The Pampas and Andes: A Thousand Miles' Walk Across South America

by Nathaniel H. Bishop

There was living in San Luis, at the time our troop passed through the place, an old woman who was stolen when a child from her friends. She lived many years with her captors, serving them as a menial, or slave. Twice she attempted to escape, but each time was retaken, and for both attempts her feet were skinned by the brutal savages. She made a third attempt, however, which was successful. Her captors were away, hunting guanacos, a species of llama. Secreting about her person a quantity of dried mare’s flesh, she set out for a little lake, telling the squaws that she was going to draw water. As soon as the lake was reached she struck out boldly into the pampas, shaping her course in the direction of San Luis.

The Indians, fortunately, did not overtake or find her, and after many days of wandering, she fell in with some gauchos, who took her to San Luis, and restored her to her friends.

Another occurrence that was related to me will not be without interest to the reader.

During the California excitement a great number of foreigners accompanied caravans from Buenos Ayres to Mendoza, en route for the land of gold. Two or three of these caravans were troubled by the Indians while on the passage to San Luis.

At last one troop of twenty carts, which was accompanied by a large number of foreigners, mostly French and English, started from Buenos Ayres, and as the men were armed with double-barrelled guns and six-shooters, they were continually on the qui vive for an opportunity to test their weapons against the long spears and boliadores of the Indians.

Scouts were always on the watch, but not an Indian was seen. At length, just before they reached the mountains of San Luis, they were met by flying horsemen and terrified women from the town, who informed them that the savages were among the mines of La Carolina, some sixteen or eighteen leagues to the north, and were plundering without mercy. As the party were debating as to their proper action, the news was brought that the Indians, harassed by a few troops sent by the governor, were on the retreat. The caravan was at once drawn into a defile of the mountains, and the white men prepared for action.

Soon the Indians were descried coming at a rapid rate, in one body. Behind each savage were one or more female prisoners lashed to the rider. “It was an awful sight,” said the narrator of the story to me, “when we beheld the strangers point their long guns at the approaching party, among which were our friends, bound to their relentless captors.”

Unaware of the proximity of strangers, on came the galloping party. Suddenly they fell back in confusion, but too late for retreat, for the discharge of nearly two hundred guns scattered death among them. In an instant the horses were freed from their savage riders, who lay upon the plain in the last agonies.

Great credit was given to the foreigners who had done such service to the province; and, followed by hundreds of the natives, they marched the carts into the plaza of San Luis, and there remained several days, feasting daily upon eight oxen that were presented them by the governor. My informant said that such was the skill of the strangers in the use of fire-arms, that not a bird flew over the plaza but it was shot while flying, much to the astonishment of the townsfolk, who will never forget the visit of the strangers.

At San Luis de la Punta the pampas end. On the next morning, the 27th of April, when we left the town, our course lay over a travesia (desert), which was wooded, for the first few leagues, with the black algarroba (mata-gusano), and many other species of low thorn trees and bushes. The road was filled with deep ruts, and as the heavy wagons passed along they raised clouds of dust, that made travelling an almost insupportable task. At night the cattle had to be driven some miles from the road to a place where a little pasture was found. We did not eat meat during the day, but I found that many of the cacti bore a fruit at the top, which, though nearly tasteless, was better than nothing. Near where we encamped, three peons were loosening a patch of land with the rough plough of the country. They were preparing to dig a receptacle for the water that falls during the summer time, and just, behind two or three ranchos were two of these old pools, out of which our oxen and men drank, the capataz paying six and one fourth cents per head for each animal. The water could not have been a foot in depth, and what kept it from soaking into the ground I could not tell, as the soil was porous rather than clayey.