SHOOTING IN CHILE. 



*^1 SAYj Doctor, do you know Don Vicente told me to- 

 day that tlie j)acharones have arrivedj and there are 

 several handurrias in the potreros, and he wants us to 

 go out to his farm and have a slap at them? What 

 d'ye say ? '^ '' Fm your man, my boy; I rather guess 

 and prognosticate, as the Yankees say, that I can show 

 any man round these parts the way to shoot pacharones. 

 No time for talking now ; to-morrow evening at four 

 o'clock ril be at yonr house, and mind you bring Jose 

 with the ^ necessaries/ '' '^ All right, doctor, and Til 

 ask young Federico also/' "Ah, to be sure," replied 

 the doctor, with a twinkle in his eye, "don't forget that." 

 The object of the worthy doctor's anxiety for the presence 

 of Don Federico, a rich young mine-owner, will become 

 apparent in the course of this veracious history. To 

 cut a long story short, I asked Don Federico ; he accepted 

 (misguided individual !) ; Jose, my servant, got our two 

 nags ready, and got himself up in the most regardless 

 fashion — indeed, as he sat there on his horse, embedded 

 in a perfectly monstrous saddle, and with two huge 

 saddle-bags stuffed out with the necessaries, to wit, 

 two bottles of beer, one of whisky (imported direct by, 

 and only to be got from, the doctor, and that as a great 

 favour), a strip or two of char qui and a lomo steak, he 

 looked like an inverted coal scuttle. Jose placed the 

 steak between two of the sheepskins composing his 

 saddle, and rode on it the whole way to make it tender. 



