I50 THROUGH THE HEART OF PATAGONIA 



wards. As long as the water was deep I stuck to the two guns, 

 but a Httle down-stream the river ran through boulders just 

 awash, and among these I got rather knocked about. I dropped 

 the shot-"un and cluno" to the Mauser, which was to us the more 

 valuable of the two. Lower down the river was a shallow water- 

 fall, studded with rocks and boulders. My knee caught between 

 two rocks, and as I was afraid of having my leg broken, and had 

 sustained rather a bad knock on the back of the head, I let the 

 rifle go, and, with the help of my hands, got clear. I was washed 

 down the fall into deeper water, where swimming was possible. 

 The current carried me a yard clown-stream for every inch I made 

 across it, but in time I reached the end of the bank of shingle 

 before mentioned. 



After all, disappointment awaited me, for I found the second 

 branch of the river, beyond the shingle bank, was running so 

 furiously that, unless I had the help of a rope, crossing it would be 

 too dangerous. Barckhausen could not follow me in any case, as 

 he was unable to swim, so that eventually I was obliged to cross 

 back again and rejoin him. On regaining the shore my plight 

 was sufficiently miserable. I had kept on my shirt and jersey to 

 save me from the stones, but of course they were soaking. It was 

 six o'clock in the evening, the sun had lost its power, a cold wind 

 was blowing, and I had nothing to pass the night in save some oil- 

 skins and my wet clothes ; besides, I was rather badly cut about 

 the head and knees. 



I must explain that during my swim Barckhausen had 

 succeeded in driving the horses into the river, and they were 

 come to anchor on the shingle island in mid-stream. Our bedding 

 was upon the back of one of them, and the river was still rising 

 rapidly. We therefore decided to return to the camp, as being 

 more sheltered. Barckhausen kindlv lent me his shirt, as he 

 had his vest, coat and great-coat, which were dry. We started 

 once more to climb that weary two hundred feet of barranca, and 

 were much beset by rolling stones and sliding sand. Scarcely had 

 we reached the top when the horses, after standing for an hour 

 and a half on their mid-stream island, took it into their heads 

 to turn about and swim back, so we scrambled down our cliff-side 



