this we arrived at another cañon running at right angles, east and west, on one of the grass-covered sides of which we observed a couple of horses feeding in a hollow which looked more verdant than the rest of the ground, but the animals being caught and examined proved unsound and useless. In the bottom of the cañon there flowed a small but deep stream spreading into lagoons in places. We crossed this and encamped on the northern side, and found J’aria’s words, as to no fuel to be found about this valley, verified, much to our discomfort. Towards evening we went out and shot some ducks, but having no fire to cook with, were content to turn in on meal and water. During the night the tent pole, having been first soaked with rain and then frozen, snapped in two, and down came the spread of wet canvas; and altogether we did not spend a very pleasant time.

Misfortunes never come single; at daylight no horses were to be seen, and we had to wait until near ten o’clock before they turned up. During this interval we burnt the tent pegs and some chips from the tent pole, and raised sufficient fire to make coffee. J’aria informed me that this cañon extends from the Cordillera to the sea, but runs in a tortuous manner, and we afterwards again struck either the main line or some cañon leading from it. Having scaled the precipitous banks, we headed towards a range of peaked hills, curiously resembling one another, and after passing down one or two more cañons, where we refreshed ourselves with the berries of a barberry (Berberis axifolia), called by the Chilians califate, and also saw plenty of the red and white tea-berries, so common in the Falklands, we entered a wide plain or valley, at the farther end of which rose a peculiar pointed hill, one of a range that stretched away east and west, pierced by a pass. In the midst of it a huge square flat rock shone white in the sunlight, forming a striking object: it looked like a megalith, deposited by giants to cover the grave of some deceased hero. Others of less dimensions lay strewn here and there, giving somewhat of a graveyard aspect to the scene. As we advanced the ground was encumbered with rocks and scoriæ, lying in heaps in all directions, making it very difficult travelling for the horses, and on arriving at the hills themselves their appearance was decidedly volcanic. The whole immediate vicinity of this range of hills presented a peculiarly wild, blasted, and weird appearance; nevertheless ostriches and guanaco were observable in great quantities. My first thought on passing one hill, where, among the other fantastic forms into which the rocks had been tossed, was a natural corral, or circle of huge fragments, built with apparent regularity, but of superhuman dimensions, was, ‘What a hell this must have been when the volcanoes were in an active state, belching out the streams of lava and showers of rock, and that perhaps at no distant period!’ While at Santa Cruz, Casimiro told me of an active volcano situated at a distance and in a direction which would fix it as belonging to this range. Formerly its neighbourhood had been frequented by the Indians, as the guanaco resorted thither in great numbers during the winter; but the Indians’ horses had most of them been poisoned by drinking the water of a stream close to the range, and soon after all the toldos were shaken down by an earthquake or the vibration of an explosion, and since then they had not ventured to go near the place. Casimiro and Gonzalez had, however, subsequently ascended the volcano, and had killed numbers of guanaco in the neighbourhood. It was also mentioned that when they were encamped on the Cuheyli, or Coy Inlet River, tremendous volumes of thick black smoke, rolling from the west, enveloped the Indians and terrified them exceedingly. No signs were afterwards found of burned pasture, and it was conjectured that the Canoe Indians of the Chonos Archipelago had fired the western forests, but it was much more likely to have been due to volcanic eruption. While trotting along the defile through these hills formed by a chasm, with perpendicular walls of rock rising on each hand, as evenly scarped as the sides of a railway cutting, I observed several caves, which J’aria had a tradition the Indians formerly used as dwelling places. This pass led into another valley still more rugged and strewn with sharp angular fragments of rock, amongst which stunted shrubs began to appear; and lagoons, some of which were encrusted round the edges with saltpetre, and contained brackish water, might be seen at intervals. Towards evening we encamped by the side of a small lagoon of circular form, with wall-like cliffs rising some 200 feet from its banks, and nearly surrounding it. I took a stroll, rifle in hand, whilst the men were getting firewood; and plenty of guanaco were visible, but I only succeeded in wounding one, which escaped on three legs. Traces of a puma, in the shape of carrion, were also there, but Leon himself was hidden. So I returned empty-handed to the fire, where I found a cheerful supper of wild duck and guanaco meat just ready. The moon was beautiful, and the air just frosty enough to be bracing and exhilarating, so some of us staid smoking and spinning yarns until the small hours. The stories were chiefly of adventures on the Pampas. José narrated how, when in pursuit of a party of runaways in the depth of winter, when the snow lay thick on the ground, he and his comrade rode into a valley where countless guanaco had taken refuge from the storm in the upper heights, and stood huddled together, too benumbed by the cold to attempt to escape, and were slaughtered like oxen in the shambles. In another hunt the party overtook the deserters, housed in the toldo of an Indian, and a fight ensued, ending in the death of one of the pursuers; the deserter who shot him was pistolled, and J’aria and José carried the dead body of their comrade on horseback to the settlement, sixty miles distant, proceeding without a halt all through the night, and accomplishing their ghastly journey by the next morning. J’aria related how he had been drifted in a launch among the ice in the Straits, and carried over to Tierra del Fuego, where they found rocks so magnetic that iron nails adhered to them. He further amused us by a short dissertation on his domestic arrangements; how, when his last wife died, he married a Chilote to be mother for his children and wife for him, and he always called her in conversation the ‘Madre Muger’—wife mother.