the species of the genus; it is very useful to the Peruvian Indians,
who use the dung for fuel, and are thus saved the trouble of collecting
it.
The guanacos appear to have favourite spots for lying down to die. On
the banks of the St. Cruz, in certain circumscribed spaces, which were
generally bushy and all near the river, the ground was actually white
with bones. On one such spot I counted between ten and twenty heads. I
particularly examined the bones; they did not appear, as some scattered
ones which I had seen, gnawed or broken, as if dragged together by
beasts of prey. The animals in most cases must have crawled, before
dying, beneath and amongst the bushes. Mr. Bynoe informs me that
during a former voyage he observed the same circumstance on the banks
of the Rio Gallegos. I do not at all understand the reason of this,
but I may observe, that the wounded guanacos at the St. Cruz invariably
walked towards the river. At St. Jago in the Cape de Verd Islands, I
remember having seen in a ravine a retired corner covered with bones of
the goat; we at the time exclaimed that it was the burial ground of all
the goats in the island. I mention these trifling circumstances,
because in certain cases they might explain the occurrence of a number
of uninjured bones in a cave, or buried under alluvial accumulations;
and likewise the cause why certain animals are more commonly embedded
than others in sedimentary deposits.
One day the yawl was sent under the command of Mr. Chaffers with three
days' provisions to survey the upper part of the harbour. In the
morning we searched for some watering-places mentioned in an old
Spanish chart. We found one creek, at the head of which there was a
trickling rill (the first we had seen) of brackish water. Here the
tide compelled us to wait several hours; and in the interval I walked
some miles into the interior. The plain as usual consisted of gravel,
mingled with soil resembling chalk in appearance, but very different
from it in nature. From the softness of these materials it was worn
into many gulleys. There was not a tree, and, excepting the guanaco,
which stood on the hill-top a watchful sentinel over its herd, scarcely
an animal or a bird. All was stillness and desolation. Yet in passing
over these scenes, without one bright object near, an ill-defined but
strong sense of pleasure is vividly excited. One asked how many ages
the plain had thus lasted, and how many more it was doomed thus to
continue.
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