, 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.