CHAPTER XXVI.

RETURN TO BUENOS AYRES.--DIVIDING THE PARTY.--TWO ROUTES TO VALPARAISO.--FRANK'S JOURNEY OVER THE PAMPAS.--MENDOZA.--AT THE FOOT OF THE ANDES.

On the way down the river Frank and Fred were occupied with their journals and letters, and with many consultations of the map of South America. The day before their arrival at Buenos Ayres Fred made a suggestion to his cousin relative to their future movements, and intimated that he thought it would be approved by the Doctor.

"I think so too," replied Frank, "and we'll go and ask him. It is a repetition of our scheme in Africa without half as many difficulties in the way."

Finding Dr. Bronson engaged in nothing more absorbing than looking at the distant bank of the river, they unfolded their scheme.

"I have thought," said Fred, "it would be a good plan for us to separate at Buenos Ayres to meet again at Valparaiso. There are two routes from one city to the other; the first by steamer, through the Strait of Magellan, and the second overland. One of us, accompanied by Manuel, can travel across the country, and the other two can go by water. We can time our journey so as to meet at Valparaiso, and if either expedition is a few days in advance of the other it would be no great hardship, as there is enough of interest in Chili to enable the time to pass away pleasantly."

"You have anticipated what I was about proposing to you," said the Doctor, with a smile. "I have been considering the very scheme you have studied out, and approve it heartily. You may decide for yourselves which of you will go overland with Manuel while the other accompanies me on the steamer."

The youths retired for consultation. In half an hour they returned to the Doctor with the announcement that Frank would make the land journey, while Fred would accompany Dr. Bronson through the Strait of Magellan to Valparaiso.

The rest of the time on the Rio de la Plata was occupied with plans for the trip, and before they realized that the voyage was at an end they were anchored in front of Buenos Ayres.

While they are completing their preparations for the double journey to the great seaport of Chili, we will consider the routes they are about to travel.

We have already mentioned the steamers of the English company that perform a fortnightly service each way between Liverpool and the ports of the east and west coasts of South America. Their time-tables can be relied upon--the accidents of the ocean excepted--and their arrivals and departures are as closely arranged as those of the magnificent vessels traversing the Atlantic between New York and the ports of England and western Europe. The regular fortnightly steamer bound southward was due at Buenos Ayres two days after the return of our friends from their trip to Asuncion, and promptly at the designated date the smoke from her funnels made a dark streak on the horizon to the eastward.

All the steamers of this line do not call at Buenos Ayres; when they do not visit the port the service is performed by an extra steamer from Montevideo. There are German, French, and Italian steamers, which ply through the Strait of Magellan, performing a service similar to that of the English company, but they only run monthly, and their accommodations are inferior to those of the old established line. Besides, their departures are largely governed by the exigencies of freight, and a passenger is liable to be detained an indefinite number of hours, or even days, for the shipment or discharge of cargo.

At the time our friends were in South America the railway from the eastward was completed and in operation as far as Mendoza, within forty miles of the base of the mountains, while the line from Valparaiso was open to Santa Rosa, among the foot-hills of the Andes. Consequently Frank had in prospect a journey between Mendoza and Santa Rosa after the primitive manner of travelling in the Andes.[3]

[3] As this book goes to press the author is informed that work on both sides of the Andes is being vigorously prosecuted by the Chilian and Argentine governments. The engineers promise to have the line in operation in 1886, unless hindered by difficulties now unforeseen. The entire length from Buenos Ayres to Valparaiso by the route surveyed will be 1023 miles, and the estimated cost is thirty million dollars.

As the journey over the Andes was to be made in the saddle, Frank determined to travel in "light marching order." Manuel was sent to Mendoza immediately to make preliminary arrangements for the saddle and pack animals, while Frank remained in Buenos Ayres to make a few purchases, and to be with his friends until their embarkation on the steamer. They were duly seen on board, and with many affectionate words of farewell, and good wishes expressed on both sides, Frank returned to shore, whence he watched the steamer until watching was no longer practicable.

While Dr. Bronson and Fred are heading southward we will accompany Frank in his journey across the pampas and over the Andes.

In a direct line, as a carrier pigeon might fly, Mendoza is six hundred and ten miles from Buenos Ayres, but by the windings of the carriage-road and the railway it is about seven hundred. By the old post route the journey required from six to nine days, but the railway carries the traveller from one city to the other inside of forty hours. When the line is completed from ocean to ocean the speed will doubtless be accelerated, and through trains will pass from Buenos Ayres to Valparaiso in forty-eight or fifty hours. Travellers who have no desire to spend a fortnight on the steamer, or study the scenery of the Strait of Magellan, will give preference to the railway route, and the cabin passengers of the English or other vessels between Buenos Ayres and Valparaiso, or vice versa, are not likely to be numerous.

The railway ride over the pampas was interesting enough at first, but Frank soon found it monotonous. One mile greatly resembled another mile, as there is not much diversity of scenery on the broad plains, with their carpet of grass and scanty patches of trees. Several times the youth found himself regretting the departure of the old customs, and wished that he could emulate the example of Lieutenant Strain, and gallop across the pampas with the government courier. But the perusal of Strain's narrative, portraying the hardships and difficulties experienced by that gallant officer, brought him to his senses, and he was quite contented to be journeying in a railway carriage.

Frank copied into his note-book the following description, by Sir Francis Head, of the aspect of the plains of Buenos Ayres:

"This region, bordering on the Atlantic, varies with the four seasons of the year in a most remarkable manner. In winter the leaves of the thistles are large and luxuriant, and the whole surface of the country has the rough appearance of a turnip-field. The clover in this season is extremely rich and strong; and the sight of the wild cattle grazing in full liberty on such pasture is very beautiful. In spring the clover has vanished, the leaves of the thistles have extended along the ground, and the country still looks like a rough crop of turnips. In less than a month the change is most extraordinary; the whole region becomes a luxuriant wood of enormous thistles, which have suddenly shot up to a height of ten or eleven feet, and are all in full bloom.

"The road or path is hemmed in on both sides; the view is completely obstructed; not an animal is to be seen; and the stems of the thistles are so close to each other, and so strong, that, independent of the prickles with which they are armed, they form an impenetrable barrier. The sudden growth of these plants is quite astonishing; and though it would be an unusual fortune in military history, yet it is really possible that an invading army, unacquainted with this country, might be imprisoned by these thistles before they had time to escape from them. The summer is not over before the scene undergoes another rapid change, the thistles suddenly lose their sap and verdure, their heads droop, the leaves shrink and fade, the stems become black and dead, and they remain rattling with the breeze one against another until the violence of the _pampero_, or hurricane, levels them to the ground, whence they rapidly decompose and disappear; the clover rushes up and the scene is again verdant."

Stations were infrequent on the line of the railway, as the country is not densely settled. The rearing of cattle and horses is the principal industry, and occasionally, as Frank looked from the windows of the railway train, he saw the guachos pursuing their herds, which generally manifested an unwillingness to remain in the neighborhood of the snorting, puffing locomotive. Sometimes the engine-drivers added to the fright of the half-wild animals by sounding the whistle, which rarely failed to create a stampede. They did not indulge in this amusement if the guachos were in sight, as the latter are not friendly to the railway, and would greatly prefer the old state of affairs. Naturally they resent the frightening of their herds, and the engine-driver who deliberately blows the whistle and alarms horses or cattle is liable to be roughly handled whenever the guachos can lay hold of him.

Some of the stations were the abiding-places of the guachos, and Frank embraced an opportunity to see the life of these denizens of the pampas. The result of his observation coincided with that of Lieutenant Strain, and he had no desire to remain among them.

Many of the guachos are descended from the best blood of Spain, and in spite of their rough ways they frequently display a great deal of courtly dignity. They salute each other with much formality, remove their hats on entering a house, are always polite to strangers passing through their country, though often quite the reverse to those who come to settle among them. Their houses are generally mud hovels of but a single room; beds and chairs are unknown, as the guachos and their families sleep and sit on the floor along with the dogs, which are generally quite numerous. Sometimes the skeleton of a horse's head is used in place of a chair, and the traveller is always bowed to it as though it were a velvet-covered fauteuil. Few of the guachos can read or write, and evidently they do not place a high regard upon education.

For the first year of his life the guacho has no clothing whatever; he crawls around in the dirt, of which there is an abundance, as the floor is rarely swept, or he is hung to the rafters or the wall of the hovel, in a basket made of a bullock's hide. When he can walk he is provided with a lasso and practises upon dogs and chickens; when four or five years old he is put on horseback, and by his sixth year he has become useful in assisting with the cattle and horses. His lasso practice continues, and it is no wonder that he is proficient with it; throwing the lasso and bolas and riding on horseback complete his schooling, college course and all.

He goes out alone, often for days together, and hunts for whatever game the country produces. Meat and water comprise his entire bill of fare, and with this simple diet and constant exposure he becomes toughened in all his muscles and capable of enduring any amount of fatigue. Guachos have been known to pass thirty or forty hours continuously in the saddle; on long journeys they generally drive a herd of horses before them; when they have wearied out a horse under the saddle they lasso a fresh one from the herd and mount him immediately.

A guacho considers it a disgrace to be on foot, and will not walk a hundred yards if a horse is available. Frank was amused, at one of the stations, at seeing a man come out of a house, mount his steed, and ride to another house certainly not fifty yards distant. There he sprang to the ground again and entered the building, without the least thought that he had done anything absurd. In most countries he would have saved himself the trouble of springing into the saddle for a ride of such brevity, but not so the guacho. Frank said afterwards that he was reminded of a certain city in the United States where it is considered improper and undignified to cross a street anywhere except at the corners of the blocks.

The most important town on the line of the railway is San Luis, or, to give its full name, San Luis de la Punta. It has a population of six or eight thousand, and is beautifully situated at an elevation of about twenty-five hundred feet above the level of the sea. It was founded by Luis Loyola in 1596, and has a considerable trade in hides, wool, skins, leather, and a few other things of less importance. Frank observed that nearly all the houses were one story in height, built of adobes or sun-dried brick, with earthen or tiled floors, and generally attached to a garden. Since the recent emigration from Europe began a good many Germans and Italians have settled at San Luis, and there are several Scotch and Irish herders living in the neighborhood.

Frank was invited to stop a day and attend a _tertulia_ or dance, but he declined the honor. The dances at San Luis are noticeable more for their vigor than their refinement. The guitar is usually the musical instrument for the occasion, and the dancers whirl rapidly around the room, with very little attempt to keep step, as the shouts and laughter of the assemblage frequently render the music quite inaudible.

On arriving at Mendoza Frank was met at the station by Manuel, who led the way to the _fonda_ where he had secured a room for his young master. He had succeeded in making the needed arrangements for the journey over the Andes, though not without some difficulty. The proprietor of the fonda had recognized the advantage of keeping his patrons as long as possible, and interposed various hinderances to their prompt exit; fortunately, Manuel had brought a letter from a German shop-keeper at Buenos Ayres to a German shop-keeper in Mendoza, and thus was enabled to expedite matters.

Mules and their drivers had been engaged for the ride over the Andes to the terminus of the railway near Santa Rosa; they were drawn up in the court-yard of the shop-keeper soon after Frank's arrival, and, after being approved by him, were immediately despatched to the foot of the mountains, about forty miles distant.

Frank then took a ride through the streets of Mendoza, and viewed the lions of the place. They were neither many nor great, as the city was almost completely destroyed by an earthquake in 1863, when several thousands of the inhabitants perished. Traces of the devastation are still visible, but the town has been steadily recovering from the calamity, and is quite prosperous.

Frank was impressed with the long rows of poplars, which shaded the streets and grew close to the walls of the numerous gardens. The poplars are so abundant that as one approaches Mendoza he rarely sees anything of it until within its limits; the poplars conceal the city in every direction, and their shade is welcome to everybody in the hot hours of the day. There are many fruit gardens in and near Mendoza. The place is surrounded by canals, and there is one canal which passes through the city and supplies an abundance of water. Mendoza was long celebrated for its fruits, and formerly large quantities of peaches, grapes, cherries, and kindred things were dried here for transportation to market. Since the opening of the railway several fruit-preserving establishments have been started, and are doing a prosperous business.

The city is the capital of the province of the same name. The province of Mendoza has an area of sixty-five thousand square miles, and about seventy thousand inhabitants, or a little more than one inhabitant to the square mile. The state of education may be known by the fact that more than fifty-five thousand of the inhabitants cannot read or write, and out of 17,216 children, between six and twelve years of age, in a given year, only 2132 attended school!

Most of the province is a plain; the greater part of this plain is fertile, but there are districts in the south where the herbage is too scanty for the support of cattle. Its western part includes a portion of the chain of the Andes; Aconcagua, the highest of the Andean peaks, is on the border of this province, and near it are several other mountains of great height and magnificence.

Frank had no desire to tarry in Mendoza after completing his arrangements for leaving. The fonda was dirty beyond description, in fact, Frank declared that in all his experience he had never seen a hotel which surpassed it in untidiness. Manuel had swept the room previous to Frank's arrival, and with great difficulty obtained the materials for a civilized bed. The place abounded in fleas, which have their advantages in conducing to early rising; our young friend was up before daybreak, and told Manuel to get things in readiness for leaving town as soon as possible.

It was necessary to have a passport for the frontier between Chili and the Argentine Republic, and accordingly they paid a visit to the police-office, accompanied by their German friend. Frank presented the necessary papers, which he obtained at Buenos Ayres, and there could be no reason for his detention; but it took fully half an hour to convince the police-master that no harm would come to either country by allowing the youth and his servant to pass into Chili. Tourists are so rare in this part of the world that the authorities cannot easily believe a man will undertake the hardships of a journey over the Andes, when he has nothing to gain by it and considerable money to pay out. Looking upon travel as purely a matter of business, they are quite in sympathy with the Chinese merchant who was invited to an English dancing-party, and wonderingly asked his host, "Can't you get your servants to do that for you?"

In a light wagon, hired for the ride to the foot of the mountains, where the mules were waiting, Frank set out, accompanied by Manuel, who was seated at the driver's side and had a special eye for the baggage, that lay below him. The wagon was the property of an enterprising citizen, who had imported it from the United States since the opening of the railway, and he was contemplating a purchase of half a dozen similar vehicles during the following year. It had stout springs, and was well adapted to the roads around Mendoza, which are none of the best. Frank was given the choice of this wagon or a _birlocha_, and immediately chose the former. And what do you suppose a birlocha is?

It resembles an old-fashioned chaise, and is drawn by two horses, one between the shafts and one outside (on the left side), and fastened by a single trace of rawhide or half-tanned leather. The driver is mounted on the outside horse, and there are seats over the wheels for two passengers. In hilly country a man follows with a third horse, which is attached to the right side of the vehicle when a steep slope is to be ascended. Frank took a ride through the streets of Mendoza in one of these vehicles, enough to satisfy himself that the wagon was preferable for the drive across the plain between the city and the foot of the mountains. Had he been in the hilly region he would have chosen the birlocha, for its greater facility in turning sharp corners.

Just outside the walls they met a pampa coach containing two passengers, who were evidently travelling in style. The vehicle was a huge and clumsy affair, the rough roads of the country requiring that it should be very strongly constructed. It was drawn by four horses, and each horse carried a postilion, who was armed with a short whip or a bundle of stout thongs of rawhide. As they approached this nondescript concern its horses took fright at the apparition of the wagon, and reared and plunged in a way that greatly interfered with their linear progress along the road. When the postilions had lashed them into good behavior they darted off at full gallop, and were soon inside the fringe of poplars that surrounds the city.

Before the railway was constructed, this style of carriage was employed on the pampas for those who could afford the expense and risk of coach and postilions. A passenger could carry an unlimited amount of baggage with the coach, and take his own time for it; by arranging for relays he could make very good time, but could not equal the speed of the government couriers, who went on horseback and made quick changes at the stations.

When the Indians are troublesome the coach is objectionable, on account of the increased danger arising from its use. It is obliged to follow the road, where it often raises such a cloud of dust as to indicate its locality and character to watchful Indians miles and miles away. While in the region of Indians, mounted horsemen always keep on the grass at the side of the road, and thus avoid making a dust-cloud. Then, too, the coach, with its baggage and the iron of its wheels, is a valuable prize to a people with whom iron is a scarce commodity.

They met groups of guachos and other inhabitants of the country on their way to Mendoza, everybody, without exception, being mounted on horse or mule, or riding in a cart. The carts were the same rude affairs with which Frank was already familiar; the wheels consisting of single trucks or sections cut from logs, four or five feet in diameter. A hole in the centre of the truck admits the axle; there is no tire on the truck, and when it is worn too small it is thrown aside and a new one takes its place. The axles are never greased, and when a dozen carts are in motion across the plain the creaking is fearful. It is said the Indians take advantage of this creaking to guide them to trains moving along the road in fog or darkness, and certainly it is as clearly audible as a fog-horn on the sea-coast. Whether the natives have ever circumvented the savages by the simple expedient of greasing the wheels is not recorded in the local chronicles.

Long before Frank reached Mendoza, on his way from Buenos Ayres, he had seen the magnificent chain of the Andes filling the western horizon, and from the plaza of the city it seemed as though he could almost reach the summits of the nearest peaks with a bullet from a rifle. The air is wonderfully clear and pure at Mendoza, and the consequent deception regarding distances reminded our youthful traveller of his view of the Himalayas from Darjeeling, and of the Rocky Mountains from Denver.

He was not the first to make the same mistake in the mountains near Mendoza. Read the following from Gerstaecker's narrative of a journey from Buenos Ayres to Valparaiso:

"One day we saw a fox approaching, and I determined to have a shot at him. Master Reynard came up the slope as carelessly as though he were only out for a quiet walk; judging the distance at about a hundred yards, just as he got scent of us, but appeared uncertain of the danger, I took a good and sure aim and pulled the trigger. The gun went off, but to my utter astonishment the ball struck the snow, as I plainly saw, some paces short of the fox; and Reynard, discovering all was not right, scampered off, leaving me to fire with as little effect as before.

"Having no idea what could be the matter with the gun, I went to the place where the fox had stood, and, counting the steps in going, was surprised to find that what I had thought about a hundred yards was really two hundred and sixty! So deceptive was the pure and transparent snow as to distance.

"Indeed, on looking back, I saw that the spur of the mountain behind appeared not farther off than two or three miles, though I knew the distance to be much greater. Then I reflected that if the sight was misled in this way by the thin air in judging the distance of objects so close, what an enormous space must lie between the mountain-ridges, which really looked so far apart, and to what a height the mighty peaks must rise, when they were so gigantic even in appearance."

As he approached the base of the mountains, Frank found them every moment becoming more lofty in appearance, and it was not unnatural that he should begin to wonder if there was really a way of passing over them to the other side. The plain and the mountains kept his thoughts fully occupied till he reached the end of the wagon-road and halted at the little village where the mountain-path begins.

The mules and their drivers were there in advance; two of the animals were undergoing exercise in the plaza of the village, and manifesting not a little obstinacy, to the great delight of the whole population, which had turned out to witness the sport. Frank was by no means elated to learn that the mule which displayed the greatest amount of "contrariness" was the one which he was to ride on the following day.