THE BATTLE OF THE HORSES 41 



Rather far fetched, but so it always is. One notices how much in 

 camp-Hfe a man gets into the habit of a ' Punch, brothers, punch ' 

 — a haunting phrase which he appHes to everything. In one case 

 it is some grim and grotesque oath that he mentally lives on, 



THE BIG OVERO, A BUCKJUMPER 



sometimes it is a line of a hymn, sometimes it is a bit of an adver- 

 tisement. There are few books in the camp, and mine not out yet 

 from the tin box. The Welshmen have a Bible in their own 

 language ; Hollesen has a paper of short stories about missing 

 heirs and such like ; Scrivenor has ' Pickwick.' 



" But to return to Barckhausen. The nag of the baleful eye 

 would not be caught, and had to be chased about the pampa by 

 Hughes and myself Finally, Jones got a lasso on him, and he 

 danced at the edge of the lagoon with four men at the other end of 

 the lasso. We tied his legs in slip-knots and pulled him over, and 

 when quieter saddled him. He bucked around with the saddle. 

 At length Barckhausen got up and rode him the whole afternoon. 

 It was a terrible job driving the horses, and that even though we 

 were in the canadon. 



" On each side of us were bare, bald grass hills, rolling in 

 hummocks and their sides sprinkled with thorn-scrub. In the 



