near they found that the riders belonged to a family of
Gauchos. There were six of them--all fine-looking fellows, clad in the
graceful, though ragged costume of the Pampas. One of their number was
a little boy of about five years of age, who rode his horse with all the
elegance and ease of a Spanish grandee, though only about the size of a
large monkey.

They turned out to be honest and friendly men, who said that they were
returning home after assisting in a successful chase after Indians.

Had they been assisted by troops in the chase, Lawrence asked, eagerly.

Yes, they had--troops under a tall, white-haired colonel, and the
captives had been rescued, the savages scattered, and the soldiers had
gone off in the direction of Buenos Ayres.

"So, Quashy, they've managed the job without our assistance," said
Lawrence, on hearing this. "Now we must spur after the troops as hard
as our steeds can go."

On this being stated to the leading Gaucho he shook his head, and
advised the senhor to go to their hut for the night. It was only a
little way out of the line of march; there the travellers could feed and
rest well, and start refreshed in the morning. Besides, a storm was
coming on which would prevent all travelling for some hours.

As he spoke he pointed to a part of the sky which had become dark with
clouds, and, without further remark, galloped away, followed by his
companions. Lawrence deemed it wise in the circumstances to accept the
invitation.

The day had been very sultry, and if our travellers had not been
ignorant of the signs of the Pampas they might have known that the day
was heavy with the presage of storm.

Before the Gaucho home, to which they were hastening, appeared on the
horizon, the whole sky had become overclouded and vivid forked lightning
began to play. From the way in which the Gauchos spurred and the horses
trembled it was clear that they feared being caught in the storm; and
little wonder, for both men and beasts are filled with alarm when
overtaken on the unsheltered Pampas by one of these terrific tempests.
The blast, sweeping unchecked over hundreds of miles of wilderness,
often acquires a force that drives all before it. Sometimes great herds
of cattle have been driven bellowing before the gale, tumbling over each
other in wild confusion till some swollen river has checked their flight
and ended their career.

Race, and spur, and shout as they might, however, the storm was t