THE PAMPAS OF PATAGONIA. 19 



himself backwards and roll until we gave up the effort 

 in despair. Nor did he like anybody to touch him but 

 myself. With me, however, not only was he perfectly 

 free from vice, but absolutely reliable. I was exceed- 

 ingly sorry to part with him when I left Patagonia, but 

 I left him in good hands. 



When the zaino was saddled it was almost half-past 

 four o'clock. The district which lay to the south-east of 

 Lago Buenos Aires was one through which few men, if 

 any, had ever passed, and owing to its proximity to 

 the cordillera, which shielded it from the continuous 

 westerly winds and gales, the bushes of califate, 

 incensio, and mate negra were dense and often five 

 or six feet in height. The immediate object of my 

 ride was the usual one meat for food. 



Tom and Chichi went with me, and we had not gone 

 far when, passing over a hill, we roused a herd of some 

 dozen guanacos, that came bounding out from the 

 margin of a pond where they had been feeding or lying. 

 The dogs immediately gave chase, Tom leading and 

 characteristically devoting his attention to a yearling, 

 which he soon headed. The rest of the herd dashed 

 away in another direction, and the yearling was pulled 

 down by Tom almost without any help from Chichi. 

 As the kill was so near camp I rode back with news of 

 it, and, leaving one of the peones to butcher and cany 

 back the meat, continued my ride. 



It was Chichi's first hunt since her feet had been 

 cured, but it was easy to see that she was a high-spirited 

 little hound, and very manifestly Tom ran better and 

 more pluckily with her than with any of his former 

 mates. I at once resolved that if I could I would lay 

 the dogs on an old buck, if it were only to see whether 



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