AT LAST, PATAGONIA! 15 



gray and white finch, the Diuca minor, very com- 

 mon in Patagonia, and the finest voiced of all the 

 fringilline birds found there; and that is saying 

 a great deal. The diucas were sure prophets: 

 before long the first pale streaks of light appeared 

 in the east, but when the light grew we looked in 

 vain for the long-wished river. The sun rose on 

 the same great undulating plain, with its scat- 

 tered somber bushes and carpet of sere grass 

 that ragged carpet showing beneath it the barren 

 sand and gravelly soil from which it draws its 

 scanty subsistence. 



For upwards of six hours we trudged doggedly 

 on over this desert plain, suffering much from 

 thirst and fatigue, but not daring to give ourselves 

 rest. At length the aspect of the country began 

 to change : we were approaching the river settle- 

 ment. The scanty grass grew scantier, and the 

 scrubby bushes looked as if they had been browsed 

 on; our narrow path was also crossed at all 

 angles by cattle tracks, and grew fainter as we 

 proceeded, and finally disappeared altogether. A 

 herd of cattle, slowly winding their way in long 

 trains towards the open country, was then seen. 

 Here, too, a pretty little tree called chanar (Gur- 

 liaca decorticans), began to get common, growing 

 singly or in small groups. It was about ten to 

 sixteen feet high, very graceful, with smooth pol- 

 ished green bole, and pale gray-green mimosa 

 foliage. It bears a golden fruit as big as a cherry, 

 with a peculiar delightful flavor, but it was not 



