FOURTH: The Jehu. There is but one name for a man who handles his four-in-hand over tree-trunks, tacurus, and tussocks, as our coacher does. He drives as not even his namesake drove; in rain, in sunshine, in light, in darkness, over smooth ground or rough, he guides his steeds with consummate skill and care, which is wonderful to see. After a more than usually big bump he turns to his passengers with a cheery "All aboard?"; then gives his attention once more to the animals of which he is so fond, and in which he takes such pride. His knowledge of the horses he drives is marvellous. The Jehu is a man of great perception and information, and has a pleasant knack of being able to convey his knowledge to others. He and The Instigator have great arguments together which interest all listeners by day, but the discussions are not followed with quite so much delight by those who are privileged to hear them at night, when they often degenerate into a snoring competition.
FIFTH: The Wild Man—had been driven south by stress of weather and strikes. We should like to say something nice about him, for he always carries revolvers, knives, and cameras, but we fear that our kindest remarks may be misunderstood by one so unused to a quiet civilisation with no revolutions, so we refrain from all personal comments. This product of a land of luxuriant vegetation has a quaint penchant for collecting matchboxes (filled), old boots, deer horns, and any odd things lying about the camp belonging to himself or other people; still he is always cheerful and content, never grumbles, and can give valuable information respecting the ways of the natives who look upon him as a man and a brother.
SIXTH: The Chaperon—has his uses. It will be his business to see that we are housed, clothed, and fed. The horses and peons will also be under his care, and if anyone wants to grumble about anything The Chaperon is the person to abuse. Tent-erecting is what he considers himself to be very good at; but rumour has it that his best accomplishment is hairdressing (ladies or gentlemen, English or foreign styles). His resources know no bounds; he has been seen to fasten up a pair of leggings with bits of stick. His powers of annexation, both mentally and materially, are indeed marvellous. He prefers to make his bed on the bricks or the cold, hard ground, and then enlarges on the comfort thereof; he generally takes his food standing up, and is always on the spot ready for any emergency when required.
SEVENTH: The Saint—is a lady who will give away anything in her possession, save chicken or eggs. Just now she is making donations of pipes, tobacco, handkerchiefs (her own or The Instigator's), and good advice on matrimony. She is a person of importance, and is very keen on collecting knowledge which she is always ready to impart to others; unfortunately, some of her efforts to improve humanity have not been absolutely successful, but she is never discouraged, and takes up the next case on the list with equal enthusiasm. Most of us have to thank her for some good thing or other. She will do her best to keep every member of the party up to the mark, physically and mentally. Her accomplishments are numerous.
EIGHTH: My Lady—is a general favourite; she will look after the lot of us in her own gracious fashion. Everyone goes to her for advice, sympathy, or help, which she is always ready to give. Even without her tea-basket she would be an absolute necessity for the social success of the trip, for, as the advertisements say of patent sweepers and the Encyclopaedia Britannica, "no party is complete without" her, so every one was glad to hear that she had agreed to accompany the northern pioneers. Those favoured ones who have seen her "on the boards," whisper that her histrionic genius is marvellous; we, who are not among the fortunate number, can only say that if her acting equals her talent for giving (when required) a really concise, lucid description of anything, it must indeed be wonderful. Her quotations, too, are so ready and apt, though occasionally they remind us, by their vagueness, of her namesake and favourite book.
NINTH: The Kid. Why she is brought along, nobody will ever know. It may have been as a "contrapeso" ("an addition of meat or fish of inferior quality, thrown in to complete the weight," vide Arturo Cuyas' Dictionary), but we think she came with the sheep. Anyhow, it was not until the first part of the journey had been accomplished that she was discovered bleating in the corner of one of the coaches. We had a meeting to decide whether she should come on with us or not, and arranged to put her on the job of tidying up for the trip; but her hopeless incompetence and ready impertinence to her superior officers, necessitated instant dismissal without a character. However, as she is really not worth the trouble of sending back, we locked up the tea tin, and let her continue the journey on the condition that she will not talk too much, awake or asleep. With any luck, we may yet lose her somewhere in the wilds.
The one disappointment expressed by all the party was that Our Hostess decided not to accompany us on the trip, but to await our return at Cristobal.
We started out from the estancia house as soon as the ladies' luggage could be brought downstairs, and we should like to remark, in passing, that it was a very affecting sight to see Our Guest, The Delineator, and The Wild Man lifting and carrying heavy boxes and baggage (with no thought of gain) out to the peons, who, under the able direction of The Chaperon, loaded them scientifically on to one of the four carts, which, when ready, were sent on ahead with the nine peons who had been told off for the trip. Cameras appeared from every available corner as we prepared to move, and many invaluable photos of the start of the caravan must have been secured by those who gave us such a hearty send-off. When at last Our Hostess had put in the final cushion and rug, and provided us with biscuits and bull's-eyes, and was satisfied that even she could do nothing more for our comfort, we parted from her with great regret, promising that she should receive numerous marconigrams concerning our welfare, and our travels en route. First went off the four-in-hand driven by The Jehu, who had four members of the party in his care; he was followed by The Chaperon, who drove a pair, and looked after the rest of the explorers.
There is an old saying, "Give a dog a bad name and you may as well hang him." The truth of this saying has never been better exemplified than in the case of the Chaco, which long held the reputation of being good for nothing. Rumour had it that the northern land was useless; life was impossible there for the white man; indeed, it was supposed that cattle even could not live there on account of the mosquitoes and garrapata; and Indians were said to be as thick as flies, and equally disturbing.