THE GORGE OF THE RIVER DE LOS ANTIGUOS 151 



again and made a camp amongst the sand and bushes. Here I 

 saw a wild cat with young, the only one I met with in Pata- 

 gonia. 



We now reviewed our sleeping accommodation. The blankets 

 were too wet to be of any service. Barckhausen luckily was in 

 the habit of carrying a portion of his bedding upon his saddle, and 

 this had escaped the water and was dry. I had a horse-rug and 

 a small blanket. It came on a bone- wet night, the most miserable 

 we had either of us spent. 



Besides, I was very anxious about the possible condition of 

 things at Horsham Camp, for the two smokes must have meant 

 something serious, and yet we were unable to go to the help 

 of our comrades. We made some thin porridge for supper and 

 turned in. All night long the river continued to rise, we could hear 

 it gulping and swallowing at the sand and shingle of the bank. I 

 determined to try the higher ford, by which we had originally 

 crossed, in the morning. 



I find the following in my diary, written while the porridge was 

 cooking : 



'' December \2. — Onlyasportsmancan realise my feelings. Atone 

 fell swoop both my guns, my old friends, gone ! The more serious 

 loss of the two is the Mauser. It has accompanied me upon my 

 travels 10,000 miles, and was always to be relied on. And now 

 to fancy it probably glimmering up through the deep waters of 

 Buenos Aires Lake! Is there any use in saying more? When 

 we get back to camp I shall have to fall back on the reserve 

 Mauser, which has no back-sight, or I should say has a back- 

 sight fastened on with a strip of raw hide. You arrange it before 

 the shot, and when you have it balanced you loose off, and if the 

 gun does not misfire you may hit something. How different to 

 the rifle that is gone ! And the shot-gun, which has also departed 

 with the Mauser, was a gun with a history. Given to my uncle 

 for gallant services in another part of the world — a Purdey double- 

 hammerless 12-bore, I regarded it as an heirloom. Why did I 

 ever bring it to Patagonia ? Many a time have I, out of the 

 shooting season, cuddled the stock and shot imaginary birds, and 

 dreamed of the phalanx of geese bearing down on me in Scotland 



