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

by Nathaniel H. Bishop

Despondingly I returned to the mill, and my fine collection, intended for a scientific society at home, was destroyed in a short time by a minute species of red ants, which ate the skins almost entirely.

A pair of burrowing owls, a dove, a stilt, and a few eggs were all that I succeeded in bringing home with me.

At the mill the season proved to be a busy one. Merchants from other provinces visited San Juan, and after disposing of their goods, generally invested their returns in wheat, which was sent to the mill to be ground. There were no water privileges in the interior, and the merchants and farmers of Cordova and San Luis frequently sent wheat three or four hundred miles by troops of mules. My office, therefore, proved an advantageous one, as I was enabled to have direct intercourse with people from several of the northern and eastern provinces. Among the numbers that I became acquainted with were the old-fashioned Riojano, who came from his distant home to the north of the desert, clothed in a heavy frasada, manufactured from wool of his own shearing by the industry of his wife or daughter. Sometimes the Indian-looking Santiaguenian, or Catamarean, and the crafty yet polite Cordovese, traded at the mill; and many were the little gifts that the most respectable portion of my customers brought me from their estates far back in the irrigated travesia, or along the bases of the Andes. The press of business demanded that the mill should be run night and day. This compelled the poorer classes that came from a distance to sleep in the mill. And at night, when all was quiet, save the restless hum of the revolving stone, it was a curious sight to peep in at the door, and behold the ground covered with sleeping forms of men, women, and children of many types and complexions—here the offspring of the negro and Indian; there the child of a Spanish father and Indian mother. It was a study worthy the attention of a profound ethnologist to separate and classify the various crosses and mixtures of the different races of the genus homo that came to the mill of Don Guillermo Buenaparte.

Leaving the dusty atmosphere of the mill, I frequently wandered out into the night air to gaze upon nature by moonlight. The canal that watered the district of Causete branched off in a different direction from the main acquia, and could be traced, as it wound along the travesia, by the willows and clumps of reeds that grew upon its banks. The Andes towered above the plains a few miles to the west, while on the east the solid range of the mountains of Cordova, stretching far to the north, gave an additional grandeur to the scene. The nights were bland and lovely, excepting when the wind called the zonda (a sort of sirocco) came from the Andes, when the natives suffered from its parching heat, and those affected with diseases of the heart trembled in expectation of sudden death.

While I strolled along the banks of the canal the mill hummed on as usual, for Don Guillermo had constructed an ingenious method of alarm, by means of which the absent or sleepy miller was warned of the state of affairs within the building.

Such was the delight that I took in these rambles upon the travesia, that duty was in one or two instances neglected, and I found, on returning to the mill, that some villanous male or degraded female was stealing the “millings” from the miller’s box, or purloining flour from the hide sack of some countryman who was fast in the embrace of the drowsy god. Once or twice, on such occasions, I became so vexed as to attempt clearing the room of the thievish fellows; but to accomplish this required a stronger arm than mine, and one attempt almost resulted in a general mélée; but as the female customers always took sides with the gringo, I came off in good condition, and attained my object: thus the good name of the mill was not forfeited.

The gauchos love to gamble, and while waiting for the mill to do its work, they generally spent the time in playing their favorite games, always staking small sums of money upon the chances in order to make the time pass more profitably. But whatever might have been the rules of the other mills, Don Guillermo soon put a stop to what he called a degenerating practice, and by various small skirmishes with the gaucho peons, he fully demonstrated that his was a North American institution, and that, therefore, gambling could not be permitted upon his premises. The peons remonstrated, but the don was firm. They threatened to ruin his business by patronizing the other mills in preference to his own; but as their masters respected the policy of my friend, they were restrained from carrying out their designs. Thus law and order were firmly established, and North American principles were triumphant. It requires no small degree of firmness and knowledge of human nature to carry on the flour and grain business in the Argentine Republic.

Peace and quiet did not last long before a second innovation was attempted, although upon a new plan. A band of thieves and loafers erected a hut of cornstalks and briers upon the opposite side of the canal, in the district of Anjuaco, and the place was once more disturbed by midnight revels, and by frequent raids upon the grounds of neighboring farmers. Sheep, calves, and, even horses, disappeared in a mysterious manner. At length Don Guillermo became exasperated, and watching an opportunity when the rascals were absent, he attacked the shanty, levelled it to the ground, and, collecting the ruins into one pile, set fire to it, and burned it to ashes.

The party returned, and, on seeing the condition of their house, would, in their rage, have demolished the buildings of the don, had not fear prevented them; for they well knew that the law-and-order man possessed fire-arms, dogs, and a stout heart.

During my stay at the mill I occasionally visited the town of San Juan, and passed a few hours with some acquaintances. I found, to my surprise, among the wealthier citizens, a class of society, which, for dignity of deportment, strictness in etiquette, and generous hospitality, would favorably compare with any class that I have met in the United States or in Europe. The young men were intelligent and full of generous ardor, and the maidens—how shall I describe them? Since returning to North America, my friends have sometimes asked if they resembled our Indian women!