Kitabı oku: «Across Patagonia», sayfa 5
CHAPTER IX
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.
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.
CHAPTER X
DEPARTURE FROM LAGUNA BLANCA – A WILD-CAT – IBIS SOUP – A FERTILE CAÑADON – INDIAN LAW AND EQUITY – OUR FIRST PUMA – COWARDICE OF THE PUMA – DISCOMFORTS OF A WET NIGHT – A MYSTERIOUS DISH – A GOOD RUN.
After a four days' stay at Laguna Blanca, our horses being sufficiently rested, we resolved to continue our journey. I had got to feel quite at home in the little ravine where our camp had been pitched, and notwithstanding my anxiety to push forward and get over the monotony of the plains as soon as possible, in leaving it felt just a slight touch of regret. Each bush I passed recalled some trivial incident of our stay, and came in for a share of the good-bye I inwardly vouchsafed to all my late surroundings.
Whilst we were trotting along I noticed that one of the brood-mares was continually looking anxiously back, and on counting the foals I found that one was missing. I'Aria, whose attention I drew to this fact, immediately returned to our camp to look for the lost animal, which he thought had probably been left behind in a ravine where the horses had been in the habit of grazing. In the meantime we rode on, presently passing the site of the camp of the Indians, the smoke of whose fires we had noticed from the Laguna Blanca. They themselves had left it the day before, and were now on the march southwards, as indicated by several columns of smoke which we could see on the distant skyline, it being their habit, when on the march, to light fires at intervals.
Shortly after passing the Indian camp we were startled by a series of howls, given vent to by Guillaume's dog, "Negro," whom we descried struggling with some animal in the long grass. In a second he was joined by the other dogs, and by the time we got up we found them all engaged in mortal combat with a huge wild-cat, which had already punished Negro most severely, and was defending itself fiercely against the united onslaught of its enemies. Two revolver shots were fired at it without effect, but presently Gregorio managed to kill it with a blow from the "bolas." Up to its last gasp it spat and clawed with undaunted fury, and nearly all the dogs were more or less badly wounded; poor "Negro" in particular, being severely gashed and torn. Whilst we washed the dogs in a pool of water hard by, Gregorio skinned the wild-cat, and then made a search for its companion, which during the fray some one had observed making good its retreat. However, his search was fruitless, and we rode forward again, the incident just related furnishing us with a topic for conversation wherewith to beguile the next hour or so. I'Aria meanwhile rejoined us, but although he had thoroughly searched all the country in the vicinity of our late camp, he had been unable to find any traces of the missing foal, which had doubtless fallen a prey to some puma.
Towards evening we arrived at a large freshwater lake called Laguna Larga, by the shores of which we set up our tents. My husband, going out with his gun, managed to kill an ibis, the first any of us had shot, although we had often tried to do so whilst at Laguna Blanca, being aware that this bird makes excellent soup. This one was put in the pot, and though its meat proved rather tough, the broth it gave was all that could be desired. Laguna Larga, like nearly all the lakes we saw in Patagonia, swarmed with wild-fowl, and amongst other birds we observed two flamingoes, whose gorgeous red plumage excited our covetousness, and an elaborate stalking-party was organised with the object of securing one of them. However, they never gave us a chance, and sailed majestically away at the first approach of danger.
Our road the next day lay for the most part along a fertile valley, down the middle of which flowed a narrow but exceedingly deep stream. The breadth of this "cañadon" was about five miles, and we followed its windings for about twenty miles. Its whole length, for it doubtless stretched down to the sea-coast, must have been about 150 miles. The grass was tall and green, in many places reaching up to our horses' bellies. As equally fertile valleys are to be found intersecting the barren plains in all directions, an enormous number of cattle and sheep might be reared in this country were it not for the heavy snows in winter and the floods in spring, which latter immerse all these valleys for a considerable period, during which the animals would have to seek sustenance on the plains, where, it is needless to say, they would not find it.
As we emerged from the valley on to the plains, an animal was descried on the sky-line, which at first we took for a gigantic guanaco, but which presently resolved itself into a horse. Gregorio having seen it first had become ipso facto, in accordance with the unwritten law of the pampas, its owner, that is to say, should it be caught; so, taking I'Aria with him, he rode off to the left, with the intention of getting behind his prospective property and driving it towards our troop. This he accomplished without difficulty. The horse stood staring at our advancing cavalcade for some time, and then came galloping towards us with loud neighs of greeting, spreading consternation among our troop, who neighed and snorted in return, apparently by no means pleased at the sight of the new-comer. Matters were peaceably arranged, however, and after some further slight demonstrations, he was admitted into the troop, evidently much pleased to find himself among his own kind again. According to Gregorio, he had belonged to some Indian, who had probably lost him on the march. I asked Gregorio whether the owner might claim the horse again, and he told me that the law among Indians is that the finder receives about one-third of the value of the object found from the owner. Some difficulty generally arises in these cases as to the value of the find, as the parties naturally over-estimate and depreciate it as suits their respective interests; this being especially the case when the bargain is debated between an Indian and a white man. Amongst themselves the Indians are remarkably fair in their dealings, but as they know that the traders cheat them whenever they can, they recognise quite another standard of morality in their dealings with the latter.
As we were approaching the spot where we intended camping, one of the mules, which was heading the troop, suddenly turned and dashed away, and in another instant the whole troop broke up and dispersed, galloping in all directions. What was the cause of this stampede? We pressed quickly forward, but nothing stirred in the long grass, though we scoured everywhere. We were baffled for a minute. "It's a puma somewhere," said Gregorio. The words were hardly out of his mouth when a loud view-holloa rent the air. "There he goes – there he goes!" shouted two or three of our party in chorus, and sure enough, there he was going – a mighty yellow puma – slouching swiftly away at some distance to our left, with my brother following close on his track. For us all to gallop after and come up within ten yards of the puma was the work of a moment, but to get nearer than ten yards or so was quite another matter, as our horses were quivering with fright, and with difficulty were kept from turning tail and bolting from the dread presence of their mortal enemy. Meanwhile the puma, finding himself surrounded, lay sullenly down, eyeing us with dogged hate, and scarcely seeming to heed the presence of the dogs, who were growling furiously at him at a respectful distance from his claws. Finding it useless to try to approach on horseback, my brother dismounted, and a rifle being at hand, took steady aim at the crouching animal and fired. Simultaneous with the report, with outstretched paws and a deep growl, the puma sprang forward, and then fell heavily to the ground, whilst our horses, becoming wholly unmanageable, reared up and fairly bolted. When we again got control of them, nothing would induce them to return to the spot where the now lifeless body of the puma lay, and we had to dismount and walk there. Very fierce and dangerous it looked; and at the sight of its ponderous paws with their sharp talons and its cruel white teeth, we wondered whether, if it knew its own powers, the puma would be such a cowardly animal as it is. They scarcely ever attack man, even when brought to bay, but lie down and doggedly meet their fate, though they can kill a full-grown guanaco with one blow of the paw, and pull down a horse with similar ease. The Indians affirm that the puma only bears young ones in two years, but whether this be true or not I do not know. They certainly seem very scarce, comparatively, a circumstance which may be due to this peculiarity, coupled with the fact that the Indians and traders destroy a good number annually.
The excitement attendant on the puma's demise being over, and our horses having been driven together again, we made for our intended camping place. We lodged that night in the valley I have described above, and here, for the first time since we reached the plains, the night was wet. It is by no means agreeable to hear rain pattering down on the canvas of one's tent, especially when one has doubts as to the waterproof capabilities of the canvas, and as yet we had had no opportunity of testing ours. Fortunately, on this occasion the rain did not last long, and, excepting a general sense of dampness, we experienced no further inconvenience. Continuing our journey, on the following day we reached the River Gallegos, which we forded at a spot called "Paso de los Morros;" these Morros being two conically shaped hills of equal height, which form a striking landmark, being conspicuous at a considerable distance. The river at the time was very low; but owing to the inequality of its bed and the rapidity of the current, some care had to be taken in crossing the ford for fear any of the packhorses should come to grief. We passed without any accident, however, and pitched our camp near the bank, under shelter of a snug little clump of beech trees. We liked the place so much that we resolved to pass a couple of days there, especially as the packhorses required a rest after the long march from Laguna Blanca.
The first day we dawdled pleasantly away in all kinds of useful occupations, such as cleaning guns, writing up journals, etc., though I am bound to say that the best part of the time was given up to cooking experiments, my brother and Mr. B. both being anxious to prove their respective superiority in the culinary department. Much amusement was afforded us by a mysterious dish which my brother passed the whole afternoon in elaborating, and which, if his own glowing anticipations had been verified, would certainly have proved a triumph of skill. The care he devoted to the preparation of his dish, and the impressive secrecy with which he conducted his operations, led us into the firm belief that a most agreeable surprise was in store for us. But when dinner-time came, and soup and joint had been hurriedly got through in order to enable us to do all the more justice to his effort, the surprise – for surprise it was – turned out to be a very unpleasant one; the "plat" on which so much care had been bestowed proving to be a homely though curious concoction of rice, preserved milk, and brown sugar, with a decided taste of burn; and after swallowing a few spoonfuls, even its concoctor had to avow, with a grimace, that his exertions had resulted in a failure. My brother having thus signally proved his incapacity for occupying the high office of cook, we for the future left the kitchen department to Francisco's supervision, and very well we fared at his hands.
