the dining room stewards became very excited about a hermit who 
lived m a cave near the railroad track. They made up a news- 
paper package of bread for him, and one of them, in his anziety to 
open the aindow, broke the glass and cut his hand. We all watched 
eagerly, arid presently trier 6 whs a s out xrod one ux me 
and the bread was tossed out the window, but nary a glimpse could 
we get of holy man or cave. Much more realistic was the" wreckage 
along the track of the train that had been in a collision only 
a month ago.’ 
This is rich grazing land, and the colors of the grasses 
were entrancing. KTeneo is bright yellow, other grasses were green, ' 
or purple, or rich brown. About ten- thirty we caught signt of tne 
xirst 01 ixie Snow mountains, and as we came a own tne divide and 
approached the blue waters of Lake Ka.hu el Huapi , we were hemmed in 
by snow-covered peaks. Here, where tne Kati nai Parle begins, is an 
abruuo ena ox trie grazing land, ana tne commencement 01 tne i orest. 
Evergreens, largely cedar, begin as sharply as though an artist had 
drawn a pencil line down one mountain side ana saia "Thus lar ana 
no laruier," 
'Ue were pleased, when we stepped off the train at Bariloche, 
to find the winter sun was strong and fairly warm. The Department 
of national Parks had a car waiting for us, and after a 2 C-minute 
drive, through the 'muddy streets of the little frontier town, we 
were deposited at the Pe.rque Hotel, ana welcomed by its manager, 
Eduardo May, a genial Swiss, who, when Bill asked him if he had 
rooms, said, "Why not? Every room is at your disposal." There 
was, as it turned mu, one other guest, but he was leaving, and 
irom then on we had the place to ourselves. It i s a charming 
little hotel, perched precariously on the shores of the lake, 
built of grey stone and timber, with wide windows opening on a 
spectacular view 02 the blue water anu tne snowy Anaes, and - a 
minimum of steam heat in each room. It was not long before we 
all developed a passion 1 or hot rum punches . 
In the ai ternoon our car took us over a lovely road, lying 
low along the lakesiae, to tne estancia 01 t,ne John Jones lanily. 
Jones, now 72 and with a game foot, caue out to this country from 
Texas more than fifty years ago. He earned his livelihood at 
xiret by driving cattle xrom Buenos Aires to Chile. Sometimes 
one trip w uid taxe a yean In Cniie ne met a girl xrom Iowa, 
and when they married and settled down he picked this stretch of land 
as the fairest in all South America. Here they staked out 
.a lew miles of a placid valley between the mountain ranges; here 
they raised seven children, and heaven knows how many sheep. At 
present they have 16 , 000 , in addition to cattle, horses, and 25 
hunting dogs. Mrs. Jones is as chipper and bright and satisfied with 
the world as only a pioneer woman can be. Prances said, "You really 
have everything here, haven’t you?" and she said, "Yes, I don’t 
know' what more a body would w ant to make vnem ftftupy. ** 
'"'Id Mr. Jones told some thrilling stories of wild boar 
hunts in these parts. It seems, that neighbors of his, who have 
a big place in B.A., brought out some European wild boars, think- 
ing it would be great sport of hunt them with lances here as they 
do the Indian boar in Tnd i- T . , , 
1 u 10, Jones said he could have told them 
