ELASTIC LEAGUES--THE LAGUNA BLANCA--AN EARTHQUAKE--
OSTRICH-HUNTING.
We should like to have lingered on in the beechwood valley, but the
necessity of pushing forward as quickly as possible was too urgent to
allow of our indulging in our lazy desires, and daybreak saw our party
once more in the saddle.
The country over which we rode this day was more rugged and hilly than
any we had crossed previously; the sun shone down upon us in all the
intensity of its summer heat, and the glare of the hot dry ground
affected our eyes painfully as we rode along.
"How far have we still to go?" was a question which was often on our
lips, though, from experience, we might have known that, whatever
answer we got from the guides, we should be no wiser than before. They
would reply glibly enough, four or five leagues, as the case might be,
but we had found that their ideas of a league were most elastic,
appearing to vary daily, and to an extent which made it impossible for
us to form any mean average even, to guide us to an approximate
estimation of the value of their assertions. Thus, a league might mean
ten miles to-day, and to-morrow possibly only one.
At length, as the sun was beginning to sink, a shout from one of the
guides made us glance wearily up. We found ourselves on the brow of an
escarpment, at the foot of which extended a far-stretching plain, in
the midst of which, shimmering like a sheet of silver, lay a broad
lake, called "Laguna Blanca," or the White Lake.
This welcome sight at once revived our drooping spirits, and for the
next hour we rode merrily forward, following Gregorio, who was seeking
for a little ravine, where there was a small freshwater stream which
flowed down towards the lake. We soon came upon it, and lost no time
in jumping out of the saddle and setting to work with a will, at the
erection of our tents and the preparation of our evening meal. The
latter having been discussed, we went to bed.
The sun was rather high in the heavens when I opened my eyes the next
morning, and, pulling aside the flap of the tent, looked out upon the
scene. All our camp was still wrapt in sleep save I'Aria, who was
sitting over the fire smoking his pipe, whilst he watched the kettle
boiling, in placid expectation of his morning coffee. The plains below
were silent; but the air was noisy with the cries of the flocks of
geese and wild-duck, who were winging their flight from the lake
towards the rich fields of cranberries farther inland. The sharp quack
of the ibis would occasionally startle me, as a bevy of these birds
passed seemingly just over my head, but, in reality, far up in the
air.
From the contemplation of this scene I was suddenly and rudely
awakened. A loud rumbling sound rose on the air; and, before I had
time to wonder what it could mean, a heaving of the ground, resembling
a sea-swell, sent me flying on my back, and, as by magic, the silent
camp became alive with shouts of fear and wonder, as everybody rushed
out of the tents in dismay. The shocks occurred again and again, but
each time weaker, and in about five minutes they had ceased
altogether, but it was some time before we recovered our equanimity.
This was the first time I had ever experienced an earthquake, and such
a sickly sensation of helplessness as comes over one during the
heaving up and down of the earth would, I should think, be hard to
equal. Our guides told us that none of them had ever felt an
earthquake in Patagonia before, nor had they ever heard of one having
taken place.
Later on, on our return to Sandy Point, we learnt that the earthquake
had caused a good deal of disaster in the colony. All the bottles and
stores in Pedro's shop were thrown from their shelves and broken, and
there were few inhabitants in the colony who did not sustain some
similar loss.
As may be imagined, the earthquake provided us with matter for
conversation for some time, and in that respect, at least, was a not
unwelcome occurrence.
Breakfast over, it was agreed that we should separate into two
parties, one for the purpose of ostrich-hunting, whilst the other
should devote its energies to the pursuit of the guanaco. My husband
and Mr. B. preferring the latter chase, rode off with their rifles,
together with Gregorio and Guillaume, towards the hilly country we had
crossed the day before.
As soon as they were gone my brother and I, with François, started off
along a ridge of hills which exactly faced our camp, and which sloped
down into the plains below. We were followed by four ostrich hounds,
and were mounted on the best and fleetest horses we could select out
of our tropilla. The little animal that I bestrode could not have
exceeded fifteen hands. He was a high-spirited little bay with a white
blaze down his face, and three white legs. He would clamber up
precipitous places where the stones and rocks crumbled and gave way
beneath his feet, or canter down a steep decline, and jump the wide
gullies with the greatest ease. As we galloped along the smoother
ground which intervened between the hills, and which was deeply
undermined by hundreds of holes of the "tuca-tuca" (prairie rat), his
activity in avoiding a fall astonished me. My brother was equally well
mounted on a long, low, clever black, who had the reputation of great
speed; while François rode a well-shaped brown, with handsome arching
neck and tiny head.
As we rode silently along, with our eyes well about us, in the hopes
of sighting an ostrich, my horse suddenly shied at something white
lying on the ground at a few paces distant. Throwing the reins over
his head, I dismounted and walked towards the spot. Amongst some long
grass I discovered a deserted nest of an ostrich containing ten or
eleven eggs, and calling François to examine them, was greatly
chagrined to find that none of them were fresh. With the superstition
of an ostrich-hunter François picked up a feather lying close at hand,
and sticking it in his cap, assured us that this was a good sign, and
that it would not be long before we came across one of these birds.
His prediction was speedily verified, for on reaching the summit of a
little hill, up which we had slowly and stealthily proceeded, two
small gray objects suddenly struck my eye. I signed to François and my
brother, who where riding some twenty yards behind me, and putting
spurs to my horse, galloped down the hill towards the two gray objects
I had perceived in the distance. "Choo! choo!" shouted François, a cry
by which the ostrich-hunters cheer their dogs on, and intimate to them
the proximity of game. Past me like lightning the four eager animals
rushed, bent on securing the prey which their quick sight had already
detected.
The ostriches turned one look on their pursuers, and the next moment
they wheeled round, and making for the plain, scudded over the ground
at a tremendous pace.
And now, for the first time, I began to experience all the glorious
excitement of an ostrich-hunt. My little horse, keen as his rider,
took the bit between his teeth, and away we went up and down the
hills at a terrific pace. On and on flew the ostriches, closer and
closer crept up "Leona," a small, red, half-bred Scotch deerhound,
with "Loca," a wiry black lurcher at her heels, who in turn was
closely followed by "Apiscuña" and "Sultan." In another moment the
little red dog would be alongside the ostriches. Suddenly, however,
they twisted right and left respectively, scudding away in opposite
directions over the plain, a feint which of course gave them a great
advantage, as the dogs in their eagerness shot forward a long way
before they were able to stop themselves. By the time they had done so
the ostriches had got such a start that, seeing pursuit was useless,
we called the dogs back. We were very much disappointed at our
failure, and in no very pleasant frame of mind turned our horses'
heads in the direction of our camp.
As we rode along we were surprised by the sudden appearance of a man
on horseback, galloping towards us. He was dressed in a guanaco robe,
and his long black hair floating on the wind, gave him a very wild
look. "An Indian!" I exclaimed. But François shook his head, and we
rode up to meet the stranger. When he got up to us he shook hands with
François, whom he seemed to know, and, without evincing any sign of
curiosity as regarded ourselves, turned his horse round, and prepared
to accompany us. I observed that although his face, legs, and hands
were almost as copper-coloured as those of an Indian, his features
were those of a white man. François presently told me that he was a
Chilian convict, who had deserted from Sandy Point a good many years
ago, and that since then he had lived among the Indians, adopting
their dress and customs, till he had now become quite one of them. In
reply to my questions it appeared that he was camping with some
Indians on the other side of the lake. They had been out hunting, and
he was just returning home when he saw us, and having nothing better
to do, thought he might as well pay a visit to our camp.
We were a good deal chaffed when we got home on the score of our
non-success, my husband and Mr. B. having had a good day's sport,
bringing plenty of guanaco meat back with them. Over pipes and coffee
that night a serious council of war was held by the whole of our
party, as regards ostrich-hunting for the morrow.
The Chilian suggested the forming of a circle, and professed himself
willing, in return for our hospitality, to remain another day and join
in the affair. Forming a circle is the method by which the Indians
nearly always obtain game. It is formed by lighting fires round a
large area of ground into which the different hunters ride from all
sides. A complete circle of blazing fires is thus obtained, and any
game found therein is pretty sure to become the prey of the dogs, as
no ostrich or guanaco will face a fire. Wherever they turn they see
before them a column of smoke, or are met by dogs and horsemen. Escape
becomes almost impossible, and it is not long before they grow
bewildered and are captured. In anticipation of a hard day's work on
the morrow, we hereupon broke up our council of war, and turned in at
an earlier hour than usual.
Next morning, the horses being all ready, we lost no time in springing
into the saddle, leaving Storer to take charge of the camp, much to
his alarm, and in spite of his earnest remonstrance. The poor man
vainly protested that, were the Indians to discover our retreat, he
would be perfectly powerless to prevent their pillaging the whole
camp, especially as his ignorance of their "jargon," as he scornfully
termed the Tehuelche language, would place him in a most helpless
position. Regardless of his arguments and imploring looks we rode
away, determining to risk the improbable intrusion of the Indians,
whose camp lay at least twenty miles distant from our own. For about
half an hour we followed Gregorio and the Chilian along a line of
broken hillocks, after which, calling a halt, we sent forward
Guillaume and I'Aria to commence the first and most distant
proceedings of the circle. They departed at a brisk canter, and it was
not long before several rising columns of smoke testified that they
were already busily engaged. The next to compose the centre circle
were my husband, François, and Mr. B., shortly after supported on the
right by the Chilian and my brother. Immediately on their left
Gregorio and myself commenced operations, and soon a distinct circle
of fires might be seen springing quickly up from all points. I could
not help being greatly impressed with the novel sight now before me.
From the high plain we were on I could look over miles and miles of
untrodden desert land, where countless herds of guanaco were roaming
in peaceful lazy ease. In the distance towered the peaks of the Andes,
wrapped in their cloak of mystery, lonely and unexplored. The huge
columns of smoke and the lurid flames of the circle-fires lent a wild
appearance to the thrilling scene, to which the frightened knots of
guanacos, which were hurrying to escape from the circle and the eager
galloping horsemen, lent additional active animation.
For some time Gregorio and I rode slowly and silently on our way, when
a sudden unexpected bound which my horse gave all but unseated me.
"Avestruz! Avestruz!" shouted Gregorio, and turned his horse with a
quick movement. "Choo! choo! Plata!" I cry to the dog who followed at
my horse's heels, as a fine male ostrich scudded away towards the
hills we had just left with the speed of lightning. Plata has sighted
him, and is straining every limb to reach the terrified bird. He is a
plucky dog and a fleet one, but it will take him all his time to come
alongside that great raking ostrich as he strides away in all the
conscious pride of his strength and speed. "We shall lose him!" I cry,
half mad with excitement, spurring my horse, who is beginning to gasp
and falter as the hill up which we are struggling grows steeper and
steeper. But the ostrich suddenly doubles to the left, and commences a
hurried descent. The cause is soon explained, for in the direction
towards which he has been making a great cloud of smoke rises
menacingly in his path, and, baulked of the refuge he had hoped to
find amidst the hills, the great bird is forced to alter his course,
and make swiftly for the plains below. But swiftly as he flies along,
so does Plata, who finds a down-hill race much more suited to his
splendid shoulders and rare stride. Foot by foot he lessens the
distance that separates him from his prey, and gets nearer and nearer
to the fast sinking, fast tiring bird. Away we go, helter-skelter down
the hill, unchecked and undefeated by the numerous obstacles that
obstruct the way. Plata is alongside the ostrich, and gathers himself
for a spring at the bird's throat. "He has him, he has him!" I shout
to Gregorio, who does not reply, but urges his horse on with whip and
spur. "Has he got him, though?" Yes--no--the ostrich with a rapid
twist has shot some thirty yards ahead of his enemy, and whirling
round, makes for the hills once more. And now begins the struggle for
victory. The ostrich has decidedly the best of it, for Plata, though
he struggles gamely, does not like the uphill work, and at every
stride loses ground. There is another fire on the hill above, but it
lies too much to the left to attract the bird's attention, who has
evidently a safe line of escape in view in that direction. On, on we
press; on, on flies the ostrich; bravely and gamely struggles in its
wake poor Plata. "Can he stay?" I cry to Gregorio, who smiles and nods
his head. He is right, the dog can stay, for hardly have the words
left my lips when, with a tremendous effort, he puts on a spurt, and
races up alongside the ostrich. Once more the bird points for the
plain; he is beginning to falter, but he is great and strong, and is
not beaten yet. It will take all Plata's time and cunning to pull that
magnificent bird to the ground, and it will be a long fierce struggle
ere the gallant creature yields up his life. Unconscious of anything
but the exciting chase before me, I am suddenly disagreeably reminded
that there _is_ such a thing as caution, and necessity to look where
you are going to, for, putting his foot in an unusually deep tuca-tuca
hole, my little horse comes with a crash upon his head, and turns
completely over on his back, burying me beneath him in a hopeless
muddle. Fortunately, beyond a shaking, I am unhurt, and remounting,
endeavour to rejoin the now somewhat distant chase. The ostrich,
Gregorio, and the dog have reached the plain, and as I gallop quickly
down the hill I can see that the bird has begun doubling. This is a
sure sign of fatigue, and shows that the ostrich's strength is
beginning to fail him. Nevertheless it is a matter of no small
difficulty for one dog to secure his prey, even at this juncture,
as he cannot turn and twist about as rapidly as the ostrich. At each
double the bird shoots far ahead of his pursuer, and gains a
considerable advantage. Away across the plain the two animals fly,
whilst I and Gregorio press eagerly in their wake. The excitement
grows every moment more intense, and I watch the close struggle going
on with the keenest interest. Suddenly the stride of the bird grows
slower, his doubles become more frequent, showers of feathers fly in
every direction as Plata seizes him by the tail, which comes away in
his mouth. In another moment the dog has him by the throat, and for a
few minutes nothing can be distinguished but a gray struggling heap.
Then Gregorio dashes forward and throws himself off his horse, breaks
the bird's neck, and when I arrive upon the scene the struggle is
over. The run had lasted for twenty-five minutes.
[Illustration: THE LAST DOUBLE].
Our dogs and horses were in a most pitiable state. Poor Plata lay
stretched on the ground with his tongue, hot and fiery, lolling out of
his mouth, and his sides going at a hundred miles an hour. The horses,
with their heads drooped till they almost touched the ground, and
their bodies streaming with perspiration, presented a most pitiable
sight, and while Gregorio disembowelled and fastened the ostrich
together, I loosened their girths, and led them to a pool hard by to
drink. At length they became more comfortable, and as soon as they
seemed in a fit state to go on, Gregorio and I lifted the huge bird on
to his horse, and tied it across the animal's withers. Encumbered
thus, Gregorio turned to depart in the direction of the camp, followed
by Plata, while I went in an opposite direction in search of my
companions down in the plain. It was not long before I distinguished
in the far distance an ostrich coming straight towards me, closely
followed by a dog and two horsemen. Galloping to meet them, I was the
means of turning the bird into "Peaché's" jaws, for such was the name
of I'Aria's dog. The two horsemen turned out to be the old fellow in
question and my brother, who arrived, hot and full of excitement, on
the scene just as I was throwing myself from my horse to prevent
Peaché from tearing the bird to pieces. Leaving I'Aria to complete the
hunter's work, my brother and I rode slowly back towards our camp,
discussing the merits of our horses, dogs, and the stamina of the two
ostriches we had slain. So engrossed were we that we could hardly
believe our eyes when we came suddenly in full view of our snug
little retreat, but, nevertheless, we were very glad to dismount and
refresh ourselves with the hot coffee which we found old Storer had
ready waiting.
One by one the other hunters dropped in. They had all been successful,
with the exception of Guillaume; and as we stood grouped round the
five large ostriches lying on the ground, we congratulated ourselves
on our good fortune, and on the excellent sport we had had. At dinner
we passed judgment on ostrich-meat, which we now really tasted for the
first time, for what we had obtained from the Indian camp had been dry
and unpalatable. We thought it excellent; the breast and wings are
particularly good; the latter much resemble pheasant.