At Last, Patagonia / 15 



desert. This early morning singer is a cliarming 

 grey and wliite finch, the Diuca minor, very com- 

 mon in Patagonia, and the finest voiced of all the 

 fringilline birds found there ; and that is saying 

 a great deal. The diucas were sure prophets : 

 before long the first pale streaks of light appeared 

 in the east, but when the light grew we looked in 

 vain for the long-wished river. The sun rose on the 

 same great undulating plain, with its scattered 

 sombre bushes and carpet of sere grass — that 

 ragged carpet showing beneath it the barren sand 

 and gravelly soil from ^vhich it draws its scanty 

 subsistence. 



For upwards of six hours we rrudged doggedly on 

 over this desert plain, suffering much from thirst 

 and fatigue, but not daring to give ourselves rest. 

 At length the aspect of the couutrj^ began to 

 change : we were approaching the river settlement. 

 The scantjr grass grew scantier, and the scrubby 

 bushes looked as if thej^ had been browsed on ; our 

 narrow path was also crossed at all angles by cattle 

 tracts, and grew fainter as we proceeded, and 

 finally disappeared altogether. A herd of cattle, 

 slowly winding their way in long trains towards the 

 open country, was then seen. Here, too, a pretty 

 little tree called chaha (Gurliaca decorticans), began 

 to get common, growing singly or in small groups. 

 It was about ten to sixteen feet high, very graceful, 

 with smooth polished green bole, and pale gr^ey- 

 green mimosa foliage. It bears a golden fruit as 

 big as a cherry, with a peculiar delightful flavour, 



