men said she had sucked in a
bit of seaweed, for she did not leak much after this.

The longest voyage has an end, however, and when the Sevenoaks arrived at
Buenos Ayres, Dalston bade his messmates adieu, had his passage money duly
returned, and went on shore, happy because he had many more golden
sovereigns to rattle than he had expected.

Dalston went to a good hotel, found out all about the trains, and next day
set out, in company with a waiter who had volunteered to be his escort, to
purchase a proper outfit--only light clothes, a rifle, a good revolver,
and a knife or two to wear in his belt, for he was going west to a rough
country.

In the evening, after the waiter and he had dined well at another hotel:

'You go home now,' said Dalston; 'I'm going round to have a look at the
town,'

'Take care of yourself,' the waiter said.

'No fear of me,' was the laughing reply.

But that very night he was borne back to his inn, cut, bruised, and
faint.

And robbed of all his gold.

'Who has done this?' said the waiter, aghast at his friend's appearance.

'Smyth!' That was all the reply.

Dalston lay for weeks between life and death. Then he came round almost at
once, and soon started away on his journey. The waiter--good-natured
fellow--had lent him money to carry him to Mendoza.

But Dalston's adventures were not over yet.

He arrived at Villa Mercedes well and hopeful, and was lucky enough to
secure a passage in the diligence about to start under mounted escort to
Mendoza. After a jolting ride of days, the like of which he had never been
used to in the old country, the ancient-looking coach had completed
three-quarters of the journey, and the rest of the road being considered
safe the escort was allowed to go on its way to the frontier.

They had not departed two hours, however, before the travellers were
attacked, the driver speared, and the horses captured. The only passenger
who made the slightest resistance was Dalston. He was speedily
overpowered, and would have been killed on the spot had not the _cacique_
of the party whom Dalston had wounded interfered and spared his life.

Spared his life! But for what? He did not know. Some of the passengers
were permitted to go free, the rest were killed. He alone was mounted on
horseback, his legs tied with thongs and his horse led by an Indian.

All that night and all next day his captors journeyed on, taking, as far
as Dalston could judge, a south-west co