RIDING TAUGHT by a lady, side-saddle or astride; fees go to Charity.—Apply "T.S.," c/o TACURU Offices.
BOOT CLEANING undertaken in best style. Gents', per pair, $1; Ladies', per pair, for the asking.—Orders received by "T.C.," Offices of this Paper.
"THE TACURU."
No. 3.
Monday, March 28th, 1910.
Owing to the care with which the mosquito nets had been put up, there were few complaints of bites when the party assembled for breakfast, but the conversation chiefly degenerated into an argument on phonetics. The different rooms held various views on the harmonizing of sounds. Had it been a glee competition we should undoubtedly have given the award to the verandah party. Sleeping on the bricks seems to bring out the sweetness of a treble voice as nothing else can do. The Saint and My Lady both remarked that they were very fond of music, but they could not appreciate being awakened from their beauty sleeps, by the announcement in a raucous voice of "No, thank you." They do not wish for a moment to imply that The Kid was not perfectly justified in refusing whatever she did refuse, but they would like her in future to confine her conversations to the daytime if possible, and to leave their nights in peace. It was a happy thought on the part of The Jehu to suggest a picnic at the Waters Meet to-day, before our forward move on to Los Moyes, and after breakfast we started out. First we went to inspect the site where the new house is to be built, then on to the pretty little monte near by, where some picturesque photographs were taken of the cavalcade of riders. We paused in this tiny monte, for it is an intensely interesting spot from a botanical point of view, and with care and attention should be so for some years to come. In an extraordinary small compass this wood contains more varied specimens of trees than one would ordinarily see in a day's journey. So on to Waters Meet. Here one is afforded an opportunity for studying the watershed of this portion of Argentina. Three rivers meet here, the Concha, the Calchaqui, and the Northern Salado. The latter is the only perennial river in that region; it rises in the snowy peaks of the Andes, in the province of Salta, miles away, and it is not to be wondered at, that, though it is a slow-moving river and meanders through the Gran Chaco, in the times of floods its swollen waters overflow their banks and flood immense tracts of land. Thomas Page, an American Admiral, in the year 1855, navigated this river from its junction with the Parana to the spot where we were to-day, but when he went up it there was so little water in the river that he had to give up the idea of continuing his pioneer task of exploration. It had been his intention to open up the river for trade, and there is no reason why this should not be done at some future date. The Calchaqui goes under different names at various places. It rises on the great swamps on the North-East of the Santa Fé Land Company's territory, and flows through a chain of lakes and cañadas until it runs into the huge laguna "Del Palmar," and thence along what used to be the Eastern boundary of the Santa Fé Land Company's lands, until it joins the Salado.
The Calchaqui must drain at least 150,000 acres of land, and the Rio Concha has a watershed of about 60 or 70 thousand acres. It is not known what the area of the watershed of the Salado is, but it must be immense; therefore it can be understood that the meeting-place of the waters of these three rivers is an interesting spot geographically, and we were all glad to have seen it. On our arrival at the Water Meet we had our first introduction to the native "asado," and we all hoped it would not be the last. The peons collected (apparently from nowhere), in less time than it takes to write about, sticks and odds and ends for a fire, over the ashes of which they broiled the meat, holding it over the heat on long skewers of wood. The meat was brought to us cooked, still on these skewers, and each one cut off, or had cut off for them by The Jehu, the portion he or she preferred, and a very hearty and merry meal was made by all. The resulting silence of repletion was only broken by a murmur from The Saint of "My heart is full," which sentiment, anatomically amended, was echoed by all.
