ROUND AND ABOUT LAKE BUENOS AIRES 141 



to the unknown, and in this way drew together. It was lipon the 

 yellow shores of a dry lagoon that we met with the first white man 

 we had seen since leaving Colohuapi. This man and his errand 

 were so typical of the country and its methods of life that I do 

 not apologise for sketching his portrait at full length. 



As he came riding towards us we perceived that he was seated 

 upon a saddle of sheepskins, and rode a yellow horse, whose con- 

 dition told its own story. In Patagonia one gets into the habit of 

 noticing the horse before the rider. The practised eye can learn 

 from its appearance and condition the answers to at least three' 

 questions. The rider was a very small Argentine, and he had, he 

 informed us, come up from San Julian. You who do not know 

 Patagonia may think it strange that one should meet with one's 

 fellow creatures miles from anywhere, but the Patagonian Gaucho 

 is in his way unique. He is as much a pioneer of civilisation as 

 were the fur-clad hunters of the Bad Lands of North America. By 

 habit and by choice the Gaucho is a nomad. It is not too much 

 to say that, grumbler as he is when upon the pampas, there is a 

 deep-seated instinct in his heart ever leading him back to that 

 peculiar mode of life which has become second nature to him. 

 There is an idea in England that Patagonia is as untrodden as the 

 Polar regions. But this is a fallacy. The tides of civilisation are 

 moving slowly westwards, and will so continue to move until they 

 are thrown back by the great natural barrier of the Andes. But 

 as the tide will often fling a little wreath of foam far ahead of its 

 advance — a wreath that disappears for the moment perhaps, but 

 yet its fall has marked a spot that in course of time will be 

 swept over by the rising water ; so in Patagonia these few wan- 

 derers break away from the settlements upon the coast, and set out 

 with their little store of Hour, /arina, and ma^e, their troop of horses, 

 and their half-dozen hounds. They say that they are looking for 

 good ground or, as they call it, good camp to settle upon, but few 

 of them actually carry, out this final intention. It is the free life 

 that they love, the wild gallops after the ostriches and the 

 guanacos, the sound slumbers under the stars, and the absence of 

 all control. 



Such a wanderer was our small friend. He had, he said, two 



