In former years, before vessels entered the Strait of Magellan and before the passage around Cape Horn was discovered, the Onas tipped their arrows with flint; but since white men have invaded these waters their misfortunes have been the fortunes of the Indians. From the many wrecks thrown upon the rocky shores during the past three hundred years the aborigines have obtained glass, with which they now point their arrows; and also iron of which they make knives. Within the last twenty-five years they have occasionally bagged an unwary gold-digger, and his kit has been added to their own imperfect implements of chase. But they have never been able to obtain ammunition, and so the rifles in their camp are of no use. The traders and farmers on the border lands, with whom these Indians have to come in contact, have always been alive to their own interests. They have prudently refused to sell firearms or ammunition. If the Onas were able to obtain guns and supplies they would clear their island of pale-faced settlers in less than a month. With the bow and arrow as their sole implement of chase the Onas roam about, always in the footprints of the guanaco, from the barren interior mountains to the forest-covered lowlands, and during the winter from the forests over the pampas to the sea shore. If they fail in securing their favoured game, the guanaco, they capture a kind of ground rat or gather the snails and mussels of the beach; but the one aim of life is to hunt guanaco. I wish I could paint a picture or secure a photograph of this chase. It is certainly a most charming bit of aboriginal life. Day after day, the whole family marches over wind-swept plains, through icy streams, into regions seemingly ever deserted by animal life. The women and children travel in one group, generally in gullies, winding around low hills where they are out of sight of the game. The men scatter about as sentinels, mounting little elevations now and then, to search, with their eagle eyes, the undulating plains for a herd of guanaco. When on this weary chase they are always hungry and generally but half-clothed. The sick and the helpless aged are left by the wayside to starve or support life as best they can, while the more vigorous individuals go on and on famine-stricken until they come upon their game. When in sight of guanaco the men seek to surround the entire herd by creeping on hands and feet and covering their bodies with a robe to imitate the animals. As they close in on them they rise, drop their robes, and spring naked upon the guanaco, killing such as they can with arrows. Then, as the animals stand in utter amazement, they rush upon them with knives and clubs. In this onslaught they often secure the entire herd. Next, a gluttonous hilarity begins, which knows no bounds. It continues while the meat lasts and then famine is again their lot. Thus their life is one of short feasts divided by long famines. [Illustration: Dr. Frederick A. Cook.]