154 THROUGH THE HEART OF PATAGONIA 



GRASSY CAMP 



That night we put the horses in splendid grass, and in the 

 ialse dawn of the next mornino- were in the saddle aeain. We 

 had about fifty miles to cover before reaching Horsham Camp, and 

 never in my life have I so regretted my weight as on that day. 

 About noon, as we were crossing a white dry lake-bed, a column of 



smoke went up on Fenix 

 Ford ; our comrades were 

 then hurrying- to us as we 

 were to them. We an- 

 swered at once, and a 

 couple of hours later per- 

 ceived two horsemen on 

 a distant rise. Two !^ 

 Nothing wrong in camp 

 then! Hurrah! They 

 turned out to be Scrivenor 

 and Burbury. 



At last the vega, two miles out of Horsham Camp, began. I 

 had ridden so much off my horse that the cinch would not hold 

 him. An awful wind arose and the country round— burned by 

 those miserable Santa Cruz people — sent up dust in clouds and 

 blinded us. At last the green tents came in sight, one of which 

 held, I knew, a reindeer sleeping-bag, wherein was to be found 

 warmth and sleep. 



When we met my first question was, of course, to ask as to 

 who might be the perpetrator of the two fires we had seen upon 

 the previous day, and which were still burning. 



" As to those," said Burbury, " they must have been lighted by 

 the little man whom you entertained at the Fenix. He came into- 

 our camp after he left you, as also did his companions. We knew 

 that you would wonder who had lit the smokes. When we saw 

 yours, we at once came to meet you." As we rode along towards 

 our base camp we passed through acres of fire-blackened land and 

 cursed the small man (his name is still a mystery to us) by bell, 

 book, and candle. 1 had carefully informed him that two fires was 

 our " Come-at-once " signal, and can only suppose that the irre- 

 sponsible little creature had forgotten. After all, our resentment 



