ould be back from the distant
post-office in good time to let us read our epistles before the gong
sounded and so discuss them at table.

'Hurry up, boys; don't be late, mind!' cried aunt, as our mules were
brought round to the portico, and we were mounted.

'All right, auntie dear!' replied Donald, waving his hand; 'and mind those
partridges are done to a turn; we'll be all delightfully hungry.'

The Gaucho knew all Dugald's trails well, and when we mentioned the small
distant laguna, he set out at once in the direction of the glen. He made
so many windings, however, and took so many different turns through bush
and grass and scrub, that we began to wonder however Dugald could have
found the road.

But Dugald had a way of his own of getting back through even a cactus
labyrinth. It was a very simple one, too. He never 'loaded up,' as he
termed it; that is, he did not hang his game to his saddle till he meant
to start for home; then he mounted, whistled to Dash, who capered and
barked in front of the mule, permitted the reins to lie loosely on the
animal's neck, and--there he was! For not only did the good beast take him
safely back to Coila, as we called our _estancia_, but he took him by the
best roads; and even when he seemed to Dugald's human sense to be going
absolutely and entirely wrong, he never argued with him.

'Reason raise o'er instinct, if you can;
In this 'tis God directs, in that 'tis man.'

'You are certain he will come this way, Zambo?' I said to our Gaucho.

'Plenty certain, senor. I follow de trail now.'

I looked over my saddle-bow; so did Donald, but no trail could we
see--only the hard, yellow, sandy gravel.

We came at last to the hilly regions. It was exceedingly quiet and still
here; hardly a creature of any kind to be seen except now and then a kite,
or even condor, the latter winging his silent way to the distant
mountains. At times we passed a biscacha village. The biscacha is not a
tribe of Indians, but, like the coney, a very feeble people, who dwell in
caves or burrow underground, but all day long may be seen playing about
the mounds they raise, or sitting on their hind legs on top of them. They
are really a species of prairie-dog. With them invariably live a tribe of
little owls--the burrowing owls--and it seems to be a mutual understanding
that the owls have the principal possession of these residential chambers
by day, while the biscachas occupy them