THE B.ETICAN WILDERNESS APRIL. 79 



oasis we direct our course: but it is a fraud, one of 

 Nature's cruel mockeries— a mirage. Not a tree grows on 

 that spot, or within leagues of it, nor has done for ages — 

 perhaps since time began. 



Upon a dreary islet we land to form a camp for the 

 night : that is, to arrange our upturned punts around such 

 scanty fire as can be raised from a few armfuls of tama- 

 risks and dead thistles — all that our little domain pro- 

 duces — assisted by a few pine-cones, brought for the 

 purpose in the boats. Dinner is cooked in the little block- 

 tin camp-stove, or sarten prusiano, as the Spaniards call it, 

 which only demands a modicum of lard and a sharp fire to 

 reduce a rabbit or a duck to eatable state within a few 

 minutes. The fare which can be obtained by the gun at 

 this season is meagre enough : ducks or plovers are sorry 

 food for hungry men, though a hare, shot on a grassy 

 savanna, is acceptable enough ; nor are the eggs of coot or 

 peewit to be despised. Later, we experimented on many 

 oological varieties, especially Stilt's and Avocet's eggs. The 

 latter are excellent, boiling pale yellow and half opaque, 

 like those of plover : but the Stilt's eggs are too red in the 

 yolk to be tempting. Our men were not so squeamish : 

 but then they did not even stick at the eggs of Kites or 

 Vultures. After all, it is safer to rely in the main on 

 Australian mutton, tinned ox-tongues from the Plate, or 

 indigenous " jamon dulce ;" but the difficulties of trans- 

 port in tiny lanchas forbid one's being entirely independent 

 of local fare. 



The memories of our earliest experiences in the Spanish 

 marismas, in April, 1872, do not fade. The glorious wild- 

 life fascinated and exhilarated, while youthful enthusiasm 

 ignored all drawbacks. But in later years it is perhaps 

 excusable if a slight doubt of the bliss of campaigning in 

 winter may temporarily arise when one is awakened in the 

 middle watches of the night by sheer penetrating cold, 

 finds the fire burnt out, the trusted Espaiioles all asleep, 

 and the tail of a big black snake sticking out from under 

 one's bed, or the poke of straw which is serving the purpose. 

 The night of April 10th we spent at Eocio, a squalid 



