It may be added that only one species of armadillo, the Quirquincho (Dasypus minutus, Gay), occurs within these limits. The algarroba and other bushes, though found in and near the borders of the travesia, do not occur south of its immediate vicinity.
It was a joyful hour for all when, on the fourth day, after galloping from dawn till ten o’clock, we at length came in sight of the valley, still three miles distant, where large willows—which, by the way, are unknown in Patagonia, save a few at Chupat, probably introduced by the settlers—marked the winding course of the Rio Negro. We halted at the head of an abra, or lateral opening which ran up into the barranca from the main valley, and saw in the distance a solitary rancho, the first civilised dwelling beheld since my departure from Santa Cruz.
After a rest, to enable all to come up, some having lagged behind perforce, their horses being hardly able to limp along, we made our way down the slope and at length reached the river, in which our thirsty steeds soon drank their fill.
The rancho, which belonged to Hernandez, for whom the convoy of mares was intended, was then visited. The owner was absent, but his Indian wife did the honours, at least as far as serving us with matè, for no food was produced, though all were dreadfully hungry. I wished to stop and don what an American would call my citizen’s clothes, thinking that we should immediately proceed to the Guardia I had heard so much of from Luiz Aguirre; but he told me not to be in a hurry, so in my dirty mantle I remained for the present.
After half an hour’s delay we left the rancho and followed the south bank of the river, which here was a swift stream 200 yards wide, passing the farm of Hernandez, where a man was occupied in ploughing, and mares and cattle were grazing. The river here made a bend towards the southern barranca, which so nearly abutted on it as to compel us to ride close along the bank. Small partridges got up frequently, and I made a mental resolution to come and have a day’s shooting at a future period in the magnificent willows bordering the river; blue pigeons were cooing in the trees; and through an opening we caught a glimpse, on the opposite bank, of a well-built, comfortable-looking estancia in the foreground of a wide extent of rich flat land, with corral, galpones, and the usual surroundings, which Luiz Aguirre informed me belonged to Mr. Kincaid. The feeling of having safely emerged from the desert into the settlements put us, though very hungry, into the best of spirits; and after a cheerful half hour’s ride, passing on our road a tumbledown, unused rancho, we arrived at Sauce Blanco, or ‘White Willow;’ there the river, sweeping to the northern side, leaves a wide rincon, or expanse of rich alluvial ground. This is considered as belonging to the Indians, some of whom are always to be found encamped near the rancho, which belonged to the Cacique El Ingles, and three toldos were pitched in its vicinity.
We presented to the chief his wife, whom we had brought with us, and I was warmly welcomed as a relative, the cacique being a nephew of Quintuhual. This chief derives his name from his alleged relationship to some one or other of the officers of Fitzroy’s surveying expedition, so that I was doubly welcome in my English and Indian character. Here we camped amongst the pajas, or pampa grass, and, having been presented with a mare and some pumpkins, soon had a good fire blazing and meat and pumpkins cooking; these latter being dressed by cutting them in halves, taking out the seeds, and filling the interior with hot ashes, and then placing them on the ashes, the result being, at all events as it seemed then to my taste, delicious. I wished to proceed direct to the Guardia, but, as Patricio and the others put it off till the morrow, in my ignorance of the road and usages of the place, I was forced to ‘do at Rome as Rome does.’
A good wash in the river was one of the first things indulged in, and the enjoyment of getting rid of several days’ accumulation of the dust and mud of the travesia can be better imagined than described.
The following morning, before daylight, we all bathed in the river, and after taking matè with the cacique El Ingles, and a warm by the fireside after sleeping in the frosty night air, we prepared to visit the Guardia. Casting off the Indian mantle, I assumed the usual dress of an Englishman of the period, shooting-coat, &c.; and having been provided with fresh horses by our friend, half an hour’s gallop brought us to the north bank, opposite the Guardia—not, however, without misadventure, for as we made our way along the narrow uneven horse-path, full of ruts, and hemmed in by Pampa grass, Luiz Aguirre’s horse stumbled and threw him, rolling over him and crushing his revolver into his ribs.
The mean appearance of the much talked of Guardia at once dispelled the ideas of it derived from the imaginative descriptions of the Indians, but previous experience of Spanish frontier towns saved me from disappointment. The settlement consists of a small fort mounted with one gun, a cuartel or barracks, and a few houses, one or two built of brick and the others of adobe, clustering round the fort. Almost, if not quite all, of these are ‘pulperias,’ or grog-shops and stores, intended for trade with the Indians, for whose transport a launch is kept. The usual object first seen in frontier towns—an unfinished church—is here conspicuous by its absence, no provision for spiritual wants being made in the Guardia. After about half an hour’s delay on the bank, a bustle on the other side was observed, caused by getting ready a large launch, which shortly crossed to our side; and having secured our horses with lazos and manéos, we jumped in, and I was greeted by a non-commissioned officer, who congratulated me on my arrival, stating that the Commandante, Señor Murga, had been expecting me for some months. We crossed over in great pomp, a soldier playing the cornet in the bows of the boat, and, landing, we proceeded to a store kept by a man named Don Fermin, where we were all ushered into a room behind the shop, and the Indians exposed their skins and plumes for trade. My friend the non-commissioned officer had left me, as I declined to surrender my letters to any one but the Commandante in person, and he was at the time at Patagones, distant eighteen leagues from this Guardia. Meanwhile I watched the trade going on between Don Fermin and the Indians.
Now and again people came and contemplated us, as if we were some strange sort of wild animals; but as I was out of the trading, no one bid the stranger welcome, and I formed a bad idea of the politeness of the inhabitants, though perhaps my shaggy hair and dress, not altogether of the neatest, may have been against me.