122 THROUGH THE HEART OF PATAGONIA 



total of our bag. In a new country one has always to buy 

 experience. We were buying ours at this period. Owing to the 

 wildness of our horses the journey from Trelew had been an 

 especially trying one, although, under other circumstances, the 

 difficulties need not be great* The breakdown of the waggon at 

 so early a stage had entailed a large amount of extra labour, and 

 by the time we reached Lake Buenos Aires we were, both men and 

 horses, pretty well done up. 



On the third day of our hunting I took Barckhausen instead of 

 Jones, who had been out with me on the two previous days. We 

 passed along through the stony thorn-lean gorges towards the east. 

 Here nothing lived save the strong birds of prey, and lions, whose 

 tracks we observed leading to the rocks. Death lay nakedly there 

 in all directions, skull and backbone, with rain-polish and snow- 

 polish upon them, picked clean years ago by now-dead caranchos 

 and chimangos. 



During our ride we saw two monster owls, two condors, many 

 caranchos, and so pushed on over hill rising behind hill, stony, 

 dark, with wind-lifted wisps of sand turning and twisting upon 

 them. 



In the early afternoon we came upon a more pleasant land, and 

 to a little marshy pool in a hollow of the hills, crowded round with 

 forest-bushes, and upon this pool from far away I spied two upland 

 geese. I dismounted, took my gun, and began a stalk. While I 

 was still well out of range a bough broke under my foot, and the 

 geese were away. We lay up for a time, but the birds did not 

 return, so we took a turn westwards in the hope of getting some 

 coots I had observed the day before upon another lagoon, close to 

 Lake Buenos Aires. Upon the shore of the lake a smart shower 

 of sleet, hail, and rain overtook us, and we had to lie down in the 

 lee of a thorn-bush. I saw one golden guanaco racing along a 

 hill-top against the sunset. Some coots were on the lake ; I 

 shot four, but contrary winds drove them out into the water too 

 deep to venture after them, and we turned campwards empty- 

 handed. 



=■' Pampa travel is like cricket in that it defies forecast. Sometimes everything 

 falls in right, at other times nothing comes opportunely to hand. 



