These animals are in the habit of wandering outside the forests in the evening and forenoon, but in the afternoon they generally retire to their shelter, where they often lie down. I have found them inhabiting the margins of the dense forests upon the slopes of the Cordillera which border the lakes. They are excellent swimmers, and cross the broad arms of Lake Argentino without hesitation.

In December the huemules which I shot were shedding their winter coat, and I noticed the bucks were farther advanced in this matter than the does. There were a few scraps of velvet clinging to the horns of one of the bucks which I shot on December 9, 1901. It is curious to note that the Indians, on seeing my reindeer-skin sleeping-bag, triumphantly identified it as being made of the pelt of the huemul!

The best head that I secured carried five points. Mr. Von Plaaten Hallermund, of the Argentine Boundary Commission, told me he had seen a huemul's head carrying eight points in the neighbourhood of Lake San Martin. One of my peones, Bernardo Hähansen, who had penetrated into the same district, said he had also seen an eight-pointer. Mr. Cattle and his companions shot two bucks, both of which were four-pointers.

Save for the attacks of pumas, the huemul lives pretty well undisturbed in his fastnesses. The Indians do not hunt them, as in the forest-land horses and boleadores are comparatively useless. They do occasionally kill a few of these deer, however, which may have strayed to the foothills or to the shores of the lakes.

Huemules are, in general, very confiding, for their range is confined for the most part to districts where they have little chance of making acquaintance with the human race. But near the colony of The 16th October, Jones told me that they had become very wary and difficult of access, as was to be expected in a region where they are constantly hunted. In the more unpenetrated parts the buck is very courageous in the rutting season, and has been known to make some show of attacking man. On open ground, in my own experience, they manifested wonderfully little timidity, and would wait for the approach of man, but inside the forests they invariably dashed away on catching a glimpse of one of our party. If, however, you have a dog with you, they will in all cases take to flight.

In the preceding chapter I have given various illustrations of the natural tameness of the huemul.

When it has observed something unusual in its surroundings, this deer will remain watching, and without moving, for a great length of time. On one occasion I saw near Lake Argentino a buck and doe about a quarter of a mile away. I was lying under a bush watching some wild cattle, a herd of which were above me against the snow-line, and the huemules stood and watched me for nearly an hour. They were some ten yards from each other. Presently the cattle moved, and I followed them upwards. I returned unsuccessful in the evening to the spot, not having fired a shot, and found the two deer still watching my horse, which was tied up on the shore of the lake.

On one or two occasions when I have fired at a huemul the others of the herd have run towards the noise. Once this happened when I was in full sight of the animals.

Musters, in his travels through Patagonia, mentions a "red" deer. Of this I could find no trace, so that in all probability he alluded to the huemul under that name; the reddish tinge of the huemul's hair lends likelihood to this suggestion.

No. 2. Puma (Felis concolor puma).

(Leon of the Argentines; Gol of the Tehuelches.)

This is the silver-grey variety of puma most commonly met with in Patagonia. The distribution of this animal extends over the entire country. It is to be found in the Cordillera as on the pampas. I came upon tracks of this animal at the end of the north-west fjord of Lake Argentino about long. 73° 14´, and I also saw a puma at the south-western extremity of that lake.

Evidence of their existence accompanied the whole itinerary of the expedition throughout the entire route it covered. The number of pumas in Patagonia is very great, more so than any zoologist has yet given an idea of. During one winter two pioneers killed seventy-three near Lake Argentino. Near San Julian immense numbers are yearly destroyed, but lately, owing to the advent of settlers, they are becoming less numerous. At Bahia Camerones, on the farm of Mr. Greenshields, fourteen pumas were killed during the winter of 1900.

A female killed near Santa Cruz measured 6 ft. 10 in., and a male killed near Lake Argentino 8 ft. 1 in.

The puma can easily be galloped down, as it rarely runs more than 300 yards or a quarter of a mile when pursued on horseback. It invariably stands at bay with its back to a bush or a rock.

In strong contradistinction to the habit of the Felis onca (jaguar), F. c. puma, when hunting, kills a number of animals from a flock or herd. To one only of these kills, however, does it return, and it always makes some pretence of burying the victim singled out for its meal, throwing upon the body in many cases merely a small bunch of thorns. This custom of the puma is frequently taken advantage of by the shepherds, who poison the chosen carcass. The puma, ninety times out of a hundred, makes its first meal upon the entrails of the victim or upon the thigh inside of the groin.

The destruction wrought by pumas upon flocks of sheep is immense. One animal killed upwards of 100 head from among a single flock. One night alone its total amounted to fourteen. Another point in connection with the predatory habits of the puma is that it will travel a long distance, even as much as ten or twelve miles, after killing.

Its method of attack, judging from an examination of its victims, appears to be to spring upon the shoulders of its quarry and to break its neck. Cases are reported of pumas attacking horses, but no instance of this came under my own notice. They generally select a stormy and tempestuous night during which to make their depredations. It is rather curious, as occasionally happens, to see a herd of cows with their calves take up the trail of a puma with a great deal of lowing and fuss, but they do not follow it for any distance.

Darwin writes that the puma is a very silent animal, uttering no cry even when wounded, and only rarely during the breeding season. One moonlight night, in a forest by Lake Argentino, a couple of pumas came out of the dark and began to walk round and round the camp, and continued to do so for more than an hour, all the time keeping up their peculiar cry. On no other occasion—though, as I have said, pumas or rather the evidences of their presence, accompanied us through our long journeys—did I hear them break silence.

Pumas are more often destroyed in winter, when the snow lies on the ground, and their tracks can be followed to their hiding-places; otherwise they are so marvellously expert in concealing themselves that it is often impossible to find their lair.

Authentic instances of pumas having attacked man are few; but some have certainly occurred.

No. 3. Pearson's Puma (Felis concolor pearsoni).

On my return from Patagonia I brought with me a puma-skin, which seemed to me to differ in some essential respects from any known species. Mr. J. G. Millais, on examining the skin, agreed with me, and pointed out that it possessed several characteristics which do not occur in Felis concolor puma. I took the skin to the Natural History Museum, where Mr. Oldfield Thomas came to the conclusion that the animal was a sub-species of F. c. puma, and named it Felis concolor pearsoni.

The chief points of difference between the two species are as follows: The very different general colour, F. c. pearsoni being reddish-fawn instead of silver-grey. The proportionately very short tail; light instead of dark colour on the backs of the ears, which are, moreover, sharply pointed in the case of the new sub-species, and there is an absence of the dark markings round the digital pads which distinguishes Felis concolor puma.

Several Gauchos, settlers and Indians informed me that there were two kinds of pumas in Patagonia, one being very common, silver-grey in colour and cowardly; the other they described as rare, much fiercer, of a reddish colour, and somewhat smaller than the common grey species. Amongst the seventy-three pumas killed by the English pioneers near Lake Argentino, one, Mr. Cattle told me, differed very much from the ordinary puma, and judging from the description he gave of it, I have no hesitation in concluding that it was a specimen of Felis concolor pearsoni.

No. 4. Guanaco (Lama huanachus).

(Guanaco of settlers, Argentines and Chilians; Rou of the Tehuelches.)

During the whole course of our travels in Patagonia (save when in the forests) a day rarely passed without our seeing guanacos. They may be met within a few hours' ride of any settlement. The range of the guanaco extends all over the plains of Patagonia. In my experience they were most numerous in the Cañadon Davis, in the neighbourhood of Bahia Camerones, and on the high basaltic tablelands to the south of Lake Buenos Aires. At the base of the Cordillera and in some of the river-valleys under the edge of the mountains, the range of the guanaco crosses that of the huemul. I do not think, however, that the guanacos ever enter the forest, although I have seen them in the open patches amongst the lower wooded parts of the Cordillera. As the seasons change they move from higher to lower ground, but these migrations are limited, and a white guanaco has been observed year after year in the same neighbourhood. During the time I spent at Lake Argentino—from February 1 to May 15—I saw but few of these animals, for at that season all the herds migrate to the high pampa. A herd four or five hundred strong inhabited the higher plateaus of Mount Frias.

FitzRoy, in his "Voyages of the Adventure and the Beagle," writes, "Do the guanacos approach the river to drink when they are dying? or are the bones and remains of animals eaten by lions or by Indians? or are they washed together by floods? Certain it is that they are remarkably numerous near the banks of the river (Santa Cruz), but not so elsewhere." It is true that, although one comes upon skeletons of these animals upon the pampas, they are not crowded together as they are in the cañadones of the rivers or by the lakes near water. At the edge of a lagoon at the eastern end of Mystery Plain I saw a great number of skeletons in one place, possibly the very ones noted by FitzRoy. They extended in a wide track down the hillside and to the edge of the water. At Lake Viedma the margins of the lake, near the outflow of the Leona, were covered with their skins and bones. The meaning of this I gathered from Mr. Ernest Cattle. He told me that in the winter of 1899 enormous numbers of guanaco sought Lake Argentino, and died of starvation upon its shores. In the severities of winter they seek drinking-places, where there are large masses of water likely to be unfrozen. The few last winters in Patagonia have been so severe as to work great havoc among the herds of guanaco.

At nightfall guanacos gather into close order, a large herd collecting in a small radius. They seem to choose open spaces in which to pass the hours of darkness. In moments of danger also they pack together densely. At the sound of a shot, the outlying members of a herd will close up and sway their long necks almost to the ground in unison. I see that Darwin says that guanaco are "generally very wild and wary." In places where they are hunted by the Indians this is undoubtedly the case, but on this point no law can be laid down. In some districts the guanaco is very difficult of approach, in others extremely easy. The evidence that I can adduce concerning this point I have given at length in another chapter. Their instinct of curiosity is very largely developed. During our wanderings I studied the habits of the guanaco with ever-increasing interest. In cold weather they become extraordinarily tame, and will permit a man to walk among them as a shepherd walks among his sheep.

The young are brought forth in the months of October, November and the early part of December. In Southern Patagonia some are born as late as the end of December. During the period of copulation the bucks fight a good deal. I never shot an old buck which was not seamed and scarred with the marks of these contests. When fighting they give vent to loud squeals of rage, they strike with their forefeet and bite savagely, mostly at the neck of the antagonist. The marks of these bites are often deep and long. The skin of the neck is luckily very thick, so little harm is done. As has been noted before, the guanacos drop all their dung in one spot, and near these spots their wallows are ordinarily to be found. I saw an old buck spend a long time over his toilette while his wives looked on and waited. He would spend nearly half an hour on his back with his legs in the air, at intervals standing up to neigh and then rolling again.

The power of affection in guanacos towards their young did not appear to me to be very strong. From time to time I had to shoot a young one for food. Out of nine instances which I find in my diary, only twice did the mother halt in her flight to see what had happened to her offspring. On both occasions she stopped within two hundred and fifty yards and stared towards me. If dogs enter into the chase the mother deserts to a greater distance. One day, when I with the dogs had killed a young guanaco, I left it lying and rode away with the dogs. Returning alone, I took up my quarters in the heart of a bush, from whence I observed the herd to which the mother belonged. They did not return nearer than a quarter of a mile to the spot. On another occasion when I shot a young guanaco and concealed myself for the same reason, the whole herd came back and, mounting an eminence in the neighbourhood, scanned the scene of the disaster. They did not, however, venture near the place where the quarry was lying. Curiously enough, wild cattle, though much more difficult of approach than guanaco, often come back in the night lowing and bellowing to visit the spot where a herd-mate has been killed, but before dawn they invariably leave that part of the forest.

The young guanaco is an easy quarry. We caught a considerable number of them for food with the aid of the hounds.

On one occasion a young one was simply headed off from the herd, its portrait taken, and then it was set free again.

No. 5. Patagonian cavy (Dolichotis patagonica).

(Called "cavy" or "hare" indiscriminately by the English residents; liebre by the Argentines and Chilians; Paahi by the Tehuelches.)

The River Deseado forms the southern limit of the distribution of the Patagonian cavy. In 1833 Darwin writes concerning this animal, "They are found as far north as the Sierra Tapalguen (lat. 37° 30´), and their southern limit is between Port Desire and San Julian, where there is no change in the nature of the country." As far as my experience goes, I never observed a cavy after October 23, upon which day I counted fourteen upon the pampa between Lake Musters and the settlement of Colohuapi. The residents of Colohuapi informed me that the place formed the southern limit of the distribution of the cavy. It is, of course, impossible to lay down an exact line, but I think it safe to say that the range of the cavy does not extend south of the 46th parallel. This limit is the more remarkable inasmuch as the country south of lat. 46° does not in any way materially differ from that over which the cavy is commonly to be met with. One most often finds these animals on patches of dry mud. They are comparatively easy to stalk, as easy as an English rabbit. The best method of shooting them is, of course, with the rifle, though occasionally you may start them from a thicket and shoot them as you would an English hare with a shot-gun. They generally weigh between 18 lb. and 25 lb., though I heard of one which I was assured weighed 31 lb.

The cavy will often lead the hounds a good chase, especially where the ground is broken, in such places frequently making its escape.

After being frightened it very soon makes its reappearance, and when it actually takes to flight it rarely goes more than a hundred yards before it turns to see whether it is an object of pursuit. This is only the case when man alone is the pursuer; when dogs are present there is no time to be lost in speculation of any kind.

No. 6. Armadillo (Dasypus minutus).

(Pichy of the Argentines and Chilians; Ano of the Tehuelches.)

This animal is never found south of the River Santa Cruz. During the four months I spent south of that river I did not see one, but when for three days we crossed to the north bank we met with four and killed one, as I have before mentioned. Dasypus minutus is very common in the vicinity of Bahia Camerones. I saw no specimen in the forests of the Andes, but near Lake Buenos Aires and Lake Viedma we found them about the foothills.

No. 7. The Grey or Pampa Fox; Zorro of the Argentines; Paltñ of the Tehuelches.

To the east of the Andes, the pampa fox is to be met with practically everywhere. There are two varieties of foxes upon the pampa. The common pampa variety is a most inveterate thief, and causes endless trouble to travellers by eating all and anything that the wind may blow down from the bushes, upon which one's belongings are generally hung by way of guarding against their depredations. If a horse is sogaed out with a cabresto of hide, the foxes will very often gnaw through the cabresto and set the horse free. This trick has cost the life of more than one Gaucho, who, travelling alone upon the pampa, in some district hundreds of miles away from human habitations, has been left quite helpless without his horse, unable to use his bolas with effect on foot, and so has starved to death.

In my experience the range of the grey fox seems to cease at the foothills of the Cordillera, where the Magellan wolf (Canis magellanicus) is to be found. Of course, in making this statement I am open to correction. I can merely state that, during the time I spent at Lake Buenos Aires and Lake Argentino, I never saw a pampa fox, although evidences of their presence in the way of tracks were frequent, upon the north shore of the former lake. Yet directly one ascended the range of the hills towards the River Fenix, pampa foxes were to be seen. On the top of Mount Frias I saw a pampa fox in the snow. I never came upon the pampa fox in the forests which grow upon the slopes of the Cordillera.

The fearlessness of the grey pampa fox is remarkable, even in districts where it is chased by the Indians and their dogs. The pelts are much used for making capas or fur cloaks. During the early part of January 1901, upon the pampa outside the Cordillera, we continually came upon half-grown pampa foxes in twos and threes. Until they saw the dogs they never took to flight.

No. 8. Cordillera Wolf (Canis magellanicus).

This is the animal locally known as the Cordillera fox. I have elsewhere touched upon its strongest characteristic of courage, and also the dread it inspires among horses. It is, of course, a much larger animal than the pampa fox, which latter can wander about among the troop without causing any disturbance. A single Cordillera wolf will attack young huemules as well as the young of the guanaco. Although found in the forest, this animal also frequents the plains at the foothills of the Cordillera. Personally I never observed it farther east than the River Fenix. In the one case that came under my observation, when sheep had been brought within its range, its depredations among them were considerable.

The measurements which I made of three of these animals were as follows: Female killed at the River Fenix, Lake Buenos Aires, thirty-nine inches; dog-wolf killed at the same place, forty-one inches; dog-wolf killed at the Lake Argentino, forty-one inches. These measurements were taken from the teeth to the end of the tail directly after the shooting of the animals.

When with young the Cordillera wolf, indeed I may say the Cordillera wolves, both male and female, will run growling towards man if he attempts to approach their litter. As far as could be judged from an examination of the lair of one, their bill of fare is very varied. There were the remains of many kinds of birds, as well as the bones of the young of guanaco and huemul.

There is another form of the wolf which I think should perhaps be considered as a sub-species under the name of Canis montanus. Its range is at present undefined. It is a red variety and lacks the dark markings of Canis magellanicus. I hope shortly to have a series of skins of this type. At present my readers can refer to the coloured plate "Camp Thieves," and the photograph on this page. Its general habits seem to be identical with those of Canis magellanicus.

No. 9. Skunk (Conepatus patagonicus).

(Zorino of the Argentines; wikster of the Tehuelches.)

The skunk is to be met with throughout the whole country, but we saw perhaps more specimens of this animal in the neighbourhood of Bahia Camerones than elsewhere. I have also observed it within ten miles of the foot of the Cordillera. The skins are much prized by the Indians for the making of capas.

Besides the animals enumerated above, an otter is common in most of the rivers, but as all the skins I collected have not arrived at the moment of writing, I will hold over any description of this animal until a later date.

CHAPTER XIX
FIRST PASSING THROUGH HELLGATE

Rumour of important undiscovered river—Wish to settle question—Dr. Moreno's description of Lake Argentino—Start for Hellgate—Description of Hellgate—Squall—Sunshine—Scenery—Icebergs—Danger-dodging—Absence of life on banks—West channel of North Fjord—Events of voyage—Giant's Glacier—Camera—Second glacier—Deep water—End of west channel—Return to North Fjord—Icebergs—In difficulties with launch—Escape from a reef—Land on peninsula—Guanaco—Fish—Fish and fariña—Heavy gales—Photographs—One more attempt to go up North Fjord—Driftwood—Driven back—Return to Cow Monte Harbour—South Fjord—Storms—Mount Avellaneda—Small fjord—Trouble with launch—Squalls—Launch driven ashore—On fire—Fine weather—Glacier calves—Thousands of square miles of forest unexplored.

"An important river flows into the end of the north fjord (of Lake Argentino) with clear waters—a sure sign that it proceeds from another great lake still unknown."

In these words, taken from the Journal of the Royal Geographical Society for September 1899, under the head of "Explorations in Patagonia," by Dr. Moreno, you have the idea which was the spring of all our efforts in bringing down the launch to Lake Argentino and the aim of the subsequent voyages made in her.

The opening to the north passage or fjord is locally known as Hellgate, so called on account of the rough weather which usually prevails there. The spot is the opening of a long winding channel that, running up between beetling cliffs and forested mountain-sides as it were into the heart of the Andes, becomes simply a vast funnel through which the winds and storms discharge themselves upon the lake at all times and seasons. I cannot give a better description of Lake Argentino than by using the following extract from Dr. Moreno's account:

"Lake Argentino ... extends sixty miles to the west; and the fjords of the extreme west divide into three arms, which receive the waters of large glaciers from Mount Stokes up to the vicinity of Lake Viedma. An important river flows into the end of the north fjord, with clear waters—a sure sign that it proceeds from another great lake still unknown. The western end is closed by the main chain of the Cordillera with its glaciers, which cross to the Pacific fjords of Peel Inlet and St. Andrew's Sound, and one can distinguish peaks more than 10,000 feet, as Mount Agassiz (10,597 feet)."

On March 11, having mended the launch to the best of our ability, we intended to make a start from Cow Monte Harbour. As we rode down from Cattle's, driving my troop of horses before us, the calm weather which had attended the period of repairs broke up and a strong wind began to blow out of the south-west. A start was, therefore, rendered impossible. We accordingly camped beside the launch, to be ready for an early departure. All night long the wind held, and the sheepskins in the after-hatch, where I was sleeping, took in water. It needed little waking, therefore, to get me out in the morning. The false dawn was still lingering in the sky when the wind fell and we were off in double quick time, heading in a northerly direction, and steering by a clump of Leña dura bushes on a promontory, behind which lay Hellgate.

The swell of the previous night was yet big upon the water, and the launch crawled over it at about three knots. The entrance to Hellgate is possibly one of the most menacing and sinister-looking spots in South America. The great grooved cliffs tower over the yeasty cauldron of water, and down the channel between them, as I have said, the wind hurtles as through a funnel. On this particular morning a squall had darkened the great and houseless unknown beyond. Several icebergs were huddled together, stranded upon the shallows of the eastern shore.

After running through the black throat of Hellgate we put in, beneath a big rock, in order to take shelter from the squall that was fast coming down upon us. We had started on a maté, and so, while we waited, a roast was got under way. As we were eating, the squall that had brooded so ominously in the west broke over the lake, and after raging for a few minutes passed with a shiver that you could follow with the eye, till it lost itself in the distance of the early morning waters. Then the sun glowed out suddenly, as if some gigantic power had lifted an extinguisher from its glory. The farther and middle distances were peopled with snow-peaks, rising in minarets above their girdles of dark forest, which last stretched downwards until they lipped the black water at the mountain bases. For a moment after the outburst of radiance the water alone remained black and angry, and then the squall flicked away its skirts and passed from view, leaving a picture of cold and austere purity extending to the rim of sight. In words I cannot give you any reflection of the scene, and no photograph could ever do more than reproduce its outlines, and yet I suppose few human eyes will ever look upon it.

To describe the kaleidoscope of colours and the scenery through which we passed in that north-west passage of Lake Argentino would merely leave me a beggar in adjectives. Suffice it to say that for that day at least the mist and gloom of the clouds shared short watches with the gold and white of flying sunshine. For the first time in our experience of her the launch played us no tricks, and our progress went on at a steady three knots. Soon a gigantic glacier showed in the channel, seeming to block all farther advance. The Fjord looked full of icebergs; there must have been three thousand of them lying, an inanimate fleet, in their mountain-bound harbour of wind and mist.

A nasty squall caught us as we dodged among the ice, the smallest ripple set us gripping our frail craft, and I am afraid that a moderate sea would have drowned her fires and sent us to explore downwards rather than onwards. Indeed, our entire life on the launch was one long history of danger-dodging. I do not give the details, because some of the same sort have already been written, and repetition is needless. I grant there was more risk in taking the launch and using her in such waters than, perhaps, wisdom would have approved. Without her, however, we could have had no chance of exploring the North Fjord and solving the mystery of the "river with clear waters." Moreover, those who accompanied me went of their own free will, and I must here record my gratitude to Mr. Cattle, who willingly risked his life on our voyages in the launch, and also to Burbury—who accompanied me on my first journey—as well as to Bernardo, who was with me throughout the whole of my Lake Argentino experiences. Wherever I may travel in the future, I can wish for no better companions.

Bernardo, the most willing of men, kept our nerves in a state of less than pleasurable excitement. He drove the launch, when I took my eye off him, with 145 lb. of steam in her worn-out boiler—her safety-limit at the best of times had been 130 lb. On shore he succeeded in firing off my jungle-gun by mistake, narrowly missing killing himself at close quarters and myself at some few feet distance. But even after this involuntary attempt at manslaughter one could not be angry with him, he was so genuinely sorry, yet one could not help foreseeing that he was eminently likely to do something of the sort again. He was, to use slang, such a "decent chap," he never grumbled when he had nothing to eat, or a bout of bitter cold labour when we were obliged to turn out in the night to get up the anchor or do some other job. He was also a glutton of the first water for work, but we were all persuaded that he would end by slaying us, in which case I have not the slightest doubt he would have said to me as we were being ferried across the Styx, "By good, Mr. Preechard, I am sorry, the old launch she bust up!" From looking on the launch, as he did at first, with considerable awe and respect, familiarity with her bred contempt, and all her parts lost their novelty to him, save the whistle. When he blew that his face would betoken the intensest satisfaction. In many ways the placid Swede caused us much amusement.

"March 21.—During this trip we have had a collapsible canvas boat in tow of the launch, which boat has saved us many a wetting in boarding and in leaving the launch. We go ashore in relays, one man remaining on the launch. This evening, while Cattle, Burbury and I were on the beach wood-cutting and tent-pitching, I heard Cattle shout, and, looking round, saw, to my disgust, the canvas boat already some twenty yards out and drifting quickly away from the beach. The wind had caught her broadside on, and she was being blown out into the current beyond the calm of our sheltering promontory. Cattle and I ran down to the shingle, casting off our clothes as we went. I thought we were in for a long swim, no pleasant prospect in that ice-cold water among the floes. But, as luck would have it, there was a little point of land projecting from the cliff of the promontory, and to this we made our hurried way, leaving behind us a spoor of shed garments. We arrived in the nick of time to secure the boat, and Cattle rowed her round to the beach beyond the camp.

"There is one enormous glacier visible almost due north. It had evidently been throwing many bergs of late. We called it the Giant's Glacier. This glacier is marked with double lines of brown reaching from the clouds right down to the margin of the water, for all the world like the tracks of the chariot wheels of some giant. We are now very much in the kingdom of the ice. Away beyond the immediate foreground of the shores and forests is spread a panorama of unnamed peaks. The silence is seldom broken save by the scream of the wind or the crashing fall of some mass of ice from the glaciers.

"I find my camera has been damaged. This is unfortunate, but hardly to be wondered at. It is a difficult matter to prevent mischief when the launch rolls and everything gets adrift, and one's time is taken up with keeping one's balance, steering, or in doing the myriad little jobs that crowd one upon the other. Although the camera reposed in the sheltering care of various rugs in the after-hatch, the heavy weather defeated all our precautions. In this difficulty a novel of Miss Marie Corelli's has been of the utmost assistance, and saved us from the misfortune of being unable to take photographs. The colonial edition of the 'Master Christian' has a thick red cover, and with the help of some flour paste we have succeeded in making the camera light-proof. Thus I owe a second debt of gratitude to Miss Marie Corelli, beside the pleasure of reading her book."

The next day broke clear and still, raising our hopes as to our progress through the ice. I must say that we took our fine blue weather—little of it as we were blessed with—with a hearty pleasure, and enjoyed it most thoroughly. We might be cold and wet an hour later, but between the squalls it was not so disagreeable, and we made the best of the breaks.

It was not long under these favourable circumstances before we reached the last curve of the channel, and were confronted by another glacier of considerable size, coming down through a depression in the midst of a mountain. Below the glacier the shoulders and base of the mountain were covered with dark forests. All round under the cliffs was, as I have said, deep water, how deep I do not know, as we had no means of taking soundings of such depth.

As there seemed little to be gained by landing at the foot of the glacier we ran back to the camp of the previous night, where the harbourage was at any rate somewhat better. While we were yet ashore, a squall began to grow up in the sky to the west and came down upon the water in an angry spatter of rain. It subsided, however, as quickly as it had arisen, so we got afloat again. Running back through the narrow throat of the channel, we found that the wind, which had veered several points to the north, had almost blocked it with a fleet of icebergs, that were grinding together on the swell of the water. These we managed to make our way through, and it was with some thankfulness that we presently reached the farther shore on the east of the main Fjord. We had no sooner arrived than it began to blow in heavy gusts, and five minutes after the first of them—so quickly do the seas rise upon this lake—we had to shift our anchorage.

In an hour or two, having in the meantime laid in a good store of firewood, and the heavy wind being succeeded by a series of cold showers, we took advantage of the lull and headed up the main Fjord to the north. But the wind, that had temporarily dropped, soon resumed its fury, and the launch was hard put to it to keep her position, far less to make any headway, and then, as was usual in moments of need, the pumps ceased working altogether, and Burbury shouted that no more than ten minutes' steam remained in the boiler. There was nothing for it but to turn her and to run for the land. We found, however, small hope of anchorage, for a bare fifty-foot cliff rose sheer out of the water and so continued for a long distance ahead. Seeing we were unlikely to discover a suitable position, we decided to cross the lake, but we had not gone far when the propeller wheezed into silence. Strong squalls caught us and made the launch roll and heave. Cattle got into the canvas boat with the idea of trying to tow her, and I forward, put out the long oar, which we generally used as one of the bulwarks—and we both endeavoured to keep her from turning broadside on to the waves, in which case she would have been swamped.

Cattle shortly gave up his attempt to tow her; in the sea then running such an effort was hopeless. The wind increased. Cattle came aboard, not without difficulty, and tried rowing with a short oar. Meantime Burbury was baling water into the boiler with a cooking-pot. The launch was rolling in a manner which made rowing a difficult matter. Presently the oar I was using broke off short and the launch was drifting ominously near to a reef. It was a race as to whether we should get up steam before we were cast upon it. We watched the index of the register slowly beginning to quiver, and when it marked 30 lb. we were not much more than a score or so of yards from the rocks. This was, however, enough to enable us to get way on and forge slowly out of danger.

Our steam did not last much longer than to allow us to find shelter under the lee of a line of low rocks, which thrust themselves out and served as a little breakwater in the lake. We remained there while Burbury again filled the boiler, and, having got up steam, we made the mouth of a deep inlet which afforded us good harbourage. Here we landed, and found ourselves upon a peninsula shaped like a spoon, the handle that connected it with the land being very narrow. At its upper end it joined the moraine of the great glacier which I had called Giant's Glacier.

As we came in to the beach, three guanacos cantered down and stared and neighed at us. The sight of these animals brightened the prospect, as it was pleasant to see living creatures in what had hitherto seemed to be an empty amphitheatre of hills. The bay where we had anchored was a shallow lagoon, into which flowed a little stream that wound away out of sight through a thin belt of forest over land comparatively flat. This peninsula carried a light soil and good grass, but bore the appearance of a spot that the winter would strike with peculiar severity. The wood was all roblé and Leña dura and the scrub included califate-bushes, from which last, however, the purple berries had long since departed, much to our sorrow. Huemules, guanacos, pumas, and the red fox gave evident signs of their presence. I observed a pigmy owl (Glaucidium nanum) and several caranchos. In the evening, when speaking upon the subject, Cattle informed me that several kinds of fish were to be found in Lake Argentino. Often as we used to make our meal of fish and fariña (a compound in the concoction of which for good or evil Bernardo stood alone), I used to regret my inability to bring back specimens of the fish from this lake, but I had no means of preserving them.

"Fish and fariña," indeed, became a standing joke with us. We might threaten to blow each other up by the agency of the launch's peculiar engines, and the threats would pass as nothing; but the expressed intention of any one of us who proposed to go and catch fish with a view to preparing a meal of "fish and fariña" soon became too much for the strongest and bravest among us. As a matter of fact, the fish was far from tempting, having a muddy flavour and being full of small bones, which mixed themselves up inextricably with the fariña.[28]

That night shut down with a gale and much rain. The trees groaned, and one close to us was blown down. It was with a very thankful heart that I woke up in the middle of the storm and reflected upon the glorious safety of our new-found harbour. Next morning I was awakened sometime in the dusky grey of dawn because a couple of Chiloe widgeon had come in close to the launch, and roasted duck was voted good by the wakeful Burbury. I sleepily thought the widgeon might have waited, and after all something scared the ducks and they flew off to a distance of a couple of hundred yards. My stalk only resulted in my securing one of the birds.

The ice we had observed earlier in the mouth of the most westerly channel had by this time completely blocked the opening. We spent the day wandering about upon the peninsula, and I tried to get some photographs, but the attempt was rather hopeless in the mist and rain. Indeed, although advantage was taken of every lifting of the weather, four pictures were all that this trip allowed of my completing.

The following day, in spite of bad weather, we made a third attempt to head up the North Fjord, at the end of which we hoped to find the "river with clear waters" mentioned by Dr. Moreno, and at the end of that again the unknown lake. We made two hours very slow progress, the north-west wind quickly beating up a troublesome sea. We observed bits of wood travelling faster than is usual in cases of drift, and now made sure that, could we but reach the end of the Fjord, we should find the river whose current we believed to be responsible for the comparatively rapid movement of the wood.

Our hopes were on this occasion destined to disappointment, for, in spite of all our efforts, we were unable to go forward or to make head against the bad weather, which continued for some days. Besides this, the injector of the launch failed to perform its office, and as the machinery was badly in need of repairs, and the cracked plate was letting in water, I thought it better to run before the wind to Cow Monte Harbour, which was, in fact, our headquarters, and where such tools as we had were stored. One point that was always in our favour while making these attempts to force our way up the North Fjord, lay in the fact that the prevailing winds from north-west or south-west, as the case might be, helped rather than hindered us on our return passages.