68 Idle Days in Patagonia. 



pioneer of civilization in the wilderness, and to show 

 even in old age and when his sight had failed him, 

 of what stuff he was made. Killing sheep was his 

 crime; he had hunted the swift-footed cheviots 

 and black-faces on the hills and moors ; he had 

 tasted their blood and had made the discovery that 

 it was sweet, and the ancient wild dog instinct was 

 hot in his heart. The new joy possessed his whole 

 being, and in a moment swept away every restraint. 

 The savage life was the only real life after all, and 

 what cared Major about the greatest happiness for 

 the greatest number, and new fangled notions 

 about the division of labour, in which so mean a 

 part was assigned him ! Was he to spend a paltry 

 puppy existence retrieving birds, first flushed by a 

 stupid pointer or setter, and shot by a man with a 

 gun the bird, after all, to be eaten by none of 

 them ; and he, in return for his share in the work, 

 to be fed on mild messes and biscuits, and beef, 

 killed somewhere out of sight by a butcher ? Away 

 with such a complex state of things ! He would 

 not be stifled by such an artificial system ; he would 

 kill his own mutton on the moors, and eat it raw 

 and warm in the good old fashion, and enjoy life, 

 as, doubtless, every dog of spirit had enjoyed it a 

 thousand years ago ! 



This was not to be permitted on a well-conducted 

 estate ; and as it was thought that chains and 

 slavery would be less endurable than death to a 

 dog of Major's spirit, to death he was forthwith 

 condemned. 



