122

START FOR THE PAMPAS.

carriages at the door, a servant on the roof of one fastening the luggage, and several peons standing about. "I am off before them," thought I. I then called on Mr. Southern to bid him good-bye. He smiled as I walked in, in poncho and long boots, wished me a safe journey, but shook his head as if he never expected to see me again. Poor fellow ! the thought was prophetic, for he has since died of the yellow fever at Rio Janeiro.

Pavon overtook me just outside the town; and putting our horses into a hand gallop, we began our ride of a thousand miles.

THE

FIRST STAGE THE

ARAUCANIANS

CHAPTER IX.

POST-HOUSES- LIFE ON THE ROAD-THE

INDIANS-HABITS OF THE GAUCHOS-A SCOTCH SETTLER-THE
INDIAN RAVAGES-AN ESCAPED CAPTIVE-AN
ALARM-A STORM-FIRST VIEW OF THE ANDES-MENDOZA-LIFE
IN THE ANDES-THE MOUNTAIN PASSES-FORDING THE TORRENT
-SUMMIT OF THE PASS-THE DESCENT.

THERE is a line of post-houses all the way from Buenos Ayres to Mendoza, established by the Spaniards. I posted across, and employed four horses the whole distance-one for myself, one for Pavon, one for the baggage (though I had but little), and one for the postilion, who goes each stage to show the road, and to take the horses back. The charge for the four, if I remember rightly, was about a shilling per league. This cleared everything; but I generally gave the postilion something after his ride, by way of buonomano. The horses are always paid for at the post where they are hired.*

On leaving the city, the road was bad for a short distance, and full of ruts and pools; but it became clearer by degrees

* The distance from Buenos Ayres to Mendoza is three hundred and eighteen leagues.

as we got more into the open country. We changed horses at Figuera, a distance of three leagues, and went on four leagues more to Puente de Marques. The horses were bad, but cantered along, and I was surprised to find how easily they seemed to do their work. At Puente de Marques, Pavon agreed that it was better for us to stop the night, although the sun was not yet down. He said there was danger of robbers, and the postmaster corroborated his opinion. "There always were robbers," he said, "until the thistles were withered." "Quando hay cardos, hay siempre gauchos," "and you have got a good poncho," added he. I thought my poncho not a great temptation, and knowing that I had between forty and fifty pounds in gold in my belt and in the carpet-bag, was disgusted at the thought that I might get my throat cut for a tolerable poncho. It is necessary to take a good deal of coin on these expeditions, as I had not only to pay for the horses, but to give Pavon forty dollars for his services, and find him in horses and food-a pretty high guerdon, considering that he was a native of Mendoza, so was going home; but that made no difference. He was an honest fellow, and I had not the least scruple in giving him money without counting it. At Mendoza I should have to hire mules, and did not know what they would cost, and, in fact, I must pay the whole journey till I arrived at Valparaiso, the first place at which I could draw afresh. We stopped at Puente de Marques, unpacked the horses, spread my recado, or saddle, in the post-house for my bed, and put all things to rights. The postmaster went to finish a tank, which he was building by the well, and I walked a few yards off, and looked over the plain. The sun's red orb was just touching the horizon, and cast a ruddy glow over the

low thatched cottage, the well, and the stooping figure. Beyond was nothing but thistles, dark purple in the distance, then reddish and brown in the foreground, but nothing else for miles and miles.

I was off in good time in the morning, and about 10 A.M. arrived at the town of Lujan, where we stopped, though it was not a post; and in a shop I obtained some fried eggs for breakfast. Pavon said that Lujan was a very holy place, and ordered three masses at half-a-dollar each to be said to his patron saint, the Virgin (for his name was Jose Maria) for our safe journey. He did not go to the church, or see the padre, for they did not know where to find him, but left the money with the shop-keeper, who promised to see it all right.

Old Pavon was a strange figure. His age might be fortyfive or fifty, and he looked something between a smuggler and a whipper-in, wearing a wearing a red flannel shirt, darkcoloured poncho, chiripa, drawers, white boots, and a straw hat encircled with red ribbon. His horse was covered with all sorts of things for the journey-alforjas, or saddle-bags, lasso, bolas, maneas, or hobbles for the horse; chifres, bullocks' horns made into bottles, one filled with gin, the other with anise, and numberless other little things. As already remarked, I wore a red band round my white hat, and in my button-hole a red ribbon, with Rosas' sanguinary motto, "Viva la Federacion Argentina, Mueran los salvajes asquerosos immundos Unitarios." It had also an F. o M. (Federacion o Muerte) at each corner. As bread is nowhere to be procured on the Pampas, I had provided myself with a substitute, having obtained twenty ship-biscuits from H.M.S. 'Alecto' at Bucnos Ayres, which would last me well the whole journey, one each day being ample for me. Beef, I

knew, was everywhere to be procured, and generally mutton, if I liked to have it killed. I also carried with me some tea, and arrow-root, and a bag of salt.

As we proceeded, we found the country was a perfect sea of thistles, and from a slight elevation you could see over their tops for miles. The wind whistled mournfully through them, and eddied the downy seed, like snow across the road. They had had notice to quit: the powerful November sun had scorched them up, and they were waiting to be swept down by the first pampero. Their height was not more than six feet, so that you could generally see people riding in them, but not cattle. The road was good, tolerably wide, and of beaten earth, for the thistle does not grow where it is trampled on. In some places were many biscacho holes, with their attendant owls, which stared and bowed at us as we rode past, or rose screeching perpendicularly in the air, if we came close; whilst the biscacho dived into the ground. The post-houses were better than I expected; there was always a tolerable room set apart for travellers, with a hide bedstead, a table, and a chair or two. Some of the poorer dwellings, indeed, had only a mud settle, but it served very well to spread a recado on. When the room was low, I often slept in my Brazilian hammock, swinging it to the rafters, and found it a great luxury, keeping me out of the way of insects, chickens, and dogs.

The people at the post-houses were always very civil and polite, and had a sort of innate good-breeding about them. On arriving and saluting the master, he always rose and returned the salute, asked me to walk in and sit down in the shade, and talked a few minutes; then, if he was engaged in anything, went on with his work without the slightest embar