58 THROUGH THE HEART OF PATAGONIA 



It was ten minutes past three o'clock by my watch when we 

 rode slowly up the cliff that lay between Waggon Camp and the 

 River Chico of Chubut. We reached the top without mishap, 

 chiefly, I think, because the horses were now fairly exhausted 

 with their exertions. At the top of the rise we stopped and 

 looked back ; our broken waggon lay dark and low among 

 the coarse yellow weeds, the afternoon sun, still warm, beat 

 upon the baldhills, and that was the last we saw of our unlucky 

 camp. 



The procession moved slowly on, and we did not rest until 

 twilight, by which time we had travelled between twelve and 

 thirteen miles. Our march now lay along the banks of the Chico. 

 The going was soft, and more bushes began to appear on the land- 

 scape. That night we celebrated our first carguero journey by 

 serving out cocoa for all hands. 



The night we struck the River Chico was a very cold one, the 

 temperature falling 12° below freezing-point. These figures, 

 however, give no idea of the cold, as one of the characteristics of 

 Patagonia is the prevalence of tremendous winds. And when 

 these blow from the direction of the Cordillera, they bring with 

 them chilly memories of the snows over which they have passed. 

 Wind, of course, increased the rigours of the cold, and I remember 

 that during the night on which we felt the cold most severely the 

 temperature did not fall below 35°. 



The next morning we got off about 10.30, having less trouble 

 with the cargueros. I went on in front to choose our way, which 

 here passed over very bad ground. 



At the midday halt it was found that only part of a haunch of 

 guanaco had been brought on from the last camp. I therefore 

 galloped on ahead with a shot-gun and shot thirteen ducks, of 

 which only six came to hand, as several fell among the reeds in the 

 marshes which fringe the river. Of these six ducks, four were 

 brown pintails {Dafila spinicauda) and two were Chiloe widgeon 

 {Mareca sibilatrix). In the afternoon I exchanged the shot-gun 

 for the rifle, as a few more guanaco-skins would be very handy for 

 various purposes and meat was wanted. About four o'clock, when 

 riding behind the troop, I saw a guanaco among the hills to the 



