A MONOTONOUS RIDE--A DREARY LANDSCAPE--SHORT FUEL
RATIONS--THE CORDILLERAS--FEATURES OF PATAGONIAN
SCENERY--HEAT AND GNATS--A PUMA AGAIN--"THE RAIN IS
NEVER WEARY"--DAMPNESS, HUNGER, GLOOM--I'ARIA TO THE
RESCUE--HIS INGENUITY.
After another day's sojourn at this encampment we resumed our journey.
We took a good supply of fuel with us, as we were now entering on the
barren, woodless region, during our transit over which we should have
to rely solely on the provision we now made.
Leaving the beechwood behind us we rode up on to a plain, on whose
edge we could distinguish what appeared to be a little black cloud. In
reality it was a peak, or rather clump of peaks of the Cordilleras, at
the foot of which we were one day to camp, and towards which for the
next few days we directed our horses' heads.
This day's ride, and it was a long one, was by far more monotonous and
dreary than any of the preceding ones. The immense plateau over which
we rode for six or seven hours was remarkable for its gloom and
barrenness, even in a region where all is sterility and dreariness.
There was no sun, and the sky, lowering and dark, formed a fit
counterpart to the plain, which stretched flatly away to the
indistinct horizon, gray, mournful, and silent.
We could not help being affected by the aspect of the scenery around
us, and I do not remember ever to have felt anything to equal the
depression of spirits to which I, in common with all our party, fell a
prey, and to whose influence even the guides succumbed.
For once they drove the troop along without enlivening their work with
the customary cheery cries of "Iegua! Iegua! Mula! Mula!" etc., and
the very bells of the Madrinas seemed to have a muffled, solemn sound,
very unlike their usual lively jingle.
A single incident occurred during that day's march. A little guanaco,
which had lost its mother somehow, seeing us coming, instead of
running away, trotted trustingly towards us. Unfortunately our
bloodthirsty dogs dashed out and threw it before we could get up to
stop them. The poor thing got up again, however, and at first did not
seem much hurt. It was the sweetest little creature imaginable, with
soft silky fur, and bright, gentle eyes, and it thrust its nose
against my cheek in a caressing manner, without the least sign of
fear. I determined to carry it with me, in hopes that as it got bigger
it would learn to keep with our troop, especially as the mare who had
lost her filly at Laguna Blanca would have made an excellent
foster-mother for it. But I hardly formed the idea when the little
guanaco began to stagger about, and it became evident that it must
have received some bite from the dogs which we had not noticed. On
examining it this proved to be the case; indeed, in a few minutes its
eyes glazed, and to my grief in a very short time it died, apparently
without suffering. I would have given anything that it could have
lived, as I am sure it would have become attached to me, and finally
have found its way to England with us. Tame guanacos are often kept at
Sandy Point, and their gentle ways and amiable dispositions make them
charming pets.
We were thoroughly tired of our dull march when we at last arrived at
a ravine where there were a few pools of water, and where we camped
for the night. As we were on short fuel rations, the fire was allowed
to go out directly after dinner, and we went to bed, now the only warm
place.
Off again the next day, the clump of peaks mentioned above growing
more distinct, but still terribly far, and no wood to be got till we
reached them. Plains as usual studded with guanacos, but having no
time to go out with our rifles, we had to confine ourselves to ostrich
meat. Of these birds there was an abundance, and many an exciting run
we had pursuing them. Wild-fowl were numerous too, but having eaten
every imaginable species--geese, duck, teal, widgeon, snipe, Barbary
duck, we were quite tired of them.
After another long march we camped in an open shelterless ravine, and
then again pushed hurriedly on, our stock of fuel getting ominously
low, towards the tantalising clump of peaks, which at the end of a
long day's ride scarcely seemed to come any nearer. They were now
beginning to disappear, as we descended into an immense basin which
lay between us and them, and whose farther end was bound by a
succession of plateaus, rising abruptly one over the other as it
appeared to us, though, when we ultimately came up to them, we found
the graduating ascent almost imperceptible.
After camping one night in a most disagreeable sandy region, where our
food and clothes and furs all got impregnated with grit and dust, and
where we burned our last stick, we again pushed on, with the
unpleasant knowledge that that night we should possibly have to camp
without a fire to warm ourselves and cook our food. The basin we were
now crossing seemed interminable. We were to camp that night at the
foot of the escarpment which bound its farther end, whence to the
mountains was only one day's march. We were now out of sight of the
latter again, but we were cheered by the comforting consciousness that
each step was bringing us nearer to them.
Just as it was getting dark, after a weary day's ride, we reached a
brawling mountain-stream, which swept along the base of an escarpment,
and which we hailed as the first sign that we were at last approaching
the Cordilleras. Fording it we pitched our camp in the long green
grass, just under shelter of the escarpment. But before unsaddling,
eager to see how near we had come to the clump of peaks which had so
long been before our eyes, we rode up the escarpment, from the top of
which we hoped to get a good view of the country westward.
Our expectations were not disappointed. There, seemingly not a mile
away, rose up, compact and dark, not the huddled clump of peaks we had
seen two days ago, but a mighty mountain chain, which lost itself
westward in the gathering dusk of evening--standing like a mysterious
barrier between the strange country we had just crossed and a possibly
still stranger country beyond. The sun had long set, and the base of
the mountains was wrapped in darkness, but their jagged
fantastically-shaped crests stood clearly defined against the light
which still glimmered in the sky, and here and there a snow-covered
peak, higher than its comrades, still retained a faint roseate glow,
which contrasted strangely with the gray gloom of all below.
For a long time after complete darkness had fallen over everything, I
stood alone, giving myself up to the influence of the emotions the
scene described awoke in me, and endeavouring, though vainly, to
analyse the feeling which the majestic loneliness of Patagonian
scenery always produced in my mind--a feeling which I can only
compare--for it would be impossible for me to seize on any definite
feature of the many vague sensations which compose it--to those called
up by one of Beethoven's grand, severe, yet mysteriously soft sonatas.
I was awakened from my reverie by Francisco, who was wandering about
trying to gather a few dry sticks for the fire. Fortunately he managed
to collect enough to enable us to cook a tolerable dinner with;
having eaten which, as usual, when we were fireless, we sought our
couches as speedily as possible.
The morning broke with every sign of bad weather. The air was heavy
and sultry, a hot dry wind blew over the plains, whirling up clouds of
fine dust, and the mountain-chain was half-hidden by dark masses of
clouds of threatening aspect. We saddled and packed up as hurriedly as
possible, fervently hoping that the rain, which sooner or later we saw
must come, would kindly hold over till we had reached our destination.
As we journeyed on, the sultriness grew more and more oppressive, and
we were vexed by innumerable swarms of minute gnats, which got into
our eyes and mouths, buzzed about us in a hopelessly persistent
manner, and by no means allayed the state of irritation the combined
influence of dust and heat had brought us into. A slight diversion
presently occurred by the appearance of an animal whose claims to our
polite and immediate attention were not to be denied. This was an
enormous puma, who suddenly sprang up from the midst of our cavalcade,
sending the mules and luggage horses stampeding away in all
directions. True to its cowardly nature, the animal slouched hurriedly
off, and disappeared down the side of a ravine. Quick as thought we
pursued it, but fast as we galloped, not a trace of it was to be seen.
At a short distance from where we stood eagerly searching for the
vanished animal, I perceived a small bush growing, the only one for
miles round, and to this I pointed as the probable place where the
brute had sought a hiding-place. We lost no time in galloping towards
the spot, and the terrified snorting of our horses when we drew near,
assured us of the correctness of my surmise, and put us on our guard.
We caught sight of him, as he crouched with angry glowing eyes and an
expression on his face which, on discovering that none of us carried a
rifle, was the reverse of reassuring, especially as we knew from our
guides that, for some reason or other, these Cordillera pumas are
fiercer than their kindred of the plains, and often attack their
assailants,--a piece of temerity the latter have never been known to
be capable of.
Fortunately, at this moment, my husband came up with a gun, though
indeed it was only loaded with small shot. Dismounting hastily he
approached within eight or nine yards of the growling animal. Bang!
bang! went his gun, and through the cloud of smoke we saw the puma
jump up in the air and fall backwards on the bush. For a moment or
two it rolled about in the throes of death, and then, with a last
growl stretched itself slowly out, and lay still. Gregorio, who
arrived at this moment, set to work at once, to remove its skin. The
guides all declared it to be the biggest puma they had ever seen. The
skin, which adorns the floor of the room where I am at present
writing, measures exactly nine feet from the tip of the tail to the
point of the nose. We then hurried on again, anxiously scanning the
weather, which meanwhile had grown more and more threatening. The
sultriness had increased so as to have become almost unbearable, and
the swarms of gnats above alluded to had grown numerous in proportion.
Before long a fearful thunderstorm burst over our heads, and for a
short time the rain came down in sheets. Then a shift of the wind
changed the temperature again. It became quite chilly, and the heavy
rain resolved itself into a thick drizzling mist, which soon wetted us
to the skin. For hours we rode in this comfortless plight,--wet, cold,
and tired, and by no means cheered by the aspect of the country, the
little we could see of which--most of it being hidden by the mist
aforesaid--looking blacker and sadder than ever.
[Illustration: THE PUMA'S DEATH-SPRING.]
We were in hopes that at least before evening it would clear up, as
the prospect of having to pitch our camp in the drizzling sleet was
far from pleasant, but as it grew darker the fog increased in
thickness, and soon we could hardly see fifty paces ahead of our
horses' noses. How Gregorio managed to find the way, I don't know. At
last it being, as near as I could judge, about sunset, we descended a
very steep declivity, and came on to what appeared to be a ravine of
the ordinary kind, where grass and underwood were apparently abundant.
We halted at a semicircle of tall bushes, and set disconsolately to
work to get up the tents. This by no means easy task being
accomplished, we collected the provisions and cartridges together, and
got them under shelter into the smaller of the two tents. Our rugs,
furs, and coverings were wet through, so we carried them into the
other tent and proceeded to wring them and lay them out to dry. This
being done, we turned our attention towards making a fire, but the
guides and everybody declared the attempt impossible, and indeed so it
seemed, for there was not a dry twig or blade of grass to be found
anywhere. Back we all crept into our damp tents, and prepared to dine
as genially as we could off sardines and dry biscuit. But though we
might choose to resign ourselves thus supinely to discomfort, old
I'Aria, for his part, was by no means inclined to do so. Whilst the
discussion as to the possibility of making a fire had been carried on,
after listening a minute or two to the arguments which were being
urged proving conclusively that nothing could be done towards it, he
silently withdrew, and busied himself in setting up his own little
tent,--a rather dilapidated one by the way, as, whenever he required
something wherewith to patch up a rent in his curious garments, he was
in the habit of supplying his want by cutting out a piece of the
canvas of his "casa" (_house_) as he called it--an ingenious method of
robbing Peter to pay Paul.
Meanwhile we had retired to our tents, and were beginning to arrange
our furs preparatory to going to bed, when I heard some conversation
going on between I'Aria, my husband, and Mr. B., the latter an
inveterate maté drinker, and who, I must say, had been the only one at
the council who had expressed himself hopefully as regarded the
possibility of making a fire. Looking out of the tent I saw them all
crouched under a bush, dripping wet, but earnestly engaged in some
elaborate preparations for conquering damp and getting soaked wood to
burn.
Finding they disregarded my friendly advice to save themselves the
trouble of doing what could only be termed useless, I withdrew into my
tent again. Half an hour later I could still hear them bravely
battling against the inevitable, but presently Mr. B. went past my
tent with a kettle in his hand. "The fire is burning, is it?" I called
out ironically to him. "No, but it will very soon," he replied.
"Meanwhile I am going to fill the kettle; would you like tea or
coffee?" I answered something sarcastic, but sighed. I certainly would
have given anything for a cup of hot tea. The hopeful expression of
Mr. B.'s face had struck me, so, covering myself up in a cloak, I went
up to where I'Aria was busy at work, to see if really there was any
hope of his succeeding. I found he had stuck four little stakes in the
ground, over which a cloth was drawn, under whose shelter he had built
an elaborate structure of wooden matches, laid crosswise one over the
other, so as to be handy when required; over these lay a small heap of
fine twigs, as dry as could be procured, as well as some stout sticks,
and finally several logs, which he informed me would soon be merrily
blazing. Everything being ready, he applied a light to the matches,
and as soon as they began to blaze, added the twigs, which in their
turn, after a little doubtful spluttering, took fire, and
presently--this was the critical moment--the sticks were laid on. For
a time my worst fears seemed about to be realised, the sticks only
smoked viciously, the matches had long burned away, and the twigs now
began to glow doubtfully. But old I'Aria did not give in without a
struggle. Kneeling down he tried gently to fan the fading glow with
his breath. At times, as we anxiously watched it, it seemed to gain
strength, at others it became reduced to a single spark. But patience
conquered at last; the glow spread, the sticks began to blaze, and
before long there was a good blazing fire, which brought every one
from his tent, especially as, meantime, the rain had ceased, though a
thick mist still hung over everything, making the darkness of the
night still more intense. Kettles were put on to boil, maté, tea,
coffee, imbibed, and Francisco prepared an excellent ostrich-fry, _à
la minute_, discussing which, blessings were invoked on I'Aria's
head,--to his perseverance these comforts being due. Supper over, we
groped our way back to our tents, and, enveloped in a dense damp mist,
went to sleep, not at all satisfied with the inhospitable greeting the
Cordilleras had vouchsafed us.