62 IDLE DAYS IN PATAGONIA 



though all the other dogs about the house looked 

 Up to him with that instinctive respect they al- 

 ways accord to the oldest, or strongest, or most 

 domineering member, his heart was restless and 

 dissatisfied. He could not endure an inactive life. 

 There was, in fact, only one way in which he could 

 or was allowed to work off his superabundant en- 

 ergy. This was when we went down to the river 

 to bathe in the afternoon, and when we would 

 amuse ourselves, some of us, by throwing enor- 

 mous logs and dead branches into the current. 

 They were large and heavy, and thrown well out 

 into one of the most rapid rivers in the world, but 

 Major would have perished forty times over, if 

 he had had forty lives to throw away, before he 

 would have allowed one of those useless logs to be 

 lost. But this was wasted energy, and Major 

 could not have known it better if he had gradu- 

 ated with honors at the Royal School of Mines, 

 consequently his exertions in the river did not 

 make him happy. His unhappiness began to prey 

 on my mind, and I never left the house but that 

 mute imploring face haunted me for an hour after, 

 until I could bear it no longer. Major conquered, 

 and to witness his boundless delight and grati- 

 tude when I shouldered my gun and called him 

 to me, was a pleasure worth many dead birds. 

 Nothing important happened during our first 

 few expeditions. Major behaved rather wildly, I 

 thought, but he was obedient and anxious to 

 please, and my impression was that he had been 



