Numbers of deep ravines have been worn in the mountainsides by water coming from the melting snows on the higher peaks. These are filled with a rank growth of shrubbery. The sides are so abrupt that we could find no spot where a descent was possible without the aid of a thousand feet or more of rope. After a number of days, however, a narrow fissure was discovered leading to one of the ravines from which came faint bird-calls that we at once recognized with a fair degree of certainty. On account of the high altitude and tangled plant-life it was slow, tiring work to follow along the bottom of the jagged gash; there was also the unpleasant possibility of breaking through the matted brush and falling into deep crevices among the rocks. As we struggled along slowly, high-pitched, whistling calls rang clear and loud from numerous places near by, but still it seemed as if our efforts might be of no avail; for among that chaos of vegetation it was impossible to move without causing great disturbance and frightening the birds away. Then there recurred to us the old saying about Mahomet and the mountain and we resorted to quiet concealment. Presently there was a crisp little chirp and a rustle among the mosses a few yards away; one, two, five minutes passed; then a minute, shadowy form darted out of the darkness, perched on a moss-covered boulder, and turned a pair of bright, inquisitive eyes upon the strange monsters which had invaded its snug retreat. The white throat gleamed conspicuously among the deep-green surroundings as the bird paused a moment to complete its inspection; then up went the short, barred tail, straight into the air, and a succession of low, scolding notes emanated from the feathered mite as it hopped about in angry excitement. We found that the bird existed in numbers; once we had discovered a way of entering its stronghold, it was possible to make the desired studies. Thus our difficult search, covering so many hundreds of miles, came to a pleasant and successful close. Our work in the Argentine, however, was by no means completed. After a short return trip to our base, we went some distance farther south to Aguilares, a village similar to San Pablo and Acherál. Persimmons and tangerines were in season, and at each station women came to the car-windows offering great bunches of the fruit for sale. The former were most attractive while on the trees; they were as large as a hen’s egg, of a deep-red color, and were evenly distributed among the dense, green foliage. The flavor of both was excellent.