24 FROM MENDOZA TO SAN LUIS DE LA PUNTA. 



While at work in tlae jilaza, an enormous lierd of oxen was driven in from the eastward ; and 

 I had barely time, with tlie aid of the peon, to pick up my instruments and hobble oif before 

 they swept, like a living sea, over the very spot we had occupied. From Acorocorto the cor- 

 dilla is fully in sight, and as the lower portion is below the horizon, it presents the fine view 

 of a barrier, apparently entirely covered with snow : Tupungato, with its hemispherical summit, 

 towering above all. 



At 5.15 p. M., having finished work — for which my companions had waited — we again set out, 

 and at 8.30 stopped for the night on the side of a little hollow; where, however, there was no 

 water to be found. 



Road generally through low bushes — principally jarilla and algarroba; mocking-birds 

 abundant, as they have been since leaving the mountains. Found this day, as heretofore, that 

 where there had been a deposit of water, there was a thin coating of salitre. 



The distances, as usual, are all gum-elastic ; and places said to be four leagues off, may turn out 

 to be two or eight. 



Our arrieros and peons were as amusing and light-hearted a set of fellows as I ever met, and 

 two or three of them had some pretensions to poetry. As we rode along, in the cool of the 

 morning or evening, they would enliven the time by improvising some long-drawn-out song, 

 generally referring to their personal adventures, but occasionally conveying a hint that a 

 present or treat from their "patrones" would be acceptable. 



Their ordinary style was for one to commence with a lusty interjection of " ^y, que me ha 

 dicho ;" and after chanting all he might have to say, end with some strongly accented word. 

 Another would then take up the song, make some response to the subject of his companion's 

 verse, and finish by rhyming his last word. This in Spanish, where the past participles sound 

 so nearly alike, is very easy ; and I have known these fellows goon, alternating in this way, for 

 one or two hours together ; not making very good music, certainly, but displaying considera- 

 ble wit and humor. 



December 11. — Twenty miles from last night's stopping-place brought us to the Desaguadero, 

 a stream which discharges the surplus waters of the "Lagunas de Guanacache." Where we 

 crossed, it was about four yards wide and eight inches deep, with a current to the southward, of 

 three miles an hour. It is salt and bitter, except after heavy rains. A few miles to the south- 

 ward it unites with a part of the Tunuyan, with which, after spreading out in marshes, it turns 

 to the northward and enters a salt lake, called El Bebedero, where it is either absorbed or 

 evaporated. 



Two or three leagues to the westward of the Desaguadero, a place is marked on the map we 

 had "Las Tortugas:" there is no sign of a habitation on that i3art of the road, and we should 

 have passed without thinking of it, if we had not discovered a terrapin. I suppose the name 

 comes from the fact that tortugas (turtle) are found there. It is not at all uncommon to find 

 instances of the kind; there are very many places on the maps with imposing names, where 

 there is not even a hut. 



The road from Acorocorto to the Desaguadero is over what is called a travesia, or place where 

 no water can usually be found; but when we crossed it there was a great deal in many parts of 

 the road, from the heavy rains of the two previous days. Country wooded with Chaiiares, Reta- 

 mos, and Algarrobas. Passed on the road a swarm of large grasshoppers — locusts— apparently 

 at war with strange-looking bkxck flies. These were about the size and shape of wasps, and 

 had a red spot on their tails. Their hostility to the locusts appeared to be wholly wanton, for 

 I could not observe that they did more than kill them. We had before seen myriads of small 

 locusts, generally feeding on the leaves of young algarrobas, but had not seen any large ones 

 except these. 



After crossing the Desaguadero, which is the dividing line between the provinces of Mendoza 

 and San Luis, we proceeded two miles farther, and stopped for dinner at what is called a 

 represa — a flat or hollow place, dammed around, so as to contain the rain-water. As the 



