The worker in the forests is of necessity an early riser, the nature of his task requiring that he should be up betimes. His preparations for breakfast are simple, and he is ready to start out after half an hour spent in imbibing a few matés full of yerba infusion. The cartmen tie in their bullocks, kept overnight in a corral, and drive off to bring in wood prepared by the axemen, the bullock-herd takes his charges to pasture and the men's employer mounts his horse to visit the camp of his axemen, or goes to the store to fetch meat and provisions. The axemen generally live in tents or temporary shelters, convenient to their work, and some distance from the contractor's rancho. They have to work hard, stripped to the waist in summer; they fell the trees, and either square the logs for baulks and sleepers, or cut the bark and outside layer of white wood off to make logs for export, working by moonlight when the heat of the day is excessive. Their food consists of biscuits, called Galleta, dried to the consistency of flint; these they soften in soup made from fresh meat or dried "Charki." To this soup is added rice, maize, or "Fido's," which is coarse macaroni.

It is picturesque to see a long string of carts enter a deposit to the sound of pistol cracks from long whips, and to watch the cartmen unload the heavy logs.

A cartman will load his cart with logs of a ton and upwards, each with the aid of his team of bullocks, placing the chains so that the animals, at the desired moment, by advancing a short distance, roll the log from the ground on to the cart. In the case of very heavy logs the cart is placed upside down on the log, which is then bound to it, and the bullocks pull the whole thing over. The distances which have to be covered by these carts are considerable, fifteen miles in the day is not unusual, changing bullocks once en route, but a great deal depends on the roads being dry, as in wet weather the wheels sink up to the hubs in the mud and the roads are soon dotted here and there with loads abandoned till better conditions enable them to be reloaded and delivered at a depository.

These cartmen are hardy fellows and work wet to the skin, covered with mud up to their knees, or, again, hidden in the dust from the roads, which envelopes the moving carts in a choking cloud.

It is little to be wondered at if the axemen and cartmen, when pay day arrives, go in for a spree, which for them usually takes the form of gambling, enlivened by dancing and drinking till daylight.

The result of sojourning in the woods does not, as might be expected, have the effect of making these men unsociable, and they embrace every opportunity of attending a race meeting or dance. When the men are excited by drink quarrels are frequent, and the police search them for arms before admitting them to a Re-union.

Among these people one looks for, and finds, the primitive idea of hospitality, an unaffected welcome and willingness to give of the best they have. Here are men independent by virtue of their labour, which gives them sufficient for their daily wants. They have no thought for the morrow or what will be their lot when too feeble to work.

The axemen, who are natives of Italy and Austria, are very good workmen, but compare unfavourably with natives of the country, being extremely dirty in their persons, to such a degree that it is a disagreeable experience to have to interview them in an office, whereas the Argentine native puts on his best apparel when he goes to an estancia.

The forest workers are nomads, and, as the woods get cut out, move on to fresh camping grounds, leaving the woods to revert to their former solitude, a haunt for the wild animals, who creep back once silence has returned.

To a man coming from the Southern Camps to the forest belt of Santa Fé, the cachapé must appeal as something peculiar to the district, and most essentially local. He has had a surfeit of carts with two wheels, each 12 feet high, and dragged by anything from sixteen to twenty-eight horses; Russian carts, like Thames punts on four wheels, no longer amuse him, while American spring carts are much too European to warrant unslinging the Kodak. But the cachapé—here is something not to be lightly passed over. Lying idle it may not strike him at first sight as a cart, but rather as a remnant of some revolution, when, tired of waging light operatic war, the army disbanded, leaving their gun-carriages to serve more peaceful purposes.

Two pairs of short, squat, enormously powerful wheels; between, and joining them, a roughly hewn pole and various chains in an apparently hopeless tangle. Yet see them in work—every niche doing its work, every chain taking ten per cent, more strain than it was ever intended to take, creaking, groaning, crashing into holes, crawling laboriously over snaps and trunks to fall again with its load of four tons with a jerking, swaying, and straining as though struggling to free itself from its load, and you recognise the raison d'être of the queer little cart.

Reeking with inherited consumption, they live the one life which is certain to kill them before they are forty. Wet through and chilled, they are called upon again and again to suddenly exert enormous strength, since no man can desert his cart. He must "get there." He must get out of his trouble. He eats largely when and how he can, and when he has saved any money the merry "Taba" bone charms it from him in a way too universal perhaps to call for any remark. Sometimes he finishes his carting days through too decided opinions as to the other man's integrity in playing "Taba"; sometimes on his canvas bed in a hut of mud and branches, his browny yellow face and sunken eyes asking no pity, betraying no emotion; in either case he is rarely over thirty-five and often leaves a wife and children.

But, mark you, lest you should judge them lightly, remember that their unwritten pact is just as binding to them as our formal marriage tie is to us, and that in their way they are probably better husbands and fathers than your Balham clerk. In their young days they may chop and change, which changes are generally marked by little iron crosses in the woods, but, once they have settled down, desertion is far rarer than in civilised countries. I have seen a native workman with his shoulder blade in his arm-pit, his face cut to ribbons, and with pieces of casting sticking to his back through the carrying away of a crane, cavil against the idea of being taken into the township where the doctor was, lest his old woman, unused to a town life, should find the surroundings uncongenial. This in a broken, muttered whisper, twelve hours after the accident had happened, during which time every new arrival had been called upon to witness the peculiar nature of his injuries.

Blackguards they are—but manly, humorous blackguards. Immoral, one must confess them to be, according to our lights, but even in England "Custom from time immemorial" is held as law.

The vast majority will steal raw hide gear as a cat steals fish, but will not touch your money, much as in a community of young men property is common to all with the same exception. They will lie if scared, or rather will substitute for the truth something they think you would like to hear, and they will do as little work as you will let them.

But, have a bad case of sickness in the house and ask a man to go out at midnight with the carriage to get the doctor, or to go on horseback on his own horse twenty miles for medicine, and he goes as quietly and pleasantly as though he were going about the most commonplace work. He expects no tip, no extra wage, nor is he lauded as a hero. He may have come down, horse and all, in the dark, but is happy if he has not smashed the bottle of medicine, and he resumes his work on return, just as if he hadn't been up all night riding at a hard canter over broken ground full of holes and snags.

No, he is by no means an ideal worker, neither is he half so bad as he's painted, and I'd rather meet him in the next world than lots of men who boss him in this.

Eighty square leagues of dense forest. One is inclined to feel a trifle small and overcome when this fraction of Mother Earth is put into one's hands (metaphorically), with orders to know all about it and to be able to answer all questions as to what is going on in it.

The work is like most other occupations: not quite so romantic as it sounds at first, but as interesting as one cares to make it.

One's main employment can best be illustrated by a leaf out of a mental diary.

Fulano de Tal, axeman, wants credit for provisions at the almacen or general store—Has he sufficient wood cut to warrant it? It is the Mayor-domo's business to find out.

With this end in view, he rides along "The Mangy" watercourse till he comes to the lowland of "The Blind Cow." The barking of half a dozen mongrel curs leads him into the edge of the forest, and he comes upon the residence of Fulano de Tal. The man has perhaps recently moved to this spot, and has not had time or energy to build himself a "rancho," and therefore the homestead consists of about four yards of canvas stretched across the branch of a tree like the roof of a tent.

Beneath this is a "New Home" sewing machine, a Brummagem bedstead, and a small trunk, made burglar-proof by innumerable bands and fastenings of bright tin, or even gilt wall-paper. Scattered around are the little Fulanos, in costumes varying from nothing to very little.

Their mother ceases her cooking operations, wipes her hands on the nearest child's head, and invites the visitor to dismount.

His horse is tied up near, and he takes the Mayor-domo through his "corte," showing him the wood prepared for the carters. Give him a chance and he will count every log twice (most likely he has already plastered mud over the marks which show the rotten patch in the wood, and is wondering whether he has cleared the black sufficiently off a piece of "campana" to persuade a reasonable man that it is really fresh wood).

It is part of the inspector's stock in trade to know these and a myriad other tricks, too numerous to take separately.

The typical axeman in the Santa Fé Chaco is more genuinely "childlike" than, and quite as "bland" as, the famous Celestial. He never quite grows up; he will spend his last dollar on a mouth-organ when he is forty, and give a wild war-whoop of delight as a stack of newly piled sleepers falls crashing to the ground.

He loves sweets and the bright clothes which he wears with childish dignity on feast-days and holidays.

His amour propre is tremendous, and influences his code of honour to a great extent. The first ten commandments he will break most cheerfully, but the eleventh—"Thou shalt not be found out"—he respects to the best of his power.

Stealing, for instance, he regards as a pastime, but call him a thief and you must be prepared for trouble. A perfect instance of this can be quoted in the case of an estanciero who found a peon wearing one of his shirts.

Square Quebracho Logs worked by the Axeman, showing Resin oozing therefrom.

"You are wearing my shirt," said the master. "No, Señor; I bought it in the store." "But you stole it from me," insisted the estanciero, pointing to the tab at the front, where his name was written in marking ink; "there is my name on it."

The man, being quite illiterate, had not reckoned on such damning evidence, but he recovered himself and replied with dignity: "Very well, Señor; if it is yours, take it; but don't call me a thief."

Honesty is with them, admittedly, a matter of degree. A man will always say if questioned about some small deficiency, "Do you think I would swindle you for a matter of two dollars?" or "Do you think I would risk my credit with the Company for the sake of one calf?" To be honest in a case where a larger profit is involved is a height of integrity to which he does not even pretend. "I am going to be frank with you"—that is an expression which puts the wise man on his guard, for it is generally followed by a cascade of lies.

Business must be done on a completely different basis to that which obtains in England. To return to our friend Fulano, for instance: he wishes perhaps to ask for an increase of fifty cents per ton on his wood, and introduces the subject by a short conversation about the points of his horse, passing on to the bad state of the bullocks and enlarging on the chance of a rainy winter. You have just decided that he has nothing more to say and are preparing to leave him, when he makes his request with as much circumlocution as possible. To have come straight to the point would have been contrary to all his ideas of correct procedure.

The Spanish blood, however, calls for some such dialogue as the following, which is taken from real life.

A.—"Good day."

B.—"Good day."

A.—"How are you, Señor?"

B.—"Very well, thank you, Señor; how are you?"

A.—"Very well, thank you."

B.—"I am glad."

A.—"Equally."

B.—"Don't mention it."

A.—"I am speaking to Mr. Juan Sosa?"

B.—"At your service."

A.—"At yours."

B.—"Equally."

A.—"It gives me great pleasure to know you."

B.—"Equally."

They are flowery always, whether in greeting, praise, commendation, or in denunciation.

In illustration of the last point, I once heard a cartman give vent to a quite Olympic challenge.

His cart had stuck in a deep rut up to the axles, and he commenced operations by addressing his bullocks with tender words and soft names swiftly followed by lurid curses. This proving useless, he invoked higher powers, and called on his pet saints by name—"Help me, San Pedro, San Geronimo, Santa Lucia, San Juan." Still no result:—

Then his patience failed entirely—"If you won't help me, San Pedro," he shouted, "come down and I'll fight you;" "Come down, San Juan, and I'll take you both on together."

Taking his hat off he placed it on the ground, made the motion of clawing his guardians from the skies and placing them in his hat.

"Stay there, San Geronimo; Stay there, San Juan; Stay there, San Marco."

When his hat was full enough for his satisfaction he leapt into the air, came down on it with both feet, and continued to dance on it for about three minutes.

Thus, for a real or imagined slight, the streak of black blood will show up and convert a friend into a relentless enemy.

It is not surprising when one considers the lack of civilising influences which ought to be exerted from the top downwards, but which have no root in the highest power they know, which is the arm of the law. It might be interesting to note a few proofs of the corruption which exists among those who wield the local weapons of justice—among the commissaries, police, and justices of the peace.

The Chief of Police of——, for instance, a town of only about 7,000 inhabitants, refused £2,000 a year for the local gambling rights.

Again, a gardener, whom I knew, was put in jail for being drunk and disorderly. On going to the place some time later I found the man still imprisoned. "Why," I asked, "for such a small offence"? "We found," was the answer, "that when sober he was such a good workman that we could not spare him from the job of cleaning the stables."

"I thought this was the best of them; but they all wanted to come," he concluded ingenuously.

Another commissary in the north of this country flattered himself on his revolver-shooting, and used to perform the feat of shooting the hat off a man's head without hurting him. He was in the local bar one day when a peon entered with a brand new white hat; it was an opportunity not to be missed. Crack—and the man fell with a bullet through his temple instead of his hat.

Did the Comisário stand stricken with remorse, or burst into self-reproach? No. He moved the body with the toe of his boot and remarked: "Carramba, I am getting a very poor shot nowadays."

A story which was told me in the province of Rio Negro, and which was well vouched for, contained serio-comic elements of which I believe the perpetrator, whom I knew personally, quite capable.

An old man who owned a considerable quantity of land, died intestate. A man who lived with him, Garcia by name, had no idea of letting the property go to distant unknown relations, and concocted the following plot (obviously with the connivance of the neighbouring Justice of the Peace, who was a friend of his).

The law allows that a sane man "in articulo mortis," and past the power of speech, may make statements by signs: so when the Justice was summoned to the house, Garcia told him that the man was not yet dead, and wished to make his will.

Garcia seated himself at the foot of the bed, while the Justice at the side addressed questions to the deceased on the following lines:—

The corpse nodded.

"Do you wish your property to pass into your cousins' hands?"

The head moved from side to side.

"Do you intend to make Garcia your sole legatee?"

The deceased nodded several times.

Two witnesses were brought, and the business was settled with commendable promptitude.

I think it was Garcia himself who explained, some time afterwards, that as the dead man wore a full beard and whiskers, it was easy enough to hide the strings passing from his ears and chin to the foot of the bed under the coverings.

In this connection I have since heard that one of the legal ceremonies in a coroner's inquest in Central America is to solemnly ask the deceased who killed him.

To return to the point, however; if such things exist among those in the highest positions of trust it is not surprising to find wholesale chicanery among the lower orders; that they realise their shortcomings is evidenced by the fact that if they wish to impress you with the truth of a statement, they add "palabra de Ingles," i.e., "on the word of an Englishman."

Their Indian descent is answerable for a great deal, the white and black blood being so mixed that it is almost impossible to note the dividing line. Their dusky ancestors were blessed with an extremely limited intelligence, only being able to count up to four. The following incidents were related to me by an old estanciero. He once saw a trainload of Indian prisoners who had had oranges given them throwing the skins against the windows and showing great surprise when they fell inside.

"Oh, yes," answered the mother, "but she is barefoot, and would not presume to talk Spanish unless she had shoes on."

This same girl at first insisted on turning up the carpet whenever she entered a room and walking along the boards at the side.

I fear that I have given a black character to the people I work among, but there are lights as well as shades, and I have had many a weary hour's ride wiled away by the philosophy and anecdotes of some peon or small contractor, without mentioning the enjoyment of that hospitality which is a characteristic of the nation.

Beside a camp fire, under the stars, while the maté pot passes from hand to hand, or when huddled under a horse cloth with the rain dousing the last embers, I have found the Correntino, or Santa Fecino, a cheery and uncomplaining companion, who compares well with the recently arrived Englishman, who, under the same circumstances, is generally sleepy or bad tempered.

Treat him well and he will treat you well, but if it is necessary to chasten him for his soul's good, keep your hand a little nearer to your revolver than his is to his knife.

Life in South America has many and varied experiences, though not so uncomfortably exciting perhaps to-day as they were, when more than three years seldom passed without a revolution of some kind, either national or provincial. The year 1893 was marked by two revolutions in Rosario, the first provincial and the second national, with perhaps little more than two months between them. It sounds terribly alarming to hear that a revolution has broken out, and pictures of the French Revolution immediately rise before one, but, fortunately, those of South American cities are not of that calibre; reports and rumours fly about of the terrible things that are going to be done, but these generally end in rumour, and after a few persons, those who have nothing to do with the movement, have been killed, probably by soldiers letting off their rifles up some street just on the chance of hitting something (often that at which they are not aiming), the revolution fizzles out very quickly.

During the past century considerable study has been centred upon the life and habits of the locust, mainly from the desire to seek its subjugation and destruction, and, whilst much general biological information has been written upon the subject, there are things which we do not yet know about this insect or its habits. We do not know what precise influences cause their migration, nor do we know what is the exact length of life of the locust or its breeding power, or the precise locality in any country which may be defined as its permanent abode. Locusts are classified under the order of orthopterous insects of the family Acrydiidae, and are very closely related to grasshoppers.

There are a large number of species, the differentiating features being more or less the form and sculpture of protorax, the size of the head, the length and size of the prosternal spine, the comparative length and size of the hind thighs and shanks, the amount and arrangement of the tegmina mottlings, the comparative length of wings, and the general build of the entire insect, which may be robust or fairly slender.

Besides having a pair of compound eyes which form so noticeable a feature in its head, there are three other simple little eyes, placed like shining dots at three angles of a triangle below the two feelers.

The mouth, which is a fearful apparatus, consists of nine distinct and well-marked organs; an interior or upper lip, consisting of a plate deeply cleft and capable of opening enormously; two true jaws or powerful mandibles; and two pairs of jointed organs called (maxillary) palpi, and two lower jaws. The mandibles and jaws move laterally from right to left.

The thorax or trunk consists really of three rings. To the first is attached the two front legs; to the second, the two middle legs and the first pair of wings, and to the third, the two hind legs and the second pair of posterior wings. Along the posterior margin is a well marked serrated (spinous) arrangement by means of which the locust adheres and grips forcibly. The trunk appears to be full of a fatty sort of substance.

The abdomen consists of a number of horny segments which are joined together by an elastic membrane, a construction which enables the insect to extend its body several centimetres beyond its normal extent. It can also be increased in thickness.

The front and middle feet of this insect are short and weak, but the length, strength, and formation of the hind legs enable it to take extraordinary leaps. A full-grown locust can jump seven or eight feet in height, whilst it is said to be able to leap more than 200 times the length of its body.

The average length of the migratory locust is from 2½ to 3 inches and about ⅜ inch in thickness in the abdomen. Locusts generally lay their eggs in the spring, and the manner in which the females, having selected a favourable site, make an excavation in the earth for depositing their eggs is intensely interesting and wonderful.

At the very extremity of the abdomen the female has two pairs of horny valves or hooks, each pair placed back to back with their points directed outwards, and arranged so that all four hooks can be brought with their points close together. By this means a sharp pointed lever is formed which can be turned around, evolved, and forked. With this apparatus she drills a small hole and by means of a series of muscular efforts and the continuing opening and closing of the valves provided with the formation of the abdomen, she actually bores to a depth of 6 to 7 centimetres, or about 3 inches. Here she deposits her eggs—normally about eighty—regularly arranged in a long cylindrical mass and envelopes them in a spumous or sort of glutinous secretion, so that the whole are quite tapped up and level with the surface of the ground. This substance when dried is more or less impassable and affords protection to the eggs from the elements and secures an easy outlet to the surface for the young locust when hatched. The eggs resemble in shape grains of small rice and are about ¼ inch long.

They have no quiescent stage, and whilst they are naturally yet incapable of flight, their locomotive powers are very considerable, and they are very destructive, for their voracity is great. Comparatively speaking, the flying locusts do less damage to the growing crops than the hoppers, who devour everything clean before them.

It is interesting to state that the "hoppers" in the first stage are in length about 7 to 9 mm., or not quite one-third of an inch, and that the feelers have thirteen divisions, extending to twenty-seven divisions at full growth.

During the cold weather they usually gather together in thousands, clinging closely to all kinds of vegetation and to each other. In this season the general rule seems to be that comparatively little food is taken of any kind. For the purpose of watching the development of their eggs, several hundred locusts have been opened during the winter months by entomologists, and invariably their cases have been found empty.

Perhaps the most feasible suggestion as to the cause of their migratory impulse is that locusts naturally breed in dry sandy districts in which food is scarce, and are thus impelled to wander in order to procure the necessaries of life.

It will not be denied that the presence of locusts in force constitutes a terrible plague. They make their appearance in swarms and eat up everything. It is wellnigh impossible to estimate the number in a cloud of locusts, but some idea may be formed from the fact that when they are driven, as sometimes is the case in a storm, into the sea and drowned, so many are washed ashore, that it is said by one observer that their dead bodies formed a bank of nearly 40 miles long and 300 yards wide, and many feet in depth, and the stench from the corruption of their bodies proceeded 150 miles inland.

When a swarm of locusts temporarily settles in a district, all vegetation rapidly disappears, and then hunger urges them on another stage. Such is their voracity that cannibalism amongst them has been asserted as an outcome of the failure of other kinds of food.

Locusts have their natural enemies. Many birds greedily devour them, in fact a migratory swarm is usually followed by myriads of birds, especially sea gulls; they are often found 150 to 200 miles inland. Often a flock of gulls will clean up a "manga" of locusts; they devour them by thousands, and will then go to a neighbouring laguna, take a little water, and throw up all they have eaten, and at a given signal go off again to fill up with more locusts, only to repeat the operation time after time. Predatory insects of other orders also attack them, especially when in the unwinged state. They have still more deadly foes in parasites, some of which attack the fully developed locust, but the greater number adopt the more insidious method of attacking the eggs.

The Agricultural Defence Department reports having spent $10,561,540 mn. from 1st January, 1909, to 31st May, 1910, in fighting the locusts. The total area invaded was 135,000,000 hectares (about 337,500,000 acres).

From 1892 to date, and with what is required for the present year, $54,000,000 have been spent in combating locusts and like plagues to agriculture.

The life of a conscript is more agreeable than most people in the Argentine Republic imagine it to be, although it has its disadvantages as well as its advantages.

Every year all over the Republic a drawing takes place, calling to arms, for a year in the Army or two in the Navy, Argentines who have attained the age of twenty-one. At an average 12,000 to 15,000 are called out every year and distributed in the different regiments, according to height; from 1.75 metres upwards to Cavalry, middle height to Infantry, and short men to Artillery.

For eight months the troops are drilled daily, and at the end of this period a big manoeuvre is held in which every regiment has to take part. This manoeuvre is divided into two parts: in the month of September all troops pertaining to the I., II., and IV. Regions are mobilised, and in November those of the III. and V.

The daily routine is as follows: At 4 a.m. at the call of a bugle all troops have to rise, and the roll is called over; at 4.30 a.m. coffee is served; at 5.0 every morning orders are given to saddle-up horses and arm, and they have to be ready to leave the barracks at 5.30 for morning drill on horseback or to go to the shooting range, according to the time-table; the drilling continues till 10 o'clock, at which hour the troops are due back at the barracks, having to go through a course of drilling on foot up till 11 o'clock.

Those drawn for the Navy have to go through a preliminary course of training on shore before being sent on board the training ship "Sarmiento," which every two years leaves Buenos Aires for a trip round the world, occupying, on an average, eighteen months.

There are certain allowances made for students, who at the age of nineteen are allowed to enlist in the 8th Cavalry, where they have to serve for three months. At the end of this period they are put through a very severe examination, and should they pass, are promoted to the grade of Sub-Lieutenant of the Reserve, having to serve for a month every year in a regiment allotted to them.

The advantages of conscription are many. It brings half-breeds from all parts of the Republic in touch with civilization, it teaches them obedience, respect for their superiors, and, above all, how to shoot. After their year's service they leave the barracks knowing a good deal more about things in general than when they entered them.

The food in the Army is good and plentiful: there is coffee in the morning on rising, a mid-day meal and dinner, which are usually similar, consisting of soup and "puchero" (a national dish made of beef and vegetables boiled), and an occasional dish of "pulenta" (boiled maize).

The general treatment in the barracks is good. There are cases of miscarriage of justice and ill-treatment, but these are rare. A conscript may have to suffer punishment although in the right, and is not allowed to protest his innocence against an officer until after he has completed his punishment.