72 Ldle Days in Patagonia. 
he reached me. Fortunately he had a long distance 
to swim, and before he reached land I began to 
reflect that if I received him roughly, with blows, 
I would never get the geese—those three magnifi- 
cent white and maroon-coloured geese that had 
cost me so much labour to kill. Yes, I thought, it 
will be better to dissemble and be diplomatic and 
receive him graciously, and then perhaps he will be 
persuaded to go again and fetch the geese. In the 
midst of these plans Major arrived, and sat down 
facing me without shaking himself, evidently be- 
ginning to experience some qualms of conscience. 
“Major,” said I, addressing him in a mild gentle 
voice, and patting his wet black head, ‘you have 
treated me very badly, but I am not going to punish 
you—I am going to give you another chance, old 
dog. Now, Major, good and obedient dog, go and 
fetch me the geese.’’ With that I pushed him 
gently towards the water. Major understood me, 
and went in, although in a somewhat perfunctory 
manner, and swam back to theisland. On reaching 
it he went up to the geese, examined them briefly 
with his nose and sat down to deliberate. I called 
him, but he paid no attention. With what intense 
anxiety I waited his decision ! 
At last he appeared to have made up his mind; 
he stood up, shook himself briskly and—will it be 
believed >—began to worry the geese again! He 
was not merely playing with them now, and did not 
scatter the feathers about and bark, but bit and tore 
them in a truculent mood. When he had torn them 
