146 PATAGONIAN EXPEDITIONS: NARRATIVE. 



About the middle of March we decided to set out on our return jour- 

 ney to the coast. During the month and a half spent within the Andes 

 we had experienced most delightful weather. There had been numerous 

 snow squalls on the mountains about us, but in the valley where we were 

 encamped the weather had, as a rule, been all that could be desired. The 

 thin ice that each morning covered the small water-holes, as well as the 

 autumnal colors which the foliage of the forest was beginning to take on, 

 bore no uncertain evidence as to the changing season. Moreover, since 

 we already had a collection sufficient to try to the utmost the means at 

 our command for its transportation to the coast, it was needless to pro- 

 long our stay in the Andes, however pleasant it had been. Packing our 

 materials into as compact a form as possible, we started on our return 

 journey. We had gone scarcely a mile up the" winding course of the 

 stream by which we had descended, when, while descending a short, steep 

 slope, our cart turned completely upside down, breaking off both the 

 shafts close up to the body. We were thus left in somewhat of a predica- 

 ment, with a shaftless cart, five hundred miles from the nearest repair 

 shop. However, we were fully prepared for just such emergencies, and 

 with axe, brace, bit, monkey wrench, and a few other tools, in a couple of 

 hours we had hewn and fitted a new pair of shafts from two of the forest 

 saplings, which were in every way better than the old ones, and we were 

 once again on our way. We travelled leisurely along, stopping at each of 

 our old camps to take on such material as we had packed and left on our 

 journey into the mountains. As we passed along beneath the high bluff, 

 near the summit of which was the dinosaur limb I had found shortly after 

 our arrival, I earnestly wished to add the fossil to our collections, but our 

 limited means of conveyance forbade the gratification of the desire. 



Passing along the edge of the last of the forest-covered slopes, we 

 emerged from Mayer Basin through Shell Gap into the broad, level valley 

 of the Rio Chico. It was with feelings of regret that we looked back upon 

 the wooded slopes and snow-clad ranges of the Andes where we had 

 passed so many pleasant and profitable days. We would fain have re- 

 mained longer to enjoy the primitive condition and novelty of this region 

 rich in nature's handiwork. But already the frequent falls of snow on the 

 slopes about us, the ice-covered pools which greeted us on each successive 

 morning, and the rich autumnal colors of the forests, reminded us of the 

 approaching winter and that it was time we were on our way across that 



