IO2 PATAGONIAN EXPEDITIONS : NARRATIVE. 



year of 1897 before us, we set out over the plain, holding our course a 

 little north of west. We travelled all day across the pampa, passing a 

 number of small lava beds similar to those described above, and camping 

 at night by the side of a small lake, which occupied a shallow depression 

 in the surface of the pampa only a few rods from the crest of the bluff, 

 which from an altitude of twenty-five hundred feet overlooks the valley of 

 the Santa Cruz. Owing to the gentle southeasterly slope of the plain there 

 had been no indication of the valley, until we arrived at the brink of the 

 precipice and the whole panorama lay spread out before us. To the west- 

 ward the valley expanded into a great basin, at the farther end of which 

 the blue waters of Lake Argentine were visible, its western shores extend- 

 ing far back among the rugged, snow-capped peaks of the Cordilleras. 

 To the eastward the great valley extended as far as the eye could reach, 

 like a giant furrow, ten miles wide and half a mile deep, plowed in the 

 surface of the plain. The bottom of the valley was as brown as the plain 

 above. Not a patch of green was there anywhere to relieve the monot- 

 ony of the color. From our point of view the mighty river appeared like 

 a silver thread, as it wound back and forth from one side to another of 

 the valley. The great plain over which we had been travelling stretched 

 away to the south, as if limitless in its expanse, while north of the river 

 lay the boundless plains and lava beds with their hundreds of picturesque 

 volcanic cones, in the midst of which we hoped soon to be. 



As the sun rose bright on the morning of January the second, the view 

 from our camp on the crest of the bluff, overlooking the broad valley of 

 the river and Lake Argentine, was most beautiful. The lake shone like 

 polished silver in the bright morning sun-light. In the distance the 

 snow-capped peaks and ranges of the Andes, as though chiseled from 

 purest alabaster, gleamed with dazzling whiteness, as each towering mass 

 rose heavenward and lay silhouetted against a black background of som- 

 bre clouds, that hung threateningly over the Pacific slopes. 



The precipitous nature of the bluff on which we were encamped made 

 it necessary to reconnoitre a little, in order to find a place where we could 

 safely descend to the valley with our cart. Saddling a horse, I started 

 out for the double purpose of finding a practical route to the valley below 

 and of learning what I could of the nature of the valley and river and the 

 surrounding bluffs. Travelling along the crest of the incline, I soon came 

 to a point where a small tributary entered the valley from the plain above, 



