Cattle Train on Central Argentine Railway, bringing Cattle to Barrancosa.

RAILWAY COMMUNICATION.

The Company have built a railway from a point north of Vera running into their forests, and extend it from time to time as the development of the wood industry demands. They further own a line from Margarita to La Gallareta, where the extract factory of the Compania Tanin de Santa Fé is situated. The Company propose to build a railway from San Cristobal to penetrate to their northern properties, and have applied to the Argentine National Government for a railway concession in connection therewith.

ADMINISTRATION.

After various changes of centre the administration offices of the Company were, in the year 1902, divided between San Cristobal for the cattle and lands department, and Vera for the woods department, but, in 1906, the woods department was placed under the supervision of the General Manager of the Company, who lived at San Cristobal, and, in 1908, the central offices were moved from San Cristobal to Buenos Aires. Through the latter office all the work of the Company in Argentina passes on to the London office, the managers at San Cristobal, Vera, Santa Catalina, and La Barrancosa, having to concern themselves only with the technical and administrative work carried on under them respectively.

COMPANY'S BUSINESS.

The Company's business has been mainly divided into three branches, viz.: (1) land sales and rentals; (2) cattle industry, and (3) timber trade.

The first two branches are conducted from San Cristobal, situated at the S.W. corner of the Company's original lands, and for many years the site of the central offices of the Company in Argentina, whilst the timber trade is conducted from Vera.

SAN CRISTOBAL DEPARTMENT.

A township was started at San Cristobal in 1884, and now numbers 4,500 persons.

The Administration House and other buildings for the use of the General Manager and Staff of the Cattle and Lands Department were erected about three miles from the town, and the whole now forms a large and handsome establishment, equipped with the most modern requisites for carrying on the work of the estancia.

The cattle lands have been divided up into sections, which are managed by officials of the Company, under the control of the administration at San Cristobal. The office there and the offices on the various sections have recently been connected up by telephone. These sections are Polvareda, Michelot, Los Moyes, and Lucero (which lie to the North and North-East of San Cristobal), and Las Chuñas, which forms the North-Western corner of the Company's lands.

Loading Wheat at Rosario from the "Barranca."

San Cristobal Estancia House.

SANTA CATALINA AND LA BARRANCOSA.

In January, 1897, the Company rented the estancia of Santa Catalina, which is situated about five miles from Los Cardos on the Central Argentine Railway and about 150 miles South of San Cristobal. Here the stock which was brought down from San Cristobal was fattened before passing on to the markets. At the same time the Company continued the sowing of alfalfa which had been begun by the proprietor, and ultimately decided to buy the camp and use it as an establishment for breeding fine stock. The terms of the purchase were that the price should be paid by way of an annuity, payable during the joint lifetime of the owner and his wife. In 1909 this method of payment was compounded and satisfied in full by an allotment of shares of the Company.

The practice has been that the male calves born on this estancia should be sent North to the general herds kept at San Cristobal and the adjoining sections, and that the progeny of these animals should in turn be sold as fat cattle.

VERA DEPARTMENT.

The headquarters of the Woods Department is situated about eight miles N.W. of the town of Vera, which stands at kilometre 250 north of the City of Santa Fé on the line of the French Railway Company leading from Santa Fé to Resistencia. Sawmills and offices were built, which involved the presence of a considerable number of work-people, for whom houses had to be provided. Consequently, a small village has grown up at the place.

A branch railway was begun in 1905, at a point 13 kilometres north of Vera town, on the French Railway, to penetrate westwards into the Company's forests, and has been extended to a point called Olmos, lying 30 miles away. Along the line two or three hamlets have sprung up, where people connected with the wood industry reside, as well as the Company's officials who control the timber in the neighbourhood.

In 1904 the Company entered into an agreement with Messrs. Albert and Charles Harteneck, Frederick and Charles Portalis, and Hermann Renner, to bring out a Company to work a factory for the manufacture of tannin extract from the wood of the Quebracho Colorado tree, and this factory was ultimately built within the Company's properties at a place called La Gallareta, which is situated 17 kilometres north-west of the Station of Margarita on the French Railway line. The Santa Fé Land Company have also built a branch line from Margarita to this tannin factory.

Watering-Place at Barrancosa.

Wood on the Company's Own Line ready for Loading.

Loading Timber at Wayside Station.

FOOTNOTES:

To give one an idea of the value of land in four or five of the principal provinces of the country, I must begin with the Queen Province, as it is called, viz., Buenos Aires. In 1885, property in the city centre was worth 2s. 6d. to 3s. 6d. a yard, whereas to-day it has been sold up to £200 sterling per yard, while suburban lots of 20 yards by 60 yards realised £5 and to-day are fetching £150, and camp lands have risen from £10,000, to £100,000 the square league. Of course this is within a radius of 30 to 50 leagues of the city; lands away to the south and west may yet be bought at £10,000, and, still further south towards Neuquen and the far Pampa, at £2,000 per square league. The province of Buenos Aires is not considered good for alfalfa growing, but has good natural grass camps.

The province of Santa Fé is a large province, extending from the northern boundary of the province of Buenos Aires to Santiago del Estero, and contains what is known as the Gran Chaco. The southern portion of this province is largely dedicated to the production of wheat, linseed, and maize, for which it is admirably adapted. There are also large estancias carrying vast herds of cattle, sheep, and horses, while the northern portion has vast forests of very fine and valuable timber.

Wheat ready for Loading at Station on Central Argentine Railway.

The next province, Cordoba, is one of the most hilly in the country, and has been one of the most developed during latter years. Some twenty years ago this was almost considered a desert, where one was told nothing would grow and cattle could not live. To-day it is one of the most prosperous; wheat and linseed are great products here, while alfalfa, when carefully treated, that is, not overstocked, lives for ever on account of the sandy soil, and water being so near the surface. These lands twenty years ago were valued at about £500 to £600 per league, while to-day it is difficult to acquire land under cultivation or alfalfa at less than £30,000 per league. In the Northern part of this province are very valuable stone quarries.

Another province that is advancing very fast is that of San Luis. Here, again, it has been found that alfalfa is at home, and thrives splendidly. This, again, is a very sandy soil, and consequently is much sought after, but this land has not yet touched the value of that in the provinces already mentioned; it will not stand so much cropping, and will not carry the same amount of stock, but still the average price for virgin camp is from £5,000 to £10,000 per league. In this province there is a very large extent of very poor land, covered with a small shrub, which is not worth more than £2,000 a league.

Mendoza is a more northerly province, and mostly dedicated to the grape and wine industry, while a lot of fruit is also exported from there. Wine is made in very large quantities, and a lot of very good quality. The value of land varies very much. The greater portion is worth at present very little. The great point is to get the water concessions for irrigating; without irrigation the land is useless. A good vineyard in its prime, with good irrigation rights, is worth as much as from £40 to £50 per acre, while the ordinary camp land is at about 7s. per acre.

The Maker of Land Values.

The Argentine Republic, like all hot countries, is subject to very great hurricanes and storms. They occur most frequently in the spring and summer, when very sudden changes of temperature take place. The thermometer has often been known to drop 25 degrees within half an hour.

In September, 1909, a very bad cyclone suddenly came on us. The sky turned black and blacker, and the clouds looked horribly wicked. Suddenly a terrific gale got up, which caused every window and door to rattle in a most alarming manner, though they had all been as well secured as possible. The dust seemed to filter in just the same, and in five minutes the house was an inch thick in it. We heard a loud bang and then another over our heads, and on looking out of a window we saw the roof of one of the outer buildings lying on the ground; part of it had been blown over our house and had carried away the chimney, a big iron one, on its way. We were told afterwards that the cook had had to use all her force against the kitchen window to keep it from bursting open, as, if the wind had got in, it would have carried away that roof as well. This hurricane lasted for about an hour and a-half; as soon as it had abated somewhat we went out to see the result. Everywhere reigned havoc and confusion, the whole place looked an old ruin, brick-bats, tiles, broken branches, loose sheets of corrugated iron lying all around; three roofs had been blown away, several windmills knocked down and carried 100 yards away, and lovely old trees had been completely uprooted.

The natives, frightened of remaining in their own quarters, had, in their terror, deserted them and taken refuge, with their wives and children, in the open camp, where they fondly imagined they were safer. Out in the camp the roofs of most of the "puestos," or huts, had been also carried away, leaving the occupants exposed to the cold rains and winds which followed.

This storm was followed by very heavy rains which lasted for about ten days, during which our house was flooded, as the wind had lifted the tiles and the rain was driven in through every possible place.

Another time, when driving home from the town of Vernado Tuerto, we were caught in a very bad dust storm. Things became so black that we could not see where we were going, so we had to halt. The wind was so strong that the men had to get out of the carriage, which was a heavy covered-in waggonette, and hold the wheels down to prevent it from being overturned. We all looked like seaside niggers, as the dust and rain falling at once came down like mud on us all. One gets quite hardened to these severe storms. On one occasion a very rough wind began to blow, but, as it was a steady gale, no one took particular notice of it. It was after dinner, and everybody was busy playing cards. The wind made such a deafening noise that you could hardly hear yourself speak; presently some of the occupants of the house thought they would have a look outside to see if things were all right; when they were surprised to see an outer building, used for stores and machinery, roofless, and the roof nowhere to be seen; it was discovered afterwards on the top of their own house, and they had never heard it happen.

The climate in the Argentine is very variable; we have great extremes of heat and cold. It is healthy as a rule, except in the swampy districts or during a very wet season, when a great many residents suffer from rheumatism.

People talk about the sudden changes of English weather, but we are treated just the same; one day it will be brilliantly hot and fine, and another day cold and miserable.

One part of the country or another is generally suffering from drought, when in another part they are being flooded out.

In the winter there is much more sunshine than there is in England; in the early morning it is bitterly cold, at noon on a fine day it is blazing hot, and then, as soon as the sun goes in, it freezes hard.

In the summer, of course, the heat is very great, but, as it is generally dry, it is quite healthy.

I came out with my brother on a tramp steamer from Penarth. We took thirty-one days. However, time passed fairly quickly, chipping off rust and painting the decks, after we got over our sickness.

Rain fell heavily as we landed at Buenos Aires, two typical gringos (greenhorns), not knowing a word of Spanish. I went to a first-class hotel, whose proprietor I had met in England. My first attempt to speak Spanish was in a tram. I asked the conductor to stop; getting out I said, "Mucha grasa" (much fat), instead of "muchas gracias" (many thanks)—then called the man a fool for laughing.

We stopped in Buenos Aires a week and our bill came into hundreds of dollars, which took a big slice off our small means.

We then went to an estancia (farm) in the Province of Cordoba. The estancia was fifty-one miles square, owned by an Argentine family. The manager was a North-American, well known in camp life.

The estancia consisted of three sections, one where I went, another where my brother was, and the other the headquarters.

The first thing I had to do was to skin a cow, and it made me feel very uncomfortable to look at the horrid sight. The next day I was sent to fetch the fat from a dead cow. When I got there I could not see any fat and wondered what it was. I saw the intestines and carried them bodily on my new recado (native saddle). My horse got excited and I arrived dead beat. I told my companion I had the fat: then he burst out laughing and said I had got the intestines. Needless to say my recado was the worse for wear.

The food was different from what I was used to, and I felt ill for a time.

In the summer I was up at between three and four, having "maté-cocido" (cooked Paraguayan tea—the native drink) with a hard biscuit; at eleven, breakfast of puchero (big pieces of meat boiled in a pot), then maize with milk and a biscuit. Sometimes tea at four, but very seldom; supper consisted of an asado and maté at seven or eight o'clock.

I had charge of two valuable stallions—they had a stable of mud and straw.

At branding time the capataz (foreman) came up with his men for a week. Up before three o'clock, quite dark, we branded 6,000 calves, and I enjoyed it.

Then our cook began stealing provisions from the store box. We changed the locks three times, and each time she bought a key to the same. One night I asked her for some coffee. She said there was none. I could see she had some in a small bag, and I went to fetch it. She took up a knife and threatened me. I soon twisted the knife from her. Our food was bad, my companion was careless, and frightened of her. One day he had a row, and she got the sack, using strong language. We then did our own cooking for eight months: the first one home from camp had to begin cooking.

The meat we got was often green and bitter. All the time we had puchero and asado, and an occasional ostrich egg.

Ostriches swarmed everywhere, and it was good sport lassoing them. I found one nest with fifty eggs, laid by different birds. My cooking was rather a failure at first, the smoke was so thick we could not see each other. I was told to cook maize for dinner. I made a big fire, and cooked for three hours, and was then told I had the stallions' maize. Another time it was very dark; our candles, made of old clothes and grease, had run out. I had made some good soup, and put the pot near the table, then, walking by, put my foot in it: the hot grease made me hop, and took the skin off my foot. Our table was an old greasy box; we had no plates, nor forks, just a big knife. Sometimes, coming in very tired from a hard day, we had no strength to chop wood and make a fire; we just went to bed. Many days we only had an asado and maté. Maté I am very fond of—it is so refreshing and sustaining.

Bizcachas (like a big badger) were numerous. One day we dug a two-metre hole, and next day found eight live ones. They have teeth one and a-half inches long.

Our nearest village was eighteen miles away, where I met some English friends, and played tennis or had some other amusement. I used to start back at 2.30 a.m. to be in time for work. One night I had to cross a big field, without a path or fence for a guide. It was dark, and lightning hard. I made for a light, which I thought was the house. Going for some time, I came to a fence—I was lost. I unsaddled and lay down to sleep, the rain was pouring hard, when I heard a donkey braying, so I shouted, and was answered by a man in a puesto (out-station). The light I saw was a village twelve miles away.

My companion was very slack, and the patrons came up and sacked him.

Then I went to the estancia house for a month, breaking in colts for driving. I felt rather sad at leaving my rough work. It was hard work, but I never had better health.

My Boss then earned $15 per month, and his wife cooked for the men. Now he is one of the richest men in the country.

There was no opening there, so the Boss sent me to a New Zealander who had half a league of camp, all fine stock, good alfalfa and splendid water. He had a big house and I expected I would live well. My first work was to dig up locusts' eggs for a week under a hot sun, with the ground very hard. The Boss was a man of forty-two, very red-faced and extremely rich, but as mean as possible.

In the winter we were in bed by six to seven.

His clothes were a disgrace to any peon. He had native trousers that button at the foot, with top boots, no socks, his heel and big toe were sticking out, no vest, only a shirt and an old hat, where the grease of many years was visible.

He was a splendid worker—I have not seen a better one. We used to catch locusts in a big zinc box pulled by two horses; the locusts were put into sacks, and after being left standing for four days, were carted to the village, where he got 10 cents a kilo. The smell in carting these dead locusts was simply terrible. Then I helped pick ten square of maize, which at first took a little skin off my hands. At branding time we lassoed each calf to cut off the horns. I had to sit on their necks, and got smothered in the face with hot blood. The Boss was very proud because his monthly account only came to $12 for four of us: biscuits, sugar, tea, and other things. He sent his clothes once in three months to be washed. He had few friends, no one ever came to visit him, and every Sunday he shut himself in his room. He bought the place for $90,000 and sold it for over double. He was a thorough campman, but so mean. One cold winter 500 cows died of starvation; rather than sell them at a low price he let them starve. The last thing he said was, he was "going to New Zealand to marry an ugly lady, but she has plenty of money." His countrymen called him a disgrace to his country and the meanest in the Argentine.

The second told me to have my food with the peons (men), which was rather disheartening. I tried to eat in the kitchen, but the French cook kicked me out, and for ten months I fed with the peons; they were very good fellows. The second and the book-keeper had meals together. The second-manager did no work: up at half-past eight, he went to the train, had a drink at the shop, then came back for dinner, slept until tea-time, then went to see the train pass again and have another drink, and came back at all hours. He had been there fourteen years and was only getting a hundred a month.

The chief work was loading cattle and sheep for the big freezing factories. The trucks were rotten. One night we finished at 11 p.m., after a hard day's work, three of us unloaded 300 quebracho posts in under three hours. I had a French gardener in my room who did nothing else but spit and talk politics.

The Boss took me to learn shearing. I had to shear, gather the wool, sort it and pack it up. Each man got five cents a sheep, but it was hard work, all done by hand.

Then I cut alfalfa for a fortnight—a nice easy job.

An inspector of locusts stopped all the summer. He did nothing but eat, sleep, and drink whisky. We had locust-killing machines of every description, but we did not kill ten kilos.

The days I enjoyed were when we started out early to part some animals in a herd of over a thousand. At eleven we would have an asado and maté, and give our horses a drink, then finish parting, and get home at half-past seven. The horses look wrecks, and no good, but they work all day—mostly galloping—and are splendid stayers.

The Boss's brother, a very nice man of fifty, married a servant of the Boss, a girl of eighteen.

Great excitement is caused by races. The Boss was keen, and the men talked of nothing else for days. Every Sunday there are races. Once I rode my horse bareback in three races of 200 metres, and won a bottle of beer, a packet of tobacco, and a knife.

Then I was put in charge of fine stock. I had ten Durham bulls, two thoroughbred stallions, one Pecheron, eight rams and twelve pigs. I had a boy under me. I also had to saddle up the Boss's and the Second's horses, and harness the traps. Sometimes I had to wait till eleven at night, very tired, to unsaddle the Second's horse, as he had been making love to the Stationmaster's sister.

The work was very interesting and hard, even on Sundays or feast days, watering, cleaning the animals, and curing any foals that were ill.

One day the Boss was out: the men were taming some wild colts in the corral. I took French leave and went. I got on five. None had had a saddle on before or even been handled. We lassoed them, pulled them down and put on the bridle. Then five men held a long rope and one put on the native saddle, with stirrups big enough to get your toes in. Then they tied a red handkerchief round my head. I mounted gently but quickly. Then the rope was taken off and away the colt went as fast as possible, with one man on each side to shove you either way, all the time bucking and plunging. I did not fall, but one stirrup broke. One laid down and would not move. It tried to bite everyone. When they go fast and buck at the same time it is very hard to stick on.

On the 25th of May, the great holiday in this country, I went to an estancia to see some friends. On my way back we had to cross a deep river. The coachman drove across, but one wheel went into a big hole and the jerk sent me out on my head, where the wheel passed over my hair, missing my head by inches. I was senseless. A crowd of women came and began weeping—they thought I was dead—then I was taken in a procession to the chemist, who sent me to a hospital, where I found my collar bone broken. I did nothing for three weeks.

This estancia is a splendid one for learners, because there is a little of everything. Once I had a month with the threshing machine, sleeping out with the mosquitoes, and getting meat nearly raw for food; but a lot of money can be made from the harvest.

I often look back upon these jolly times. Work was exacted with anything but kindness, but the life was simple and very healthy, and many pleasant reminiscences are talked over when it is my luck to join others around the camp fire before falling to sleep with nothing but a bullock's head as a pillow and a "recado" as a blanket and the glorious, starry sky above one.

To an outsider, life in the camps or country might be considered very slow: the distance between the estancias being so great, the ordinary form of social life is quite impossible; for instance, when one goes to pay a call on a neighbour, even a first call, it means going for the day, starting in the cool of the morning and returning in the evening, and so allowing the horses to have a rest. Of course, if everyone had a motor-car, this might not be necessary; but as yet they are very few and far between. This is no doubt owing to the bad roads; in most districts, after a few hours' rain, the roads are flooded, and what is worse still, "pantanosa" (thick, sticky mud).

Most estancieros keep open house, and are only too pleased when people "drop in," which they do at all times and for any meal, almost without a "by your leave." An estancia house has to be very elastic, and ready to provide, at a moment's notice, board and lodging for unexpected guests. This is quite the nicest way of entertaining one's friends—no fuss of preparation, and, more often than not, a very jolly evening of cards, music, or games.

Wherever there is a polo club the most exciting event of the year is the Spring Race Meeting, two days' racing, often followed by a polo match or tournament with neighbouring clubs, and always as many dances as possible, as it is the only time in the year when enough girls can be collected together; every estancia house has its own party, as many as can be crowded in, including friends from Buenos Aires and Rosario, who delight in these camp meetings, and she is a proud hostess who can count a few girls amongst her party. I may as well add here that girls are almost "non est" in the camp, many districts for leagues and leagues round not being able to boast of one English girl.