64 Idle Days in Patagonia. 



one way in which he could or was allowed to work 

 off his superabundant energy. 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 enormous 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 

 graduated with honours 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 con- 

 quered, and to witness his boundless delight and 

 gratitude 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 too 

 long neglected, and would soon settle down to do 

 his share of the work in a sober, business-like 



manner. 



Then a day came when Major covered himself 

 with glory. I came one morning on a small flock 



