green beneath. But at first we
could find no water. Leaving the others to rest by the edge of the
miniature forest, Dugald and I and Archie set out to explore, and had not
gone more than a hundred yards when we came to a little lake. We bent
down and tasted the water; it was pure and sweet and cool.

'What a glorious find!' said Dugald. 'Why, this place altogether was
surely made for us.'

We hurried back to tell the news, and the horses and mules were led to the
lake, which was little more than half an acre in extent. But not satisfied
with drinking, most of the dogs plunged in; and horses and mules followed
suit.

'Come,' cried Donald, 'that is a sort of motion I will willingly second.'
He commenced to undress as he spoke. So did we all, and such splashing and
dashing, and laughing and shouting, the birds and beasts in this romantic
dale had surely never witnessed before.

Dugald was an excellent swimmer, and as bold and headstrong in the water
as on the land. He had left us and set out to cross the lake. Suddenly we
saw him throw up his arms and shout for help, and we--Donald and I--at
once commenced swimming to his assistance. He appeared, however, in no
danger of sinking, and, to our surprise, although heading our way all the
time, he was borne away from us one minute and brought near us next.

When close enough a thrill of horror went through me to hear poor Dugald
cry in a feeble, pleading voice,

'Come no nearer, boys: I soon must sink. Save yourselves: I'm in a
whirlpool.'

It was too true, though almost too awful to be borne. I do not know how
Donald felt at that moment, but as for myself I was almost paralyzed with
terror.

'Back, back, for your lives!' shouted a voice behind us.

It was our Gaucho _capataz_. He was coming towards us with powerful
strokes, holding in one hand a lasso. Instead of swimming on with us when
he saw Dugald in danger, he had gone ashore at once and brought the
longest thong.

We white men could have done nothing. We knew of nothing to do. We should
have floated there and seen our dear brother go down before our eyes, or
swam recklessly, madly on, only to sink with him.

Dugald, weak as he had become, sees the Gaucho will make an attempt to
save him, and tries to steady himself to catch the end of the lasso that
now flies in his direction.

But to our horror it falls short, and Dugald is borne away again, the
circles round which he is swept being now narrower.

The