went to the train,
had a drink at the shop, then came back for dinner, slept until
tea-time, then went to see the train pass again and have another drink,
and came back at all hours. He had been there fourteen years and was
only getting a hundred a month.

The chief work was loading cattle and sheep for the big freezing
factories. The trucks were rotten. One night we finished at 11 p.m.,
after a hard day's work, three of us unloaded 300 quebracho posts in
under three hours. I had a French gardener in my room who did nothing
else but spit and talk politics.

The Boss took me to learn shearing. I had to shear, gather the wool,
sort it and pack it up. Each man got five cents a sheep, but it was hard
work, all done by hand.

Then I cut alfalfa for a fortnight--a nice easy job.

A Catholic priest came to stay for eight days--Mass every day at 7 a.m.
and 8 p.m., sometimes three a day. No work at all. Everyone had to
go--the book-keeper did not, so he got the sack. I, as a Protestant,
went to the sermons, which were very good. It was wonderful; these rough
campmen went away quite tamed for a time. The last night the Boss got
married at half-past twelve at night to a native lady. Another time,
while we were at Mass, someone came to say the gardener was dying--we
raced down, the priest in front ready to hear his confession, but when
we got there the gardener was calmly smoking his pipe, greatly
surprised.

An inspector of locusts stopped all the summer. He did nothing but eat,
sleep, and drink whisky. We had locust-killing machines of every
description, but we did not kill ten kilos.

The days I enjoyed were when we started out early to part some animals
in a herd of over a thousand. At eleven we would have an asado and mate,
and give our horses a drink, then finish parting, and get home at
half-past seven. The horses look wrecks, and no good, but they work all
day--mostly galloping--and are splendid stayers.

The Boss's brother, a very nice man of fifty, married a servant of the
Boss, a girl of eighteen.

Great excitement is caused by races. The Boss was keen, and the men
talked of nothing else for days. Every Sunday there are races. Once I
rode my horse bareback in three races of 200 metres, and won a bottle of
beer, a packet of tobacco, and a knife.

Then I was put in charge of fine stock. I had ten Durham bulls, two
thoroughbred stallions, one Pecheron, eight rams and twelve pigs. I had
a boy under me. I also ha