72 



THROUGH THE HEART OF PATAGONIA 



THE OLD ZAINO 



expression of insulted dignity. He was carrying a cargo of 



flour. 



When he had, in his own opinion, managed to get sufficiently 

 ahead of his companions, he stopped dead and looked down upon 

 us with a baleful eye as we toiled beneath him. Then suddenly, 



but methodically, he began to 

 descend towards us in a suc- 

 cession of devastating bucks. 

 No cargo, tied with ropes, 

 could withstand such treat- 

 ment. The cinch gave way, 

 and he and his pack arrived 

 simultaneously in the middle 

 of the troop. 



He cannoned against a 

 black horse carrying ammu- 

 nition and oatmeal, and it 

 began to slide down the cliff towards the river on its haunches. 

 The remainder of the horses stampeded, some fell, some got 

 into impossible positions. . . . For several minutes the big 

 black horse hung within measurable distance of violent death 

 upon the rocks below, but Barckhausen made a great effort to save 

 him, and succeeded, though the cargo was kicked off in a most 

 perilous place. Only a guanaco track led along the steep hillside, 

 and over the edge of the slope our belongings dropped into the 

 river a hundred feet below. Each lifted a small cloud of spray as 

 it fell and floated serenely away on the current or sank from sight. 

 The water was dotted with the various packages. All Burbury's 

 clothes, some of mine, flour, oatmeal, a case of corned beef, six 

 hundred rounds of ammunition, and the concertina — these were 

 among our losses. 



A salvage-party was at once despatched to attempt the rescue 

 of such of our goods as were still swimming, while the rest of us 

 collected the horses and returned with a sufficiency of ropes to 

 enable us to get down the cliff, for upon the ragged edge left by 

 the landslip and overhanging the river some of our things had 

 lodged. We felt that we were for the time being out of luck. 



