ACROSS THE PAMPAS.

Early in the morning of the fifth day, we left the Ranch at La Yegüera to journey southward, followed by our long train of baggage mules and relay horses, our good-natured host and keeper, Agapito, escorting us for some distance in the double capacity of guide and entertainer. Without his assistance it would have been difficult for us to proceed on our journey, which lay across a rolling prairie, covered in some places by magnificent groves of tall timber trees and a vast multitude of slender, towering palms, which, by the glimmering light of the stars, appeared like a mighty fleet of ships guarding the entrance to some giant harbor. Although the morning was dark, and there was properly speaking no road, but only a beaten track branching off in all directions, our guide, who knew every inch of the ground, led us on without once turning to the right or left, merrily chanting some of the lively ballads of the Llanos. Occasionally he was joined by other bards equally{86} distinguished for their powers of voice and versification, thus producing very animated choruses of a character peculiarly wild.

As the sun rose in the horizon, we came upon another extensive plateau, the Mesa del Rastro, stretching for several miles, unbroken by a single tree or shrub, but alive with numberless herds of cattle roaming in all directions, while flocks of birds of every plumage, all new to me, flew affrighted at our approach, filling the air with their wild, peculiar cries. Among these, the Taro-taro, a large bird of the Ibis tribe, which derives its name from its bell-like notes, and the Carretero or carter, a beautiful species of goose with variegated plumage and crimson bill, particularly attracted my attention. The latter is named from the rumbling noise it makes when on the wing, similar in sound to the rumbling of cartwheels on hard ground.

Continuing our march over this seemingly interminable plain, we at length descried in the horizon the village of El Rastro, where we purposed breakfasting and spending the hottest part of the day. We were cordially received and entertained at the house of Se?or Llovera, a wealthy neighbor of ours, whose lands extended from the southern boundary of San Pablo to this village.

El Rastro is noted for the beauty and fresh complexion of the women, in spite of an ardent climate; and the males for their singular propensity to abstract the hair from the manes and tails of horses stopping at their village. This they often practise under the very noses of the unfortunate owners, for the purpose{87} of converting it into halters for their own steeds. Thus many a fine animal, which is supposed to be securely quartered for the night, is found next morning so shamefully disfigured that he can scarcely be recognized by his owner, who swears by all the saints in the calendar to take summary vengeance on the first rastrero[24] who may chance to cross his path. Fortunately we had no cause of complaint, as our droves were constantly under the surveillance of a dozen or more vigilant keepers, perfectly au fait to the peculiar taste of that community.

The beautiful complexion of the women is the more extraordinary from the fact that this village, which stands on the southern edge of the plateau, is entirely exposed to the glare of a tropical sun, and the hot breezes of the east. I nowhere met during my journey, such rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes as in this miserable hamlet. I could almost fancy them the fairies of the wilderness, bewitching the unsuspecting traveller, while their perfidious helpmates practise their rascally tricks.

These high terraces possess the advantage of being free from those noxious exhalations which render the plains below so unhealthy at certain seasons. Owing to the nature of the soil, mostly composed of a loose conglomerate or shingle, no permanent deposits of stagnant water are formed, endangering the health of the inhabitants, who are often blessed with a “green old age” and the possession of unimpaired mental and bodily faculties. Many are the instances where{88} men attaining seventy and eighty years are still able to take part in the hardy ventures of the country along with their more youthful companions. Among our own party we had several individuals of this class who, after experiencing all the vicissitudes of a destructive war, had seen many a hot summer roll by, and camped out amidst the drenching showers of the rainy season, without any material change in their physique. Of these were Santos Nieves, the horse tamer, whose only food consisted of jerked beef, cheese, and papelon, upon which he had thrived admirably up to the age of seventy; Crisóstomo, the negro major domo of San Pablo, who had lost all recollection of his earlier days; Conrado, the horse driver, whose age and experience in conducting our refractory madrinas had entitled him to the revered appelation of taita or father. But the most extraordinary instance of longevity which has come to my ears, is in the Monagas family, also hailing from those regions, the age and number of whose members seriously alarmed the republic at one time; for the multitude of their rapacious demands appeared endless. The patriarch of the family is said to have attained the moderate age of one hundred and twenty years, yet was able to scour the savannas on horseback after the cattle up to the time of his death. The memorable José Tadeo, the late Dictator and tyrant of the republic, is yet in his prime at the age of seventy-nine, while his brothers Gregorio and José Francisco, whose vandalic career of plunder and assassination was—happily for the country that gave them birth—cut off by a late revolution, did not{89} show the least signs of unabated vigor at the time of their death, although one of them was considerably older than Tadeo. And last, though not least, the renowned zambo general, Sotillo, the pet bull-dog of the family, to which, however, he bears no other relationship than that existing among rogues of the same stamp: although then in his eightieth year, he was able to carry on a successful partisan warfare against the existing government. Without a roof to shelter him, and no other equipment of war than the lance and horse, this savage chieftain, for such he is by birth and education, has set at defiance all the forces sent in his pursuit, and nearly brought the country to the verge of barbarism in his strivings to uphold the iniquitous claims of this rapacious family. Fierce in looks and menacing in tone, with a head more like a polar bear than a South American savage, he has become for a long time the terror of the eastern provinces, which are in constant dread of his sudden attacks—now cutting off small detachments of troops and defenceless individuals, now retreating to his fastness amidst the arid plains of the Alto Llano at the approach of a superior force. He has even succeeded in defeating such on two or three occasions by his cunning man?uvring and the rapidity of his movements. During half a century, his favorite occupation has been hunting wild cattle and waging a guerilla warfare against society, which too often has been compelled to yield to the savage demands of this Bedouin of the Llanos.

 

Having partaken of a substantial breakfast, we{90} bade adieu to our kind host, and again betook ourselves to our long and weary journey across the Pampas. Descending to the plain, stretching for a thousand miles to the foot of the Bolivian Andes, we at once entered into an entirely different country, showing unmistakable proofs of a diluvial origin. The soil, mostly a mixture of clay and sand, no longer offended the feet of our horses with those extensive beds of pebbles so trying to the poor beasts. The vegetation, also, whenever favored by some accident of the ground, showed a marked difference in character. The thorny mimosas, which only thrive in a gravelly soil, here disappeared altogether, and were replaced by dense groves of laurel and other balsamiferous trees. The Copernicia palms, so extensively used for thatching and other economic purposes, re-appeared at first in a few scattered clumps, and afterwards in countless multitudes, literally closing the perspective with their tall, slender trunks. This beautiful palm is known in the country under various names, according to the uses made of its separate parts. These are almost as numerous as the leaves of its dense, symmetrical foliage. Thus, by the rural architect of the Llanos, it is called palma de cobija—thatch palm. When its leaves are plaited and neatly braided into hats that never wear out, it bears the name palma de sombrero; and when the same are employed in driving off the myriads of flies that infest the premises, or in fanning the heated dweller in those regions, it is called palma abanico; and so on through a long catalogue.

A house thatched with this palm is not only impervious{91} to the pouring showers of the tropics, but against fire also, as it is nearly incombustible: a hot coal dropped on it will only burn slowly where it falls, without spreading or raising any flame. It is, moreover, very durable and cool throughout the hottest months. All the fences and corrals of the region where it abounds are made of the entire trunks of this palm, while the cattle find a grateful shelter under its dense shade. The slowness of its growth, observable even after centuries have elapsed, is another curious peculiarity of this palm. When Europeans first penetrated this wild region, they found extensive tracks covered with low, apparently stunted plants, a few inches only above ground. According to the recollection of the oldest inhabitants, of whom there are many in the country, as I have already stated, these dwarfish palm forests have not altered very perceptibly during their lives. It must therefore have taken a full-grown plant thousands of years to attain the height of twenty feet, which is their average size.

Emerging from these extensive palmares—palm forests—we again found ourselves in the midst of the boundless plain, assuming here as desolate an aspect as if fire had passed over its entire surface, a dreary waste of dried-up swamps, parched by the burning sun. Dismal tracts of these terroneros, as they are termed, lay before us, having the appearance of an extensive honey-comb, over which our jaded beasts stumbled at every step, increasing our weariness to a state almost bordering on desperation. The action of the rains washing the earth from around the grass tufts, which are afterwards parched and hardened by{92} the heat of the sun, leaves the surface of the ground covered with numerous little clumps of indurated clay, so closely packed that there was no footing for the ani............