Across Patagonia

by Lady Florence Dixie

But at this moment Gregorio's big bay stallion, the master of the troop, rushed out to meet the enemy, both halting when they met, and fronting one another. Thankful for this diversion in our favour, we again ran forward, in hopes of being able to get up before Gregorio's stallion should have been compelled to fly, as the superior size of his adversary left no doubt he would ultimately have to do. In the meantime the two animals, after pawing the air for a second or two, made a dash at one another, and engaged in a fierce combat, carried on chiefly with their teeth, though occasionally they would rise on their hind legs and fight with their fore feet. Our horses, not daring to stir, watched them on one side, and the wild herd, which had meanwhile trotted up close to the field of battle, looked on from the other side, apparently deeply interested in the issue of the struggle.

We hurried along as quick as we could, though, unfortunately, we could make but slow progress, encumbered as we were with our rifles, and retarded by the long grass. Meanwhile—another misfortune—we discovered that beyond three bullets my husband happened to have had in his pocket when we started, and which we had fired off in the first volley, no one had brought any ammunition, this essential having been overlooked in the hurry and excitement of the moment. Hoping we should be able to cope with the stallion, should we get up in time, with our revolvers, we pressed on, our eyes fixed on the two combatants, the endurance of our champion being now our only chance. He was evidently already worsted, and any second might turn tail and fly. Still he fought on, and still we drew nearer and nearer.

Suddenly my brother, who was a little in front of us, seemed to fall. Running to him we found him up to the waist in a bog, which stretched up the valley between us and the horses. It was impossible to cross it; indeed, we had some difficulty in pulling him out. We had to run a good distance before we could get on to firmer ground; and in the meantime the battle went against our stallion, who suddenly turned tail and fled. After giving him a parting kick, the wild horse rushed at our troop, and began to drive them at a gallop towards his own, punishing with vicious bites and kicks any animal that showed signs of becoming refractory, or that did not go quick enough. The moment was critical. We strained every nerve to get between the two troops, as, if they once joined, our chances were hopeless. But for another unexpected diversion in our favour, our efforts would have been defeated. This diversion was the sudden reappearance on the scene of our stallion, who, at the sight of his retreating wives, had evidently once more screwed up his courage to the fighting point.

The combat that now ensued was fiercer even than the last one. Profiting by it, we got up to our horses, who had stood still again, and hurriedly drove them in front of us towards our camp. We had gone some distance when the wild stallion, having again proved victor, came swooping after us, neighing proudly, and evidently meaning mischief. We began to shout and wave our hands as he approached, in the hopes of driving him off. When within forty yards of us, he stopped, but continued to circle round us, stamping and pawing, and neighing angrily. Our object was to drive the horses up to the camp and get to our rifle ammunition, it being evident that the only way to relieve ourselves of this troublesome Don Juan was by despatching him altogether. We soon got near to the camp, and shouted to I'Aria to bring us some bullets. At the report of the first shot the stallion fled in dismay, and with such rapidity that the two or three bangs we had at him missed their mark. He made straight for his own troop, who, during the whole performance, had stood in watchful expectation. The moment he reached them they all started off at a gallop, and, in the twinkling of an eye, swept up the steep escarpment on the far side of the valley and disappeared. Our horses were so frightened and bewildered by the day's events, that they seemed to have little desire to graze, but stood quite quiet together for upwards of an hour near the camp. We were in some apprehension lest the stallion should return in the night, but Gregorio said that he thought there was no danger of such an occurrence taking place, and we accordingly turned in and went to sleep, and were glad to see our troop grazing tranquilly next morning as usual.

CHAPTER XVII.

EXCURSION TO THE CLEOPATRA NEEDLES—A BOG—A WINDING RIVER—DIFFICULT TRAVELLING—A STRANGE PHENOMENON—A FAIRY HAUNT—WILD HORSES AGAIN—THEIR AGILITY—THE BLUE LAKE—THE CLEOPATRA PEAKS—THE PROMISED LAND.

It was arranged that night that Mr. B. and my brother and myself should make an expedition with Gregorio, towards the three strange peaks already mentioned. In order to spare our horses, no cumbersome articles were to be taken, a kettle, some biscuits, coffee, and meat, being all we contemplated carrying with us, except, of course, our guanaco furs and guns.

Thus equipped, we started the next morning shortly after sunrise. Our trip began badly. We had not gone far before my brother got into a morass, out of which he had no little difficulty in extricating himself; and as for his horse, at one time we thought the poor brute would never get out again, so deep had it sunk into the trembling, boggy ground. However, we managed to get it out at last, and, though both well plastered with mud, neither its rider nor itself were any the worse for this little contretemps. Proceeding on our journey, we followed Gregorio at a merry trot towards the great ravine, through which flowed that broad and rapid mountain stream, which it was necessary for us to ford.

The ravine side was so steep that we had to dismount and lead our horses down by a narrow track made by the wild horses. This pathway seemed to fall almost perpendicularly down to the river, which roared along, two or three hundred feet below us, and a slip or stumble might have sent us pell mell, one over the other, into it. No such mishap occurred, however, and, safely reaching the bottom, we proceeded to ford the river. It was not so deep as we had expected, but it ran with great force, and its bed being composed of shifting pebbles and large boulders of rock, our horses floundered and splashed about in a distressing way, and we all got more or less drenched by the time we got through it. This being the summer season the water was comparatively low, and we were able to follow the windings of the ravine, riding over the dry strip of river-bed for a good distance. But then the river began to dart about capriciously from one side of the ravine to the other, the consequence being that we were continually finding ourselves obliged to ford it again; and the ravine sides were now so steep and thickly wooded that we had no option but to follow the river. After two hours of splashing, and many a narrow escape from complete duckings, the river made a sudden turn southward, and in order to keep on our road towards the peaks we had to say farewell to our convenient ravine, and make our way as best we could through the beechwood forest. This was an arduous task. At times we would get into a thicket which made progress impossible, forcing us to retrace our steps, and try some other route, often to meet only the same difficulty as before. Then a good broad clearing would turn out to be equally impracticable, on account of a belt of bog stretching across it, or a little ravine, which favoured our journey for a time, would resolve itself into an impasse, and again we would have to turn back. Fortunately the weather was fine and sunny, and we made light of our difficulties, occasionally resting for a while to admire some of the many lovely bits of landscape chance presented to our eyes, or to feast on some bush, heavy laden with wild red currants, which were now ripe and sweet. A peculiar phenomenon, suggestive of some great fire in bygone ages, struck me in these forests. Everywhere, among the younger trees, stood huge dead giants, gray and leafless, and partially charred, as if a sudden sea of fire had swept over them, drying up their sap and destroying their vital powers, being quenched, however, by some sudden agency before it had time to destroy their branches and trunks completely. These gray skeletons of a bygone age looked weird and ghastly, standing amid the fresh green trees around them, and the wind, sweeping through their branches, produced a dry harsh rattle, which contrasted strangely with the melodious rustle of the leafy crests of their comrades.

For three or four hours we worked our way through the forest, and I never was more astonished at the marvellous powers of endurance of our horses than on this occasion, to say nothing of their extraordinary cleverness in scrambling over the trunks of fallen trees, and in picking their way through boggy ground, where a wrong step to the right or left would have been disastrous. At last we reached the outskirts of the wood, all more or less scratched and bruised, and thoroughly tired with our exertions.