VIII 
INDIAN GRAVE 
179 
The second day after our return to the anchorage, a party of 
officers and myself went to ransack an old Indian grave, which I 
had found on the summit of a neighbouring hill. Two immense 
stones, each probably weighing at least a couple of tons, had 
been placed in front of a ledge of rock about six feet high. At 
the bottom of the grave on the hard rock there was a layer of 
earth about a foot deep, which must have been brought up from 
the plain below. Above it a pavement of flat stones was placed, 
on which others were piled, so as to fill up the space between 
the ledge and the two great blocks. To complete the grave, 
the Indians had contrived to detach from the ledge a huge frag¬ 
ment, and to throw it over the pile so as to rest on the two 
blocks. We undermined the grave on both sides, but could not 
find any relics, or even bones. The latter probably had decayed 
long since (in which case the grave must have been of extreme 
antiquity), for I found in another place some smaller heaps, 
beneath which a very few crumbling fragments could yet be 
distinguished as having belonged to a man. Falconer states, 
that where an Indian dies he is buried, but that subsequently 
his bones are carefully taken up and carried, let the distance be 
ever so great, to be deposited near the sea-coast. This custom, 
I think, may be accounted for by recollecting that, before the 
introduction of horses, these Indians must have led nearly the 
same life as the Fuegians now do, and therefore generally have 
resided in the neighbourhood of the sea. The common prejudice 
of lying where one’s ancestors have lain, would make the now 
roaming Indians bring the less perishable part of their dead to 
their ancient burial-ground on the coast. 
January 9 th, 1 834.—Before it was dark the Beagle anchored 
in the fine spacious harbour of Port St. Julian, situated about 
one hundred and ten miles to the south of Port Desire. We 
remained here eight days. The country is nearly similar to that 
of Port Desire, but perhaps rather more sterile. One day a 
party accompanied Captain Fitz Roy on a long walk round the 
head of the harbour. We were eleven hours without tasting 
any water, and some of the party were quite exhausted. From 
the summit of a hill (since well named Thirsty Hill) a fine lake 
was spied, and two of the party proceeded with concerted signals 
to show whether it was fresh water. What was our disappoint¬ 
ment to find a snow-white expanse of salt, crystallised in great 
