No one knows any good purpose that the locust serves unless a chastening against pride and vain glory. They are relished by the ostriches and poultry, who devour them greedily. Chickens will enjoy a hearty meal upon them, but the result is that the eggs are ruined for edible purposes. The interior becomes dark, almost a wine colour, and they are given a fishy flavour, which is altogether unpalatable. Thus the malice of the locust towards man holds fast even in death, and makes him useless as food for the fowls which frequent every barn-yard. It is little wonder that the far-reaching cry comes up from Argentina for help and deliverance from this awful pest.

Adjoining Santa Fé on the west is the still larger province of Cordoba. The eastern part of this province is level, but the surface begins to rise and is broken here and there by ridges and hills. During the summer season many seek the hills of Cordoba to escape the heat of the summer. There is a fine train service from Buenos Aires to Cordoba. This city is about two hundred and forty-six miles beyond Rosario. The Central Argentine runs through trains and makes the trip in about sixteen hours. The railway reaches the hills quite a while before the city of Cordoba is sighted, and there are a couple of little branches that run to Alta Gracia and Rio Segundo respectively, each of which boasts a summer colony. The former is quite noted as a health resort.

The city of Cordoba is the capital of the province of the same name, and one of the most important commercial towns of the republic. It is situated at an elevation of fourteen hundred feet and has a population of almost fifty thousand. It lies in a hollow, and can hardly be seen by the incoming traveller until almost upon the town itself. The woods and hills, with the Rio Primero (first river), in the foreground, make a very pretty picture. Cordoba has always been noted for its university, which was granting learned degrees long before our own universities were even thought of; and it has been granting them continuously ever since. It is also a strong centre of Catholicism, and has more priests in proportion to the population than any other city of Argentina. The public buildings are all very creditable, of which the University, Cathedral, National College, Normal School and government buildings are the principal. There is quite a noted observatory located on a nearby height, which is under the control of the national government. Its first director was a North American. The work accomplished by this observatory has received high praise from both Europe and America, and has aided much in the work of studying the southern heavens. There are several pretty squares and promenades. The many hotels are filled with a well dressed crowd of people in summer, and much of the fashion of the capital is transferred to this place for a few weeks.

From Cordoba the Cordoba Central Railway conveys the traveller through a not very thickly settled country and across some salty marshes to the fair city of Tucuman, which is situated in what is called the garden spot of the republic. This city is about the same elevation and has about the same temperature as Cordoba. “Have you seen Tucuman?” is a question usually asked of the foreigner, for the Argentinians look upon this city and district with a pardonable pride. Here is the effusive description of a native writer, who becomes poetic in dwelling upon the beauties of this favoured city.

“O Tucuman! thou the most beautiful among thy sisters, all hail to thee! Whether I contemplate the level plain or lift up my eyes to the lofty mountains encircling thee on the side of the Circola Massimo or the Occaso, my soul is thrilled with delight and admiration. Nature, who has been somewhat niggardly to thy companions, has lavished her gifts on thee, her favoured one, because thou wert beautiful and beloved! To thee she has given the vast plain of the Pampa, and bounded it with a semicircle of hills so as to welcome the Alisian winds, that in return for thy hospitality, enrich thee with the life-giving elements gathered in their wanderings over numberless Alpine heights, and fraternize with thy river, called by thee the Fondo, but changing its name over and over again, according to the caprice of the friendly lands whose bosoms it fertilizes. And if the sun shines on thee with burning rays, his heat is tempered by the moisture dropping from the clouds as they are rent by electricity, with sudden explosion, or prolonged thunder.

“Hence thy soil is verdant in the winter, and in spring is adorned with innumerable flowers—a treasure-house of exotics—giving place one to the other for thy embellishment during half the year; and in the summer and autumn thou gatherest abundantly the fruits of a few growths.”

The city is laid out in the usual checkerboard fashion, with extremely narrow streets. In a public hall here the declaration of independence was signed on the 9th of July, 1816. There are a number of large churches, a cathedral and several schools. The spiritual welfare of the people is not neglected through lack of opportunity to attend service. There is a public library, a theatre, etc. It is an ancient town, having been founded in what was then a remote district, in 1585. It is in sight of some very high peaks of the Andes, although a considerable distance away. Tucuman is in the centre of a rich sugar district, there being about thirty sugar factories at work. Almost one hundred thousand tons of sugar have been produced in a single year, in addition to large quantities of alcohol. Rice growing is also quite a feature of this district. The soil is carefully cultivated and irrigation is resorted to by many of the planters, for an abundance of water is easily obtained. The climate is what might be termed semi-tropical. Tucuman is the last city of any size or great importance in the northwestern provinces.

North of Tucuman are the provinces of Salta and Jujuy, both of which reach to the borders of Bolivia. To the west of Tucuman lie the provinces of Rioja and Catamarca, as well as the territory of Los Andes, all of which border Chile. These are all mountainous states, but they are neither small nor unimportant. The smallest one is as large as Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Maryland, and the largest one, Salta, is nearly as large as all of New England. The altitude of the towns varies from Rioja, the capital of the province of the same name, at an altitude of only seventeen hundred feet, to Jujuy, capital of that province, which lies four thousand two hundred and seventy feet above sea level, and is the highest city in the republic. Jujuy is distant just about one thousand miles from Buenos Aires by railroad, and is at the foot of the spurs of the range of mountains that reach up into Bolivia. Although so near the Tropic of Capricorn yet the elevation prevents the extreme heat that prevails in the lowlands during the summer, while the freezing point is never reached in winter. The scenery in the neighbourhood of this city is really beautiful, for hill and valley, wood and plain all contribute to make up an enchanting landscape. When the connection with the Bolivian railway is completed this city will be on another transcontinental line from the Atlantic to the Pacific. The territory of Los Andes, in the extreme northwestern corner of the country, is the most mountainous section and is very little known.

The provinces of Cordoba and Santa Fé are the home of many beautiful birds. One of the most gorgeous of humming-birds is to be found here. Its body is green streaked with gold, with a vivid scarlet tail. A common song bird is the bien te veo (I see you well), so named because its song is supposed to represent those words. The call, which is an extremely musical one, is repeated over and over again. It is brightly coloured and is a species of thrush. The oven-bird is a favourite bird and is looked upon much as the robin with us. It is chiefly remarkable for its nest, which is built of mud and is entered by a doorway. The nests are usually built upon any convenient post, and in places one will find half of the telephone and telegraph posts surmounted by one of these nests. It is a common saying that the oven-bird will not, under any consideration, build its nest on a Sunday.

There are many birds of the vulture tribe in Argentina. Patagonia is especially a wonderful country for these birds of prey. Of these the chinango is a small carrion-hawk of a brown-gray colour. Another is the carancho, which is very common throughout the Camp. This bird is a dark brown with a light band across the wings. These two birds prefer carrion, but will attack enfeebled and helpless small animals such as hares or lambs.

Thus runs the nursery rhyme about the chief of the larger army of the vulture tribe, which is common in the states adjacent to the Andes. Seen against the pale blue of the sky, swerving in graceful circles at a great height amidst the inner solitudes of the Andine peaks, its stately flight and grand spread of motionless wing make it seem like a noble bird. On a nearer view it shares the repulsive appearance of all birds that feed on dead animal flesh. Eagles are scarce in the Andes, and the condors take their place. They are difficult to approach unless they are gorged so that they cannot fly. Their size is enormous. One writer tells of killing one in Patagonia that measured nine feet, three inches across the outstretched pinions, and some of even greater size are reported. They are sometimes four feet long from tip of beak to tail. They hatch their young amid the snow-covered crags at an altitude of twenty thousand feet, so it is said, for they can endure a temperature which renders human existence impossible.

These birds, which fly so high that they become mere specks on the intense blue of the skies, exceed the vulture in their ability to discover a dead carcass. It has been said that they will follow a mule train a long distance waiting for a disabled animal to be left behind. If a sick animal, large or small, is found they will immediately pluck out the eyes, and then wait for the animal to die before eating it. They fly so high that it is impossible to shoot them, and the only way to kill the condor is to place a dead animal as a decoy and then lay in ambush until the birds appear. It is one thing to admire these birds wheeling in graceful circles on quiescent wing, but it would be quite another for the lonely and helpless traveller out among the hills where no help was near. Long before aid could come this powerful and unscrupulous bird might discover the helpless one. These gigantic birds have been tamed when captured at a sufficiently early age. Some have found them interesting pets, but their immense size soon makes their presence very undesirable around the house and farmyard.

Argentina is undoubtedly rich in mineral deposits which have as yet scarcely been touched. All along the Andes, from Bolivia, herself extremely rich in the precious metals, to Tierra del Fuego, traces of silver, gold and copper have been found. The indifference to the exploitation of this mineral wealth may be due to the lack of available capital, the difficulties of transportation of the ore and the scarcity of fuel in the mineral zones of the country. The exports of all minerals do not reach half a million dollars yearly, of which copper is one of the principal items. The early history of the country records a story of marvellous wealth dug from the earth. The future may have a still greater story to tell. The workings of many of these earlier mines have been absolutely lost. The locations of mines from which fabulous wealth was wrung are unknown to-day. Some of these mines date back to the early conquerors, and others to the Incas themselves, who overran this section of the country. Ancient bronze instruments of that race have been found here, giving indisputable evidence of that fact, although it is doubtful if they ever had a permanent abode in these mountains. The Indians used to bring tributes of gold to the priests, but would not reveal the site of the hidden mines.

The principal mines of Argentina, that are being worked to-day, are in the provinces of Rioja and Catamarca, in the northwestern part of the republic, and in Mendoza. The most important are undoubtedly the Famatima copper mines of Rioja. The government has recently constructed a wonderful aerial wire ropeway here which is really a marvel and has greatly aided in transporting the metals. The main ropeway is nearly twenty-five miles in length, with its highest terminal nearly fourteen thousand feet above sea level. Power is available for control and to assist the upward traffic. One span of this wonderful ropeway is half a mile in length where it cuts across a deep valley.

Argentina possesses some fine marble quarries and their production has been gradually increasing. The production of gold and silver is comparatively small. Within the past year petroleum has been found near Mendoza, and a number of good wells have been sunk. If this valuable oil can be found in large quantities it will go a long ways toward solving the problem of cheaper fuel. Nearly three million tons of coal are imported annually to supply the need of fuel. Nearly all of this coal is imported from England, the shipments from the United States in 1909 being only a few thousand tons, but petroleum products are nearly all imported from North America. The value of the products of the mines of Argentina will average nearly a million dollars a year.

CHAPTER VI
THE PROVINCE OF GOOD AIRS

“You must see La Plata.”

I heard this from so many Argentinians that it led me to visit this made-to-order city of which they are so proud. It is an hour’s ride—thirty-five miles—from Buenos Aires to La Plata. After leaving the suburbs the train crosses the dead level of the pampas in a line as direct as the crow would fly. Through great estancias, with their immense herds of cattle and flocks of sheep, the line passes, after escaping from the suburbs of the metropolis, with a half dozen small and unimportant towns along the route, in which the one-storied buildings are ever built in monotonous lines with the front wall a little higher than the rest in order to give it a fictitious height. One explanation given me for this high front is that it acted as a protection in street fighting. Whether built for that purpose or not, this parapet has frequently been used by both civilians and troops as a protection in the revolutionary scrimmages which have been so frequent in the past. At last the train runs into an imposing station that would be a credit to almost any city, with a façade which is really an architectural gem. This is La Plata, the wonderful.

When the national government appropriated the city of Buenos Aires as the national capital the inhabitants of the province of the same name, which had hitherto dominated the country, were highly indignant. Unable to change the official edict they set to work to create a rival city. At that time there was not even a settlement at La Plata, and only a few mud huts denoted its location. A site down the river was chosen in order to secure a deeper natural channel, and avoid the necessity of so much dredging to keep the channel free from mud. A new port, called Enseñada, was constructed, with commodious docks, the new capital having been located five miles back from the water front. To complete this stupendous undertaking the province assumed a bonded debtedness of $70,000,000, most of which was obtained in Europe, and not until then was the vanity of these provincials appeased. It was one of the greatest follies that the Argentinians have ever engaged in.

It was in 1881 that the government decided to build this new capital for the province of Buenos Aires. It was to be a model city, and worthy of its rank as the chief city of the wealthiest province of an opulent republic. To this end the finest architectural raiment for a corporate body that could possibly be conceived was erected, with all the ostentation possible in a Latin nation. Magnificent public buildings, palatial law courts, a great cathedral and stately edifices of every kind—all were comprised in the scheme. Broad avenues paved and planted with rows of trees, stretching their long lengths between the imposing facades, were traced upon paper by the architects, and builders were set at work to reproduce these plans out of brick, stone and mortar, and the resulting city of La Plata stands to-day as their monument.

The city was laid out with an astonishing degree of boldness and originality, and upon an ambitious scale. It was hoped by the builders that its splendour would bring to mind those pictured conceptions of the perfect town. Each edifice was to be so placed as to lend its own proper proportion of dignity. In this model town there was to be no crowding together of palaces, as had heretofore been common in Spanish cities, nor were rows of squalid little one-storied houses to be permitted to jostle with their imposing fronts the walls of stately palaces. No, not in La Plata. To accomplish this result the resplendent palaces were planted at regular intervals about the city, each in its own garden and faced by its own boulevard and plaza, and separated from the next one by a becoming row of private houses. There was to be no confusion or congestion as a result of buildings crowded together, and no vulgar hustling. In justice to the builders it may be said that there never has been anything of the latter quality, for the strenuous life has never yet found lodgment in La Plata.

The first impression upon the visitor is very peculiar, for a somnolent atmosphere seems to prevail. As one emerges from the station two broad thoroughfares open up before him. These broad streets, which are still designated by numbers, with their extensive sweep of carriageway, were designed to resound to the hoofs of horses and the noise of wheels; their broad pavements were intended to ring with the tramp of multitudinous feet—but they do not. The founders of La Plata reckoned without their host. One may gaze down the entire length of a street and not see a single figure; one might stroll through any of the little parks set out with trees and palms and find every bench unoccupied. The vast white palaces are practically empty. Occasionally one will see an electric car sweep leisurely around the corner, or a cabman lazily waiting for a “fare,” but the car does not hurry and the cab driver does not worry over his inactivity. One wonders where the inhabitants are. The fact is that the few who do live here fill so little of the space that they are seldom seen. It has never succeeded in becoming a residential city in spite of the beauty of the parks, the low rentals and other advantages. The grass is abundant everywhere. In fact some people are so unfeeling as to assert that the green grass grows all round, round, round, as the song has it. As it is, the green tufts thrust themselves upward in many places through the pavements and around the rough cobble-stones of the driveways. In some of the suburban streets a little more grass would make a solid lawn. It sprouts from crevices of neglected walls and roofs, and even from the uncompleted walls of the great cathedral, which lies in neglect. This structure, great in plan, is oppressively desolate in its abandonment and the silence that broods over it. The sparrows build their nests within its yawning walls and are undisturbed, and one wonders how long such a condition will remain.

Magnificent buildings have been built and are in use. The Government Palace is a beautiful building set facing a great and imposing plaza. The Legislative Palace, Municipal Building, Law Courts, Bank of the Province of Buenos Aires and other palaces are all splendid buildings, worthy the capital of one of our own states. In them some life is visible, and one will find a number of clerks busy over the books in which the records of the provincial business are kept. The officials prefer to live in Buenos Aires and make the trip back and forth each day, spending only a few hours in La Plata. A university, one of three in the republic, has been built with beautiful buildings adapted to its purposes, and a number of students are enrolled on its roster. There is a beautiful park with a fine zoological garden where the roar of the lion and the trumpet of the elephant disturb the silence of the groves. It contains one of the finest avenues of trees that I have ever seen. In the centre of this park has been built a large museum, which is a treasure-house of curios of the native tribes of South America. When the public offices close after five or six hours of opened doors, and the evening train pulls out for Buenos Aires, La Plata sinks into repose until another day breaks.

There was a time when La Plata was a livelier place. The docks at Enseñada were much used before the new docks were constructed at the larger capital. Now the great boats, flying the flags of Great Britain, France and Germany, steam majestically by this sleepy port and unload their passengers and freight at Argentina’s metropolis. Nevertheless this city with its palatial buildings and broad streets, overspread with silent gloom, is still the official capital of a province. There are those who say that La Plata is only sleeping, merely in a state of coma from which it will emerge one day and surprise the world with its great and wonderful doings. Perhaps—maybe; that is for the future to decide. If it has a great future it probably lies in the docks at Enseñada, although a large slaughtering house has recently been built here by an American firm. At the present time it is enjoying a prolonged siesta from which nothing seems to awaken it. Built for a hundred thousand people there are not more than half of that number that live there.

The province of Buenos Aires is the richest and most populous province in Argentina. Including the federal capital, it contains one-third of the entire population. On several occasions this province seriously considered secession from the rest of the republic—but that was before it lost the metropolis. In area it is more than twice the size of Illinois, and resembles that state very much in its physical characteristics. It contains a number of towns of fair size, and a trip across the province to Bahia Blanca, about three hundred miles distant, is a very interesting journey.

There are two or three different routes, but the most interesting one is that via Tandil. Passing out through the English suburb of Temperly, the main line heads out for the level pampa with scarcely a turn for mile after mile. The fields are thickly dotted with cattle and sheep, for this is one of the best stock countries in the republic. Although a number of small stations are passed it is not until Dolores is reached, after a run of more than a hundred miles, that there is a town of any size. This is a city of probably eight thousand, with the usual plaza and church of the Camp towns, and is a junction point for several branches of the Great Southern. It is the seat of the courts of justice for the southern portion of the province, and has a prison of considerable size. At Maipu is the branch for Mar del Plata, the seaside resort, but the main line turns westward. This passes through a fine pastoral district where Scotch landowners are very numerous and prosperous. Soon afterwards the railroad enters the only transverse range of hills in Argentina, some of the peaks of which reach an elevation of from three to four thousand feet and furnish a pleasing variation to the monotony of the horizontal landscape. Tandil, which is distant from Buenos Aires more than two hundred miles, is picturesquely located among these hills and has a population of several thousand. About three miles from the town is the famous rocking stone, which is an irregular flattened cone about thirteen feet in height and sixteen feet in diameter at its base, and is so beautifully poised on the edge of a slope that it sometimes moves even in a slight breeze. And yet the combined strength of several teams of horses has been unable to move it from its base. There are many other picturesque spots and curiosities in this neighbourhood, and there is a very pretty waterfall formed by a stream which comes down among the hills. Juarez and Tres Arroyos are the only other towns of any importance until the thriving new port of Bahia Blanca is reached, at the mouth of the Naportá Grande.

Bahia Blanca, the “white bay,” is a thriving place. It is a name the significance of which is not yet wholly appreciated in the United States, or the world at large, for its importance has not yet been fully grasped. The growth of this city has been phenomenal, mushroom-like, and yet its development has been substantial. As a port its strategic value cannot well be overestimated. It is the only safe naval harbour for the big battleships, and the government has built an arsenal and docks on the eastern side of the estuary, called the Puerto Militar. It is a natural outlet for one of the richest agricultural sections of the republic. The wheat which was formerly shipped to Buenos Aires, and exported from that port, is now loaded on ocean liners from Bahia Blanca, and forwarded to Europe. The railroads are pushing out their lines west and south, and opening up new wheat and grazing lands each year, so that the shipments from this port are jumping by leaps and bounds. Not very long ago this site was nothing but a sandy waste, with an unimportant settlement at which only coasting vessels stopped. Now there are electric tramways and lights, great elevators and a good system of docks. The value of the land has increased and a few far-sighted individuals have reaped fortunes. The “boom,” if such it can be called, is still on as development progresses. The Great Southern Railway at first had a monopoly on the business of this port, but the Buenos Aires and Pacific has built into it, and now claims a share. The port works of the Great Southern form an addition by themselves and are called Ingeniero White, in honour of the engineer who built them. Several moles and elevators with an enormous capacity and which cost a million and a half of dollars have been constructed at these terminals. Puerto Galvan is the name of the Pacific Railroad terminals. To what extent Bahia Blanca will become a rival to Buenos Aires is uncertain, but it seems to me that there is room for both and to spare. It now ranks next after Rosario. Three hundred miles is a goodly distance, and each town ought to continue to grow rapidly, and neither necessarily at the expense of the other. Bahia Blanca is bound to expand, as she has the great undeveloped western pampas and the fertile part of Northern Patagonia right at her very doors. At the present time Bahia Blanca has a population in the neighbourhood of fifty thousand inhabitants.

Between Bahia Blanca and the Andes lie three rich territories, all of them of goodly size. The most important one at present is La Pampa, which is directly west of the southern half of the province of Buenos Aires. It is about the size of Iowa and is rapidly being populated and stocked. A few years ago this territory was entirely undeveloped, and the gaucho in charge of wandering herds of sheep held full sway. Railway extensions brought private ownership, however, and now this territory bids fair to become one of the richest sections of the republic. The Western and Southern Railways are both continually pushing extensions across the fertile plains, and material prosperity everywhere follows. It now has a population of about one person to each square mile. According to statistics it is third in the number of sheep of all the territorial divisions, which is a good showing for a new country. Wheat and flax culture is also being rapidly developed. Toay and General Acha are the only towns of any importance, the latter of which is the capital.

The territory of Rio Negro lies directly to the south of La Pampa and stretches from the Atlantic Ocean to the Andes. It lies between the Colorado and Chubut Rivers, and is watered by the Negro River as well. Along these rivers there are a number of estancias already located, most of which are owned by companies and many by foreign landowners. A new branch of the Southern Railway has been constructed across this territory, following the Rio Colorado, the red river, for some distance, then cutting across to and following the Rio Negro, the black river, as far as the town of Neuquen. This has led to the establishment of other estancias along those streams. All three of these rivers carry an abundance of water, and it will not be long until the question of irrigation will be taken up on the same lines as in our own western states; then there will be a development take place that will make this land blossom as the rose. The possibilities are there and the great demands for grains will sooner or later lead to this action. There is no doubt that those lands are fully as rich as any part of Colorado or California, and that is saying a good deal. The Rio Negro and Rio Chubut are both navigable for vessels of light draught for a considerable distance.

Neuquen is another large territory, as large as Ohio, lying right at the base of the Andes. It is mostly mountainous and as yet very little is known about this province, as few have visited it. Its population does not exceed fifteen or twenty thousand, many or most of whom are Indians. The rainfall is not abundant, but it is well watered by the streams which are formed by the melting snows. It is possible that it could be cultivated just as profitably as the province of Mendoza, which joins it on the north, and which partakes of much of the same character of soil and physical configuration as Neuquen. Chos Malal, a small town in the mountains, is the capital, but it is difficult of access. A railroad extension, however, is now headed in that direction.

The slopes of the Andes here and in many parts of the republic are covered with valuable timbers. If these timbers were near the markets or easy transport they would be worth fabulous sums. As it is Argentina imports nearly all her building lumber at high prices, with an undeveloped wealth of timber within her own borders. Most of these forest lands have scarcely been explored, and it would be impossible to give even a faint estimate of their real value, but it is undoubtedly very great.

CHAPTER VII
THE MYSTERIOUS LAND OF THE PATA-GOAS

Patagonia has always been a land of mystery. Only a few years ago the geographers labelled it “no man’s land,” because no nation seemed interested in it. Later Chile and Argentina, longing to expand, cast envious eyes upon this great territory immediately adjoining their borders, and parcelled it out between themselves. The Andes was made the general boundary line, and this gave to Argentina by far the greatest share of the territory. Even Tierra del Fuego, the Land of Fire, was thus divided, so that each nation has a share in that large island which is the last inhabited land on the way to the Antarctic continent.

Patagonia impresses the traveller as vast and elemental. Its natural configuration is stamped with these characteristics. From its northern boundary it tapers gradually to the Straits of Magellan. The Argentine section naturally divides itself into three divisions, running north and south. Along the Atlantic shores lie the pampas, the flat and level plains. These plains rise in gently graduated terraces toward the west, one level plain above another. Then follows a network of lagoons and lakes, some connected by rivers and others by channels, many of which shift and alter under the climatic influences. On the western side the Andes range of the Cordilleras stand out against the sky like a mighty barrier. They are a tumult of mountains ever climbing upwards, their lofty gorges choked with glaciers, their hollows holding great lakes of ice-cold blue waters, and about their bases stretch thousands of miles of forests of which only the mere edge has been explored. Thus it is that the vast extent of Patagonia offers the most extreme and the most abrupt contrasts. Flat pampa, with hardly an undulation in sight, stands in sight of mountains almost inaccessible in their steep escarpments. Side by side these contrasts lie, mountain against plain, forest against thorn-scrub. The wind is the only element common to both. For a thousand miles the Atlantic coast is a low-lying, level, treeless series of bleak and brown downs, with few bays that offer protection to shipping; the Pacific coast, in Chile, is dented and notched with fiords, and the shores are covered with dense forests due to the excessive rainfall.

Patagonia is a land of big distances. On the Atlantic coastland it is often a ride of three or four days from one farm to another. The holdings are measured by the square league and not by the quarter-section. There is one farm that covers five hundred square leagues, or more than two million acres of land, and is larger than the state of Rhode Island. No wonder the distances seem almost appalling to the traveller. One accustomed only to cities would indeed feel very forlorn here. As one travels into the interior, a white face becomes more and more rare; empty leagues upon leagues surround you on every side. One seems to stand alone with only the wind, the mirages and the limitless distances, and the blue sky above for a canopy. This wild land appears, according to geologists, to have been the last habitation of the greater beasts of preceding ages. It is now one of the last to be occupied by civilized man, and receive its proper share of the human population.

The discovery of Patagonia dates from 1520, when that intrepid explorer, Ferdinand Magellan, forced his way down the east coast of South America in the face of continuous storms. With his little fleet of five vessels he pushed on in the hope of finding a strait which connected the two oceans. He was compelled to winter one season along the coast of Patagonia. A mutiny broke out among his captains and only one remained loyal. Two of the others were executed, and one was marooned upon the shore. For months no signs of life appeared on shore, although expeditions were sent a short distance into the interior; but one day a painted savage, very tall, appeared. One of the crew wrote, “So tall was this man that we came up to the level of his waist-belt. He was well enough made and had a broad face, painted red, with yellow circles around his eyes, and two heart-shaped spots on his cheeks.” Thus was the report of giants inhabiting Patagonia first carried back to civilization. They were named Pata-goas, big feet, and that name has since clung to the country. Sir Francis Drake visited these shores a half-century later with a small squadron, and during the succeeding hundred years a number of navigators skirted along the coast. Several of them brought back tales of the giants, but these have since been found erroneous, as the Indians are not much taller than the North American Indians, whom they strongly resemble in physical characteristics. Darwin visited this country early in the last century and gave the first detailed account of the country and people, and his report dwelt strongly upon the desolate character of the land. Since then it has become better known, and a number of travellers as well as scientists have visited Patagonia and recorded their impressions. The Chilean and Argentine boundary commissions have also been at work for several years, establishing the international boundaries, and their reports have contained much valuable information.

On the eastern coast there are a number of settlements, such as Santa Cruz, San Julian and Gallegos, at the mouths of the half-dozen rivers which pour their icy waters across the wind-swept plains. Gallegos is the name given by the Spaniards to the strong west wind, so this name was given to a river, and, finally, to the little settlement at its mouth. This village of corrugated iron is a Mecca for the sheep-men and Indians who dwell in the vicinity. From it a few highways may be traced out on the pampas, where they disappear. The Welsh have founded settlements at Dawson, Gaimon and Trelew, which have grown into thriving colonies, and there are a few smaller ones in the interior. The Welsh settlements are made up of good sturdy folk, who are excellent pioneers for an undeveloped country.

The sheep ranchers on these lonely pampas are interesting studies. Some of them own hundreds of thousands of these useful little animals, and there is one company that possesses more than two millions which are kept on their several ranches. These are usually divided into herds of a couple of thousand each. Each flock has several square miles of pasture allotted to it. The shepherd has a number of dogs who aid him in controlling the recalcitrant ones, and they understand their masters’ orders very well. These herders are Scotchmen, Germans and half-breeds. The animals feed all the year around on the pastures. The successful ranch in Patagonia must possess both a winter camp and summer camp. The winter camp is land available for pasturage which is protected from the fierce winds and where the snow does not fall too deep for the sheep to get at the grass, as no provender is put up for them. The summer camp is any other grazing land which is so exposed that sheep could not feed on it during the winter. From this it may easily be seen that the number of sheep that can be maintained is determined not by the total acreage, but by the extent of winter camp. Even under the best conditions an unusually severe winter greatly decimates a flock. At the end of winter the shepherds always go out over the ranch, taking the pelts off the bodies of the animals that have perished during the winter. Another feature to be sought is accessibility for the bringing in of supplies and taking out of the wool. For this reason most of the ranches are located near the rivers so that boats can be used. From some places in the interior it is a trip occupying days and weeks for the ranchman to transport the wool to market.

The estancia buildings are usually insignificant affairs, for all the material has to be brought long distances. One of the most distinctive features is a large square corral into which the stock can be driven, and the miles upon miles of wire fencing which spread out across the plains in a thin line. Every farm has its own store, where the men get their supplies at good prices. The “scab” is one of the enemies of the sheep here, as elsewhere, and the ranchers constantly fight it. The “dip” is usually employed, in which the sheep are washed several times each year. It is expensive to keep the sheep free from this troublesome little parasite, which spreads so rapidly, but it must be done, for it will eat into the flesh and the sheep will frequently die before many days after infection. The dip fluid is placed in large vats so deep that the sheep must swim in order to get through it, and they are then driven into it at one end and emerge on a dripping board at the other side, where they are allowed to remain for a few minutes for the “dip” to drip and run back into the pool. The cost of running a sheep ranch in Patagonia is comparatively small because of the low value of the land and low wages paid.

It is not difficult to leave civilization behind in Patagonia. For hundreds of miles in the interior there are few pioneers and only an occasional tribe of wandering Indians. Otherwise it is absolutely unpeopled. Near the Cordilleras it is practically houseless; scarcely a human inhabitant can be found, and little animal life flourishes under the snow peaks and in the unmeasured spaces of virgin forest. There are hundreds of square miles of forest land, gorges, open slopes and terraced hollows, on which the eye of a white man has never yet fallen.

For the traveller across this vast land it is necessary to take a supply of food and an entire camp outfit, including a reliable guide. A man alone seems very puny within this vast setting. The wind-blown grass stretches out as far as the eye can see, with the thorn and a green shrub called “poison-bush” for variety. In other places the surface undulates in graceful monotony, and occasionally a swift-flowing river cuts across the plains on its impatient way to the sea. Mirages like lakes or squadrons of cavalry will often be seen near the horizon. Many long reaches are almost desert wastes and are known as the “land without water.” Over the sterile wastes the cold winds from the Andes sweep and raise great dust and sand storms which are almost blinding and suffocating.

Herds of wild cattle are found in some places, although not in such numbers as the stories that are sometimes heard down in that region would lead one to believe. The guanaco is the principal game animal, and helps out the traveller in the way of food. This animal is very much like a wild llama and they are found by the thousands, although generally in small herds. They look very picturesque when seen in an attentive attitude, with their long sleek necks stretched out in inquiry or curiosity. Wild ostriches may also be found in many parts, while duck and geese are generally plentiful where there is water. Of the wild animals the puma is the most dangerous, and will sometimes attack a man. He is a terrible foe to the sheep farmer, levying heavy toll upon his flocks before strychnine or a bullet puts an end to his career. The wolf is another enemy of the farmer. The curious armadillo is quite common, and is considered very good eating by the hunter.

Lake Buenos Aires is one of the big lakes of Patagonia. One writer, who spent several weeks in that vicinity, says: “Lake Buenos Aires is certainly the very heart of the wind’s domain. While we were there the wind never died down; it blew all the time, often lifting sand and gravel, and sometimes a great piece of our camp fire, sheltered as that was. It raged on most days, blowing so hard that most people in England would not have cared to venture out of doors.” This lake is the largest of a chain of lakes which lie in the foothills of the great Andes system. It is fully seventy-five miles in length from north to south, and its waters are in perpetual motion from the action of the winds. Near the lake is a stretch of arid land that is the very picture of desolation. There is a very horror of bareness about it that almost makes the eyes sick to look upon it. Right near it is one of those sudden contrasts that one will find in Patagonia, fine and fertile land where sweet flowers bloom in profusion. Lake Argentine is another large lake to the south of the other. It is a great sheet of blue water, is higher up, and the peaks of the Cordilleras are nearer. This lake and those farther south are often filled with small icebergs, for the climate is getting colder all the way.

At almost the southernmost point of the mainland lies the little city of Punta Arenas. It is situated on the Straits of Magellan, and is sheltered from the worst storms by the many islands which lie between it and the Antarctic seas. Punta Arenas is the most southerly city in the world, several hundred miles farther south than the Cape of Good Hope. There is plenty of building space left in this city, but a few years ago, when the boom was on, the people had visions of a southern Chicago. Fabulous prices were asked for building lots and real estate agents were almost as plentiful as the Indians. That time has passed and the town has dwindled. Its latitude is about that of Labrador, but it is much more equable and is not so severe as many imagine. Perhaps fifteen thousand people live here and seem to be contented. It is a very mixed population. You can hear Spanish, English, German, Italian, Russian and even the Chinese mingled with the guttural tongues of the Indians. The Scotch are probably the most thrifty of the inhabitants and many of them have lived there two or three generations. There are many rough characters, some even who have drifted from the mining camps of our western states. The loafing places are the bars, where many brawls occur during the long winters. There are clubs, however, where the well-to-do gather and have their games and drink their favourite drinks just as they do the world over. Most of the buildings are cheap one-story affairs, frequently built of the corrugated iron so common in this land. Punta Arenas is a free port, and this makes it a great supply station for vessels passing through the straits. All the vessels passing through the straits call there for supplies and coal, and this business, together with the trade in whaling products, wool and furs, furnish the inhabitants with employment. It is one of the great wool-exporting ports of the world, having shipped more than sixteen million pounds of that commodity in a single season, and four hundred thousand pelts. It is a beautiful ride through the Straits of Magellan, with their many narrow channels, and the icebergs, which are always in view.