Life in Patagonia. 109 
again, sitting cross-legged on the floor, solemn as 
a cacique, brown as old leather, and calling himself 
a white man! Yet here he says he will remain, and 
here amongst Christians he will die. Fool, why 
did he not escape 
twenty years ago, 
or, having re- 
mained so 
long in the 
desert, why 
has he now 
come 
back 
where 
he is 
notwan- 
ted!” 
Ven- 
tura 
was 
very unsym- 
pathetic, and 
appeared to have 
no kindly feelings 
left for his old companion- 
in-arms, but I was touched 
with the story I had 
heard. There was something pathetic in the life of 
that poor returned wanderer, an alien now to his 
own fellow-townsmen, homeless amidst the pleasant 
vineyards, poplar groves, and! old stone houses 
Damian’s Wife. 
