Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
I propose to tell the story of the first day's trip at some length for various reasons: it naturally
impressed itself on my mind as the start of a great adventure: it contained enough variety to
satisfy anyone; and it may give the reader a slight idea of some of the conditions prevailing in
Argentina.
Early in the morning of St. George's Day I left my hotel and drove off to the premises of
the Rural Society, accompanied by my dog, who seemed to scent disaster and had to be tied
to a lead before he would accompany me. Trouble began early; the horses strongly objected to
being saddled, each part of the saddle seemed to annoy them more than the previous one, and
for a long time we were just a whirling mass of lacking horses and cursing stable-boys. At last,
however,everythingwasready,andthehorses,havingexpressedtheiropinionsofthegirthsby
a vigorous display of bucking, became more or less quiet, and I was ready to start.
By this time some press photographers, who had in some mysterious manner learnt that I
was setting out, had arrived, obviously regarding the whole thing as a huge joke: 'A lunatic
proposingtotravel overlandtoNewYork,
que loco
'etc.,etc.However,Icanappreciate agood
jokemyselfandconsentedtoposeforthem,whichledtoanothermerryfiveminutesbeforethe
horses could be got into position; the shutters clicked, and the gentlemen of the press bowed
and retired, with ill-concealed chuckles at my idiocy. I felt strongly tempted to quote to them
the saying, 'Let fools laugh; wise men dare and win', but a doubt assailed me as to which of us
really was the fool, so I refrained.
I rode Gato, he being the quieter of the two, leading Mancha, who did duty as pack-horse,
and we were accompanied by a stable-boy to show the best way out of the town. This lad was
mountedonabigthoroughbredwhichmademystockylittleanimalslookmorediminutivethan
ever.Thedogfollowed,butveryunwillingly.Afteraboutanhourwecametoanewlymadedirt
road with a wire fence on each side and my guide, having informed me that by following this
I would get to the main road, returned home. His thoroughbred was steaming with perspiration
while the two Creoles showed no signs of having travelled at all. Recent heavy rains had con-
verted this road into a river of soft mud into which the horses sank deep at every step. Mancha
had evidently decided that he would much prefer to go back to his stable, and I had to haul him
along by main force. To make matters worse, a fine rain began to fall and, with one thing and
another, I came to the conclusion that this was the worst bit of road in the world. As a matter
of fact it was Fifth Avenue and Regent Street combined compared with some of the trails I en-
countered later.
Disaster came soon; I heard a dull thud followed by a squeal of pain, and saw the dog fly
through the air and land in a pool of water, where he lay as though dead. He had approached
