CHAPTER XVIThe Camp

THE LEMON-SHAPED DOME OF THE CAPITAL.

La Plata has its parks with muddy little ponds and lakes, gardens with beautiful trees, an avenue of giant eucalyptus trees, and its zoological gardens, with a few specimens, that give signs of life that the city could ill spare.

With the exception of Belgrano and Palermo, which are filled with superbly appointed mansions, the suburbs of Buenos Ayres are depressing and sordid. As the town fades into the camp, the houses become poorer and poorer, streets are like quagmires, and old tin cans are utilised for building the shacks occupied by the squalid poor, for, like all great cities, Buenos Ayres has them in great abundance, a mixed lot of the unfit of European and native races.

But the cities are only the small part of Argentina. They are the exchanges rather than the creators of its wealth, a wealth which lies in the far-spreading Pampas, which form the natural feature of the republic. Much has been written upon them, and nearly everyone who has undertaken the task has set on record their two salient characteristics, their apparent limitlessness and their deadly monotony. The first hour’s journey on any of the railways that run from Buenos Ayres is over an unbroken, expansive sea of green, the second hour is the same, and if you go travelling on until sundown, the same landscape will meet the eye. With certain necessary variations, Swinburne’s lines on the North Sea might be applied to the Pampas of the Argentine:

“Miles and miles, and miles of desolation!Leagues on leagues on leagues without a change!Sign or token of some oldest nation,Here would make the strange land not so strange”;

or, as another poet has phrased it, the vast prairie seems:

“Almost as limitless as the unbounded sea, but without its changing smile.”

But the dweller in cities will not be depressed by this changelessness of landscape. He will rather welcome the escape from the congested haunts of man, drinking in with gusto the fresh clean air that has blown over countless leagues of grassland, and revel in the sense of liberty which comes when one stands in the great open spaces and vast solitudes of nature. If the unending sweep of green and the herds of innumerable cattle become oppressive, the eye can seek relief in following flights of hawks and other birds, or in searching for a clump

DESOLATION.

of stunted trees, or the round head of a wind-pump, the sweep of a small stream, the occasional hut of a shepherd, or the more imposing “estancia,” as the Argentina farmhouse is called. Cattle, horses, and sheep are never long out of the line of a traveller’s vision, and with them the herdsmen of the plains, the “gauchos.” Although the Pampas form so large a part of the territory, they do not occupy it all, for the country is so long that it boasts all sorts of climates, from the tropical to the arctic. To the north subtropical forests abound; to the west the plains fade away into the mighty Andes, which tower 23,000 feet towards the sky; while to the south lie the bleak hills and arid plains of Patagonia. Cattle-raising, horse-breeding, wheat-growing, and meal preparation, although the staple industries of the Argentine, do not exhaust the list. Mendoza, situated at a point where the Pampas merge into the foot-hills of the Andes, is celebrated for its vineyards. Poplar trees give shelter from the cold mountain winds, and the scene might almost be laid in the Rhone valley. Woods, streams, and lakes give a diversity which is welcome to the traveller who comes from across the plains. Mendoza has plenty of wide streets and low one-story houses. Shady trees line the roads, and streams of water run down the gutters all day long. In the hot dusty weather an army of boys and men, equipped with buckets attached to long poles, sprinkle the streets with water from the runnels. Little bridges ofplanks are formed across the gutters where they are too wide to step across. In the dark and smoky interiors of the workmen’s cafés and wineshops merry little groups of bronzed and grizzly bearded peons sit round heavy, old-fashioned tables, sipping wine out of great flagons, smoking big black cigars, gambling, and playing cards. Women, with jet-black eyes, and mantillas, move leisurely about the streets, seeking always the shady side, or sit upon stiff wooden chairs placed outside the entrances to their homes, plying their fans vigorously to keep themselves cool, and the flies from settling. The town is laid out with rigid symmetry; the streets are wide and straight, as if drawn with a ruler, and cross one another at right angles. New buildings have sprung up in the principal street, which lies at the lower end of the town, and all the architectural fads and fancies of recent years are represented. Buenos Ayres has set the fashion for all the newer and progressive towns and cities in the republic, and an effort is made in Mendoza to emulate the outside cafés that crowd upon the pavements of the Avenida in the capital. Round the tables, under the awnings, a crowd of the youth of the city congregate before breakfast and dinner, and all the latest styles in clothes are to be seen, and the very latest gossip heard. The Grand Hotel, which occupies a large portion of one side of the Plaza, is an old-fashioned but very comfortable caravansary with flowery patios and lofty rooms, and a fore court in front, which is used as an open-air dining space. As rain seldom, if ever, falls upon this town, it is always safe to take a seat and a meal in this pleasant spot. The popularity of the courtyard is contributed to in the evenings by the cinema pictures which are thrown on to a screen stretched on one side. Crowds gather round the tables to witness the free show, and visitors have opportunities of mixing with the better class inhabitants. The evenings are very hot during the summer months, but the days are stifling. Dust is wafted about in great clouds, and adds to the general discomfort of the sweltering heat, and the noonday siesta is the only refuge for those fortunate enough to indulge in this custom of the country. A public park has recently been laid out on the rising ground on the outskirts of the town. The fertility of the soil, assisted by artificial irrigation, has produced a fine shady spot, surrounded by rich green foliage. Firs, poplars, palms, and smaller plants of many varieties flourish on this beautiful

LANDSCAPE NEAR MENDOZA.

site. The great Cordillera forms a background of surpassing beauty to these gardens, as well as an almost impregnable barrier between the republics of Argentine and Chili. In a corner of the park, which is dotted with pools of muddy water, meant for lakes, there is a small collection of animals and birds, hardly large enough to be called a “Zoo.” The best specimens it possesses are the giant condors, which are found upon the surrounding heights of the Andes. These great birds are formidable enemies to travellers on the hills, and many stories are told of their prowess. That they attack sheep and even men can readily be credited, for their outstretched wings frequently measure from eight to ten feet across, while their beaks and talons are equally strong and powerful. A flock of these aerial monsters, sailing near a narrow mountain pass, would scare the nerves of any traveller, for an encounter with them on the edge of a precipice is rather a one-sided affair, in which the odds are all in favour of the birds. The other exhibits in the gardens are mostly native fauna, and there is plenty of room for future extensions. The vineyards round the town and in the surrounding districts are shaded by tall poplar trees, and irrigated by small canals, for nature is all

THE BRIDGE OF THE INCA.

too sparing of the “gentle rain” in this sunny region. The water for these canals is derived from mountain streams, formed by the melted snow, and there is no limit to quantities available. The dry air of Mendoza and the altitude (it is 2700 feet above sea-level) render it a most desirable place of residence for persons troubled with pulmonary complaints, and the perpetual sunshine which covers the landscape makes for cheerfulness, in spite of the heat. The wine of this district is much appreciated locally, although the bulk of it finds its market in the provinces of Buenos Ayres and Santa Fé. The best qualities are really good, although they might not tempt the connoisseur accustomed to the wines of France to forsake his vintage. Mendoza is an important station on the Trans-Andean Railway route, and many passengers from Buenos Ayres to Valparaiso find it a pleasant resting-place on the long and trying journey. After nearly twenty-four hours in the train which crosses the monotonous plains, a day’s or a night’s rest at Mendoza acts as a pick-me-up of which delicate people should always avail themselves. Although the railway across or through the summit of the Andes is now completed, and is available for passengers nearly the whole year round, the summer months from November to April are the best for making this trip. Until quite recently the seven-hour journey by coach or muleback, from Las Cuevas to Salado, deterred many from making the journey, but now that the trains run backwards and forwards through the tunnel at the summit, no one considers the journey

CROSSING THE HILLS.

in the light of an undertaking. The scenery is grand. Majestic and rugged mountain tops covered with dazzling white snow lie round on all sides, and as the train winds round the slopes, over valleys and ravines, an endless succession of strange rocky forms are passed. Just before coming to Las Cuevas the train stops at a little station, where there is a small hotel patronised by mountaineers and excursionists who desire to spend a day or two among the rugged peaks. It is nearly nine thousand feet above sea-level, and quite near to the railway track—a curious compact mass of stones and gravel forms a natural bridge over a small river. This bridge gives its name to the station—Punta del Inca. Many passages in the journey are awe-inspiring, and as the route follows that taken by San Martin on his famous march into Chili a good idea can be formed of the difficult nature of his undertaking. Great brown hills, destitute of vegetation, rocky and sandy, predominate. Immense boulders, which threaten to fall at any moment, hang menacingly over the track, which is protected in many places by stout iron sheds. Fallen boulders and rocks brought down by storms and the melting snows lie scattered in wild disorder over the valleys. The scenes are full of a melancholy which even the bright sunlight reflected from the snowy peaks cannot dispel. The distant peak of Aconcagua rising to the enormous height of nearly twenty-three thousand feet, comes into view from time to time as the train winds around its tortuous course. At the highest points reached by the line many of the passengers suffer from the “mountain sickness,” but only a few resolve to brave the “Straits” in future rather than repeat the Andean journey. At Soldado, the frontier station, the customsexamine the baggage, and at Los Andes carriages are changed, and the journey down to Santiago and Valparaiso, through richly wooded slopes, is accomplished in about four hours. The traffic between Chili and Argentina is steadily increasing, and the establishment of the Trans-Andean Railway has done much to bring about a more intimate friendship between the two nations.

A GLIMPSE OF ACONCAGUA.

The history of the Argentine nation has followed similar lines to those of its sister republics. The conquest by the Spaniards was followed by a long colonial period, which came to an end when the people, after a desperate struggle, won their independence. Since then it has had its wars with neighbouring States, and, like all the rest of the republics, innumerable internecine quarrels. But of late years more peaceful counsels have prevailed, and the settlement of the boundary dispute with Chili, through the more sensible medium of arbitration, is a good augury for the future. Out of the war for independence a great and commanding personality emerges. General San Martin might almost be called the Brutus of South America—the noblest of them all. The Argentines recognise this, and have expressed their admiration and gratitude by erecting a statue to him in the public square of every town in the country, an act which though admirable is apt to bore the traveller. Brave, patriotic, able in warfare, and unselfish are the qualities which can be ascribed in all fairness to San Martin. In many respects he may be overshadowed by Bolivar, but he had none of the latter’s weakness, none of his faults or crimes. His sole aim was to drive the oppressor out of his native land, and he not only succeeded in doing this, but also materially assisted in breaking the power of Spain in Chili and Peru. When his great task was accomplished he retired quietly from the scene of conflict, disdaining to compete for power withself-seeking, unscrupulous politicians. His was a mind utterly incapable of intrigue, so he was content to leave the wily Bolivar to his desperate devices and his colossal dreams of empire.

TRAVELLERS BY A RIVER-SIDE.

TO a European the farms of South America offer such contrasts to those he is familiar with in his own country that he finds it difficult to become accustomed to the immense areas of treeless plains that constitute the estancias of the New World. Everything is on a large scale there. A vast territory, now gently rolling like a heaving sea, now flat as an unruffled lake, with few objects to break the eternal straightness of the distant horizon. The atmosphere and the many illusions it creates offer the greatest variety, however, and as day succeeds day with ceaseless regularity ever changing effects of light and colour diversify the aspect of the landscape. The roads through these unbounded plains are wide-extended tracks, fenced in from the private pastures of the estancias, going generally straight for scores of miles. Driving along these tracks behind four horses in a light covered trap the stranger’s ear is open to receive the softest sound, and eyes to note the slightest variations presented. The silence is broken by the fluttering flight of parrots, pigeons, and small brown owls disturbed from their solemn doze by the approaching team, moving on from perch to perch, always settling ahead to be disturbed again. The lowing of the cattle, the swift stampede of groups of wild horses, and the vast hum of insects break faintly upon the ear. Along the track and in the adjacent fields the whitening bones of animals stare out from the rich verdure that has not quite enwrapped them. These pathetic reminders of the fate that overtakes many of the herd are very plentiful, for whenever an animal dies in the camp, the skin only is removed by the gaucho or cowboy, who comes across it in his daily round, and the carcase is left for the hawks and other carrion-eaters, who lose no time in stripping it of flesh, timeand the elements slowly completing the dissolution, and eventually removing the last vestiges of the animal’s existence.

CHASING RHEAS.

From the beginning to the end of a journey tall rheas flit across the scene. These birds, the ostriches of South America, abound in many districts. They formerly had a geographical range extending from Southern Brazil and Uruguay to as far south as the Rio Negro in distant Patagonia. But the incursions of man, who slew thousands of them for their feathers, have cleared the more cultivated districts, and now they are mostly found on the camps of Uruguay, and the provinces of Corrientes and Missiones, and Paraguay. TheRhea americanaresembles its distant relative in South Africa in general appearance, but differs widely when inspected closely. It boasts three toes, and thus goes one better than the ostrich. It is true its plumage cannot compete with that of the latter bird, for it lacks the beautiful curly wing and tail feathers. This is perhaps an advantage to the bird, although a loss to the country. The feathers of the head and neck are adingy white, those on the crown of the head are of a brownish hue, while the under feathers of the belly and thigh are white, the body feathers being a grey-brown colour. These feathers can only serve the useful purpose of making brushes, and have no claims to be promoted to the high office of adorning ladies’ bonnets. The rhea is a polygamous bird, and the male so thoroughly domesticated that he performs the duty of hatching out the eggs of several of his wives. Their nests of dried grass are easily found, for they have no protection save the long grass that grows around them. On the approach of danger the parent birds sitting upon the nests rise and take to flight, running with rapid strides and outstretched wings, and soon are lost to sight in the airy distance of the plains. On most of the camps the chasing of the birds is forbidden, although instructions are given to destroy their eggs. The race between bird and mounted pursuer disturbs the herds, and does more harm to the live stock than would be compensated for by the feathers that may be plucked. On some native estancias the practice obtains of leasing out the right to capture the birds and pluck them. This is accomplished by throwing three heavy balls attached to the end of a long line round the legs of the running birds. The horseman chases the bird, and swinging the balls round, lets fly with the captive shots, which, if the aim is true, wind the rope round the victim’s legs and quickly bring him to earth. The desired feathers are plucked, and the denuded bird allowed to escape. It is no uncommon thing, however, to see a few gauchos for pure sport surreptitiously chasing these birds. The excitement of the chase appeals to men who live in the saddle, and who love to show off the fleetness of their steeds, and even a chance spectator who witnesses the wild rush of bird and horse across country cannot help catching some of the enthusiasm, and strains his vision to its utmost to witness the finish of a race. There is no shelter for the bird, no way of escaping the unwelcome attentions of his pursuer except by sheer fleetness and endurance. The illimitable camp stretches around for hundreds of miles, and the essential qualities of bird and horse have a fair field and no favour. The rhea is a sociable bird, and is generally found in untrodden regions of the continent, grazing with the llamas and wild cattle in close proximity to or on the estancias that are under man’s control, along with the great herds of sheep and cattle. In this he is likethe ostrich, who accepts the companionship of the antelope and zebra of his native land. There is plenty of room on the great plains for all, and they live at peace with neighbours who offer no competition in the struggle for existence. Another curiosity of the camp is the little “armadillo.” It is true one has to search for them, for they are nocturnal in their habits, and not often encountered in the daytime. They are well protected with a hard, strong shell which covers their backs, and when in danger they can move very quickly on their short, strong legs, or can bury themselves underground until the danger that threatens them is past. Night is the best time to catch them, and dogs are used in the pursuit. The armadillo is found all over South America, and in the lone caves of Brazil the fossil remains of gigantic ancestors of this creature as large as the rhino of Africa have frequently been discovered. The armadillos generally feed on roots, worms, and insects, and they assist the hawks and other carrion-eaters to dispose of the putrefying carcases of cattle, sheep, and horses that strew the camp. The flesh of this armour-plated animal is eaten, and is considered a delicacy by the natives all over the country from north to south. It is generally roasted or smoked in its shell, and the Indians of the Guiana will gorge themselves upon this dish whenever they have an opportunity.

The great distances that separate many of the estancias from the stations or ports give employment to thousands of horses, and the usual method of travelling is either by riding or driving in light covered carts drawn by four horses. If the journey is very long, eight horses are taken, half of them drawing the carriage, the other half being driven on in front, and harnessed at some half-way point, an estancia or “pulperia,” where the first team is released and allowed to rest until the return of the conveyance from its destination. These pulperia or native stores are very primitive affairs. A few sticks mud-plastered form the walls, mother earth the floor, while reeds and grasses thatch the roof. When the traveller arrives at one of these he generally finds a few horses, with fore feet hobbled, dozing under the shade cast by a few trees that are planted round the huts, swishing their tails to keep away the flies. Inside the hut or store two or three gauchos squat on boxes, bags, or barrels, and in the intervals of drinking their native spirit, “bolichi” (a fiery, untamed brand), chat with the “bolichero” or publican. The talk is all of the

A “PULPERIA.”

camp, for the outside world of civilisation is only a name to them, and the echoes of its doings fall but faintly upon their ears. Horses, cattle, the doings of the neighbouring estancias are discussed with the dark-bearded host, who is the newsvendor to the country-side. Shepherds from far outlying “puestos,” who live in solitary isolation from even the other gauchos of the estancias, find their visits to these wayside inns the principal excitement of their lives. Long journeys of scores of miles, that would be an expedition to an English horseman, are nothing tothem. They are as much at home and at their ease in their great saddles, as a club man is in a smoking-room chair, and they can sleep in them as easily as in their beds. The gaucho and his horse are one, inseparable, and if the animal is his own and not one belonging to the estancia, he takes extravagant care of it. With his poncho to keep off the rain, his cigar or cigarette, his “maté” to make his tea in, the gaucho is equipped for any emergency. In some of the “pulperias” there are small billiard tables, not too level; for they rest upon the soft earthen floor, and when not in play are often as not used for seats by the gossips who may happen to forgather. Primitive, yet affording much of the luxury the gaucho finds in his hard life, here also he can replenish his wardrobe and his larder, for belts, knives, “alpagatos” (shoes with rope soles and canvas tops), ponchos, hang all round, and in sacks upon the ground manioca or meal lies ready for a purchaser. The goods retailed are of the cheapest description, most of them of German origin, and especially made to suit the gauchos’ requirements. Primitive ideas obtain amongst these people, and many superstitions too. In one of these “pulperias” I noticed a small pup of only a few days old, lying upon the floor whining piteously for its mother; and on my noticing it, the bolichero explained that it was in transit to a native woman who was suffering from a too liberal secretion of milk. The dress of the gauchos of Uruguay and in the northern provinces of Argentina is strongly reminiscent of the quaint costumes worn by the old-fashioned residents in the island of Marken in the Zuyder Zee. The great baggy trousers called “bombachos” are the feature of the dress common to both, and are so distinctive that one wonders if there can be any connection between them. At all events, they are well suited for riding in a hot climate, for they permit the air to circulate freely about the nether limbs. Apart from the bombachos, the dress of the gaucho has but little in common with the old-time Dutchman, unless it be the tight waistcoats and close-fitting sleeves of the shirts affected by many of them.

They are fond of a touch of colour, however, and although the material out of which their bombachos are made is generally of natural tints, their socks will vie with the most glaring necktie of a Brazilian gentleman. Emerald-green, sky-blue, chrome-yellow, and scarlet-vermilion fresh placed upon a palette are not more striking, and all these are generally selected to enhance

MORNING: GOING TO WORK.

the beauty of their ponchos. The poncho is an overall, a gigantic fore-and-aft bib, sleeveless, but an admirable protection from the heat and rain. Hanging loosely from the shoulders, it covers the arms in its ample folds, and, like the “bombachos,” allows the air to blow round the heated body. This narrow sheet, with a slit in the middle, is found all over South America and in Mexico, and it has many advantages to recommend it over a sleeved garment. In Chili and Peru the better ones are made out of the llama wool, so fine and hard that they are almost impervious to rain, while their lightness is such that their weight is hardly felt. A good poncho in Chili or Peru often costs as much as £20, but those worn by the gauchos of Argentine and Uruguay are quite cheap and tawdry in comparison. The gaucho takes a great pride in the accoutrements of his horse, and he spends considerable time and pains to have his best Sunday or holiday saddle and bridle replete with a collection of old Spanish coins nailed on to the leather wherever opportunity offers. Brilliant red plush or dyed sheepskin is placed over the saddle, and when he is mounted wearing his best “poncho” and “bombachos,” and broad sombrero hat, he cuts a brave figure to go courting. On the camp his life is one of simple monotony, one continuous round of hard riding and attending to the cattle, searching the herds for sickness or rounding them up into “rodeo” to separate those that are ready for the journey to the “saladero,” “frigorifico,” or meat factory, branding the young cattle with the mark of the estancia, either by slitting their ears or puncturing them, or with the hot iron burning in a distinctive number upon the haunch. He rises at daylight, generally about five o’clock, and in the common, soot-stained kitchen—the “cocina” cuts a great hunk of roasted beef, takes a small handful of farina, and washes this down with draughts of yerba sucked through the “bombilla” (a little tube of metal

EVENING.

with a bulbous strainer) from the little scooped-out gourd or maté which he always carries with him. Then his day’s work begins. After harnessing his horse, he mounts and separates from his companions, each of whom takes a different direction—riding out to the particular paddock allotted to his care. In his long, lonely patrol he keeps his eye ever on the alert to discover any sick or dead animals that may be lying in the long grass. His keen and practised eye watches the flight of the carrion-birds, and when he sees these greedy scavengers gathering together he knows their quarry is not far off. With these to guide him, he searches till he finds the carcase, which he carefully inspects to ascertain the cause of death. If it is of a malignant nature, he gathers together dried grass and scrub with branches of trees, which he often has to go miles to discover, and placing them round the carcase, sets fire to it, to prevent infection from spreading to the herds. If the cause of death is not of this nature he quickly removes the hide, ties it upon his saddle, and continues on hisround of inspection. It is six or seven hours before he returns to the estancia, where he pegs out the hides he has brought with him before sitting down to his “almuerzo,” or midday meal. This eleven o’clock repast varies slightly from the one he partook of in the early morning, consisting as it does of “puchero,” or boiled meat instead of roasted. The meal finished, there are duties about the steading to be seen to, and in the heat of the day the siesta to be indulged in. At three o’clock he has another meal, consisting of maté alone, before going out again to the camp; and on his return at seven in the evening he talks over the details of the day’s doings with his fellows over another meal of the boiled beef, “maté,” and farina. After a smoke, a little music from a banjo or guitar played with an untutored skill by one of the party, they seek their beds—simple pallets of canvas stretched between collapsible trestles, something like exaggerated camp-stools. Next day the same round of duties awaits him, except for the variations that arise at special seasons when sheep-shearing, cattle-branding, calf-gelding, horse-breaking are going forward. Large numbers of horses run and breed practically in a wild state upon the estancias, and the task of breaking them in falls to the gauchos. This is an art and a pastime that they revel in, and as they are paid extra for every colt that they render fit for riding, there is no dearth of volunteers for this necessary part of the estancia work. A herd of horses is driven up by a bunch of horsemen into a corral. The colt or filly to be broken is singled out and lassoed by one of the men, who drags it out into the open. More lassoes are fastened round the fore and hind legs, and the animal is brought to earth. After a raw-hide bit is fastened round its lower jaw, the frightened creature is allowed to regain a standing position, and is hitched up to a post. One man covers its eyes, whilst a great bundle of soft sheepskins is being fastened securely on its back. All this time the fore legs are kept firmly tied together. When all is ready, the man who is to break it in grasps the raw-hide bridle, and jumps lightly on its back. Then the struggle between man and brute commences in grim earnest. With a powerful whip the man belabours the struggling steed, and with a horseman riding on either side to guide the wild beast, the trio gallop off across the plain at a break-neck pace. Before this mad race is started, the untamed one struggles and bucks to rid himself of the unnatural encumbrance. He rolls on the

PEGGING OUT HIDES.

ground, lowers his head, and throws his unshod heels high into the air, and then finding that all his efforts are vain, he tears off in a wild fury, hoping to get relief. The race continues until the brute’s strength weakens, and he is turned by the accompanying riders, for he does not yet understand, nor if he could, would he yield to the guidance of the bridle. When the trio return to the “corral,” where a crowd of gauchos have stood witnessing the fun, the exhausted animal is relieved of man, saddle, and bridle, andis turned loose amongst his fellows in the corral. Then they are all set at liberty to roam the paddock till the next day, when the operation is repeated. It takes many lessons to break in a horse, and the sudden change from the completest freedom to the fastest bondage is no doubt very irksome to the animal. After about three or four weeks of training, however, the horse’s lesson is learnt, and the man’s reward is earned. There still exists on some estancias the primitive custom of branding the cattle in almost as rough a fashion as the breaking in of the horses. The herds are rounded up by the horseman into a great bunch, called a rodeo. The unbranded are lassoed by the head and horns, and dragged out of the bellowing crowd. Another lasso is thrown and captures the hind legs, and the animal, then completely overcome, is thrown on its side and the branding iron applied. In modern camps an easier method is employed. The cattle are “corralled” and driven through a long spar-railed passage in which gates are arranged for the purpose of dividing the cattle into different groups, so that as the animals move along, and one is required to go one way, a gate is opened, allowing it to pass out, the gate closing behind it, and leaving the passage free for the next to move into another division if desired. The branding is performed in this passage. One man grasps the animal’s tail and pulls it through the open fence of the “race” or passage, whilst another catches the horns and holds the head firmly against the opposite side. If the brand is to be applied to the rump, the position is in every way favourable for performing that operation; should the brand of the estancia be an ear-mark, the head is in an equally advantageous position.

Branding is a very necessary precaution against cattle-stealing. When an “estanciero” parts with his cattle, he duplicates the brand and the new owner applies his, so that the animal has three brands upon it. This prevents stealing, for if an animal has only one brand of its original owner, it is obvious to the authorities that it has not been legitimately acquired. A brand in duplicate upon an animal is evidence that it is no longer in the possession of the owner of that brand. Should he, however, repurchase one of his former stock, it will have four brands upon it, the two original ones and the two added by the last owner. Transactions, however, of this kind are not of frequent occurrence. Ear-marking is a form of branding that in some instances looksvery unsightly, as, for instance, when both ears are slit down, giving the animal the appearance of having four ears.

AN “ESTANCIA.”

The sheep and cattle dips which are necessary to rid the herds of ticks and other insects, form landmarks on the camps, as do the iron-frame windmills which pump up the water for the stock. There has been much discussion recently as to what is the coat of arms of the Argentine Republic, and this nice question in heraldry has not yet been settled. To a stranger the matter seems simple enough, for nothing could be more suitable than a windmill revolving against an azure sky, or a herd romping on a “field vert.”

The “corrals” and runs upon the estancia are used for many purposes, such as dividing the old from the young, the bulls and heifers from the cows, the animals that are to be sold fromtheir brothers and sisters that are not yet ready for disposal. Other “runs” are used for dipping purposes. In these the floor of the “runs” gradually descends into a long trough through which the animals have to swim, their heads being pushed under by men armed with long poles, who are stationed on the fences at either side. Sheep are handled in the same way. The dipping corrals are situated on different parts of the estancia in selected positions, and when these are at a long distance from the farmhouse the men, when employed there, cook their meals of great lumps of beef over a blaze of crackling sticks. The meat is hooked on to a long iron bar which is stuck upright in the ground, and the savoury smell of the roasting, crackling meat fills the air. When it is ready the spit is removed from the fire and stuck in the ground a little distance off, and the men gather round, and with their knives hack off great chunks weighing three or four pounds, and set to with the meat in one hand and the knife in the other, satisfying their healthy appetites. There is great waste at all these meals; the joint is not nearly consumed, and what is left is thrown into the long grass or into the dying embers of the fire. A kettle is always carried by one or other of the men to make the “maté” tea which washes down every meal. Yerba has a great reputation, and is largely consumed all over the southern parts of Brazil, Uruguay, and the Argentine, and even further south. To Europeans it is generally known by the name of Paraguayan tea, for, although it grows in Brazil, Corrientes, and the Chaco, its real home is in Paraguay, where it flourishes in great abundance, and its cultivation and collection form one of the principal industries. It is simply the dried leaves of a shrub that very much resembles the common holly bush. It has been in use by the Indians for centuries, although it was due to the untiring agricultural efforts of the Jesuits that its cultivation was first introduced. The plantations they made in Paraguay, Missiones, and Rio Grande de Sul are still to the fore, and from these cultivated shrubs the best tea is obtained even at the present time, and it sometimes goes by the name of “Jesuits’”or “Missiones tea.”

The collecting and preparation of the leaves of this shrub are generally performed by the Guarani Indians of the surrounding districts. The old-fashioned and native method of preparing the maté or yerba is quite primitive. A group of semi-nomadic Indians will search for a “Yerbula” or natural

GAUCHO PREPARING A MEAL.

wood where the supply is plentiful, and after forming a small camp of brush huts, proceed to collect and prepare the leaves for market. They clear a space of ground which they beat hard until it resembles a dark cemented floor, and upon this they pile the leafy branches of the tree. A fire is lit around this, care being taken not to ignite the branches and leaves, which undergo by this means a primitive process of roasting. The dried leaves are then reduced to powder in rough mortars formed by making holes in the ground, the surfaces of which are rammed hard by wooden mallets. The dusty mass is then packed and conveyedto the river banks, where it is shipped to a central market. A more improved method of roasting or drying the maté is practised, however, in Paraguay, where large iron pans are used for drying, and machinery is used for reducing the leaves, from which the central rib of the leaf has been removed, to a fine powder. The word maté, which is generally used to designate the tea, applies really to the gourd in which it is brewed, and is an old French word for “calabash.” It still is used in that sense, although very generally applied to the tea. The consumption of maté or yerba[1]throughout South America is very large, and is on the increase. It takes the place of China tea, and is supposed to have many virtues which neither tea nor coffee possesses. That it is sustaining there is every reason to believe; that it has a less injurious effect than tea or coffee on the system does not seem to be demonstrated; but the fact remains that the people believe in it, and have acquired a taste for it, which is largely contributed to by its cheapness. It is not agreeable to the taste of a novice, and when the “maté” is handed to the visitor, it is generally too hot for his unaccustomed palate. The addition of a little sugar helps to render it more pleasing to some judgments, but the gauchos on the camp do entirely without this addition. After a long journey there is no doubt that “maté” acts as a wonderful restorative, and the Governments of maté-producing States are endeavouring to bring about its adoption in the armies of Continental Europe.

A few days spent in camp are full of interest, but a prolonged residence is only for those who are either compelled by their occupation or held by their interests or inclinations to remain upon the solemn prairies. The utter loneliness would, without the occupations that pertain to the animal and agricultural life, turn the brain of one whose life has grown up amongst the life of cities, amidst the society of a variety of his fellows. It is almost as lonely as the great oceans. The dweller upon camps must of necessity be a student of the ever changing sky, of all its moods from sad to gay, stern to smiling, threatening to promising, a beauty ever various and full of an abstract fascination. At times clouds of brown dust swirl up in great curling volumes,

A GAUCHO.

to obscure and tone down the brilliant displays of sunset colour upon the distant clouds. Even this phenomenon has an interest, and helps to break the tiring sameness of the plains. The flights of the innumerable feathered tribe against the sky—ducks, geese, pigeons, parrots, hawks, plovers, storks, flamingoes, herons, scissor birds, and red birds an infinite variety—helpto divert the mind. It requires a long residence on the plains and an unerring intuition for direction and locality, to acquire a familiarity with all these forms of life. Landmarks that the unpractised eye would overlook become live, bold and full of meaning to a gaucho and his horse, who have been acquainted with their surroundings from their birth.

THE LONELY CAMP.

THE rapid strides of progress made by the Argentine Republic have been accelerated by the increasing consumption in the United States of the products of her own Western cattle lands. Every year, as the population of the world increases, the heavy demands made upon cattle-producing countries bring newer fields into use. From the middle of the nineteenth until the beginning of the present century, the vast prairies of the Western States produced more than enough meat to supply their own needs and a large export canning business rapidly came into existence, whilst even live cattle were sent yearly to England (the largest consumer) and turned out to fatten on her rich pastures and meadow lands. But the enormous growth of the packing business and the increased home consumption in the States has put an end to the export of live stock or even of frozen meat. This changed situation was Argentina’s golden opportunity, and her entry into the world’s market was well described by General Bartolomé Mitre,[2]who towards the end of the last century wrote as follows:

“The natural pastures [of Argentina] allured the inhabitants towards the pastoral industry. Its vast littoral placed it in contact with the rest of the world by means of fluvial and maritime navigation. Its healthy and mild climate made life more enjoyable and labour more productive. Thus it was a country prepared for live stock breeding, appointed to prosper through commerce, and predestined to be stocked by the acclimatisation of all the breeds of the earth. So it is seen that the occupation of the soil began to be carried out by means of the cattle brought overlandfrom Peru and Brazil, that the commercial activities of the interior are converging little by little towards the River Plate, abundance and prosperity are diffused by this means, and that the first foreign operation of the colonists after the foundation of Buenos Aires in 1580, was the exportation of a cargo of produce of their own labour (hides and tallow) that led up to the import business and induced immigration.”

The author of these words saw the sound basis upon which future developments and progress might be securely founded, for the natural advantages of the country were such as to justify the most sanguine hopes, the Republic being destined to become a great, wealthy, and civilised nation. The cattle which were brought down from Peru and Southern Brazil, where they had been introduced by the early Spanish settlers, prospered well upon the great plains of the South; plains favoured with such fertile soil and mild climatic conditions, that a rich supply of nourishing grasses is their natural inheritance. The early part of the last century saw the growth of the dry-salting industry and the beginning of a large export trade in salted meats, hides, and tallow, and the “Saladeros” of the Argentine and of the countries immediately contiguous to its northern border enjoyed a period of rich prosperity, supplying the markets of the northern states with large quantities of “jerked” or salted beef. But although they still have a standing in the country, these Saladeros are rapidly being supplanted by the modern methods of meat preserving carried on by the great freezing establishments, and in the province of Buenos Ayres these freezing factories or “Frigorificos” consume so much live stock that the Saladeros find difficulty in existing alongside of them.

The “jerked” beef of the Saladeros, unappetising to the senses of both sight and smell, is found in the stores throughout South America, and a large quantity finds its way into the islands of the Caribbean Sea. The strong odour of this meat proclaims its proximity, and its would-be purchasers need only follow their noses in almost any village to discover the commodity. The method of its preparation is both ancient and simple, the carcase of the slaughtered animal being cut into pieces, and the bones, fat, and tendons removed. The pieces of meat are then powdered with salt and maize and placed in the sun until they become shrivelled and nearly black in colour. Sometimes the meat issubjected to a smoke-curing treatment in addition, and in any case requires to be well soaked in water before being cooked, and even then it is far from tender, but soups made from it, although highly flavoured, are said to be very nutritious.

This trade, however, is now almost entirely dependent on cattle from the northern plains of Corrientes, Missiones, Uruguay and Paraguay, and the southernmost states of Brazil, for the introduction of better breeds of cattle into the Argentine, which has been going on for over fifty years, has made it more profitable to export the higher grade beef to more remote markets in a superior form.

Back to Index Next