massa; but I've seed it as well dood, p'r'aps
better, by kindness."

There is this, at all events, to be said in regard to the rough system,
that no man but an athlete could endure the fatigue of the process,
while any man--or even woman--has physical strength sufficient to
conquer by love, if only he, or she, possess the requisite patience and
milk of human kindness.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

TREATS OF A GAUCHO YOUTH.

From these Gauchos Colonel Marchbanks learned that his troops had been
seen searching for him by the eldest son, Pizarro, and that handsome
youth professed himself willing to guide the party to the place where
the soldiers were likely to be found. Without delay, therefore, they
resumed their journey after supper, and that night encamped on the open
plain.

While the party was busy making arrangements for the night, Pedro
sauntered to the top of a neighbouring knoll to have what he styled a
look round.

It was a clear moonlight night, and Lawrence, recognising the figure of
the guide, followed him.

"Pedro," he said, on overtaking him, "how is it possible that Pizarro
can guide us to where the troops are, seeing that it is some time since
he saw them, and he did not know in what direction they meant to travel?
Besides, they may have changed their intentions and their route several
times."

"You forget, senhor, that troops leave a broad trail, and you do not
yet, I see, fully appreciate the wonderful powers of some Gauchos in
tracking out men. This Pizarro, although so young, is already
celebrated in that way."

"You know him, then? Why, you seem to know everybody!"

"I know every one of note," replied the guide, "for my travels have been
extensive, and my memory is pretty strong. Let me give you one or two
instances of Pizarro's powers. I was in this part of the country two
years ago. Having occasion to pass this way, I fell in with Pizarro,
and we travelled together a short time. One forenoon we were riding
over the plains, when he stopped suddenly, pointed to a footprint, and
said, `That is the little grey horse that was stolen from my father
three years ago!' `Are you sure?' said I, almost laughing at him.
`Sure!' said he, `of course I am; moreover, I'm certain that the horse
passed here not more than half an hour ago.' `Let's follow it up,
then,' said I, more in jest than earnest. But we did follow it up, and
recovered the little grey horse that same evening."

"A wonderfu