I20 THROUGH THE HEART OF PATAGONIA 



leagues, and reached the River Genguel, which here makes a 

 great curve. We camped in a narrow shute, strewn with big 

 stones and giving upon the river, the canadon being very wide 

 and devoid of shelter. The water was broken into small sharp 

 waves by the wind, and we were glad to collect what firewood 

 was obtainable — bushes being scarce at that spot — and make a 

 fire. The Indian burned a bush and warmed himself. His 

 dogs had, unaided by him, killed a small guanaco and a fox 

 {Cams griseus). We lay by the fire and the wind came down 

 bitterly chill from the Sierra Nevada, while Jones cooked, and we 

 learnt the delights which, in a cold climate, are to be found in 

 mutton fat! After food to bed, and then a cold sleet set in. It 

 was a nasty night, but in our reindeer bags we were, of course, 

 untouched by the cold. 



Next day nine leagues were achieved. Very long marches 

 these, but we were pressing on to reach Lake Buenos Aires. 

 Canadon and pampa and high ground succeeded each other as we 

 rode along, sometimes bare, sometimes sandy, sometimes thorn- 

 covered, often stony and strewn with fragments of basalt. 

 Generally overhead a pallid blue sky, and below wind, wind, 

 perpetual wind. So we toiled on past little chill lagoons, ruffled 

 with the keen breeze, until in the afternoon I came up with 

 Burbury and the Indian on a rise, and there lay our goal before us 

 — a great stretch of water wonderfully blue and cold-looking 

 beneath the Sierra Nevada, whose summits were crowned with 

 snow above their dusky purple 



The Tostado kicked off his cargo during the day, and among 

 the scattered contents of Jones' kit I picked up a broken looking- 

 glass. I had not seen myself since leaving Colohuapi, and con- 

 fess I found no cause for vanity in the sight of a distinctly dirty- 

 looking pirate with smoke-reddened eyes, a peeling face and nose, 

 and with enough beard to put a finishing-touch to the horrid 

 spectacle. 



On the 3rd I discovered a scorpion in my bed in spite of the 

 cold. By the 6th we reached the River Fenix, and, crossing to 

 an island, camped in the sleet, the temperature reading that night 

 being 30° F. From there we pushed on to the farther bank, and 



