CONDOR HUNTING ON THE SIERRAS. 157 
earth sparkles, as though sown with brilliants, for flashing in every 
direction lies the inexhaustible mica. 
One summit is soon climbed, and then at our feet lay the valley 
of Cosquin, about nine miles by two, the Rio Primero, like a silver 
thread, winding through it, the magnificence of the panorama 
recompensing us for the difficulties of the ascent. On the opposite 
side of the valley a succession of well-wooded hills extends one 
above another to the foot of the second range of the Sierras, 
5000 feet high, and distant about twelve miles from the first. 
Our object was to reach the interior of the Sierras, which at this 
point average from five to six miles in breadth, and rise to an 
elevation of 3500 feet. Munerals are scarce in this part, although 
one or two old mines were passed, yielding carbonate of copper 
and of rich quality. Guanacos exist, but are scarce, and wild 
hogs, too, in the inaccessible parts of the woods below. Mounting 
still upwards, we reached the splendid pasture lands of the summits, 
presenting gentle, sloping terraces with long valleys threading in 
and out, and charming glens branching off; rich grass is abundant, 
but no tree nor shrub even meets our view: the cattle begin 
to be more numerous, and presently we arrive at the stone-wall 
boundaries which mark the limits of each estancia. So light and 
clear is the air that it imparts a positive sensation of delight to 
breathe it, and fatigue is forgotten. We dismounted at an estancia 
house and were received with the usual native politeness, and, 
maté being handed round, sent forward the peons to give notice of 
our arrival to the estanciero on whose property the hunt was to 
take place. This gentleman, whose name is Torres, welcomed our 
arrival with the utmost hospitality, although the dilatory peons had 
not yet put in an appearance to warn him of our approach. The 
estancia house—a very picturesque old building, faced by a hoary 
trained vine—has a patio in front, bounded by a trickling rivulet, 
shaded by patriarchal willows. An orchard of six squares, filled 
with various thriving fruit trees, stands adjoining. A few barns 
and other outbuildings, alfalfa, and wheat-fields, complete the 
exterior picture. No long time elapsed ere we were seated at 
a breakfast table, not certainly groaning, but literally creaking, 
with abundant fare. It is scarcely necessary to remark that we 
did justice to the good things provided, for a six-hours’ ride over 
a very rough country gave us the customary appetite of hunters. 
The usual siesta followed, and then a consultation as to the 
