64 Ldle 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 
