114 PATAGONIAN EXPEDITIONS I NARRATIVE. 



Cruz beds at this point. In the afternoon we attempted to cross to the 

 north side of the river and valley, but owing to the swampy nature of 

 both, found this impossible. We then directed our course up the valley, 

 in order to find a more advantageous place at which to cross to the other 

 side. We soon discovered that the impediment offered to our progress 

 by the usual swampy condition of the valley throughout this part of its 

 course had been greatly increased by recent heavy rains, which had left 

 the entire surface covered with mud to a depth of several inches, into 

 which our horses and cart sank to a depth that made our further progress 

 exceedingly tedious and fatiguing. We were forced to pass the night in 

 the valley alongside the marsh. Throughout the night our horses and 

 ourselves were almost literally devoured by mosquitoes, which swarmed 

 in millions from the surrounding swamps. All night long and until late 

 in the morning of the following day they continued unrelenting, making 

 night hideous with their chorus composed of a multitude of notes. Try 

 as we might, we could not keep them from getting in under our tarpaulins 

 and bed-clothing, where they unremittingly engaged in inflicting upon us 

 such wounds as only these insects can. They were so troublesome that 

 early in the evening it became necessary for us to securely picket our 

 horses, lest they should stampede and become lost during the night. All 

 night long while almost smothering from having our tarpaulins and 

 blankets tucked about our heads in such manner as to afford all the pro- 

 tection possible, we could hear our poor horses rolling and moaning out- 

 side, driven to distraction by the myriads of pests. As daylight broke on 

 the morning of the eighteenth, we left our beds and, without stopping to 

 prepare breakfast, started on our way up the valley hoping to get beyond 

 the limits of the swamp, where we might reasonably expect to find relief 

 from the continual annoyance of our intolerable tormentors. The morn- 

 ing was the most sultry I remember to have experienced in Patagonia. 

 The clouds hung low and thick, without a breath of air that could in any way 

 be likened to a breeze. All the morning, as our faithful animals dragged 

 the heavy cart slowly through the mud and water of the valley, these in- 

 sects pursued their nefarious operations. At about ten o'clock the clouds 

 lifted a little, and a most welcome breeze sprang up from the west. This 

 rapidly increased in force, so that almost instantly the mosquitoes disap- 

 peared entirely and we were left to pursue our journey unmolested. At 

 midday we had passed the uppermost limits of the marsh and, finding a 



