few miles below the ford the belt of trees ceases, and on the southern side there is a peculiar group of what seem to be square-shaped rocks, which at a distance have very much the appearance of a small town regularly built and walled. This is called by the Indians ‘Sengel,’ and was the scene of a great fight between the Tehuelches and Araucanos many years ago, relics of which in the shape of bones and skulls still whiten the plain. After crossing the river, the young men who had been sent back returned, bringing with them three horses belonging to the Chilians and one man of their party, who, incredible as it seems, had assisted the Indians to dismount and disable his companions. The particulars of the fate of the others were not divulged, though a story was current that some of them had managed to reach the Chupat. I asked no questions, but the blood-stained knife of one of the young men told its own story. This day all the Indians rode on in silence, the last two days’ events having roused all their bad passions. I rode alone, feeling that there was danger in the air, and near our halting place joined Orkeke and two others at a fireside for the purpose of cooking some ostrich eggs, which we were busily discussing when a messenger came to say that Casimiro was waiting to see me at a spot which he indicated. I mounted and rode off accordingly, but had not gone far before the two bravos who had been commissioned to do for the Chilians galloped up, one from either side, one brandishing his sword and the other swinging his bolas. I at once put spurs to my horse, and my mantle flying back discovered two revolvers belted round my waist underneath it. They checked their career and sang out, ‘Stop! Where are you going?’ But, without making any reply, I galloped on, being not further interfered with, and soon joined my old friend. He then informed me that, being utterly disgusted with the late proceedings and general anarchy, he had determined to push forward by himself to meet the Northern Indians, leaving his wife and children under the charge of Cayuke. He therefore wanted the letters which I had written for him, and my own, which he undertook to forward at the same time. So I rode back to the toldos for the letters, which I carried to Casimiro without anyone attempting to stop my way.

Having returned to the fire under the bush, I dismounted, and whilst cooking another egg, gave Orkeke a piece of my mind; quietly hinting that I carried ten lives about me. He assured me it was all a mistake, and had happened without any orders from him, the young fellows only wishing to try my mettle by way of joke. I replied that jokes of that sort were sometimes dangerous, and the subject was mutually dropped.

We encamped by the side of a stream, into which many of us soon plunged to take a refreshing bath, always a favourite enjoyment with the Tehuelches, who are powerful swimmers, and dive well. While resting here and sporting in the water a better state of feeling arose, and the mutual suspicion and discord which had so long prevailed was gradually forgotten. Casimiro had left, taking one of the Chilians; and his spouse told me, amid a torrent of abuse of her better half, that he had gone through fear, the other Indians having determined to kill him; and she added that he had the heart of a skunk, a vulture, and an armadillo. These combined would make a very nice mixture. That he was right in making his escape at this particular juncture was very evident, for the next day two young men were sent out, ostensibly as chasquis or messengers, to look for the Northern Indians, but in reality to try and overtake Casimiro and dispose of him; however, they returned without any tidings of the wily old chief.

In the range of hills described as visible from Kaimak, there is a mine or vein of iron ore, about a mile due west from the brook, and marked by a large mass of white quartz. This is used by the Indians in the manufacture of bolas, and an excursion was made to it. We brought back numerous pieces, some of which, now in my possession, have been examined, and pronounced to be brown and magnetic iron ore. The Indians also told me that some leagues to the east of this spot a mass of iron, having, as well as could be gathered from their account, the shape of a bar-shot, lies in the middle of a barren plain, and is regarded by them with superstitious awe. Whether this be an aërolite, or has any connection with the ore on the hill side, it was not in my power to determine, for in the critical state of feeling then prevalent a visit of inspection was impracticable.

On the 22nd of October we marched a few miles, always following the line of hills, and in a northerly course. Ostrich eggs still formed the main staple of food, and furnished a diet sufficiently nutritious, but producing all the effects of a course of ‘Banting.’ Fortunately this day two of us killed fat pumas, some steaks off which broiled, by way of variety, were an acceptable addition to the evening meal; but from experience I should advise all travellers to boil their puma. We encamped in a small gorge in the hills, directly under a peculiarly pointed rock, which is called Yowlel, or Ship Rock, from its resemblance to a ship under sail, and is regarded with superstition by the Indians, who believe that all who endeavour to ascend it in the calmest weather will, on arriving at the summit, have their mantles blown to pieces by furious gusts of wind.

The next day—a glorious morning, after a night’s rain—we proceeded in the same direction; and while waiting for the heavy baggage, in the shape of the women and children, several of us repaired to a regular racecourse—a beaten track six feet wide, extending for almost three miles, level and free from stones, though rather sandy. Here we had trials of the speed of our horses to while away the interval; and when the women appeared, proceeded to the chase, over a pampa formed by a bend in the range of hills. During the hunt we found the carcase of a guanaco, which had been killed by a puma, carefully covered up in grass and scrub. It was a fat animal, such as the puma always singles out, although I have read in some accounts that he follows the herds and picks up the weakly ones. That this is not the case was proved on various occasions, by finding the carcases left by these cats, which were always those of animals in good condition. Early in the afternoon we arrived at the encampment, by the side of a small river, flowing in an easterly direction from the hills. The women, with the exception of one or two, were not present, and might be seen about two miles off, grubbing up a description of potato which grew in the neighbouring hill side. The day was warm, and Orkeke invited me to go to the top of one of the hills to see if any smoke or signs of Indians were visible. We accordingly crossed the stream, and while riding along the northern bank I observed fish swimming lazily on the top of the water. After crossing a marshy patch of ground, we ascended the hills, and dismounting near a bank of blue earth, climbed on foot to the summit, which was composed of a description of quartz, with crystalline veins running through it. Scrambling up this formation, we arrived at the top, whence we had a beautiful view of the encampment and the green pasture bordering the stream. To the northward the view was rather shut in by hills rising to a considerable elevation. Just below us lay a valley, in which several guanaco and ostriches were taking their evening meal. We remained here for some time smoking and enjoying the face of nature generally, but could discern no smoke or signs of Indians. Orkeke remarked that the pasture had a fresher appearance lower down the course of the stream, and proposed that we should inspect it. We accordingly descended from our elevated position, mounted, and proceeded to the valley below; in our descent being lucky enough to kill a fat male ostrich, which was sitting on a nest of twenty-four eggs. We investigated the grass, which was of good quality; and after an al fresco meal, in which we were joined by Tchang, returned to the toldos, where the women had just arrived with a considerable supply of potatoes. I again, on our way back, observed fish in the stream, so, turning my horse adrift, proceeded to extract my hooks and line from the baggage under the charge of Mrs. Orkeke. After a little delay all was ready; a piece of meat supplied the place of fly as bait; and dropping it gently into the pool, I soon had a bite, and pulled out a fish about two pounds weight, of the perch class, similar to that called dorado in the River Plate. After half-an-hour’s fishing I landed several others as large, and as it was nearly dark, returned to supper off fried fish and boiled potatoes.

I had no opportunity of seeing the plants which produced these tubers, but they exactly resembled those I afterwards obtained in the northern country from a plant, the feathery fern-like leaf of which springs from a long slender stem. The following day we shifted camp down river, to the neighbourhood of the green pasture, and found large quantities of the eggs of the upland geese, ducks, &c. In the neighbourhood one lonely tree grew by the side of the stream, although the banks were lined with driftwood, probably carried down from the wooded slopes of the Cordillera, ten miles farther west, during floods. This day, smoke having been distinctly seen to the northward, Hummums was despatched to ascertain whether it were a signal from the much-looked-for Northern Indians. Three days subsequently, about nine in the evening, whilst I was lying dreaming of home, and had just—in dreamland—taken a glass of sherry, Orkeke woke me up with the intelligence that fires were to be seen to the north, which were no doubt caused by the ‘chasqui’ or messenger previously despatched. In about three hours’ time—somewhere about midnight—Casimiro, Hummums, and another Indian rode into the camp, and our toldo was soon crowded to hear the news from our chasqui, who stated that the Northern Indians were in the wild cattle district, where they had killed several animals; they were also well provided with tobacco and other necessaries from the Rio Negro, where they had been for trading purposes in August, and they would welcome our party, provided that they came in a friendly spirit. The following morning we had a great consultation in Crimè’s toldo, at which it was determined that all quarrels should be forgotten, and that we should march at once to effect a junction with the other Indians. This having been resolved on, all marched in an easterly direction to an encampment situated on the borders of the same stream, and under a range of hills called ‘Appleykaik.’ Here we remained three days; and smoke not previously accounted for having been observed to the east, two scouts were sent out to ascertain the cause, but returned without intelligence. We spent our time, as usual, in hunting, or bathing in the river; and on October 31 marched again, and had not gone very far, in a north-east direction, before Tankelow—who had started earlier than the rest, and constituted himself a corps d’observation—appeared, with a strange Indian of the Pampa tribe, who stated that his companions were on their way to join the Northern Indians. They had come from the neighbourhood of the Chupat colony, and were, as far as I could make out, mixed Pampas and Tehuelches. It was agreed that they should join us and the others at a place called ‘Henno,’ to which we were at present marching. We continued our route after this slight interruption, and encamped for the night near the banks of a small stream. The weather had entirely changed, the wind blowing bitterly from the south-west, with squalls of sleet, hail, and snow; and but few of the party found it agreeable to take the evening bath. Casimiro was in high spirits, as many of the Northern Indians were relations of his, and he was to be invested with the supreme command—in prospect of which he had already received presents of horses, and was looking forward to the consultation of the chief, which, he assured me, would have to be conducted with great pomp. During our talk, Casimiro narrated all his adventures after quitting the toldos. He had travelled so fast, knowing that he would probably be pursued, that on the fifth day his horse broke down, as for two days previous he had seen smoke from some encampment to which he was by this time close, though he was uncertain whether it was that of his friends or not. He left his Chilian companion, and proceeded to an eminence to reconnoitre. During his absence the Chilian fell asleep; the grass caught fire and surrounded the sleeping man. The Indians—Hinchel’s people—attracted by the smoke, came down and rescued him, all his clothes having been burned off and his body severely scorched. Having heard his story, Hinchel at once sent a party to search for Casimiro. When the latter saw the five mounted Indians approaching, wrapped in their ponchos, he was uncertain if they were Araucanos or Tehuelches, and drew his revolver, prepared to pick them off in detail; but soon, to his great relief, he recognised in the leader a relation of his own. He also told me that when Hummums, our chasqui, arrived, he was entertained by some friend of his own, to whom, in the evening, he boasted that he and his friends had killed all the Christians in their camp. This story was at once carried to Hinchel and Casimiro, who inquired if ‘Muster’ had also been killed; to which the tale-bearer unhesitatingly replied that he had. Hinchel, who had previously heard all about the English visitor from Casimiro, was furious at what he considered a grave breach of hospitality, and issued orders forthwith to apprehend the chasqui, and to mount and make ready to avenge my supposed death by killing Orkeke and all his party. Hummums, however, when interrogated as a prisoner, in great terror declared that ‘Muster’ was safe, and that no one had any idea of killing him, and then the storm blew over. But this account, which was confirmed by the report of the chasqui, accidentally overheard by myself, prepared me to meet Hinchel with feelings of friendliness towards a chief who had evinced so keen a sense of the care to be taken of a stranger who had confided himself to Indian hospitality; and the impression of this chief’s character then formed, was fully confirmed on further acquaintance with him.

The two following days our route lay through a succession of rather barren valleys, bordered by ranges of high hills, everywhere strewn with rocks and boulders, and having a very gaunt and weird appearance. The valleys generally contained good pasture on either the northern or southern side of the streams which flowed down every one; but away from the vicinity of the water the soil was sandy, with low bushes scattered here and there.

On November 2nd, about 2 P.M., we arrived at a pass or gorge above the rendezvous at Henno. The view of the valley below was very refreshing; green grassy plains stretched for some miles, with a beautiful silvery stream running down the centre. But, much to our disappointment, no signs of Indians were visible; so we descended, and after bathing in a pool, and waiting until the toldos were pitched, lighted a big signal fire, which was shortly answered to the westward, and a messenger was immediately despatched who returned towards nightfall with the intelligence that the expected people would arrive next day; and we had to reconcile ourselves to another night of anxiety, being not at all certain as to the reception to be expected from the newcomers.

CHAPTER IV.
HENNOKAIK TO TECKEL.

Ceremonial of Welcome.—Hinchel’s Indians.—Tehuelches and Araucanos.—Jackechan and the Chupat Tribe.—My Examination.—Encampment at Henno.—Peaceful Occupations.—The Oldest Inhabitant.—Chiriq.—The Hidden Cities.—Modern Legends.—Mysteries of the Cordillera.—Los Cesares.—La Ciudad Encantada.—Its Whereabouts.—The Indian Cesares.—The Guanaco.—The Patagonian Ostrich.—Neighbourhood of Chiriq.—Horseracing.—Indian Horses.—Indian Dogs.—Dog and Lover.—Plaiting Sinews.—Windy Hill.—Surrounded by Fire.—Young Guanaco.—Arrival of Grog.—News from Santa Cruz.—Gisk.—Romantic Scenery.—A Pleasant Neighbourhood.—Fairy Glen.—Breaking a Horse.—Female Curiosity.—The Wild Cattle Country.—The Forests of the Cordillera.—The Watershed.—Among the Mountains.—Wild Flowers.—A Bull Fight.—The Bull Victorious.—No Christmas Beef.—Teckel.—Change of Quarters.

As we were whiling away the next forenoon in fishing and disporting ourselves generally in the water, smoke was descried at various points to the westward, and about 2 P.M. the head of the heavy column of women, children, and innumerable horses came into view on the northern side of the valley. All instantly repaired to the toldos, accoutred ourselves, and got up the horses in preparation for the arrival of the visitors; the meeting of any number of Indians after a separation being recognised as an affair of considerable importance. Shortly after our horses were caught and saddled, and, indeed, before some of our party were ready, the men who had been hunting en route appeared, and the ceremonial of welcome was duly observed.

Both parties, fully armed, dressed in their best, and mounted on their best horses, formed into opposite lines.

The Northern Indians presented the gayest appearance, displaying flannel shirts, ponchos, and a great show of silver spurs and ornamental bridles. The chiefs then rode up and down, dressing the ranks and haranguing their men, who kept up a continual shouting of ‘Wap, Wap, Wap.’ I fell in as a private, though Casimiro had vainly endeavoured to induce me to act as ‘Capitanejo’ or officer of a party. The Buenos Ayrean colours were proudly displayed on our side, while the Northerns carried a white weft, their ranks presenting a much better drilled aspect than our ill-disciplined forces. Messengers or hostages were then exchanged, each side deputing a son or brother of the chief for that purpose; and the new comers advanced, formed into columns of threes, and rode round our ranks, firing their guns and revolvers, shouting and brandishing their swords and bolas. After galloping round at full speed two or three times, they opened ranks, and charged out as if attacking an enemy, shouting ‘Koue’ at every blow or thrust. The object of attack was supposed to be the ‘Gualichu’ or demon, and certainly the demon of discord had need to be exorcised. Hinchel’s party then halted and reformed their line, while we, in our turn, executed the same manœuvres. Afterwards the Caciques advanced and formally shook hands, making, each in turn, long and complimentary speeches. This was repeated several times, the etiquette being to answer only ‘Ahon’ or Yes, until the third repetition, when all begin to talk, and formality is gradually laid aside. It was rather a surprise to find etiquette so rigorously insisted on, but these so-called savages are as punctilious in observing the proper forms as if they were Spanish courtiers.

These Northern Tehuelches, under the command of Hinchel, usually frequent the country lying between the Rio Negro and the River Sengel, and once a year, about July, visit the settlement of Patagones, where their stay is generally short, only sufficient for them to barter their furs and feathers, and for the chiefs at the same time to receive their rations of mares, cattle, ponchos, yerba, tobacco, &c., allowed by the Government of Buenos Ayres. By the time we met them in November they had little to show of the gains of their August visit to Rio Negro except a few mares and gay-coloured ponchos. Hinchel, however, owned two or three head of cattle which were said to have been caught at the head of the Chupat valley, being supposed to be stray cattle belonging to the Welsh settlers. Some of the Indians had still also a little yerba left, and tobacco in plenty; and on the occasion of the welcome many were dressed in coloured ponchos, chiripas, and some in leathern boots. With arms they were passably well provided, guns and revolvers being in proportion of about one to four men. During the time that we were occupied in the ceremony the women of the newly-arrived party busied themselves in pitching their toldos; and shortly after we had returned to our camp, which was a little apart from that of the new comers, and appeared very small and insignificant when contrasted with theirs, the Cacique came over, and presented mares, horses, and other gifts to the chiefs of our party; and a grand feast was celebrated in our toldos. Many of the new comers rode over, two or sometimes three mounted on one horse, and would, if not acquainted with the inmates, stop in front of a toldo and look in for a few minutes, then ride on to another, and so on. As these were mostly young men, their real object was probably to reconnoitre the young ladies. One, however, who, though undistinguishable from the Indians in appearance, and who looked like an Araucano, but was really by birth a Spaniard, having been carried off in his childhood from a settlement, brought over a pack of cards, and some of our party were soon deep in a game of siete, at which the stranger being a proficient, soon cleared them out completely.

CEREMONY OF WELCOME (TEHUELCHES

AND ARAUCANIANS).

Next day I paid a visit to Hinchel. He spoke no Spanish, but he managed to converse, and he asked me if the Southern Tehuelches were not a queer lot, for he had heard that they killed men as readily as they would guanaco. From what Casimiro had reported, I was already inclined to respect this Cacique, who had expressed such readiness to protect or avenge a guest of the Indians, and closer acquaintance only strengthened my regard for him. He was a fine-looking man, with a pleasant, intelligent countenance, which was not belied by his disposition. He never, to my knowledge, exceeded sobriety, and was good-humoured and self-possessed; though if once roused to fight, his resolute and determined courage was well known. He was skilled at all sorts of handicraft, and was always busily employed. He was generous to a fault—ready to give away everything if asked for it, and often without the asking. His great weakness was an inveterate fondness for gambling, which, together with his lavish good nature, eventually impoverished him greatly. At his request, I informed Casimiro and Orkeke that he desired to hold a parlemento. Accordingly, the chiefs all proceeded to a place agreed upon between the two camps, where they took their seats in a circle on the grass. After various harangues from Hinchel and others, it was resolved that Casimiro should be elected chief in command of the Tehuelches; and that after the expiration of the young guanaco season, all present, together with those expected from the neighbourhood of the Chupat, should proceed to a place called Teckel, and thence march to Las Manzanas, to unite there with the Araucanian Indians, some of whom had already communicated with us, and had promised to forward my letters, viâ Las Manzanas, to Rio Negro.

The relations between the Tehuelches or Tsonecas of Patagonia and the Araucanian Indians of Las Manzanas had been previously by no means of a pacific nature. It has been already mentioned that near the Sengel we passed the scene of a fierce battle between them. Tankelow bore still the scars of seven lance wounds received in a battle when he was left for dead on the field. On the same occasion Orkeke was taken prisoner, but, although mutilated, succeeded eventually in effecting his escape. Casimiro’s father also became a prisoner in an unsuccessful assault on an Araucanian stronghold. After two or three years’ captivity he succeeded, with two of his comrades, in escaping, and while hurrying to rejoin the Tehuelches in the vicinity of Geylum, met with a solitary Araucanian. He seeing a fire, approached unsuspicious of danger, and was welcomed and invited to smoke; they then seized him, stripped and bound him hand and foot, and left him lying on the pampa, a helpless prey to the condors and pumas. The two fugitives, having thus gratified their desire for vengeance, succeeded in rejoining their own people, and organised an attack on the Araucanos, in which Casimiro’s father was killed. Some wonderful feats of valour were described to me as having been achieved by the Tehuelches; but in fact the Manzaneros proved themselves the superior warriors, and even at the time of our visit to them had Tehuelche slaves. The powerful cacique Lenquetrou succeeded in healing the old feuds, and united all the Indians under his leadership. He was treacherously killed by an Argentine officer at Bahia Blanca during the peace between the Indians and the Christians, and after his death the old quarrels broke out afresh. Casimiro’s diplomacy, however, succeeded during the time of my visit in conciliating all parties, and the result appeared in the amicable arrangements concluded at the Parlemento, and afterwards successfully carried out. Had it not been for this, my journey to Las Manzanas, and thence to the Rio Negro, would have been dangerous, if not altogether impossible.

Two days after the arrival of the Northern party the Indians from the Chupat came in, and were duly welcomed by our united forces, the ceremonial on this occasion presenting a very animated scene. They numbered between seventy and eighty men, with women and children, occupying about twenty toldos. Most of them were young men of Pampa, or mixed Pampa and Tehuelche blood, but there were a few pure Tehuelches in their ranks, their chief being a Pampa named ‘Jackechan,’ or Juan. As I watched them drawn up, or careering round us during the welcome, they appeared to present a different type from that of my first friends, being generally shorter, though as muscular, and even apparently more broadly built, with complexions lighter, and their dress and persons smarter and cleaner. They were all well armed with lances and firearms, and were evidently kept well in hand by the chief. Their range of country lay between the same limits as that of Hinchel’s people, but they habitually seemed to have kept more to the sea-coast, where many of them had been accustomed to visit the Welsh colony at the Chupat for trade, and in their opinion, as afterwards expressed to me, the honest Welsh colonists were much pleasanter and safer to deal with than ‘the Christians’ of the Rio Negro. They seemed to have been especially impressed with the size and excellence of the home-made loaves, one of which would be given in return for half a guanaco, and Jackechan often expatiated on the liberality of the colonists and the goodness of their bread. These men also felt strongly the kindness with which an Indian, if overtaken with rum, would be covered up or carried into an outhouse by the Chupat people; whereas at the Rio Negro the only attention paid to him would be to strip and plunder him completely. During the afternoon the chief, Jackechan, sent a request to the ‘Englishman’ to pay him a visit, so I repaired to his toldo, and was courteously received by him. He wore a beautifully-wrought silver chain, with a medallion of the Madonna suspended to it, of which he seemed pardonably proud. Having been invited to take a seat, and the pipe having been duly passed round, it became evident that I was to be tested as to my real claims to the character of an Englishman. Jackechan, during his visits to the Chupat, had become acquainted with Mr. Lewis Jones, the Director of the colony, and so had learned the name of the Queen of England, &c., and he proceeded to interrogate me accordingly. I found him to be a most intelligent Indian, speaking Spanish, Pampa, and Tehuelche fluently; and our acquaintance thus commenced ripened into a strong mutual friendship. My answers proving quite satisfactory, he was evidently much pleased, and ordered his wife to produce coffee, a little of which he had still remaining from his store procured at Chupat. Whilst discussing this luxury, we had a long conversation on various topics, and he produced a photograph of Mr. Jones and some letters, one being an order for a ration of animals, mares and cattle, from the Argentine Government. He stated that he had not visited Patagones for some years, on account of a fight that had taken place, but would perhaps now accompany our party. Whilst conversing, his son, a boy of some twelve years of age, came in and startled me by his unlikeness to the other Indian boys, for his brown hair and eyes and fair complexion might easily have caused one to take him for an English boy. His mother was not present, as, for domestic reasons, Jackechan had parted with her; but I subsequently saw her, and she, although a handsome woman, had no European traits about her except that of having quarrelled with her husband. The following day was spent in a second parlemento—or, as the Indians call it, ‘aix’—and all agreed to place themselves under the orders of Casimiro, for the purpose of protecting Patagones in the possible event of an invasion by the Indians of Rouke, or ‘Calficura,’ from the country north of Rio Negro. All present saw the importance of protecting Patagones, as, if that town should be destroyed, there would be no market for their furs, &c.

Our encampment was situated in a large grassy valley watered by a stream flowing to the eastward, which was finally lost in a large marsh. The valley, which may have been about twelve miles in length and perhaps four in width at its broadest part, was confined by hills which, closing, narrowed it in at the eastern and western extremities. To the N.W. and N. the hills—which almost merited the name of mountains—were peculiarly rugged, more especially towards their summits. About N.N.E. by compass from our camp, there was a pass formed by a dip or break in the range leading north, and through the mouth of the pass we could see the smoke of the hunting parties of the Araucanian Indians, who were, however, many leagues distant. Throughout Patagonia smoke is always visible at a great distance, and the practised eyes of the Indians can distinguish it from the clouds, when ordinary persons would be unable to discern it unless pointed out to them. On the southern and eastern sides of the valley lay a range of hills, the rugged summits of which rose from lower slopes of more regular swell, and presenting more even and down-like surfaces than those on the western and northern sides. Immediately above our encampment the hill of Henno, from which the valley is named, rose from the plain. Near the summit of this hill Orkeke and myself, who for amusement had ridden up to it, one day came across the bleached skeleton of a man, perhaps one of two young Argentines who, as I was subsequently informed, had travelled thus far in company with the Indians, and had been for some—or no—reason killed by them near this spot. In the surrounding hills red porphyry frequently cropped out, and also veins of a red agate, unlike the flint agate so common in all the plains of Patagonia. The rocks near the summits of the hills were generally of igneous formation, and on the slopes of these hills frequent springs gushed out, easily discoverable from a distance by the vivid green of the grass growing round them. As we gazed down from the height of Henno, the valley lay before us like a picture; our few toldos were situated in a group to the east, on the south side of the stream; about a quarter of a mile to the north the thirty or forty toldos of the Northern Indians were pitched, and opposite to them, on the north side of the stream, those of the party commanded by Jackechan or Juan. The scene was animated but peaceful: here might be seen a party of young men playing at ball, in another a man breaking a colt, and down by the side of the stream groups of girls bathing, or wandering in the swamps picking the wild spinach which grew all along the margin of the water in great quantities. One day I went on an excursion with the children to pluck spinach and plunder the nests of wild ducks and upland geese, from which we returned laden with spoil, and in the evening a stew, à la Tehuelche, was made with ostrich grease, spinach, and eggs, which combination was universally approved of. Another day we went fishing, and after catching several with a hook and line, voted it slow work, so contrived a net by sewing two ponchos together, and wading into the stream dragged the shallow parts, and, notwithstanding the duck weed, which rather impeded us, made several good hauls, the take consisting of the perch-like fish and a black species of cat-fish: the Indians, however, except Casimiro, would not eat the fish, and evidently regarded my enjoyment of them much as an Englishman would at first view their appreciation of blood. Another day we went on an expedition to dig up a species of root somewhat resembling a parsnip, but although we grubbed about for an hour our efforts were only scantily rewarded by a few small roots, which were given to the children. One roasted in the ashes, at Mrs. Orkeke’s invitation I tasted, and found it rather tasteless and insipid.

During our stay in this pleasant resting-place the weather was bright and sunny, and on calm days warm, and the absence of rain almost made it appear like summer; but whenever the west wind blew, the piercing cold dispelled the passing illusion. The long delay which was necessary to recruit our horses, in anticipation of a campaign against the young guanaco and the wild cattle, was most acceptable to all the members of our party; and after the two preceding months of quarrels, real and suspected dangers, and forced marches, our present peaceable existence, though devoid of adventure, was thoroughly enjoyable. An occasional hunting party, interchange of visits and card parties with the recent arrivals, fishing, foraging for birds’ eggs, spinach, &c., with some flirting, and, by way of business, a parlemento or two, made our time pass merrily enough at Henno.

Our hunting parties were under the direction of ‘the oldest inhabitant,’ an aged cacique called Guenalto, with venerable white hair, and who had been crippled by a lance-thrust, received, to his honour be it said, while endeavouring to mediate between two of his friends. His great age and amiable character commanded universal respect; and on a hunting morning he would sit under a bush and speechify for half an hour, recounting old deeds of prowess, and exhorting us to do our best. The old man was a frequent and welcome visitor at our toldo, where he was encouraged to indulge to his heart’s content in long-winded stories. My compass greatly excited his curiosity, and he took it into his head that it possessed a magical power which could effect the restoration of the use of his arm. He accordingly begged to be allowed to hold it in his hand; and sat patiently, with an air of awe and faith combined, for an hour, afterwards declaring that the operation had done him much good. We greatly pleased him by repairing his coat of mail, a complete tunic of heavy iron chains, of unknown antiquity, bound together by strips of hide, and weighing over a hundredweight. This he informed me he only put on to defend himself from ‘foolish Indians.’

His use of my compass was rivalled by the custom of other friends, who were wont to borrow it when engaged in a game of cards; their belief being that the magic instrument gave luck to the happy possessor for the time being; and I often thought that it was fortunate I had brought no other instrument, as ‘shooting the sun’ would have been certainly regarded as a piece of sorcery, and any death or accident happening afterwards would have been visited on the head of the magician. As it was, my taking notes was often regarded with suspicious curiosity, and inquiries made as to what there could possibly be in that place to write about, as although the Tehuelche mind can comprehend writing letters to friends or officials, it by no means understands keeping a journal; and ‘some untutored Indian’ might probably, if suspicious that ‘i’faith he’ll prent it,’ instead of waiting to cut up the book, anticipate all reviewers by cutting up the intended author himself.

On the 18th of November the camp at Henno was broken up, and all marched a few leagues to the west, crossing successive rocky ridges running parallel to the Cordillera, and divided by well-watered valleys, and encamped near a valley watered by the same river, which between this place and Henno makes a considerable bend. This station was named ‘Chiriq,’ from a description of bush, with a leaf somewhat resembling that of the sloe, which grows abundantly on the banks of the stream. The wood of this shrub is soft and of little value, but burns well when dry. At this time neither flower nor fruit was visible, but it was described to me as bearing a berry resembling the currant. Since our departure from the wooded river Sengel, a description of cactus, or, as the Spaniards call it, tuna, bearing a tasteless fruit something like the ordinary prickly pear, had been met with occasionally, and found very troublesome, for as it grows close to the ground its spines are very apt to lame the horses if not carefully avoided in the chase. From Chiriq a large plain appeared to extend for some leagues to the westward, bounded north and south by a wooded range of hills, and extending apparently to the bases of the lofty snow-covered peaks of the Cordillera, which appeared to form a complete barrier.

During our stay here an incident occurred which led to the collection and comparison of the traditions concerning the hidden or enchanted city which still are current and believed among the Indians and Chilotes.

One day while hunting we were startled by a loud report, as of the discharge of a cannon, and looking to the west saw a black cloud of smoke hanging above the peaks of the Cordillera. My companion Jackechan told me that on several previous visits to this station the Indians had observed similar columns of smoke in the same direction. On one occasion so convinced were they that it was caused by human agency, that a party set out to endeavour to penetrate the forests and reach the dwellings of the unknown residents, which the smoke was believed to point out. They proceeded some distance into the recesses of the mountain forests, but the extreme difficulties of travelling compelled them at last to abandon their purpose and retrace their steps. It is of course most probable that both the explosion and the smoke proceeded from some unknown active volcano in the range; but the Indians firmly believe in the existence either of an unknown tribe, or of an enchanted or hidden city. The Araucanians when met with farther north had a story current amongst them of having discovered a settlement of white people, who spoke an unknown tongue, in the recesses of the mountains in the same vicinity. The Chilotes and Chilians from the western side fondly cherish the belief in the existence of La Ciudad Encantada, and the mythical people Los Cesares, to the discovery of which, according to De Angelis—to whose research is due the collection of all the records on the subject—the attention of Buenos Ayres, Lima, and Chili was so long directed. A Chilote or Valdivian, named Juan Antonio, narrated to me that he knew a man who was acquainted with another who had heard from a third that the last-named deponent was one of a party who visited the coast opposite to Chiloe for the purpose of wood cutting. They ascended in their boat a river, which as described was probably that the upper course of which we afterwards struck in the Cordillera. Having reached the woods, they separated to cut timber. One of their number was missing at the evening camp-fire; his comrades, however, waited for him, but gave him up at last, and were already preparing to return, when he rejoined them, and recounted a strange adventure. Deep in the forest he had come upon a path, which he followed for some distance, till he heard the sound of a bell, and saw clearings, by which he knew himself to be near a town or settlement. He soon met some white men, who made him prisoner, and after questioning him as to the cause of his being there, blindfolded him, and led him away to an exceedingly rich city, where he was detained prisoner for several days. At last he was brought back, still blindfolded, and when the bandage was removed found himself near the place of his capture, whence he made his way back to his comrades. Juan Antonio, the narrator, and Meña, one of the Chilian deserters who was present, fully believed this story, which, however, bears a suspicious resemblance to one told a hundred years before; and both declared that it was all caused by witchcraft or enchantment.

Another curious story was related to me, the hero of which was a mischievous imp of twelve years old, who was afterwards attached to my service as page, and for impudence and uselessness might have been a page of the court of Louis Quatorze. He had been in company with Foyel’s

tribe of Indians and Valdivians in the neighbourhood of the Cordillera. One day the hopeful boy was missed, and although careful search was made, no traces of him were discoverable. Three months afterwards he turned up again, dressed in the same clothes and in remarkably good condition, his spirits and impudence undiminished. My friend Ventura Delgado, a white Valdivian, who was in the camp at the time of his absence and return, vouched from personal observation for so much of the story. When questioned as to his whereabouts and with whom he had been, he answered with confidence, ‘With the man on the island in the lake.’ There was no known lake nearer than Nahuel-huapi, thirty miles distant, though a chain of lakes must from old accounts exist within the Cordillera; and it certainly was strange how, if he had wandered in the forests for so long a period, subsisting on roots, strawberries, and the plant named talka, he should have preserved his well-fed condition; it was equally puzzling to imagine why if made a captive by strangers he should have been allowed to return.

Another curious fable was told by my guide J’aria, when we were travelling from Punta Arena, apropos of the wild animals in Patagonia, on which Lieut. Gallegos was enlarging. J’aria asked if I had ever head of the Tranco, or Trauco, which the Chilotes aver inhabits the western forests of the Cordillera. Gallegos declared that there was no doubt of its existence, and described it as possessing the form of a wild man, covered with a fell of coarse shaggy hair. This nondescript—a specimen of which would no doubt be invaluable to, though not met with on those coasts by Mr. Darwin—is said to descend from the impenetrable forests and attack the cattle, on which it preys. This is possibly a pure invention, emanating from the aguardiente muddled brain of a Chilian, but it seems to have a certain relation to the vague stories of unknown wild tribes dwelling in the unexplored and wooded mountain regions. It is hard to convey the sense of mysterious space and undiscoverable dwelling-places impressed on the spectator by the vast solitudes of the mountains and forests of the Cordillera. The inexplicable sounds of crashing rocks, or explosions from unknown volcanoes, and the still stranger tones which resemble bells and voices, all suggest to the ignorant and superstitious natives confirmation of the strange circumstantial stories handed down for several generations; and it is hard for anyone, even with the assistance of educated reason, to resist the powerful spell of the legends told in sight of these mysterious mountains. My readers will perhaps laugh at the narration of these vagaries of imagination, or will inquire what is the legend of the Cesares, and of the enchanted city. If they have read the delightful pages of ‘Westward Ho,’ they will not be unacquainted with the shifting mirage of that rich city; which, from Mexico to the Magdalena, mocked the search of so many eager adventurers. The Gran Quivira of New Mexico, the fabled Iximaya, the El Dorado of Guyana, and El Gran Paytiti of Brazil, the baseless fabrics of many a golden vision, are found repeated with change of place and circumstances in this city of Los Cesares. There is a curious combination of three distinct strands of legends in the chain which connects the marvellous stories of the Northern Indians and Chilotes with the accounts so circumstantially deposed to, and firmly believed by, the Spaniards of the last century. The first is the conquest of Los Cesares in 1539. Sebastian Cabot, from his settlement of Carcarañal on the Parana, sent his pilot Cesar with 120 soldiers to explore the river, 60 being left to garrison the fort;[5] this expedition proceeded as far as the junction of the Parana and Paraguay, which latter river they ascended to the Laguna Sta. Anna, on the way defeating the hostile Indians. They reached the boundaries of the Guaranis, with whom they made friendship and returned. They next set out to proceed overland to Peru, and crossed the Cordillera. After making their way against incredible difficulties, they reached a province, the inhabitants of which were rich in cattle, vicuñas, and gold and silver. The ruler of the province, ‘a great lord,’ at whose capital they at last arrived, received his Spanish visitors kindly, and entertained them with all honour, until at their own choice they were allowed to return enriched with presents of gold and precious stuffs. The Spaniards regained their fort on the Parana only to find it a deserted ruin; the Indians having surprised and massacred the garrison. Cesar thereupon led his party to the settlements, and thence started on another expedition, in which he again crossed the Cordillera, and from a height beheld, as he imagined, the waters of the Pacific and Atlantic on either hand, probably mistaking some large lagoon for the distant Atlantic. He then made his way up the coast to Atacama, and thence to Cuzco, at which city he joined the conquerors just at the period of the capture of the ill-fated Inca Atahuallpa.

This marvellous traverse of all the country was spoken of ever after as the conquest of Los Cesares, and the whole account was set forth by Ruy Diaz Guzman in 1612, whose authority was one of the Conquistadores of Peru, named Arzon, who had learned all the particulars from Don Cesar himself in Cuzco. It does not seem, however, that more than this name, and perhaps the tradition of the rich Indian city, were preserved in the romantic rumours that began to obtain currency in the seventeenth century, and continued to gain credit till 1781, when the Fiscal of Chili, having been charged to make inquiry, summed up in an elaborate state paper all the evidence in favour of the existence of a rich and strong city, situated somewhere between 45° and 56° south, and urged the Spanish Government to authorise an expedition to discover and take possession of it. The city was described by various veracious (?) authorities as ‘defended by walls, ditches, and ravelins, the only entrance being protected by a draw-bridge, besides which cautious sentries were always stationed on an adjoining hill to detect intrusive strangers. The buildings were sumptuously constructed, the houses being of wrought stone with azotea roofs; and the churches were covered with glittering roofs of silver, and gorgeously furnished within. Of silver, too, were all utensils, knives, and even ploughshares made; and the inhabitants used golden stools and seats. They were light complexioned, with blue eyes and thick beards, and spoke a language unintelligible to both Spaniards and Indians. They wore jackets of blue cloth, yellow capes, and blue wadmal drawers and loose silk trousers, with large boots and small three-cornered hats! They possessed numerous cattle, marked with brands similar to those of the Spanish colonists; but their principal article of cultivation was pepper, in which they traded with their neighbours, maintaining withal a complete system of exclusive isolation.’ By one account the population was composed of the descendants of the crews of several ships which had been wrecked in the Straits of Magellan from 1523 to 1539, the survivors of which had made their way overland and founded a settlement. A wandering padre was said to have received the news of its existence from some Indians, accompanied by a knife as a token, which was recognised as having belonged to the captain of a stranded vessel. The padre set out to discover his countrymen, but lost his life on the road. Another more precise tradition declared that the surviving inhabitants of Osorno, after having maintained a heroic defence against the Araucanians, under the victorious chief Caupolican, in 1539, made good their escape with their families and cattle to a peninsula in a great lagoon thirty miles long and seven or eight wide, situate near Reloncavi, or the volcano called Osorno, where they built a city strongly defended on the landward side by a fosse and drawbridge raised every night. This lagoon was by others said to be that of Payeque, near a rapid stream named Llanqueco. An explorer named Roxas, in 1714, who started from Buenos Ayres, and whose route lay south-west from Tandil and the Volcan, gives most precise distances and landmarks to define the position of the Cesares. He mentions especially a river with a ford only passable during one period of the year, and a hill on which is found much magnetic iron ore. These landmarks, and the rest of his description, point to the locale of that remarkable rock formation mentioned in [p. 100], which, seen from a distance, might well cheat a traveller into the belief that he beheld a fortified town. Wáki pointed it out to me, and said, jokingly, ‘Perhaps Christians live there.’ The ‘Indians of veracity,’ so frequently quoted in these accounts, who were, however, all bound to keep secret the access to the city, doubtless confused their recollections of different settlements visited in their migrations, and the Spaniards, prepared to receive any new wonder, wove into the marvellous tale all the stories told them, and regarded the joint fiction as undoubted fact. But two more remarkable phases of this legend, and then we return to practical Indian life. A military party, who set out in 1777 from Rio Bueno, and marched to Lake Llanquechue, crossed the passes of the Cordillera under Osorno, and passed the night near the snow line. They heard distant artillery, and beheld the head of a great Laguna on the eastern side; they brought back the astounding intelligence that two distinct towns existed, one peopled by a race of Spanish origin, the Auca-Huincas, at war with the Pehuelches; and the other by Englishmen, or Moro-Huincas, who lived in amity with the Indians. And the Fiscal of Chili, in his report, insisted strongly on the necessity of rooting out these audacious islanders who had dared to plant themselves in the dominions of ‘our Lord the King.’ Just as the jealous fear of the encroaching English was thus mixed up in the Spanish version of the mysterious Cesares, so the Indians connected them with the traditionary glories of the great Inca race, and spoke of the Indian Cesares; and the potency of the fable was shown by a proclamation put forth by the heroic and ill-starred Tupac Amaru, who headed the unsuccessful rebellion against the tyrant Christians in 1781, styling himself ‘Inca, Señor de los Cesares y Amazonas, con dominio en el Gran Paytiti.’ But success mocked his grasp, and he perished by the hand of the executioner, just as the rich and coveted city whose lordship he claimed has eluded many an explorer who has sacrificed his life in the hopeless search. But the patient reader is probably weary of enchanted cities, and glad to return to the daily routine of our Indian life, though it was at this time butcherly enough. It was the all-important season of young guanaco hunting; and though the chase afforded plenty of riding, it could hardly be said to offer sport; but to the Indians it was a matter of business, as their clothing and stock of skins to trade with depended on the number of young guanaco killed at this time. Some notes of the habits of the guanaco and rhea, or ostrich, which furnish the Patagonian Indians with food and clothing, may not be out of place, though all critics are warned that they are not those of a naturalist, but simply the observations of a lover of birds and beasts.

The guanaco, known to the Indians as ‘Nou,’ is from three to four feet in height, and from four to five in length, measured from the point of the nostrils to the tail. The coat is woolly, but decreases in thickness of wool, or rather becomes hairy, about the head and legs. Its colour is of a yellowish red, intermixed with white in various parts of the body; more especially under the abdomen, down the inside of the legs, and round the lips and cheeks: the white also extends up the inside of the neck and throat. The shoulder is slightly arched; the tail short, and when the animal is in motion slightly elevated. The guanaco abounds over a vast range of country, extending from Peru all down the regions east of the range of the Cordillera of the Andes, over the vast plains from Mendoza to the Straits of Magellan, and even to Tierra del Fuego. As a rule, one male guanaco herds with a troop of about a hundred females, and in the event of their being disturbed he will take up his position on some neighbouring pinnacle of rock, and commence neighing something after the fashion of a horse, keeping himself between the danger and his wives. At the breeding season, however, the males go in flocks by themselves, as do the females. Although it is stated in Monsieur Gay’s admirable book on the Zoology of Chili, that the females sometimes bear three fawns, yet this must be a rare case: while we were hunting and killing the young guanaco, the mothers invariably became separated, the young ones lagging behind so as to prevent any appropriation of them to their dams. However, during the time employed in killing the mothers for the purpose of extracting the unborn young from the womb, I never saw or heard of more than one fœtus being found. The guanacos are excessively swift of foot, indeed almost unapproachable by horse or dog, as a few buck leaps take them away far beyond the speed of a horse. They frequently wait to allow a pursuer to approach close, and then bound off, and speedily distance him. Their means of defence consist chiefly in the savate, or use of the feet, more especially the fore ones, although they also bite at times, and with their two peculiar canine teeth could inflict a severe wound.[6] I have seen places where a puma and a guanaco have evidently had a severe struggle, always, however, resulting in the victory of the puma, as, on seeing these marks, we invariably searched for and found the body near, carefully covered over by the ‘leon.’ The flesh of the guanaco is excellent, something resembling mutton; the young guanaco being more like very tender veal. That their wool might be turned to account for mercantile purposes is undoubted, as it is of very fine texture, and is at the present time of value in Chili, where it is woven into ponchos, which are highly prized. Up to the present time few have been domesticated, but they become very tame, and might at a future date be found useful as beasts of burden, as they are similar in most respects to the lama. There is one very remarkable point about the guanaco: at certain times of the year a sort of secretion, condensed into a hard substance like stone, is found in round pieces, varying from ¼ to ½ inch in diameter, in the stomach. To these stones some of the Indians attribute medicinal virtues. The guanaco is of use to the Indians in every way. The skin of the adult is used to make the coverings of the toldos, and that of the unborn or young ones to make mantles for clothes; the sinews of the back furnish them with thread; the skin of the neck, which is particularly tough and durable, with lazos or thongs for bolas, bridles, &c., &c. The skin of the hock supplies them with shoes or coverings for the bolas; from the thigh bone they also cut out dice, or make a musical instrument. On attaining the age of about two months, the coat of the young guanaco begins to become woolly, and the skin is then useless for mantles, but makes sufficiently good saddle cloths. The animal at this early age is very swift of foot, and will give a good chase. They attain their full size the second or third year after birth, and the adult male cannot be better described than as apostrophised by Lieut. Gallegos. As we watched a solitary guanaco standing on a hill above us, and every now and then uttering its shrill warning neigh, ‘Ah,’ said Gallegos, ‘you are a queer animal; you have the neigh of a horse, the wool of a sheep, the neck of a camel, the feet of a deer, and the swiftness of the devil.’ The Rhea Darwinii, called by the Indians ‘Mekyush,’ and by the Spaniards Avestrus or Ostrich, which name is universally applied to it, is peculiar to Patagonia, few being met with north of Rio Negro, and none being found that I am aware of in any other part of the globe; with the exception, perhaps, of the more northern and plain-like parts of Tierra del Fuego, opposite the country extending from Cape Virgin to Oazy Harbour. It is a variety of the Rhea Americana, common in the Argentine provinces of Entre Rios and Santa Fé, also scattered over the Republic of the Banda Oriental, and extending, I believe, as far north as Rio Grande do Sul and the southern Brazilian province. They exist also in Chili, on the plains at the foot of the Cordillera of the Andes. The chief difference between these two species is that the Patagonian Rhea Darwinii is smaller and of lighter colour than the American Rhea. The Patagonian ostriches are very swift of foot, and run with their wings closed, while the other species invariably spread theirs. The former birds also always run in a straight line, except when leaving the nest, when probably, to avoid being tracked, they run in a circuitous manner. Their plumage, that is to say the wing feathers, are an object of commerce, and fetch at present about a dollar a pound in Buenos Ayres. The marrow from the leg bones is also, I believe, of use for making pomade, and was formerly, if not at present, highly prized in Buenos Ayres. To the Indian this bird is invaluable in many ways. Besides furnishing their most favourite food, from the sinews of the leg thongs for bolas are constructed; the neck is used as a pouch for salt or tobacco; the feathers are exchanged for tobacco and other necessaries; the grease from the breast and back is tried out and secured in bags formed of the skin (taken off during the spring season, when the females, like all the Patagonian animals except the puma, are thin); the meat is more nourishing and more relished by the Indians than that of any other animal in the country, and the eggs form a staple commodity of food during the months of September, October, and November. The male bird stands about 2½ feet high, and is to be distinguished from the female by its being of a slightly darker colour, and of greater size and strength; nevertheless, it requires a practised eye to detect the difference at any distance. The male bird is also swifter. Their usual food consists of short grass and the seeds of various shrubs, but more especially of tender grass, which I have on several occasions watched them plucking, from a convenient rock which hid me from their sight. On being alarmed they immediately set off at a great speed; they possess great powers of eyesight. If met or obstructed by horsemen in their line of flight, they not unfrequently squat so closely that they can scarcely be distinguished from the surrounding rocks, as the greyish colour of their plumage so closely resembles the almost universal aspect of the Pampas of Patagonia. These birds, though not web-footed, can swim sufficiently well to pass a river. In the winter season it is not unfrequent for the Indians to drive them into the water, where, their legs getting numbed with cold, they are drifted to the shore by the current, and easily captured, being unable to move. In snowy weather they are also easily taken, as their eyes appear to be affected by the glare of the white snow, and their saturated plumage doubtless becomes heavier. They are polygamous, one male bird consorting with five or six hens, which lay their eggs in the same nest—a hole about two feet six inches in diameter, scooped out of the earth. They begin to lay in the early part of September, the number of eggs in each nest varying from twenty to as many as forty, or more. In the early part of the laying season extraneous eggs were found scattered in different parts of the plain, some of which were of diminutive size. Contrary to the usual rule amongst birds, the male sits on the eggs, and when the chickens are hatched assumes the charge of the brood. The young run immediately, or shortly after emerging from the shell, and are covered with a down of greyish black colour on the back, and whitish on the breast and neck. Their cry resembles the syllables pi, pi, pi, uttered in a sharp, quick manner. The old male, when any dangers appear, feigns to be hurt, like other birds endeavouring to distract the attention of the hunter, in order that his brood may escape by hiding in the grass. After the male has sat for some time on the nest (I should place the period of incubation at about three weeks), he gets thin, and the grass closely surrounding the nest is found eaten quite bare. The females by this time are beginning to pick up flesh, which is a fortunate provision of nature for the Indians, who cannot subsist on lean meat. Whilst the females are thin they are killed and skinned, the meat being left, and the skins sewn into mantles for sale at the settlements. These birds at that period are much afflicted with vermin, which invade the toldos and guanaco mantles of the Indians, and cause them infinite annoyance. (A useful hint occurs to me for future travellers amongst the Patagonians—never allow the squaw of the establishment to place ostrich mantles under your sleeping hides.) The young Rhea does not attain its full plumage or size until the second year after its birth, and is never pursued by the Indians unless food is really scarce. The eggs are eaten in all stages, fresh or stale; the Indian not recognising much difference between the unhatched chicken and the unborn guanaco. The inveterate destroyers of these birds are, besides their human enemies, the puma and foxes, the former of which will surprise and kill the sitting bird, which he carefully hides, and then proceeds to eat the eggs with great gusto. We not unfrequently found the eggs broken and scattered by these animals, whilst the bird was generally discovered hard by. The foxes, I think, content themselves with sucking the eggs; but I was assured that near Geylum, where wild cats are common, these latter will kill the bird on the nest, like their relatives the puma. Besides these there are the condors, eagles, and hawks, which no doubt commit extensive ravages on the young broods. With all these difficulties to contend with, the Rhea Darwinii exists in great numbers, and if not kept down to a certain extent by the Indians and other enemies would overrun the whole country. We were, while at Chiriq, busily engaged in the destruction of both guanaco and ostrich, the high rugged range of hills that bounded Chiriq on the eastern side literally swarming with guanaco; and as the females, heavy with young, could not keep up their speed for a long distance, one man not unfrequently captured and killed five and six, or even eight; extracting the young and taking its skin for mantles and the carcase for food, while the hide of the mother served, if needed, to repair the toldo. The marrow bones also were taken as a dainty, but the meat was left for the condors, puma, and foxes. We hunted almost every day, and traversed nearly all the surrounding country. The plains lying to the west afforded beautiful ground to ride over, covered with soft grass, but a few leagues from the Cordillera a sudden dip occurs, which forms a huge basin, lying about 50 feet below the level of the plain, like the bed of a lake, and extending to the mountains; the surface of this was chiefly covered with grass, but in some parts the yellow clay and beds of stones were visible. On the higher ground, before reaching this basin, numerous lagoons occurred, round one of which there was a large gull-rookery, and the inhabitants made themselves audible at a long distance. Here also I noticed many of the teru-tero, a spur-winged lapwing, common near Buenos Ayres. I had encountered them even as low as Santa Cruz, but never in such large numbers. Our hunts on the plain were not so successful as those on the hilly range, although in the previous year the Indians asserted that the reverse had been the case. Perhaps the guanaco had gained in experience, and felt themselves safer in the rocky heights where riders were likely to get bad falls. The Northern Indians rode most recklessly, going at full speed down the most precipitous places, and, strange to say, although one or two accidents did occur resulting in broken limbs, they were not numerous. This speaks volumes for the sure footedness of their horses. It is their custom, when hunting in rocky places, to place hide shoes on the horse’s fore feet as a safeguard against sharp stones. After hunting, it was the rule every evening for those owning spare horses (and indeed for those who did not) to repair to the race-course a little before sunset, and train or run their horses, or look on at the others, and if there was a race, make bets. The manner of racing is something similar to that in vogue amongst the Gauchos in the provinces of Rio de la Plata, except that it is generally conducted on principles of fair play. The stakes are always deposited before the race comes off: if horses, they are tied out handy; if ornaments, bolas, &c., &c., they are placed in a heap, the winners removing them directly the race is decided. The horses are run bare-backed, the two riders starting themselves after cantering side by side for a few yards. Owing to the great care taken in training the horses, very few false starts ever occur. The races are very often for long distances, four miles or a league being the average, although, of course, with young horses the distance is shorter. The Indian manner of breaking colts is similar to that of the Gauchos; they are, however, more gentle with their horses, and consequently break them better. One rarely sees a horse amongst the Indians that is not perfectly quiet; indeed, the smallest children are nearly always mounted on the racers and best horses, although if a white man approaches or attempts to catch them they show signs of fear and temper. Indeed, there appears to be a sort of instinctive mutual bond between the Indians and their horses. For lameness the cure most prevalent is bleeding in the fetlock with an awl; sometimes the incision is made higher up the leg, and the awl forced nearly through the horse’s leg; he is then tied up for a short time, and then let go, and the cure is generally certain. Of course before the bleeding he is tied up several hours without water. The cure for sore backs, which, though rare, sometimes occur owing to an ill-made saddle, is a species of aluminous earth, applied to the wound after it has been cleansed with a knife. This earth is only found in the southern parts of the country, and it is very difficult to obtain any of this much-prized medicine from the Indians. One deposit of it is found in a cliff near Lake Viedma, so high that it can only be got at by throwing stones at the face of the cliff, and so dislodging the earth.

A few lines will suffice to gratify any ‘horsey-doggy’ friends who may be curious as to the horse flesh and dog shows of the Indians. The horses in use amongst the Southern Indians are, as a rule, of a hardier race than those found amongst the Northern, Araucanian, and Pampas Indians. Their general size is about fifteen hands, or indeed perhaps less, but nevertheless they are of great speed and endurance; when one takes into consideration that the weight of their riders is frequently over fourteen stone, it appears extraordinary that they should be enabled to carry them in the way they do. The horses are, of course, all of Spanish origin, but time, climate, and the different nature of the country have altered them to a considerable degree from the original race. The horses found amongst the Northern Tehuelches are, as a rule, larger than those previously mentioned, with finer heads and smaller legs; they are also extremely swift, and being bred frequently from captured wild mares, are admirably adapted for hunting purposes. The horse, however, most valued is the wild horse captured and tamed; these differ from the others in being, as a rule, of larger size and superior speed. This, I think, only applies to Northern Patagonia, as I have in other parts seen wild horses which in no way equalled those in captivity. The horses vary in colour, those captured from the wild herds generally being a dark bay, black, or brown. Near Port San Julian, I am informed that there are numbers of wild ponies, about the size and make of a shelty, which the children play with. The horses are entirely grass fed, and in consequence of the dry nature of the pasture in the winter season, and the subsequent hard treatment, they generally get very thin in the spring time of the year, but soon pick up condition when given a few days’ rest, and allowed to feed on the fresh pasture. The dogs generally in use amongst the Patagonian Indians vary considerably both in size and species. First of all comes a sort of lurcher (smooth haired), bred by the Indians from some obtained in the Rio Negro, the mothers being a description of mastiff, with the muzzle, however, much sharper than that of a mastiff proper; they are also very swift, and have longer and lower bodies. Our chief, Orkeke, kept his breed of this dog, which probably had been derived from the earlier Spanish settlements, pure; and they were, for hunting purposes, the best I saw, running both by scent and view.

Another description of dog observed had long woolly hair, and indeed much resembled an ordinary sheep dog. These were passably common amongst the Indians, but most of the dogs used in the chase—which are nearly all castrated—are so mixed in race as to defy specification. I heard of a dog captured from some Fuegians, which was very swift, and answered perfectly to our description of harrier. These Fuegians are probably those known as the ‘Foot’ Indians, who, by those who have descended on their coasts, have been observed to use dogs for hunting purposes.

Casimiro informed me that Quintuhual’s people formerly hunted on foot, with a large sort of dog, which, from his description, must have resembled a deer hound. The dogs are rarely fed, being allowed generally to satiate themselves in the chase. The hounds belonging to Orkeke, and one or two others, were exceptions to this rule, being fed with cooked meat when it was plentiful. The women keep pet lap dogs of various descriptions, generally a sort of terrier, some of them much resembling the Scotch terrier. ‘Ako,’ for instance, was to all appearance a thoroughbred dog of that breed. These little lap dogs are the torment of one’s life in camp: at the least sound they rush out yelping, and set all the big dogs off; and in an Indian encampment at night, when there is anything stirring, a continual concert of bow-wows is kept up. The dogs are fierce towards strangers, but generally content themselves with surrounding them, showing their teeth and barking, unless set on. That they are ugly customers at night an amusing instance will prove. One morning a dog was found dead near its owner’s toldo, which had evidently been knocked on the head with a bola, and finished with a knife; the owner made a great outcry, but no explanation could be had. It subsequently became known to me that a young gallant had sought admission to the toldo of his innamorata by the accustomed method of cautiously lifting the back tent cover from the ground, and dexterously crawling underneath; when half through, he felt his leg seized in a pair of powerful jaws. The lady was highly amused at the predicament of her lover, who, however, extricated himself by a mighty and well-directed kick with his foot in the muzzle of his assailant. When returning from his ‘rendezvous’ he met his active enemy, and vindictively knocked him on the head, and, to make sure work, cut his throat; but his leg carried after all a deeper scar than his heart as a token of the love-adventure, and when the story was told, and, as may be supposed, excited roars of laughter, it recalled forcibly to my mind,

‘He jests at scars who never felt a wound.’

Our camp at Chiriq presented quite the appearance of a town of toldos, and fresh arrivals were still expected from the S.W.; but the Indians of the latter party, with whom we had not yet made acquaintance, sent a chasqui with an invitation to Crimè to join their party, and a message that they would ultimately meet us at Teckel. Accordingly, Crimè, who was now rich in horses and gear, having received many presents, bid us adieu, and set off with an imposing cavalcade. Poor fellow! he had better have remained with us, as the sequel will show.

The weather during the first weeks of our stay in Chiriq was warm and fine, but latterly the wind veered round to the west, and it changed to sleet and cold rain, and the normal Patagonian climate. The humour of the Indians seemed as variable, for old Orkeke grew exceedingly jealous. Jackechan often used to lend me a horse on the hunting excursions, and Orkeke one day asked me in a sullen manner whether I wished to change my toldo, and go with my friend. My reply that I had no wish to do so at present quieted him for the time, and he immediately offered me one of his best horses for the next day, which was a real treat. I am afraid I rather abused his generosity, as we had a great day chasing large herds of guanaco, and with a racer for a mount, one was induced to ride furiously. On the 20th of November it was decided to break up the camp and divide into two parties to hunt, it being considered that our united numbers were too great for successful hunting in one place. When all were packing up and preparing to start, a row nearly broke out between two of our old party: indeed it was with the greatest difficulty, and only through the intervention of Casimiro, Hinchel, and two or three more, that blood was not spilt. Of course, if the fight had commenced between these two, such is the excitability of the Indians that it would soon have become a general battle. This, and a heavy shower of rain coming, prevented our march, so the women unpacked, and horses were let go again. Some few Indians started to hunt, but came back shortly almost empty handed, fairly beaten by the driving sleet and snow. During our stay most of us had refitted all our gear, and were well provided with bolas; many were the necks of guanaco stripped to obtain the hide for them, and for making ‘manêos’ (straps for securing horses’ legs), whips, cinctas (girths), lazos, &c., &c. The work that I preferred was plaiting ostrich sinews for thongs for the ostrich bolas. The ostrich sinews are abstracted by dislocating the lower joint of the leg, the first sinew is then pulled out by hand, and the others drawn out by main force, using the leg bone as a handle. This bone is then separated from the foot, and the sinews left adhering to the foot; they are slightly dried in the sun, after which the extracted bone is used to separate the fibres by drawing it sharply up the sinews. When sufficiently separated they are cut off from the foot, split into equal sizes and lengths, and laid in a moist place to soften; when sufficiently soft they are made into thongs, cooked brains being used to make them more pliable, and lie better in the plaits. These thongs are plaited in four plaits (round sinnet) well known to every sailor, but the ends are doubled in a peculiar manner, which requires practice to manage well. Before leaving Chiriq another disturbance was nearly taking place, caused by one of the Chilians quitting Tchang’s toldo, and joining that of a man commonly called Santa Cruz, an Indian well known at Patagones, and allowed a ration of mares from the Government. Tchang, immediately on hearing of his departure, put on his revolver and collared the Chilian’s horse. To this Santa Cruz objected, but Tchang kept the horse, and, revolver in hand, defied anybody’s claim to it. After this little incident the camp was broken up, and the two parties divided—Hinchel marching S.W. and our party to the N.W.

After a very cold and hungry march in the face of a bitterly piercing wind, we encamped on the shores of a lagoon of some extent, called ‘Hoshelkaik,’ which signifies ‘Windy-hill,’ and certainly is worthy of its name; for during our stay a succession of S.W. winds blew with great violence. After our arrival a small boy cut his finger, and, according to custom, a mare was killed. Some of the meat sent to our toldo was thankfully received, as we were all half starved. Having strolled through the camp and visited Cayuke’s toldo, I found that Casimiro had not arrived, having started, to my great disgust, with the party travelling to the S.W., and taken with him a specially good horse, which he had given me in exchange for a revolver. I was, however, glad to find that Jackechan, the Pampa chief, was there, and we had a confabulation and smoke together. On the 23rd, the previous day having been too rough, the Indians started to hunt the enclosing grassy basin before mentioned as existing at the foot of the mountains. Immense herds of guanaco were driven down, and being encircled by men and fires the sport soon commenced. The Tehuelches had for some reason set light to the grass in every available part, and the wind rising to a furious gale, the fires soon spread and joined in an advancing line. Jackechan, myself, and several other Indians were in the centre of the circle, each employed in skinning the guanaco we had already killed, when suddenly we found that we were encircled in flame and smoke, and that if we did not want to be well scorched we had better look out for means of exit. Leaving our game, we galloped at the spot where the smoke appeared thinnest, but after riding three or four minutes with our faces covered up, found an impassable barrier of flame; so, half-maddened with the hot sand dashed in our eyes by the gale, and nearly suffocated with smoke, we galloped down the line of flame to a spot where, the grass being stunted, we managed to get through without injury, although our horses’ legs were singed a little. We were very thankful to breathe pure air, though the atmosphere was still thick with smoke, and nothing could be distinguished of valley or anything else. Jackechan, with unerring Indian instinct, led the way to a stream of water, where we were able to drink and wash some of the hot sand out of our eyes. After a quarter of an hour’s rest and a smoke, as the flames had passed on, we determined to ride back over the still smoking ground, and endeavour to discover the bodies of our guanaco. We accordingly emerged from the hollow, where we had sheltered ourselves, and once more plunged into the thick of the driving smoke and heated sand: holding our mantles over our eyes, we penetrated the murky atmosphere till Jackechan discovered two of his animals; but as they were both roasted, or rather burned, and ourselves and horses were nearly suffocated, we beat a hasty retreat. I was very thankful when at length, ascending a steep declivity, we emerged at the top into the pure air. ‘Ah!’ said Jackechan, looking down on the plains still full of smoke, ‘it has been a rough time, but “we are men, not women,” though we were fools to remain to the last.’ I fully agreed with him in this, as my eyes still smarted very painfully. How he found his way through the smoke was perfectly inexplicable to me: if I had been alone, my travels would have been concluded then and there. Towards the evening of this eventful day the wind abated in violence, and during the night snow fell, and all the ensuing day there were passing squalls of white water or snow, and furious blasts of wind. About this time I came to the conclusion that summer was unknown in these regions, and that the Patagonian year consisted of two seasons—a hard winter and a bad spring. The Indians, however, declared that the climate had grown colder during the last two years. On the 28th of November we broke up camp and marched to a valley situated under one spur of the wooded hills, previously mentioned as bounding the northern side of the valley—killing some young guanaco by the way. I was astonished on galloping up to two to find they did not run away at first, although their mothers had already gone, and taken up a position on a rocky eminence some distance off. Whilst watching them, however, and meditating on the necessity and cruelty of killing them, the two little things started off; so, as my mantle was fast losing its beautiful appearance, I put compunction on one side, and shortly killed them with a blow on the head. On arriving at the fire where some of the Indians were collected eating ostriches, I was proceeding to take the skins off, when Tankelow, who presided, stopped me, saying that we would skin them in the toldos, where the blood would be a treat to the women and children. We accordingly reserved the luxury, and after a feed crossed a small stream and piece of marsh, beyond which lay the encampment, where the women soon verified Tankelow’s words. Though the flesh of the young guanaco is rather tasteless and soft, the blood has a sweeter taste than that of the adult. The rennet, or milk, which is found curdled into a sort of cheese in the intestines, is also eaten with gusto. The most laborious part of young guanaco hunting consists in taking off the skin, which, after the necessary incisions have been made with a knife, has to be taken off by hand, the thumb being used to separate the hide from the body. The calves, when three days old, run at about the speed of a horse’s hand gallop, but sometimes give longer chases. The Indian plan is to kill them with a blow on the head from a ball, and then pass on to another, and so on, afterwards returning to collect them in a heap and skin them. After the hide is taken off it is necessary to expose it to the air for a few minutes before folding it up, otherwise it is liable to get heated, and will tear easily in the subsequent processes. We hunted in the neighbourhood of Jeroshaik, or ‘Bad Hill,’ several times, with varying success, sometimes proceeding up into the wooded hills, where the timber in some places grew in clumps, as if planted by the hand of man; in others filled up the rocky dells, until the main forests were reached, which appeared to extend far into the Cordillera. Most of the trees were of a species of beech, on which were many small edible fungi, some of which we gathered for use; and traces of red deer were frequently seen, and a few were chased by the Indians, but owing to the thickness of the wood they escaped. Some of the Indians took the opportunity to cut fresh poles for the toldos. The sight of woods and trees was so refreshing that I spent several days consecutively amongst them, very often alone, or with one companion. Nobody, except a sailor after months on the sea, can imagine the pleasure of wandering under trees to one who had passed so long a time in the barren and monotonous plains. The weather, however, still continued wet and inclement. On the 5th of December, some of us wandering on the heights above, made out smoke to the N.E., and Campan went off at speed on horseback to reconnoitre. He returned towards nightfall very drunk, and riding straight to our toldo, proclaimed that El Sourdo, the Indian left behind in Santa Cruz, had arrived at a place close to us, bringing grog in two small barrels, and letters for me: when he had delivered his news, he, with some difficulty, dismounted without coming on his head; then produced a bottle half full of rum from under his mantle, which he dispensed to the attendant company.

Our toldo was soon crowded, and it was proposed that on the following day we should march and meet the visitor, all being eager for a drink. Accordingly, on the morrow we started, in a storm of sleet and rain, and prepared to hunt en route. While hunting, just after Jackechan and myself had killed an ostrich, the former perceived a single toldo, which he knew must be El Sourdo’s, so we galloped towards it, accompanied by two other Indians, and were received with open arms by El Sourdo and his two wives, Jackechan being a very old friend. We were made to sit down, and the olla, or boiling-pot, was brought out by the two wives, who acted as Hebes by producing the rum, with which our host filled the pot, and dispensed the liquor in a pannikin. One of the wives then produced my letters, which proved to be from Mr. Clarke and Don Luiz P. B., the schooner having arrived on October 5, all safe. El Sourdo then gave me all the news verbatim—how a fight had taken place at the settlement between Gonzalez and Antonio, in which the latter had been killed or mortally wounded, and the former had escaped to the Pampas, but had subsequently been captured and taken as a prisoner in the schooner to Buenos Ayres; and other news of trivial importance. Meanwhile the grog was fast disappearing, and the pot had to be replenished. This in turn was about half-emptied by the time the other Indians and women arrived, and Jackechan, very inebriated, was vowing eternal friendship to me, while Tchang was howling in my other ear a lovely Tehuelche ditty. As I had drunk in moderation, I thought it about time to clear, so, on the plea of looking after my horse, retired and re-read my letters, which anyone may imagine, although not coming from my relations, were of great interest. After my departure no more liquor was given away, El Sourdo selling two bottles for a young horse or a silver-sheathed knife, so that he soon found himself a rich man. By midnight all the liquor was exhausted and many drunk, but no disturbances occurred worthy of mention, all arms having previously been stowed away safely. I was roused from my first sleep by a lady from a neighbouring toldo, who wished to embrace me, and, with feminine curiosity, wanted to know the contents of my letters. She was, I am sorry to say, in an advanced stage of intoxication, so after giving her a smoke, Orkeke, who had roused up and was dying of laughter, politely showed her the door. Most of the party went out hunting in the morning, the ride no doubt proving beneficial to those suffering from headache, though little game was killed; but the Sourdo, whom I had joined in a morning bowl of coffee, remained at home, as his horses were very much used up, one of his boys going on a friend’s mount to procure meat. For four days after this drinking bout we did nothing but slaughter and eat mares, somebody’s child having been slightly hurt in some manner. Although I have read in various books that the Indians have a religious festival at which mares are slaughtered as a sacrifice to the Deity at a certain time of the year, I never saw anything of it. Whenever this sort of sacrificial feast took place, there was always a special occasion for it—either a death, or a child hurt, or some escape from a danger, when the animals are killed as a thank-offering. Rather tired of remaining so long in one place, on the 12th we marched due north across the plain, which was called ‘Gisk,’ and encamped under a hill covered with trees, and the sides furrowed with small gullies, densely filled with vegetation and shrubs of two or three species. Here there were plants of the description of potatoes before mentioned, but growing very deep in such unfavourable ground that few were extracted. On the hill sides a plant bearing a yellow flower grew in abundance, the leaf of which, the Chilians informed me, was an excellent remedy for wounds and bruises, and much used in Chili. Four days’ hunting took place here, at the end of which Orkeke, who had some story that the Pampas had been stealing a march by hunting at night, and was rather disgusted at his continual ill-success, proposed that we should separate, and in company with the toldos of Tchang, go westward to a plain below the higher mountains, which he stated to be abounding in guanaco. He also proposed a trip into the Cordillera in search of wild cattle. This plan was eagerly approved, as I anticipated persuading him, if possible, to penetrate to the Chilian shores of the Pacific. We accordingly set out on our travels, but had not gone far before a frightful storm of wind, sleet, and rain set in, which wetted us all completely. We huddled for shelter under a bush for some time, but as it continued there was nothing for it but to push on, and about 3 P.M. the weather cleared up; we then entered a glen with a wooded stream running down it, expanding higher up into an open plain. A short distance up the valley the intended camping-ground lay, so a small circle was made, in which some ostriches and guanaco were killed. We then adjourned across the river under the trees, and soon had a roaring fire blazing, by the side of which we dried ourselves and cooked our dinner. A more romantic-looking spot than this I was never in. On the other side of the stream was a mass of grey rocks, half hid by shrubs, from amongst which here and there a dead tree stood up. On one side the grass was beautifully green, and the trees were growing in scattered round clumps a few yards apart; doves were cooing in their branches, and young ostriches were running about. These, I am sorry to say, were caught by the horsemen, who jumped down and secured them: hunger had no scruples, and two furnished a good meal for each wet and starving traveller. Despite our ducking, we were soon all in high spirits, and some of us, before going back to the toldos, proceeded to search for wild potatoes, a few of which we brought back. The following morning the sun rose bright, with a clear sky, so we continued our march in a westerly direction, arriving about mid-day at a gorge amongst the wooded hills, where I hoped that we were going to encamp; the women, however, diverged to the northward, and proceeding up a ravine or cañon in the barranca of the high pampa, pitched the toldos in a gloomy, prison-like spot. Melancholy as it seemed to me, it afforded abundant pasture for the horses, which between the hills was scarce, so that they were inclined to wander into the woods and be hard to find when wanted, which undoubtedly was the reason of our taking the cañon in preference to the wooded valley. This cañon, a little beyond our camp, divided into two, in one of which was a laguna frequented by avocets. The stream, which in spring poured down the glen, presented only an occasional pool and a dry bed, in which were numbers of rounded white stones of chalky substance, supplying capital materials for bolas, easily reduced to the suitable form: it also occurred to me that the chips pounded to powder might have the curative effects of chalk mixture, as diarrhœa had affected some of the party, and the result of the medicinal experiment was satisfactory, though it was impossible to prevail on the Indians to try the remedy. Whilst the women were pitching toldos, the men, eight in number, started to hunt again. Riding to the west, where the plain was still open, we came upon another of the huge basins previously described, on the western side of which, beyond a lagoon stocked with waterfowl, flowed a broad winding stream fringed with trees. At a short distance from the other side of the stream open glades extended for the space of perhaps a mile to the verge of the interminable forests, rising high up on the lofty sides of mountains, some of whose summits were still partially snow-clad. To the south were two or three round detached hummocks, hardly deserving the name of hills, crowned with trees. In the foreground were immense herds of guanaco, and on the northern side frowned a high range of arid-looking hills, forming a great contrast to the deliciously-refreshing green aspect of the other points of view. Whilst waiting concealed behind a bush for the coming herd, which had been cunningly encircled by Tchang and another Indian, and were to be driven in our direction, we gazed long at the beautiful view before us, and Orkeke pointed out a mountain some distance to the north, underneath which, he said, was the entrance to the scene of our future campaign against the wild cattle. Towards evening we returned to the toldos, pretty well loaded with skins. On another occasion, when hunting, we made a circle, finishing off in the wooded district near the banks of the river. On our return we hunted over a park-like country, with alternate open glades and woods. Here we killed a doe red deer and a large description of fox, apparently identical with the Falkland Island species (Lupus antarcticus). In the vicinity of the woods, the velvety sward was carpeted with the wild strawberry plants, which, however, were only in bloom. On this occasion our enjoyment was marred by one of the party getting a severe fall, which laid him up for a day or two. Before we reached the toldos rain set in heavily, which during the night turned to snow, and the morning sun shone on a white landscape. During our stay the women went to the woods to cut fresh poles for the toldos, and the men brought back from the wooded country a description of fungus, which, when dried, forms an excellent tinder, of considerable value amongst the Indians, as there are only a few spots where it is to be obtained. After some days spent in this pleasant neighbourhood, as the supply of guanaco was failing, we marched over the barren range of hills, and passing a lagoon of considerable extent below the hills, encamped on the other side of them, by the side of a smaller one, in a place called ‘Gogomenykaik.’

During the hunt I had singled out a guanaco, and was in full chase across the upper pampa, which was covered with stunted bushes and tufts of grass, when the quarry suddenly disappeared, as if the earth had swallowed him. The next moment my horse halted in mid-gallop, with its fore feet on the edge of a precipitous descent which shelved away without any warning. Below was a long beautiful glen, with a pool of water glistening among the trees which filled it, but did not rear their topmost boughs above the level of the pampa. Here the guanaco had taken refuge, and as the descent was impracticable for a horse, I could only gaze longingly down into the fairy-like scene, and turn away to join the circle, remembering that it was only too easy to lose oneself by delay. Of this an instance occurred the same day, for one of the Chilians did not appear at the fireside when the hunting was completed. At first no heed was bestowed on him, as it was natural to suppose that he had chased a herd of guanaco to some distance, and was detained taking off the skins; but when at sunset he was still missing, some dry grass was fired, for the purpose of directing him to our camp. The following morning he had not appeared when we started to hunt, myself going as pointsman with Orkeke. We galloped for some distance over the plain, and halted in a hollow, where we came on six young skunks outside their parental burrow, into which they quickly vanished on our dismounting; but as their burrows do not penetrate far, Orkeke soon grubbed out a couple. As they were too small to kill for the value of their skins, and too much trouble to carry home as pets for the children, we set them free again, and I proceeded, leaving Orkeke to pursue his way slowly. A slight rise brought me in front of a rocky hill, on the other side of which was a river with wooded banks, across the valley of which river lay my route. I at first considered it to be the same as that seen in the previous encampment, but on reflection it was plainly another, this flowing north-east, whilst the other took a south-west course. Our hunt progressed very fairly. On closing the circle, one of the Chilians, who was running a guanaco with me, and not expert in the use of the bolas, entangled his horse and himself instead of the chase, which lost him his spoils, and caused much merriment amongst the remainder of the party; although I may as well state here that when a horse gets a ball round his legs or under his tail, it is not much of a joking matter for the rider. On our way back to camp, halting by a spring, we found large quantities of wild celery; nettles were also common—the real old English white-flowering one being prevalent. Although my bare legs got considerably stung, I forgot to swear in Tehuelche, and forgave the plant for old acquaintance sake. At the toldos we found the Chilian, who had arrived recently, having run a herd some distance and lost his way, but had been safely directed by our signal fires. In the afternoon some of the party were occupied in breaking their horses, while others were sitting at home lazily watching the performance. Conde’s step-father, generally known as ‘Paliki,’ had a three-year-old iron grey, with a white star, and a very fine animal, tied up ready to be mounted for the first time. Paliki entered our toldo to borrow my cincta, or girth, and chaffed me, asking if I would venture to ‘domar’ him. Orkeke seconded the proposal, and accordingly, having stripped off mantle and boots, I proceeded to take the lazo and reins and mount. The instant he felt the unwonted incumbrance he buck-jumped for several yards, finally jumping into the middle of the brook and nearly losing his footing. I spurred him out, and once on the bank he commenced to whirl round and round like a teetotum. At last I got his head straight, and after a few more buck-jumps he went off at racing speed, urged by whip and spur. After a stretching gallop of three miles, I rode him quietly back, now and again turning him to accustom him to the bridle-thong, but not venturing to feel his mouth, and then brought him up to the toldo amidst the shouts of the spectators. Orkeke expressed great surprise, and wanted to know where I had learned to ‘domar’; and the gratified owner insisted on presenting me with a piece of tobacco. This was most welcome, as my store was almost exhausted, though it had been replenished occasionally by the possessors of guns and revolvers in return for my services in putting the locks to rights; and the fear of being left tobaccoless—the agony of which all smokers will appreciate—was becoming unpleasantly strong. The following day we bade adieu to the lagoon, which, as usual, was covered with swans and other wild fowl, which we never molested, husbanding our powder in the event of future disturbances with other Indians. We marched a few miles, and encamped near the river—indeed, on its very banks, under the shadows of the trees. Here we passed our time away hunting, bathing in the stream, smoking, and lying in the shade for three days. One of my horses being lame, I could not hunt every day, so frequently passed hours under the trees by the river, scrubbing my one remaining shirt for future use, and working hide, &c. As writing in the toldo was made almost impossible by the curiosity of the children, crowding round me and asking questions, I generally used to take my note-book to my retreat; here, however, I was often interrupted by the girls, who came on the pretence of bathing, and evinced great playful curiosity as to the contents of my book—for here, too, I used to peruse and re-peruse my library, namely, half of the delightful ‘Elsie Venner,’ which Crimè had picked up on board some ship to serve as wadding for his guns, and sold to me for a little powder. To enable the reader to follow our somewhat devious course and the intricacies of these hills and frequent rivers, the [sketch map at page 156] will be found useful; it does not pretend to be exact, but gives a very fair idea of the line of country traversed and of our migrations between Henno and Teckel.

On the 23rd, Indians having been seen to the north and guanaco hunting proving a failure, Orkeke, to my great delight, proposed a visit to the wild cattle country. The camp was accordingly struck, and following more or less the valley of the river, which flowed after one turn nearly due east, we shortly came out into an open plain running up between the mountains, at the head of which we encamped by some tall beeches on the banks of the stream. The whole of the latter part of the plain traversed was literally carpeted with strawberry plants all in blossom, the soil being of a dark peaty nature. Young ostriches were now numerous, and every hunt some were captured and formed a welcome addition to our dinner. The children had several alive as pets, which they used to let loose and then catch with miniature bolas, generally ending in killing them. Our programme was to leave all the women, toldos, and other encumbrances in this spot, named ‘Weekel,’ or Chaykash—a regular station, and which Hinchel’s party had occupied a few weeks previously—and proceed ourselves into the interior in search of cattle. The following morning at daylight horses were caught and saddled, and, after receiving the good wishes of the women, who adjured us to bring back plenty of fat beef, we started off just as the sun was rising behind the hills to the eastward. The air was most invigorating, and we trotted along for some distance up a slightly irregular and sandy slope, halting after an hour or two by the side of a deliciously clear brook, flowing east, where we smoked. We had previously passed guanaco and ostrich, but no notice was taken of them, the Indians having larger game in view. After passing this brook, the head water of the river near which we had left the toldos, we skirted a large basin-like plain of beautiful green pasture, and after galloping for some time entered the forest, travelling along a path which only permitted us to proceed in Indian file. The trees were in many places dead, not blackened by fire, but standing up like ghostly bleached and bare skeletons. It is a remarkable fact that all the forests on the eastern side are skirted by a belt of dead trees. At length, however, just as we came in sight of a curiously pointed rock which in the distance resembled the spire of a church, we entered the forest of live trees; the undergrowth was composed of currant, bay, and other bushes, whilst here and there were beds of yellow violets, and the inevitable strawberry plants everywhere. After crossing a stream which, flowing from the north, afterwards took a westerly course, thus proving that we had passed the watershed, we proceeded, under cover of a huge rock, to reconnoitre the hunting ground. The scenery was beautiful: a valley, about a mile wide, stretched directly under us; on the southern verge a silver line marked the easterly river, and another on the northern the one debouching in the Pacific; whilst above, on both sides, rose high mountains covered with vegetation and almost impenetrable forests. On the western side of the valley a solitary bull was leisurely taking his breakfast, and above our look-out rock a huge condor lazily flapped his wings. These were the only specimens of animal life in view. Pursuing our way in perfect silence, as from the first entrance into the forests speaking had been prohibited, we followed the leader along the narrow cattle path, passing here and there the remains of a dead bull or cow that had met their fate by the Indians’ lazo, and at length descended to the plain. It was about mid-day, and the day was warm, so we halted, changed horses, looked to our girths, got lazos ready for use, and then started on. As we were proceeding we observed two or three animals amongst the woods on the opposite side, but knowing that it would be useless to follow, pursued our course up the valley. Having crossed the western stream, we at once entered a thicket where the path was scarcely distinguishable from the cover, but our leader never faltered, and led the way through open glades alternating with thick woods, on every side of which were cattle marks, many being holes stamped out by the bulls, or wallowing places. The glades soon terminated in forests, which seemed to stretch unbroken on either side. 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. We now commenced to ascend over a dangerous path, encumbered here and there with loose boulders and entangled in dense thickets, whilst we could hear and catch occasional glimpses of the river foaming down a ravine on our left, and presently arrived at the top of a ridge where the forests became more uniformly dense, and we could with great difficulty pursue our way. It was a mystery to me how Orkeke, who acted as guide, knew where we were, as on one occasion the slightly-marked paths diverged in different directions, and on another we literally found ourselves amongst fallen trees in a forest so dense that the light of day scarcely penetrated its shades. Our leader, however, never hesitated, but led us onwards in all confidence. Whilst brushing along, if I may be allowed the term, trying to keep the leader in sight, I heard something tapping on a tree, and looking up, saw close above me a most beautifully marked red crested woodpecker. We at length commenced to descend, and, after passing many channels of rivulets issuing from springs, where a slip of the horse’s foot on the wet and mossy stones would have occasioned something worse than broken bones, as they were situated on the edge of a deep ravine, finally emerged from the woods and found ourselves on a hill of some three hundred feet in height, whence we looked down on a broad plain in the form of a triangle, bounded by the river flowing through the ravine on the north side, and on the southern by another coming from the south, which two streams united in one large river at the western apex, at a distance of about perhaps a league. Above and around, on all sides excepting to the west and the ravines through which the rivers flowed, rose the unbroken wall of the lofty mountains of the Cordillera, many of their peaks snow-clad. No sound was to be heard except the rushing of the river in the ravine, and no animal life to be seen except a condor or two floating high above us in the clear sky. The scene was sublime, and I viewed it in silence for some minutes, till the pipe, being handed to me, dispelled all nascent poetic tendencies. The Indians remained silent and looked disgusted, as a herd of cattle had been expected to be viewed on the plain below. We descended to the flats, and crossed the river, on the banks of which ‘Paja’ or Pampa grass grew in abundance, as well as the bamboo-like canes from which Araucanian Indians make their lance shafts, and a plant called by the Chilians ‘Talka,’ the stalk of which, resembling rhubarb, is refreshing and juicy. On the northern edges and slope of the ravine behind us towered graceful pines 60 feet high, which, though an impassable barrier of rock prevented close inspection, appeared to be a species of Araucaria: the bark was imbricated, and the stems rose bare of branches for two-thirds of their height, like those figured by M. Gay. Many had been carried down by landslips, and lay tossed and entangled on the sides of the ravine. The increase of temperature after passing the watershed was sensibly great, amounting to from 7 to 10 degrees, and the vegetation far more luxuriant, the plants presenting many new forms unknown at the eastern side. After leaving the plain and crossing the shallow stream, we left our mantles, and girthed up near a tree in a thicket festooned with a beautiful creeper, having a bell-shaped flower of violet radiated with brown. The variety of flowers made an Eden of this lovely spot: climbing clusters of sweet peas, vetches, and rich golden flowers resembling gorgeous marigolds, and many another blossom, filled the air with perfume and delighted the eye with their beauty. Proceeding still westward we entered a valley with alternate clumps of trees and green pastures, and after riding about a mile I espied from a ridge on one side of the valley two bulls on the other side, just clear of the thick woods bordering the ascent of the mountains. The word was passed in whispers to the cacique, and a halt being called under cover of some bushes, a plan of attack was arranged in the following manner. Two men were sent round to endeavour to drive the animals to a clearing, where it would be possible to use the lazo, the remainder of the party proceeding down towards the open ground with lazos, ready to chase if the bulls should come that way. For a few minutes we remained stationary, picking the strawberries, which in this spot were ripe, although the plants previously met with were only in flower. At the end of five minutes spent in anxiously hoping that our plan would prove successful, a yell from the other side put us 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 the revolver; just as I had 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 stepped from my cover, but had hardly moved a pace forward when my spur caught in a root: 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 arms and legs 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.

A WILD BULL IN THE CORDILLERA.

The Indians closed round me, and evinced great anxiety to know whether I was much hurt. One more courageous than the rest, despite the warnings of the cacique, swore that he would try and lazo 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 lazo it caught in a branch, and before he could extricate it the bull was on 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. So having regained our spare horses we prepared to return home, hoping to be able to pass through the forests before nightfall. 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. This bull would have been taken had the other Indians showed any degree of alacrity when Orkeke balled him; but they were dispirited by the previous failure. As evening was coming on I noticed a cormorant on the river: this and the increase of temperature led me to believe that had we penetrated a few miles farther west we should have reached the shores of the Pacific. Pursuing our track homewards, after the second unsuccessful engagement, we managed to pass the thick forest before dark, and descending to the eastern valley saw numerous cows and bulls at intervals. A short time after dark we encamped for the night under the shelter of some trees near to the head waters of the western river, and after a pipe—by way of supper—wrapping ourselves in our mantles were soon fast asleep. At daylight we mounted and continued our journey, arriving about 2 P.M. pretty considerably hungry, having eaten nothing barring strawberries and talka, and a few unripe currants, since our last evening in the toldos. The women were naturally disappointed at our ill-luck, but uttered no complaints or reproaches, and hastened to pound some charqui for our refreshment. Next day, all except myself and my companion in the overthrow, who complained of headache, went out hunting and returned at night with young guanaco, and an ostrich or two. Some of the women had seen cattle near the encampment, and Orkeke informed me that in former years they used to occupy the plains below us in large herds, but that the Indians had driven them into the interior by excessive hunting: he also stated that on one occasion he spent some months in this spot, and caught and tamed a considerable number. His accurate knowledge of the country made his statement credible, and he also showed me a sort of corral that had been made to enclose the wild animals. For my own part the name of the Cordillera recalls the most hungry Christmas time of my life: to parody the ‘Ancient Mariner,’ it was ‘Cattle, cattle everywhere, and never a bit of beef.’ The following day was spent in the toldos, and some of the Indians were desirous, or pretended to be, of going once more in search of cattle. Orkeke would not hear of it, so on the 28th we marched, following the course of the river in a more or less north-east direction. The weather was beautiful, and after leaving the plain we rode along the winding valley, now and then starting a herd of guanaco or a solitary ostrich. Towards evening we encamped on the banks of the river, and the women, after pitching the toldos, employed themselves in grubbing up potatoes. This day we saw smoke to the north, caused by the hunting parties of the other Indians, and also some at a greater distance, which Orkeke said was that of the Araucanian Indians, whom it was expected that we should shortly meet with.

On the 29th we were preparing to march, and while the women were engaged in lading the horses some of us were picking the berries of the ‘Califata,’ or barberry (Berberis buccifolia), or looking for strawberries, when a boy, from a party of other Indians occupying the toldos near at hand, rode up as if despatched as a chasqui, and stated that his party had communicated with the Araucanians, amongst whom there had been a row in a drinking bout, resulting in the death of the cacique. This story was fully believed, and Orkeke was rather perplexed, as perhaps the new cacique might not be friendly disposed towards the Tehuelches. Without hunting, we rode quietly down to the next encampment, where the two strange toldos had already arrived. On our near approach one of the Indians came to meet us, and whilst discussing a pipe, after the observance of the usual ceremonial prescribed by etiquette (as we had not seen the man before), we asked him about the row amongst the Araucanos, which turned out to be all a hoax on the part of the promising youth who had visited us. After a while we adjourned to the toldos, situated on a bend of the river near a ford or pass. We had now arrived at the camp agreed on as a general rendezvous at Henno, previous to the dispersion of the Indians. This valley is called Teckel, and is a favourite resting place after the young guanaco season, both for the purpose of refreshing the horses and manufacturing the young guanaco skins into mantles, previous to proceeding to trade either at the Rio Negro or with the Indians of Las Manzanas. The encampment is usually situated on the ground occupied at this time, viz., on the west side of the river, about a mile from a large barren hill which shuts out the view of the Cordillera. On the east side the valley extends some three miles, and continues open to the north for perhaps six miles. It is all fertile, but the best grazing ground is at the north-east end. The banks of the river, which are destitute of trees, are in many places high, and formed under the surface earth of various stratified clays—blue, white, and red. In the bottom of the stream, which is singularly free from stones, thick beds of clay are of frequent occurrence, almost approaching to the tufa found in the Parana and other confluents of La Plata, and in some spots there are beds of black sand, probably auriferous; fish are procurable in any eddy or pool, and crayfish abound and form the most tempting bait for the others. Out of some of the finest clay I was enabled to manufacture a pipe by the simple process of shaping it in the hand and then baking it in the ashes, but it did not last long. Shortly after our arrival one of the small children, whilst playing with bolas formed out of the foot and sinews of an ostrich, hurt himself, and in consequence a slaughter of mares took place, which opportunely enabled us to dispense with hunting and rest our horses, which by this time stood in sore need of some bye days; though, as there was a good race-course, we frequently indulged in a race just to keep the horses in exercise. After we had been about a week settled here, the women being all hard at work making up mantles—which will be described in the next chapter—the Indians began to arrive, and the hunting was resumed; only, however, when absolutely necessary. Some of the new arrivals proceeded to the wild cattle district, and managed to kill a bull, although—as before—an accident occurred. As my lazo was used to capture the bull, I came in for a share of the meat, which was divided amongst the people in our toldo; but it proved very tough, and rather nasty. Perhaps the palate, having been so long accustomed to guanaco, ostrich, or horse, could not relish meat of a coarser description; but the hide was invaluable for making maneos and other horse-gear. On January 7 a messenger arrived from Casimiro requesting me to send him some information, and stating that he was distant some three marches, and wished to wait some time to refresh his horses, &c. After consulting with Orkeke and Jackechan, we sent back a messenger to say that, ‘As game was scarce now in the vicinity of Teckel, and all were more or less desirous of pushing forward, he had better make haste and join us, otherwise we should continue our march towards Las Manzanas.’ This message had the desired effect, as on the 11th he made his appearance, with several other toldos, a few only remaining in the rear with Crimè, who was reported to be unwell.

On Casimiro’s arrival, as he now possessed a good toldo, I changed my quarters to his residence, as agreed on at the outset of the journey. I was sorry to leave Orkeke, and the old man was very much grieved, a present of a revolver only troubling him the more, as he informed me that he had nothing to offer in exchange; however, my assurance that I did not give him a present expecting an exchange, as is customary with Indians, appeared to console him. The usual consultation of the chiefs took place, in which all the preceding arrangements were agreed to, and we remained stationary in Teckel until January 20. As I had by this time become well acquainted with the mode of life and usages of the Tehuelches, and was looked upon as one of themselves—and in fact had acquired a position and influence among them—it may be as well to call a halt, and devote a chapter to a description of the manners and customs of the Tsonecas, as Tehuelches or Patagonians call themselves.

CHAPTER V.
MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE TEHUELCHES.

Patagonian Giants.—A Long Walk.—Strength and Good Humour.—Heads of Hair.—Tehuelche Coquettes.—Dress of Men and Women.—Ornaments and Cosmetics.—Toilette and Bath.—Arms and Implements.—Ancient Bolas and Arrows.—Saddles and Bridles.—Silversmiths.—Manufacture of Mantles.—Women’s Work.—Diet and Cookery.—Smoking.—Card Playing.—Game of Ball.—Ceremonies at Birth.—Childhood.—Marriage.—Funeral Rites.—Religion.—Demons and Doctors.—Witchcraft and Omens.—Medical Skill.—Population and Politics.—Etiquette.—Tehuelche Character.—Natural Affection.—Advice to Travellers.

The first question asked about the Patagonians by curious English friends has invariably had reference to their traditionary stature. Are they giants or not? Whether the ancestors of the Tehuelches—to whom alone, by the way, the name Patagonians properly applies—were taller than the present race is uncertain; though tales of gigantic skeletons found in Tehuelche graves are current in Punta Arenas and Santa Cruz. The average height of the Tehuelche male members of the party with which I travelled was rather over than under 5 feet 10 inches.[7] Of course no other means of measurement besides comparing my own height were available; but this result, noted at the time, coincides with that independently arrived at by Mr. Cunningham. Two others, who were measured carefully by Mr. Clarke, stood 6 feet 4 inches each. After joining the Northern Tehuelches, although the Southerners proved generally to be the tallest, I found no reason to alter this average, as any smaller men that were met with in their company were not pure Tehuelches, but half-bred Pampas. The extraordinary muscular development of the arms and chest is in all particularly striking, and as a rule they are well-proportioned throughout. This fact calls for especial mention, as others have stated that the development and strength of the legs is inferior to that of the arms. Even Mr. Cunningham alleges this to be the case, but I cannot at all agree with him. Besides the frequent opportunities afforded me of scrutinising the young men engaged in the game of ball, in which great strength and activity are displayed, or when enjoying the almost daily bath and swimming or diving, I judged of the muscular size of their legs by trying on their boots, which, in nearly all cases, were far too large for me, although the feet, on the other hand, were frequently smaller than mine. The height of their insteps is also worthy of remark, one example of which may suffice. Having negotiated an exchange of an excellent pair of high boots, manufactured by Messrs. Thomas, for some necessary article, with a Tehuelche, the bargain fell through because he was unable to get his foot into the boot, the high arched instep proving an insuperable obstacle to further progress.

An instance of the walking powers of the Tehuelches came under my particular notice. On my first arrival at Santa Cruz, it will be remembered that the schooner was lying in the mouth of the river waiting for a fair wind. Two Tehuelches, named Tchang and Getchkook, had embarked in order to proceed to the Rio Negro, but their patience becoming exhausted by the delay, they asked to be put ashore, and walked back to the settlement—a distance of over forty miles—in about twelve hours, without food. I saw them on their arrival, and they did not appear in any way distressed, merely remarking that it had been ‘a long walk.’

Their powers of abstaining from food are also very remarkable. When the disturbances and fighting were going on they rarely ate anything: also when travelling as ‘chasquis,’ or messengers, they will not unfrequently go for two, and even three, days without tasting food. In our expedition into the Cordillera we remained over forty-eight hours without food, except wild fruit, and, although I at first suffered from hunger, my companions did not appear to be in any way inconvenienced. As a Chilian deserter remarked on one occasion, it was all very well for them to go on without eating; ‘but we can’t—we’ve not so much fat.’ Their strength of arm is very great, and the distance to which they can throw the ostrich bola is truly astonishing: thus I have seen Crimè and some others ball an ostrich over seventy yards distant. When cutting wood in the Cordillera with Hinchel, a Chilian deserter and myself had cut a tree through, and, having fastened a lazo to the top branch, were endeavouring to drag it down, but its branches became entangled in another tree and we could not stir it. Hinchel, seeing our difficulty, came up, and with one well-directed, vigorous tug cleared it from the branches and brought it to the ground.

Mr. Clarke also informed me that when he was ill with fever, and had to be removed from the Almacen to the lower house on the island, on account of the noise made by the drunken Indians, Wáki mounted, and, taking him in his arms, rode down seemingly unencumbered by the burden. Their faces, of course, vary in expression, but are ordinarily bright and good-humoured, though when in the settlements they assume a sober, and even sullen, demeanour. Wáki and Cayuke, two friends of mine, are particularly present to my recollection as having always had a smile on their faces. Their ever ready laughter displays universally good teeth, which they keep white and clean by chewing ‘maki,’ a gum which exudes from the incense bush, and is carefully gathered by the women and children. It has a rather pleasant taste and is a most excellent dentifrice, worthy to rival Odonto or Floriline, and it is used simply as such, and not, as Monsr. Guinnard[8] says, because their greediness is so great that they must chew something. Their eyes are bright and intelligent, and their noses—though, of course, presenting different types—are as a rule aquiline and well-formed, and devoid of the breadth of nostril proper to the ordinary ideal of savage tribes. The peculiar prominence over the eyebrows has been noticed by all observers, and retreating foreheads, though observable, are exceptional. The thick masses of hair, and the obvious risk, which would deter the most zealous craniologist from endeavouring to measure their heads, must be deemed sufficient excuse for my not being able to state whether they are dolichokephalic or brachykephalic; a point, however, which I confess did not particularly attract my observation; but, for the partial comfort of anthropologists, be it noted that both Chilians and myself interchanged hats with some Tehuelches, especially Orkeke and Hinchel, without finding misfits. The complexion of the men is reddish brown, that is to say when cleansed from paint, and, like an old picture, restored to their pristine tint, which is not quite so deep as to warrant Fitzroy’s comparison of it to the colour of a Devon cow.

The scanty natural growth of beard, moustaches, and even eyebrows, is carefully eradicated by means of a pair of silver tweezers, and I was often urged to part with my beard, and undergo this painful operation, but I naturally objected to comply with the request. The men’s heads are covered with thick, flowing masses of long hair, of which they take great care, making their wives, or other female relatives, brush it out carefully at least once a day. Very few appeared to have grey hair; though there were a few exceptions, one very old man’s hair being of a snowy whiteness, which contrasted strangely with his tawny face. The women have, as far as I could judge, an average height of about 5 feet 6: they are very strong in the arms, but seldom walk beyond fetching the supplies of wood and water, all their journeys being performed on horseback. Their hair, which is of no great length, scarcely indeed equalling that of the men, and very coarse, is worn in two plaited tails, which on gala days are artificially lengthened, probably with horse-hair interwoven with blue beads, the ends being garnished with silver pendants. This practice, however, is confined, I think, to the unmarried ladies.

Being an admirer of long hair, on my first joining the Indians I greatly admired Tchang’s daughter for her ‘head of hair,’ two immensely long tails beautifully embellished, which I naturally thought was all her own. But, meeting her by chance on the following morning returning to the toldo with water, to my great disappointment I found that she had taken her spare hair off, and her natural locks were the reverse of long. The young women are frequently good-looking, displaying healthy, ruddy cheeks when not disguised with paint. They are modest in behaviour, though very coquettish, and as skilled in flirtation as if they had been taught in more civilised society. The fair widow who so nearly hooked the Englishman could on occasions appeal as prettily for help as a young lady in imaginary difficulties over a country stile. Thus, when at Orkeke’s request I led the way through a river—half way across the channel suddenly deepened, with muddy bottom, and an abrupt bank to land on—I heard a plaintive appeal, ‘Muster, help me! my horse is too small.’ Exposure and work do not age them as soon as might be expected, but when old they become most hideous beldames, and the most weird-like witches imagined by Doré would be surpassed by a trio of Tehuelche grandames. The dress of the men consists of a chiripa, or under garment round the loins, made of a poncho, a piece of cloth, or even of a guanaco mantle: but, whatever the material, this article of dress is indispensable and scrupulously worn, their sense of decency being very strong. All other garments are supplied by the capacious and warm skin mantle, which, worn with the fur inside and the painted side out, will keep the wearer dry for a considerable time in the wettest weather. This is often dispensed with in the chase, but, if worn when riding, is secured at the waist by a belt of hide or leather if it can be obtained. When in camp the belt is not used, and the garment is worn loose, something after the fashion of the ‘melodramatic assassin’s’ cloak. When sitting by the fireside, or even when walking about, the furred part of the mantle is generally kept up over the mouth—as the Tehuelches aver that the cold wind causes sore gums—a habit which assists in rendering their guttural, and at all times rather unintelligible, language more difficult of comprehension to the novice.

Their potro boots ([fig. 5]) or buskins are made from the skin of horse’s hock, and occasionally from the leg of a large puma, drawn on up to the knee and fastened round the foot. It is thus worn for a day or two until the boot has taken the shape of the foot, when the leather is cut at the toes and sewn up to fit. When the sole is worn, or in very wet or snowy weather, hide overshoes are worn besides, and the footprints thus made are really large enough to convey the idea of giants’ feet, and partly explain the term ‘Patagon,’ or large feet, applied to these Indians by the Spanish discoverers. The boots are rarely put on in camp for economical reasons, though turning out barefoot in the frozen grass at daylight is unpleasant even to a Tehuelche. But the material of the boot would soon wear out if used for walking. In riding they are secured by garters, either gay coloured woven bands, or, which is de rigueur for chiefs, of hide, with massive silver buckles. Although the usual head-dress of the men is simply a coloured fillet to confine the hair, yet sometimes, and especially on state occasions, hats, if procurable, are indulged in. Old Orkeke frequently wore a felt wideawake, which was, on returning from hunting, carefully put up by his thoughtful spouse.

The women’s dress consists of a mantle similar to that worn by the men, but secured at the throat by a large silver pin with a broad disc, or a nail, or thorn, according to the wealth or poverty of the wearer; and under this is a loose calico or stuff sacque, extending from the shoulders to the ankle. When travelling the mantle is secured at the waist by a broad belt ornamented with blue beads, and silver or brass studs. The boots worn by the women are similar to those described, with the exception that in their preparation the hair is left on the hide, while it is carefully removed from those of the men. The children are dressed in small mantles, but are more frequently allowed to run about naked up to the age of six or eight; their little boots are made from the skin taken from the fore-legs of the guanaco, softened in the hand. The small children generally remonstrated strongly and effectually against wearing this article of clothing; and whatever the severity of the weather, preferred running about barefoot. The cradles for the babies are formed of strips of wicker-work interlaced with hide thongs, fitted with a cover to keep sun and rain off, and made of a convenient shape to rest on the saddle gear of the mother when on the march. They are ornamented, if the parents are wealthy, with little bells, brass or even silver plates. The women are fond of ornaments, wearing huge earrings of square shape, suspended to small rings passing through the lobe of the ear; also silver or blue bead necklaces. The men also wear these necklaces, and adorn their belts, pipes, knives, sheaths, and horse-gear with silver. Those who can afford it also indulge in silver spurs and stirrups; most of their ornaments, except the beads, are home-made, being beaten out of dollars obtained by commerce in the settlements. Both sexes smear their faces, and occasionally their bodies, with paint, the Indians alleging as the reason for using this cosmetic, that it is a protection against the effect of the winds; and I found from personal experience that it proved a complete preservative from excoriation or chapped skin. It proved equally effective against the sun, which in Henno peeled my face completely until I resumed the paint—which I had left off—not wishing to appear as a noble savage to the newcomers. The paint for the face is composed of either red ochre or black earth mixed with grease obtained from the marrow bones of the game killed in the chase, all of which are carefully husbanded by the women, and when opportunity offers pounded and boiled in the large pots; the grease and gelatine being carefully skimmed off and secured. On state occasions, such as a birth feast, and for a dance, the men further adorn themselves with white paint, or powdered gypsum, which they moisten and rub on their hands, and make five white finger-marks over their chests, arms, and legs. The usual morning toilette is simple; after the plunge in the river, which is almost always the first thing, except of course when circumstances prevent it, indulged in by both sexes, who bathe scrupulously apart, and generally before daylight. The men’s hair is dressed by their wives, daughters, or sweethearts, who take the greatest care to burn any hairs that may be brushed out, as they fully believe that spells may be wrought by evil-intentioned persons who can obtain a piece of their hair. From the same idea, after cutting their nails, the parings are carefully committed to the flames. After the hairbrushing, which is performed by means of a rude hand brush, the women adorn the men’s faces with paint; if in mourning they put on black paint, and if going to fight, sometimes put a little white paint under the eyes, which assists in contrast to the other in giving a savage expression. The women paint each other’s faces, or if possessed, as sometimes occurs, of a fragment of looking-glass, paint their own. Both sexes tattoo on the forearm, by the simple process of puncturing the skin with a bodkin, and inserting a mixture of blue earth with a piece of dry glass: the usual patterns consist of a series of parallel lines, and sometimes a single triangle, or a double triangle, the upper one resting on the apex of the lower. I myself had one line tattooed by a fair enslaver, and confess that the process was rather painful.

Indians have a good deal of regard for personal cleanliness, and besides the morning ablutions enjoy bathing when encamped near a river, swimming and diving for hours together. They also are scrupulously careful as to the cleanliness of their toldos and utensils, and will, if they can obtain soap, wash up every thing they may be possessed of. Notwithstanding these precautions they are very much afflicted by vermin, which effect a firm lodgment in the wool of their mantles. This may be attributed to their mode of life, and their food, as well as to the materials of their clothing; and any traveller who wishes to sojourn with the Indians must make up his mind to subject himself to these inflictions, to which, however (experto crede), he will soon become inured. Their method of hunting and of cooking the meat obtained by the chase has been fully described in a previous chapter. Among the arms and implements figured in the illustration will be found ([figs. 9 and 10]) the weapons chiefly employed in the pursuit of game, namely, the bolas fitted with two balls called ‘Chumè,’ for capturing the ostrich, and those with three called ‘yachiko,’ for guanaco hunting, which are similar to those used by the Gauchos in the Argentine Provinces. The balls are generally of stone, but sometimes white metal or copper balls are employed, procured in the settlements, which require no covering, and are more and more coming into fashion of late years; iron balls also, or iron ore, obtained and hammered into the requisite shape by the Tehuelches themselves, are common; these are for the round striking ball or balls: but the oval shaped hand ball, which is grasped in the hand, and is necessarily lighter by at least one-third than the other, is generally made of the soft vesicular lava which abounds in so many districts. The tough light thong for swinging balls round the head is generally made, as previously described, of ostrich or guanaco sinews plaited in four plaits, the length of which should be between seven and eight feet. It is always best to ball a quarry when galloping in an exact line, as the necks of guanaco and ostrich are always aimed at; entangling the hind legs of the quadruped being useless, though cattle and horses are always balled round the hind legs. A shot at a bird or beast bounding or running across is almost sure to miss; of course misses are frequent, as fifty to seventy yards is often the distance of a shot delivered from a horse’s back at full gallop; and the balls whirr through the air with their peculiar sound, only perhaps to fall into a tangled bush. Then it is that the advantage of the bright material becomes evident, for the horseman does not stop, but gallops on and throws another pair, returning afterwards to pick up the dropped weapons, frequently very hard to find on the pebble-strewn, grass-grown, or shrub-covered surface. I generally threw down a handkerchief or some such thing, easily seen, to mark the spot; but the metal bolas are so much preferred on account of being easily seen, that a pair are worth a horse. In addition to the bolas, a lazo is used when hunting cattle or horses, and sometimes for the pumas, although the ordinary method is to kill them by first stunning them with a blow on the head. The arms of the Tehuelches consist of gun or revolver, sword or dagger, a long heavy lance, used only by dismounted Indians, and altogether different to the light lance of Araucanian and Pampa horsemen, and the bola perdida or single ball, so called because once thrown it is not picked up again: this weapon is quickly constructed; a sharp-pointed stone is taken, covered with hide except the point, which is left out, and a thong of raw hide about a yard long is attached, with a knot made in the end to prevent it slipping from the hand whilst whirling it round previous to throwing it at an enemy. Before the introduction of firearms the bola perdida was the original weapon of the Tehuelches, and is even at the present day a most deadly missile in their hands. (See [fig. 11].)

I am aware that Pigafetta, the historian of Magellan’s voyage, describes the ancestors of these Indians as using bows and arrows, but I am inclined to think that this must have applied either to a tribe of Fuegians or a party of Pampas living in the valley of the Rio Negro. It is certain that no ancient flint arrowheads are met with south of the Rio Negro, where they abound; also that there is but little, if any, wood nearer than the Cordillera suitable for bows, and it is reasonable to suppose that previous to the introduction of horses the Indian migrations were confined to a smaller area; besides, although no arrowheads are found in the interior of Patagonia proper, ancient bolas are not unfrequently met with. These are highly valued by the Indians, and differ from those in present use by having grooves cut round them, and by their larger size and greater weight. The introduction and diffusion of firearms has almost superseded the use of defensive armour; but chain suits, and hide surcoats studded thickly with silver, are still—as instances before given show—possessed and employed: and before going into battle the warriors are often padded like cricketers, corconillas or saddle-cloths, and ponchos being employed to form a covering, the folds of which will turn a sword cut or lance thrust.

1. Saddle. 2. Bridle. 3. Girth.  4. Spurs. 5. Boot. 6. Adze. 7. Scraper.  8. Musical instrument. 9. Ostrich bola. 10. Guanaco bola. 11. Bola perdida. 12. Pipe.

During our long sojourn at Teckel, as hunting was avoided as much as possible, in order to rest the horses, the men occupied themselves in Indian arts and manufactures, some account of which may be deemed interesting.

As the horse is the mainstay of the Indian, let the saddle-gear take precedence. (See [figs. 1, 2, 3, 4].)

The saddles are constructed in the following manner. A piece of timber is split in two, and reduced, by means of a small hand-adze, to the requisite size and thickness to form the side boards or flaps, skilfully adapted to the shape of the horse’s back; in these boards holes are bored at each end, and the saddle-trees, which are chosen from angular limbs of trees, like knees for boat building, and reduced to the requisite size, are lashed on by hide. Over this fresh guanaco hide, divested of its woolly coat and carefully cut to the proper shape, is sewn with sinew, serving, as it dries, to bind the whole securely together. Casimiro was the most skilful workman of the party, and made a saddle for me which, although through having to start in a hurry it was not smoothed down or covered with hide, I used for about five weeks without any chafing of the horse’s back. Underneath the saddle a thick mandil, or poncho, is placed; and over the saddle a corconilla, or housing, of puma or yearling guanaco skin, or, which is always preferred if obtainable, a black sheepskin. The Araucanians weave corconillas of most beautiful texture and brilliant blue colour, which are sold for as much as 5l. in the settlements. The girths are made of thirteen or fourteen ties of twisted hide from the neck of the guanaco, and fitted with two rings connected by a leather thong. The stirrups are suspended by strips of hide from the holes bored in the foremost saddle-trees. They are generally made of a piece of hard wood fixed into a raw hide thong, or sometimes of wood bent into a triangular shape. The swells, of course, sport silver stirrups, but they are frequently not used at all. The saddle is also taken off when the hunting circle is being closed and the horses ridden bare-backed, but it is replaced to carry the meat back to the toldos. Sometimes it occurs that an Indian loses his saddle at play, when he is perforce obliged to ride bare-backed, and it never appears to inconvenience them. The bridles are made of either plaited or twisted hide. The bits used vary, but the more general is a simple bar of either wood or iron, covered at either end with two flaps of stout hide, from which two thongs extend under the horse’s jaw, forming an effectual curb, the reins being also secured to the hide-flaps. The bar is frequently omitted, and a simple thong is placed in the horse’s mouth and rove through the piece of hide, which is secured to the bridle and tied under the jaw. I used this simple bit the whole of the journey, and never had reason to find fault with it. The spurs are made of two pieces of hard wood, with nails filed to a sharp point fixed in the ends, for which I once tried to substitute bone spikes, but they required constant sharpening and broke quickly. The spurs are secured to the feet by thongs. Head-stalls for breaking horses are made either of plain or plaited hide, with a ring underneath for the Maneador.

Lazos are made either of twisted or plaited hide, similar to those in use among the Gauchos. The only other articles of horse-gear worthy of mention are the ‘manèos,’ called by the Indians ‘caligi,’ or straps for securing the horse’s legs, in order to teach him to stand when the rider has dismounted; but the horses soon learn to await the return of the rider. Since my return a hunting friend, hearing the chase described, eagerly inquired, ‘But who held your horse?’ The well-trained Tehuelche hunters hold themselves, and no boy or man is available to render this service to anyone unlucky enough to be mounted on an uneducated steed. Our breakers might take a useful lesson from the ‘savages.’

Another branch of general industry is the manufacture of pipe-bowls, which are peculiar in shape, as may be seen in the plate ([fig. 12]). They are made of either wood or stone, fitted with a silver or metal tube, and frequently ornamented with silver. The greatest pains is taken to keep them free from tobacco juice by constant cleaning with an ostrich feather.

Wooden platters are sometimes made, for containing meat or grease; and I have seen wooden or horn spoons constructed, but these articles are rare. Casimiro’s toldo rejoiced in one of the latter, and it rather resembled a shoe-horn. The men are many of them skilful workers in silver, made from dollars obtained in the settlements, and tempered until they become sufficiently malleable to be beaten out into the requisite shapes, either for buckles, garters, plates, beads, or studs for embossing belts or armour with. These ‘cups,’ or studs, are generally hollowed out in a suitable cavity, worked in a stone; they are then pierced at the edges with a bodkin, and sewn on to the hide with sinew. The anvils and hammers for working silver are generally stone implements; flints, however, are only used by the men for procuring fire. The Tehuelches are also very handy workers in iron, and will fashion a knife, or even an adze, out of any piece of metal procured by theft, commerce in the colonies, or from wrecks on the coast. One of the knives frequently used in the latter part of my journey was formed out of one blade of an old pair of scissors forged for me by Hinchel.

Their tools for working silver, iron, wood, &c., consist of files, known by the expressive name of ‘Khikerikikh,’ or perhaps a rasp, an occasional saw, an axe, the inevitable small adze ([fig. 6]), a pair of scissors, or an old chisel. Many of these have been obtained from shipwrecks on the coast, others by barter in the settlements.

The women’s most important occupation in camp was the making up of skin mantles, which merits a full description.

The skins are first dried in the sun, being pegged down with thorns of the algarroba tree. When dry they are taken up, and scraped with pieces of flint, agate, obsidian, or sometimes glass, fixed into a branch naturally bent so as to form a handle ([fig. 7]). They are then smeared over with grease and liver kneaded into pulp, after which they are softened in the hand until quite pliable, when they are placed on the ground and cut with a small, very sharp knife into pieces, dovetailed so as to fit one into the other, in order to secure strength of seam, and parcelled out amongst a party of four or six women, with a corresponding quantity of needles and thread, consisting of bodkins formed out of sharpened nails, and dried sinews from the back of the adult guanaco. A whole mantle is never sewn together at once, but when one half is finished it is pegged out and the paint applied to it thus. The surface is slightly damped, and each woman takes a cake or piece of red ochre, if the ground is to be red, and, keeping it damp, lays the paint on with great care. When the ground is finished, the pattern of small black spots and blue and yellow lines is painted with the greatest exactness, the women working all day with the most assiduous industry. When completed it is left for a night to dry, and the other half and wings, which serve in lieu of sleeves, are duly completed, and subsequently all are joined together, presenting, when finished, an unbroken surface of fur. The most favourite pattern (except when the wearer is in mourning) is a red ground with small black crosses and blue and yellow longitudinal lines for borders, or with a zigzag of white, blue, and red. The untiring energy with which the women work, and the rapidity with which they sew, are astonishing. When a man is married, his wife, or wives, of course manufacture his mantles, assisted by their friends, whom they help in their turn; but should he be a bachelor, as in my unfortunate case, he gives out his skins to a fair lady, who works like other people I have heard of—on half-profits, and the hunter generally loses by the bargain; at least such was my experience, some thirty or forty skins only producing a mantle containing about one-third their number. Besides the guanaco mantles which are most generally worn, others are made from the skins of the fox, puma, wild cat, cavy, and skunk; the fur of the latter and of the wild cat are the most valuable, but, like the others, are generally intended only for barter. The women, besides making mantles, weave the fillets for the head previously mentioned, from threads of unravelled stuff obtained in barter at the settlements, or from their Araucanian neighbours. They work on the same principle as that on which a sailor constructs a sword mat. Besides these fillets, they occasionally weave scarves for the waist, and garters. Many of them also work in the minor details of silver ornaments, such as hollowing out or bending the studs, boring the holes, and stitching them on to the belts or armour, as the case may be. They also sew the skins together for the coverings of the toldos, which is very laborious work. They scrape and dress horse-hides for the furniture of the bed places, painting them in various patterns; make the bolsters of reeds (often also ornamented with silver) to place as a protection for their high saddles, cook the food, smash the marrow-bones and extract the grease; take care of the children, and fetch wood, water, and do all the ‘chores,’ as the Americans say. As may be seen, they are pretty nearly always occupied; nevertheless, they occasionally find time to play cards, and sometimes to squabble and talk scandal.

The children generally employ themselves in imitating their elders. The boys play with miniature bolas, and catch the dogs with small lazos, and the girls construct miniature toldos and sit in them; for this purpose they carry off unchecked anything that may seem suitable. Frequently when about to join the chase I had to interfere with these latter games, and recover my saddle gear, which had been appropriated by the juveniles.

The musical instruments of the Tehuelches have been previously described. In Teckel, besides the native orchestra ([fig. 8]) and harmonies, to which one had become accustomed, we furthermore rejoiced in a cornet, with music from which Jackechan’s brother frequently enlivened our evenings. Many amongst the Tehuelches could blow the ordinary bugle calls which they had been accustomed to hear when in the Rio Negro or at Punta Arenas; and most of them appeared to possess a good ear for music. Their songs, however, are not melodious, and are mere repetitions of words devoid of all sense or meaning. Casimiro informed me that formerly the old men were in the habit of singing the traditions of the tribe and also some sort of prayer. It is much to be regretted that these customs have fallen into disuse. I tried on various occasions to obtain information about their ancestors, but all my efforts were fruitless. When I asked them how their people travelled before horses came into the country, they could not realise the fact that such was ever the case.

There is little to add to the details already given of the cookery and diet of the Tehuelches, which is necessarily almost confined to meat, which, however, they do not devour raw, as so constantly asserted. Fat is largely consumed, both fresh and preserved; the need of this being, as before said, attributable to the want of farinaceous food. Still they are very fond of all sorts of wild fruits and vegetables, when procurable; and besides the indigenous tuberous roots, and the ever-present dandelion plants, which the girls gather for their friends and relations, and which are eaten in a crude state, they will when in the settlements barter their wares for potatoes, turnips, and other vegetables. They are also extremely fond of biscuit and flour, which they mix with water into dampers, and bake them in the ashes. Previous to my sojourn amongst them, pepper was, I believe, unknown, but having a small store in my possession, I induced old Orkeke and his dame to try it, and they and others soon acquired a taste for it. Sugar, or anything sweet, they are especially fond of. Salt is a very necessary commodity with them, and when passing one of the numerous salinas that occur in the country the stores are replenished. It sometimes happens, however, if making a long stay in one place, or travelling in parts where salinas are scarce, they have to go without it; and this is probably the cause of a skin disease that at times occurs amongst them. Salt is carried as a rule by the men when hunting, both to mix with the blood, which is seldom eaten without it, and to season the guanaco or ostrich meat.

I think that as a rule the Indians, far from being gluttonous gormandisers, eat less than civilised people. They never eat at stated times, but when their appetite warns them; and on this point an Indian once made the remark to me: ‘The Chilians eat at regular hours, which is foolish; we don’t eat unless we are hungry.’ I believe that I, as a single individual, generally consumed more victuals than any Indian, with the exception of my friend Cayuke, who was certainly a great gourmand. He was also a great smoker; and whenever I met him invariably said the few English words I had taught him, ‘Load and light the pipe—smoke.’ The general manner of smoking is as follows. The smoker lights his pipe, and then lies prone on the ground, and after puffing a portion of smoke to each cardinal point and muttering a prayer, he swallows several mouthfuls of tobacco smoke, which produces intoxication and partial insensibility, lasting perhaps for the space of two minutes. During this time his companions carefully avoid disturbing him in any way. When it has passed off, he gets up, takes a drink of water, and resumes his conversation or occupation. I have sometimes observed this intoxication accompanied by convulsions, but only in rare cases. The tobacco used for smoking (for they never chew) is generally obtained from the settlements, but failing this a herb substitute is procured from the Araucanians. This is never smoked pure, being invariably mixed with either wood chopped up small or ‘yerba’ (Paraguay tea) stalks, if obtainable. The mixture with dung mentioned by M. Guinnard is unknown among the Tehuelches.

The women sometimes are smokers, but the custom is not universal, being generally confined to the old ladies. Most of the men smoke, but there are exceptions. I was very much astonished, however, by seeing El Sourdo on more than one occasion give his pipe to his boy—a precocious three-year-old—who whiffed his ‘bacca’ with apparently great satisfaction to himself and his fond father.

THE “PRETTY HOUSE” AND DANCE.

The chief amusements amongst the Indians (for hunting is a matter of business and not pleasure) consist in horse-racing, card-playing, gambling with dice made by themselves with mathematical exactness from bones, and thrown from the hand, or with small stones, and playing a game of ball. The horse-racing has been already described. The cards used are sometimes the Spanish pack, obtained in the settlements, but very frequently constructed by the Indians themselves of hide. These, like the ordinary Spanish cards, are marked with the Spanish numerals up to seven; but the court cards are entirely different, having, instead of figures or pictures, monograms of native origin, the original significance of which, if any, was undiscoverable. The ace, however, is marked somewhat similarly to our own. The usual games played are ‘Panturga,’ ‘Primero,’ ‘Siete,’ and ‘Yaik,’ or fire, a sort of ‘beggar my neighbour.’ The players sit down in a circle, with a poncho or saddle-cloth to represent the board of green cloth; their markers consist of pieces of sticks or grass, and their system of marking is complicated. I generally—if I did indulge in the luxury of a gamble—played in partnership with another who took charge of the marking, but my invariable good luck rendered me unwilling to respond to the invitation to take a hand. When stakes are lost, whether a horse, troop of mares, saddle, lazo, or what not, the winner simply sends a friend for them, or goes himself and takes them; all debts of honour being scrupulously paid at once. Frequently large stakes are lost and won. On one occasion I had negotiated the purchase of a horse from an Indian possessed of a goodly troop, and having given earnest, had started hunting on the animal to test his staying powers. My friend the owner, who remained in camp playing, came to me on my return, and implored me to consider the bargain as nil, as during my absence he had lost nearly all his horses, and some of the articles of his wife’s dowry. I of course gave up the bargain, duly receiving back the earnest, and he subsequently won back his horses and riches. The game played with small stones is similar to that in vogue among schoolboys, and known by the name of ‘knucklebones.’ It is generally played by the boys, but their elders will not unfrequently join. The women play at cards, and also at this game amongst themselves, staking their mandils, hides, and saddle-gear on the results. Mrs. Orkeke was very fond of play, and on one occasion I have reason to believe that she lost some of her husband’s tobacco, and laid the blame on one of the Chilians, who she averred had stolen it. The man nearly lost his life in consequence, and his tears and abject supplications showed the terror he was in, but happily he on this occasion escaped. Strange to say, I was in no way suspected, although I knew where the tobacco was kept, which I doubt if the deserter did.

The game of ball is confined to the young men, and is played as follows: A lazo is laid on the ground so as to form a ring about four yards in diameter; the players, generally eight in number, step into the circle naked, with the exception of the waistcloth. A ball composed of hide stuffed with feathers, about the size of or larger than a tennis-ball, is used by each party, who throw it up from under the thigh, and strike it with the hand at the adversaries’, each hit counting a point. Great dexterity and activity are shown by the young men, and although I never joined in any of their regular matches I frequently watched the parties occupied in the game, in which their splendid muscular development was brought out conspicuously. Besides these amusements, the Indians, when ammunition is plentiful, occasionally fire at a mark; but as their bullets are frequently hammered round with stones, the practice is at times erratic, and the guns are also sometimes more dangerous to the marksman than the mark.

The daily routine of occupations and amusements is varied sometimes by a fight, and more pleasantly by some one or other of the ceremonials which mark—as in all nations—the principal epochs of Tsoneca life, from the cradle to the grave. On the birth of a child, if the parents are rich, i.e. own plenty of mares and horses, and silver ornaments, notice is immediately given to the doctor or wizard of the tribe, and to the cacique and relations. The doctor, after bleeding himself with bodkins in the temple, fore-arm, or leg, gives the order for the erection of a mandil tent, or pretty house as the Indians call it, and mares are slaughtered, and a feast and dance follow, such as described in [Chapter III., p. 76] as having taken place in the valley of the Rio Chico. The child, shortly after birth, is smeared over with damp gypsum. The mothers are able to travel on horseback the same, or, certainly, the subsequent day, with the infant carried in a wicker cradle, and most tenderly cared for by both parents.

To every child in its infancy horses and gear are allotted, which are considered thenceforth as the personal property of the boy or girl, and cannot be resumed or disposed of by the parents. No ceremonial attends the naming a child, nor, as far as I could see, is there any fixed time for doing so. The names most commonly used are taken, I think, from places—from the place of birth. Patronymics or hereditary names—except in rare instances, which appeared to be imitations of Spanish usage—are unknown, but nicknames are universal, and parents are frequently known by the name of a child, which usurps the place of their own.

The boys soon learn the use of the weapons, and both boys and girls ride almost before they can walk: the sons rarely accompany the father to the chase before ten or twelve years of age, and do not join in fights till they are about sixteen years old, but there is no fixed period and no ceremonial to mark their admission to the state of manhood. The attainment of puberty by the girls is celebrated as described in [p. 76]. From the age of nine or ten they are accustomed to help in household duties and manufactures, and about sixteen are eligible for the married life, though they often remain for several years spinsters. Marriages are always those of inclination, and if the damsel does not like the suitor for her hand, her parents never force her to comply with their wishes, although the match may be an advantageous one.

The usual custom is for the bridegroom, after he has secured the consent of his damsel, to send either a brother or an intimate friend to the parents, offering so many mares, horses, or silver ornaments for the bride. If the parents consider the match desirable, as soon after as circumstances will permit, the bridegroom, dressed in his best, and mounted on his best horse, decorated with silver ornaments—if he possesses any—proceeds to the toldo of his intended, and hands over the gifts. The parents of the bride then return gifts of an equal value, which, however, in the event of a separation (a rare event), become the property of the bride. After this the bride is escorted by the bridegroom to his toldo, amidst the cheers of his friends and the singing of the women. Mares are usually then slaughtered and eaten on the spot; great care being taken that the dogs do not touch any of the meat or offal, as it is considered unlucky. The head, backbone, tail, together with the heart and liver, are taken up to the top of a neighbouring hill, as an offering to the Gualichu, or evil spirit. An Indian is allowed to have as many wives as he can support, but it is rare to find a man with more than two, and they generally only have one.

On the death of a Tehuelche all his horses, dogs, and other animals are killed, his ponchos, ornaments, bolas, and all other personal belongings are placed in a heap and burned, the widow and other womankind keeping up a dismal wailing, and crying out loud in the most melancholy manner. The meat of the horses is distributed amongst the relations on both sides; and the widow, who cuts her hair short in front and assumes black paint, repairs, bag and baggage, to the toldo of her relations, or if she has none in the party, to the toldo of the chief.

The body is sewn up in a mantle, poncho, or coat of mail, if the deceased possessed one, and is taken away by some of the relations and buried in a sitting posture, its face to the east, a cairn of stones being erected over the place, varying in size according to the wealth and influence of the deceased. I have never seen any of the graves described in Mr. Wood’s work, but as my travels as a rule were confined to the interior, they may exist in some part of the sea-coast; nor did the exhumation and removal of the body ever come under my notice, and I should be inclined to doubt its being ever practised by the Tehuelches, inasmuch as it is a rule amongst them never to mention the name of, and to avoid all allusion to, the deceased, their idea being that the dead should be utterly forgotten, though they will add a stone in passing to the cairn of a distinguished chief or hero. The death of a child is marked by a display of sincere grief on the part of the parents. The horse it has been accustomed to travel on during the march is brought up, the gear placed on it, even to the cradle, and the horse, thus fully caparisoned, is strangled by means of lazos, whereas in all other ceremonies where horses are killed they are knocked on the head with bolas. The saddle gear, cradle, and all belonging to the child are burned, the women crying and singing. The parents moreover throw their own valuables into the fire to express their grief. These things some of the women who cry are allowed to snatch out, as a recompense for their services, but they seldom benefit much. On the occasion of the death of an only child of rich parents, fourteen horses and mares were slaughtered in addition to the one it had been accustomed to travel on. Towards evening of the day of the event, previous to the burial of the corpse, a select party of old women marched in procession round and round the camp, crying and wailing. Gifts were also sent to the bereaved parents by the chiefs and relations, as a well-meant effort to divert their minds from dwelling on their loss.

The religion of the Tehuelches is distinguished from that of the Pampas and Araucanians by an absence of any trace of sun-worship, although the new moon is saluted, the respectful gesture being accompanied by some low muttered words which I never could manage to hear. They believe in a great and good Spirit, who according to the tradition related by Casimiro at the place, created the Indians and animals, and dispersed them from ‘God’s-hill,’ as he explained the Indian name of the down ([p. 89]). I am not at all certain that this was not a confused combination of the story of the Creation, as told by the missionaries, with his own ideas. There is a great tendency in the Indian mind thus to combine the marvels told them, or even to cap what they consider one legend with another; but there is no doubt that they do believe in a good Spirit, though they think he lives ‘careless of mankind.’ They have no idols or objects of worship, nor—if a year’s experience can enable one to judge—do they observe any periodical religious festival, on which either the good or evil Spirit is adored. The mention of this by other travellers can only be explained by confused accounts which have attributed Araucanian customs to the totally distinct Patagonians. The belief which prompts all their religious acts is that in the existence of many active and malicious evil spirits or demons, of whom the principal one is always on the watch to cause mischief. To propitiate or drive away this spirit is the function of the wizard, or doctor, or medicine man, who combines the medical and magical arts, though not possessed of an exclusive faculty for either. All sacrifices of mares and horses, not at stated times, but as occasion requires, such as a birth, death, &c., are intended to propitiate the Gualichu. When a child hurts itself, the slaughter of mares seems to partake at once of the nature of a thank-offering that the hurt was no worse, and a propitiation to avert further harm.

In camp the Gualichu takes up his position outside the back of the toldo, watching for an opportunity to molest the inmates, and is supposed to be kept quiet by the spells of the doctor, who is not only gifted with the power of laying the devil, but can even detect him by sight. I inquired of one of the doctors what he was like, but received an evasive answer; on which I informed him that my devil took all sorts of shapes—sometimes appearing as a guanaco, ostrich, puma, skunk, or vulture, at which the medical man was intensely amused. This household devil is, as far as I could ascertain, supposed to enter into the different parts of the bodies of people, and cause sickness which the doctor is appealed to to cure. The treatment in the case of headache, for instance, is very simple: the doctor takes the patient’s head between his knees, and performing a short ceremony of incantation, shouts in his ear, exhorting the devil to come out. Mr. Clarke, when travelling with the Indians south of Santa Cruz, was treated in this fashion when suffering from feverish headache, and said that at the time it relieved him.

Besides this Gualichu there are many others which are supposed to inhabit subterranean dwellings, underneath certain woods and rivers and peculiarly-shaped rocks. I was very much surprised at seeing the Indians salute these objects by placing the hand to the head and muttering an incantation; and for a long time held to the belief that they were only expressing admiration for the Creator’s handiwork; but subsequently I learned that they sought thus to conciliate the spirits of these places, reputed to be the spirits of deceased members of the faculty. These devils’ powers, however, are confined to the districts contiguous to their habitations.

On one occasion, a horse about to run a match was taken up to a neighbouring hill before daylight by the owner, and some secret ceremony was performed by the wizard. Previous to the race the owner (Wáki) came to me and advised me to put my stakes on his horse, as he had been made safe to win by mysterious incantations which had secured the favour of the local Gualichu; and, strange to say, the horse, which by his appearance was much inferior to the other, did win, thereby establishing a reputation for the wizard and the Gualichu.

I remember on one occasion when riding with Hinchel we came in sight of a peculiarly-pointed rock, which he saluted. I did the same, at which he appeared much pleased; and on our subsequently arriving at a salina, where we found good salt, much needed at the time, he explained to me that the spirit of the place had led us in that direction. In the meeting of Indians the devils are supposed to be driven away by the horsemen chasing at full speed round and round, and firing off their guns.

The office of wizard is not hereditary; indeed those I met with were unmarried. A boy or a girl, if what we should call odd, as in the case of Cayuke’s daughter, an old-fashioned and eccentric girl of thirteen, is considered to be marked out as a wizard; but the functions, so far as directing ceremonies, are sometimes performed by an ordinary member of the party. The stock in trade of the regular wizard consists of a few fetishes, or charms, carried in a bag, carefully concealed from public gaze, and exhibited to his colleagues alone. In addition to these they seem to possess a real knowledge of simples, although this is not confined to them. Their professional operations are never accompanied by epileptic seizures and real or simulated convulsions. They, of course, are expected to prognosticate the success or failure of undertakings, and the issue of sickness, and foretell the future generally; and their position in this respect is a dangerous one, as a failure of their predictions is frequently punished with death; but, to make up for this risk, they are universally received with honour and hospitably entertained, and are usually enriched by the accumulation of presents. The power of witchcraft is by no means believed to be confined to them; any person may be suspected of this crime, and it is not an uncommon occurrence for people when dying to lay their death to the charge of some person by name. All the missionaries’ instructions did not prevent Casimiro, after the death of either his mother or one of his wives, from sending an agent to kill a woman who, as the deceased averred, had bewitched her. Certain signs and omens are superstitiously regarded; one particularly dreaded is the cry of the nightjar, common on the slopes of the Cordillera, which, if uttered over a camp or toldo, betokens sickness or death to some of the inmates. They hold this bird in great veneration, and object to its being injured in any manner. Another animal supposed to be possessed of magical powers is a flat toad-like lizard, which is believed to lame horses by mysterious agency, and is killed whenever met with. Another superstition is that a two-headed guanaco exists in the south, the appearance of which is a forerunner of sickness. According to my informant, after its last appearance measles, or a similar disease, decimated the Southern tribe, the disease having been propagated by communication with Punta Arenas, where it was at that time rife. Any unfamiliar object that they do not comprehend, as for instance, a compass or a watch, is regarded with suspicion as being tenanted by an evil spirit. Sometimes these objects are supposed to bring luck at play, and are eagerly sought for. One of my companions was possessed of a watch, obtained in Punta Arenas, and, before playing cards, he would often ask me to set it going, the ticking being regarded as the voice of the hidden Gualichu. My compass was also in constant demand, but the privilege of temporary possession was necessarily restricted to a few favoured friends. I explained, to the best of my power, the use of this instrument, which was comprehended by many of them; and they became very fond of asking me to point out the precise direction of various points known to them, and were greatly delighted at the correctness with which their inquiries were generally satisfied. A locket, worn by me round my neck, was also regarded as a talisman, securing the wearer from death.

With all this superstition, regard for omens, and belief in demons, they by no means accord implicit faith and respect to the wizards. Nor do they trust to their spells alone in case of disease; many possess an acquaintance with medicinal herbs, and apply them with good effect. Besides being good farriers, they practise blood-letting, not only on the sick, but, like our grandfathers, at regular seasons have themselves blooded, believing it to be beneficial. Casimiro declared that the superior health of the Tehuelches, compared with that of the colonists or Christians, was attributable to this practice. They also understand and sometimes employ poisons, not to envenom their weapons, but for secretly taking off an enemy. Such cases are rare, but in one, which came under my own observation, beyond all doubt, death was caused by poisoning the inside of a potro boot, the wearer of which had a slight wound on the leg.

Inquirers into the Tsoneca language are referred to the vocabulary in the [Appendix]; but it is needful to state most distinctly that it is altogether different from either Pampa or Araucanian. Though able to converse in Tehuelche, I could not at all understand the Pampas; and this is noted with reference to statements made in M. Guinnard’s work, which, coupled with other internal evidences already alluded to, compel me to doubt that the author was ever in the hands of the real Patagonians, his captors and masters being Pampas or Araucanos, whose customs are well described by him.

As distinguished from these Indians, the number of the pure Tehuelches, both northern and southern, in Patagonia does not exceed 1,500 men, women, and children, according to the returns of effective warriors given at the time when the union of all the various parties, combined during my journey for political purposes, enabled me to compute them with exactness. Beyond the two great divisions into northern and southern, the subdivisions of tribes, so frequently given, are imaginary, or arise out of names of temporary leaders. Nor is the term clan very appropriate to the nomad parties, combined by custom or often by chance. The population is steadily and rapidly decreasing, and the inroads of disease and ill effects of liquor are, as usual, doing the work of extirpation of this race.

As to their organisation, it must be distinctly understood that these Indians owe no manner of allegiance to any head cacique, such as Calficura, or any other, though they may agree to obey one chief, as, for instance, Casimiro; nor are they, except by intermarriage or voluntary association, politically united with either Pampas or Araucanians. Their natural bias is to independence, and rather insubordinate ideas of ‘one man being as good as another.’ Cuastro’s dying words, ‘I die as I have lived—no cacique orders me,’ aptly express the prevalent feeling on this subject. Nevertheless, all ‘parties,’ however small, are, when travelling, under the command of a cacique or ‘gownok,’ who is sometimes also designated by the more endearing epithet of ‘yank,’ or father; but his influence is very frequently confined to ordering the march and chase. Some of the chiefs are hereditary, but it is not invariably the rule; and amongst the northern Indians there are many petty chiefs, who are men that, having become possessed of a few mares and horses, assume the title of cacique. Great etiquette is observed between them; one chief being prohibited by custom from entering the toldo of another unless presents have previously been interchanged. Another curious point of etiquette is, that a man is not allowed to look towards his father-in-law when in conversation with him; this is, however, not confined to the aristocracy, but also applies to the common herd. When two parties of Indians are approaching one another, and sufficiently near to distinguish the smoke of the hunting-fires, a signal-fire is lighted, and a chasqui—called by the Tehuelches coêto—generally some relative of the chiefs, is despatched from either side. On meeting they repair to the camp of the most powerful, and, on arriving near, more horsemen sally out and escort them to the toldo of the chief. On arrival the new comer dismounts, his horses and gear are taken charge of, and he is shown, with great formality, to a seat, where he patiently remains, sometimes for an hour, answering, with grave face, all questions; and then delivers any message he may be entrusted with. Although he may be wearied, tired, and hungry, he never moves until the formalities are concluded; he is then provided with the best food and accommodation his host is possessed of.

It is to be hoped that the narrated actual life in the toldos will have enabled the reader to form an idea of the character of the Tehuelches more favourable than that which—except by the missionaries, Messrs. Hunziker and Schmid—has usually been assigned to them. They certainly do not deserve the epithets of ferocious savages, brigands of the desert, &c. They are kindly, good tempered, impulsive children of nature, taking great likes or dislikes, becoming firm friends or equally confirmed enemies. They are very naturally suspicious of strangers, but especially those of Spanish origin, or, as they term them, Cristianos. Nor, considering the treatment, treacherous cruelty and knavish robbery, experienced by them at the hands of the invaders and colonists alternately, is this to be wondered at.

In the southern part of the country, their frequent intercourse with sealers on the coast has rendered them favourably disposed towards Englishmen. This remark, of course, does not extend to the northern Tehuelches, who have not the same opportunities.

In my dealings with them I was always treated with fairness and consideration, and my few belongings—although borrowed at times, according to their mutual way of acting towards one another—were taken the greatest care of; thus an Indian would frequently ask to look at my arms, and, after examining them, would carefully return them to me. During my whole stay amongst them I only lost two articles: the first, a flint and steel, was, I have reason to believe, stolen by one of the Chilians; the second was a pair of ostrich balls, which were abstracted from the toldo. The Indians, although honest enough as regards each other, will, nevertheless, not scruple to steal from any one not belonging to their party. Thus, when they enter the colonies for trade, they will pick up a stray horse in the most natural manner; and in Santa Cruz, Graviel and others constantly pilfered iron nails and small articles. With regard to their truthfulness, my experience was as follows. In minor affairs they nearly always lie, and will invent stories for sheer amusement; thus, Mrs. Orkeke came to me whilst in Teckel with the news that Casimiro’s wife was dead. My remark was, ‘And a good riddance too!’ which was received with a burst of laughter, and the information that she was as alive as ever, only her eyes were bad. I could cite many other similar instances of romancing on the part of the Indians. Old Orkeke I never caught out in a direct lie, and he always, when informing me about any subject, added, ‘I do not lie.’ In anything of importance, however, such as guaranteeing the safety of a person, they were very truthful, as long as faith was kept with them. After a time, when they ascertained that I invariably avoided deviating in any way from the truth, they left off lying to me even in minor matters. This will serve to show that they are not of the treacherous nature assigned to them by some ignorant writers. Nor are they habitually cruel, even to slaves or captives. The Chilian deserters were always well housed and fed, and lent horses to ride; and nothing but their incurably bad dispositions and constant plots brought on them a fate which, in truth, could hardly be thought ill-deserved, whereas the few good ones of the party rose into high favour.

For my own part, I felt far safer amongst the Tehuelches, as long as they had no drink or no fights, than I subsequently did in the Rio Negro. Of course when they are drunk their passions become unbridled; they remember old feuds, and at times will fight for mere fighting’s sake. It is not necessary, however, to go so far as Patagonia to observe this. The finest trait, perhaps, in their character is their love for their wives and children; matrimonial disputes are rare, and wife-beating unknown; and the intense grief with which the loss of a wife is mourned is certainly not ‘civilised,’ for the widower will destroy all his stock and burn all his possessions: thus Paliki, before the death of his wife, was a wealthy Indian; but when I knew him he was poor and reckless, having destroyed all his property, and taken to gambling and drinking in despair at his loss. Casimiro even declared that his son Sam—whom I certainly should not have suspected of disinterested affection for any human being—had ruined himself, and become careless of his life, after his wife’s death.

The children are indulged in every way, ride the best horses, and are not corrected for any misbehaviour. I was always astonished that the youths and young men did not grow up more headstrong and wilful, as a result of want of training. People who have no children of their own sometimes adopt a little dog, on which they lavish their affections, and bestow horses and other valuables, which are destroyed in case of the owner’s death.

It has always been a matter of surprise to me that the missionaries should have been so unsuccessful in their efforts to teach these children of nature to read and write, for they are naturally very intelligent (though of course there are exceptions). As a proof of their quickness in imitations, with very little trouble I taught Hinchel’s son to write his father’s name and those of two other Indians in a very short time. I also used to draw ships on a board with a piece of charcoal for the children’s amusement, and they readily copied them. Hinchel himself, wishing to explain a part of the course of the Rio Negro, drew out a rough chart on the board, showing the bends of the river, which I afterwards found to be perfectly correct.

Whilst in their native wilds, I observed little immorality amongst the Indians; in the settlements, however, when debased by intoxication, they are, no doubt, depraved and loose in their ideas. But it must be recorded that, on the entry of the Indians into the settlements of the Rio Negro, at a subsequent period, most of the young women and girls were left with the toldos in Valchita, outside the Travesia, to be out of the way of temptations. There are many Tehuelche youths now growing up who have the greatest abhorrence of liquor; and I hope that in time this abstinence will spread further among them, for they possess no intoxicants of their own, and the rum is an import from the Christians, the ill effects of which they are well able to discern.

One word of advice to the future traveller may conclude this imperfect sketch. Never show distrust of the Indians; be as free with your goods and chattels as they are to each other. Don’t ever want anything done for you; always catch and saddle your own horse. Don’t give yourself airs of superiority, as they do not understand it—unless you can prove yourself better in some distinct way. Always be first, as you are not likely to be encumbered by a wife or gear, in crossing rivers, or any other difficulties; they will learn by degrees to respect you; in a word, as you treat them so they will treat you.

CHAPTER VI.
TECKEL TO GEYLUM.

Casimiro’s Household.—Carge-kaik.—Quintuhual’s Son.—Woolkein.—Partridges.—Meeting with the Araucanians.—The Cacique Quintuhual.—Esgel-kaik.—Araucanian Belles.—Communication with Chupat Colony.—Diplaik.—Calficura’s Declaration of War.—Tehuelches learn Fishing.—My Indian Relatives.—Woodland Rambles.—An Indian Paradise.—The Upper Chupat.—Cushamon.—Losing Horses.—Official Functions.—Message from Las Manzanas.—Blessing the Liquor.—Casimiro Intoxicated.—Foyel’s Encampment.—Great Parlemento.—Foyel’s Ideas.—Gatchen-kaik.—Arrival at Geylum.

On January 21 the word was given to march, and all the united forces of the Tehuelches, numbering 200 men, with the usual allowance of women and children, prepared to advance to join the Araucanos. Ten toldos, forming Crimè’s party, lingered behind, in consequence of the continued sickness of this caciquillo, who, however, sent word that he would follow in our rear.

All the horses were in excellent condition, and it was with great delight that I saw the immense cavalcade set out. Our family party in Casimiro’s toldo included, besides the chief and his wife, sons, and little daughter Chingook, an old brother-in-law, Kai, nicknamed Chileno, and his wife and son Macho; and an old deaf and dumb woman of most repulsive aspect. The only good feature in Casimiro’s character was his charity. He was always ready to afford an asylum to any destitute or infirm people, and his toldo was never without some such object of his pity. My honourable position as secretary and general referee next in rank to the cacique, scarcely reconciled me to the exchange of the orderly comfort of Mrs. Orkeke’s household for the dignified discomfort of my present quarters. They were also shared by Meña, whose good qualities had raised him above his fellow Chilians. Their number had been reduced to four, Arica having disappeared whilst hunting near Teckel: without doubt his quarrelsome disposition had occasioned his death at the hands of some one whom he had insulted or offended. The route followed led northwards through a valley on both sides of which we hunted, and arrived in the afternoon at an encampment called Carge-kaik, or Four Hills. There was nothing remarkable in the scenery: the hill-sides on either hand were covered with scrub, and the summits presented masses of rocks, and in some places loose boulders, amongst which numerous armadillos

were basking in the sun. They are easily captured, as they are very slow; but if they once get into their burrow it is difficult to extract them, owing to the tenacity with which they hold fast to the soil. They are very good eating, and are usually cooked in the shell on the fire, the entrails, &c., being taken out, and the cavity filled with heated stones. When they are in their best condition, one leg is sufficient for a man, as there is about an inch of yellow fat on them. Of the shells the women make work-baskets, to contain their bodkins, sinews, &c., when sewing, or to serve as colour-boxes for the different colours when painting.

The day following our arrival, Tankelow and another Indian were despatched as messengers to the party of Araucanian Indians, or Manzaneros, supposed to be encamped a few marches distant. During that night a child was born, the parents of which were rich, and accordingly a great slaughter of mares took place, the mandil tent was erected, and a feast and dance announced.

Meanwhile, about 4 P.M., the chasquis returned, bringing with them an Araucanian Indian, who was escorted to our toldo in due form amidst a curious crowd, all eager to look at him, while he preserved a grave and stolid demeanour. After the usual ceremonious formalities he sat down, and by means of an interpreter stated himself to be a son of Quintuhual, a chief residing at present about four marches to the north. His father had with much pleasure received the courteous message sent by Casimiro, and it would give him equal gratification to welcome the Tehuelches; but he signified a desire first to meet Casimiro alone. This the latter monarch did not appear to see in the same light—if I may be allowed the expression—as it seemed to forebode no good intentions; but he replied evasively, and thus the colloquy terminated.

This Indian was about the middle height, dressed in coloured ponchos, with a silk handkerchief round his head. His features were regular, with restless sparkling black eyes, and complexion about the same as that of the Gauchos of the Rio de la Plata. He wore his hair cut short, and his general cleanly appearance afforded a strong contrast to the flowing locks and paint-bedaubed bodies of the Tehuelches.

Giving up my sleeping place to him, we soon made him at home, and after he had had some dinner we proceeded in company to watch the dancers, who were vigorously stepping out round the fire in front of the mandil tent. Here we were joined by Jackechan, whose knowledge of the Araucanian language enabled us to maintain a conversation. Presently, by particular request, I joined Golwin (White) and two others in the dance, coming out in full costume of ostrich feathers and girdle of bells, and properly painted, to the great delight of the Indians. My performance elicited general applause; and at last all retired for the night, myself taking my saddle-gear and sleeping under a bush near the toldo.

After a delicious breakfast of fried fish, cooked most skilfully by Meña, we prepared to march again, the chasqui bidding us farewell for the present, and by 9 A.M. the whole cavalcade of women and children were in motion, and the circle formed for the hunt.

Several shallow streams, fringed with dwarf beeches, were crossed, flowing into lagoons or into the Teckel River, the course of which lay north east of our line, and the cavalcade of women struck the valley occasionally in the march. Of the hills dividing these streams, the southern side consisted of gradual slopes covered with coarse grass, while the northern counterslopes were precipitous, and covered with loose rocks and stones. Orkeke, in the previous marches, had often informed me that the Araucanos’ country was very stony, and that there were a great many armadillos

, but little other game; and this day guanaco were rarely seen, but ostriches were numerous and armadillo abounded.

After crossing several ridges and glens, we at length traversed a hillocky plain, of the usual scrub-covered aspect, and strewn with flint, agate, and other pebbles, and encamped for the night in a place called ‘Woolkein,’ situated by the side of a water-course which was now nearly dry, the water only remaining in the deep holes. We had left the cañon or valley of the river Teckel a few miles east, from which point it appeared to give a sharp turn in an easterly direction.