14 Extracts from the 



the other day, however, one of these deserted, and has, no 

 doubt, either gone over to the Indians or been killed by 

 them. To return, however, to the scenery. Here, and for 

 a long distance down, we have had a type of scenery which is 

 to be found in very few parts of the world — that of an im- 

 mense palm-forest, covering thousands of squai'e miles. It 

 consists typically of a perfectly low plain, clothed with breast- 

 high grass, over which are closely studded palm-trees, with 

 large fan-shaped leaves. All around as far as the eye can see 

 is an interminable vista of palm-trees, varied only by an 

 occasional clump of brushwood, or near the river by small 

 patches of forest. In no way is the aspect of nature suggestive 

 of the tropics here — that is, when one has got over the im- 

 pression induced by the palm-trees. The Gran Chaco is, in 

 fact, an immense wilderness. Large game occurs only in 

 small numbers. I have managed to get only a couple of 

 peccaries, and no one else has shot any larger game. I have 

 not even got a jaguar yet, and have only once had anything 

 approaching an adventure with one. Other adventures we 

 have had absolutely none. Intense monotony and uninterest- 

 ingness are the chief characteristics of the river. Botanically 

 speaking, it is an absolute desert. In an ordinary summer's 

 afternoon-walk at home one sees more species of plants in 



flower than I have met with since we entered the river 



However, this may improve, as it is now dead winter here, 

 and with the advent of spring I hope to see many new and 

 interesting flowers appear. Zoologically, too, it is disap- 

 pointing, except in the case of birds. In the lower parts of 

 the river not a bird was to be seen, but now they are rather 

 more frequent, and I have already observed 116 species, 

 of which I believe about 30 have not been before collected 

 in Argentina. Owing to the desert nature of this part of the 

 Chaco, its human inhabitants are very few, scattered, and 

 nomadic. We have not seen a single Indian, or even a 

 canoe, on the Pilcomayo. But we know that they are about, 

 for nearly every day we see their great fires, made for hunting, 

 all around us, and we occasionally come across a chipped 

 palm or the remains of an old tolda, the rude shelter which 



