178 



THROUGH THE HEART OF PATAGONIA 



On the I I th \vc hit civiHsation after a march of over forty miles, 

 the last part of which lay across a travesia. Civilisation took the 

 form of an undersized drinking-shop perched on the rim of the 



SANTA CKUZ 



bare pampa. How we had longed for civilisation — and now we 

 had found it ! I sat writing in a room with pink fly-blown walls 

 and green fittings of the orrimiest. Four Gauchos of the lower 

 sort were playing cards for beans and shrieking over their game. 

 The little innkeeper, a small, dark, aquiline, black-bearded Argen- 

 tine, in a dirty white vest and a black neck-rag, held rule 

 inside. Any camp is better than these antenna- of civilisation, 

 that seem to have touched and always to bear onwards with them 

 things unclean and rei)ulsive. Jones' homely face was good to 

 see, when he came in and said, " I should like to be away from 

 here." 



I realised suddenly how I loved the camp and the cold clean 

 hills, when I heard the raucous music of that unlovely place. It 



