30 THROUGH THE HEART OF PATAGONIA 



spectator to that admiration which verges upon fear. Picture one 

 such characteristic vision of Patagonia. As far as eye could reach 

 a spread of wind-weary grass, roofed by a wind-blown sky, an 

 eagle poised far off, a dot in the upper air. Nothing more. 



A man alone within this vast setting seemed puny. Lost here, 

 without a horse, he would be the most helpless of things created. It 

 was across this gigantic primordialism that our way led us. Three 

 times we made our camp upon the bare pampas, three times in one 

 or other of the many canadones before reaching Bahia Camerones. 

 You may be voyaging at an easy jog over the pampa, seeing the 

 land roll apparently quite level to the horizon, when suddenly you 

 come upon a spatter of white sand, a track leading between the 

 shoulders of the pampa, you dive down and are lost to sight in 

 a moment ; then, perhaps, for four miles or for fourteen you are 

 riding a couple of hundred feet below the level spread of the 

 pampa, and as you pass the guanaco on the cliff tops watch you un- 

 easily. To be lost in such a land is the simplest possible matter. 



On the 27th we arrived at the Estancia Lochiel, where Mr. 

 Greenshields most kindly entertained us. This estancia is situated 

 at the head of a canadon, which drops away to the sea eight 

 leagues distant. It consists of a small colony of wooden houses 

 with corrugated iron roofs. The Lochiel Sheep Farming Company, 

 of which Mr. Greenshields is manager, have 15,000 sheep and 

 forty square leagues of camp. " Camp," you must understand, 

 in Patagonia means land. 



The day after our arrival Scrivenor and Burbury accompanied 

 Mr. Frederick Haddock to his farm, eight leagues away, in order 

 to bring back the horses I had purchased by contract in Trelew. 

 I remained behind as Mr. Greenshields' guest, for a puma was 

 reported by the shepherd to have killed five sheep upon the edge 

 of the farm during the previous night. 



Macdonald, the Scotch shepherd, Barckhausen and I set out 

 to see if we could find the puma. On my way to the spot I 

 shot my first guanaco. He appeared upon the skyline doing 

 sentinel, possibly against the very puma we were after. We 

 rode under the hill on which the guanaco was watching, and 

 he began to move uneasily. At the bend of the hill was a small 



