's bank, for aught he will want, or think of it afterwards.

Thus free from solicitude about his dumb companion, he spurs and flogs
the poor creature to the best speed it is able to make. Not much this;
for every now and then it totters in its steps, and threatens going to
grass, in a way different from what it might wish.

"About twenty miles," the _vaqueano_ mutters to himself, with a glance,
cast inquiringly ahead. "It can't be more than that to the river
itself. Question is, whether I can make it anywheres near Assuncion.
I'm not sure about this trail; evidently only a cattle run. It may lead
me too much above or below. In any case," he adds, "I must bring out
near one of the _guardias_, so thick along the bank, and the soldiers of
the post will ferry me across. From there I'll have a good road to the
town."

So consoling himself, he keeps on; no longer paying much attention to
the doubtful cattle track, but rather taking guidance from the sun.
This going down is directly behind his back, and so tells him the due
course east, as well as west; for it is eastward he wishes to go. Now,
near the horizon, it casts an elongated shadow of himself and his
animal, far to the front; and after this he rides, as though following
in the footsteps of some giant on horseback!

The sun soon after setting, the shadow changes, veering round to his
rear. But it is now made by the moon, which is also low in the sky;
only before his face, instead of behind his back. For it would be the
season of harvest--were such known in the Chaco--and the moon is at her
full, lighting up the _campo_ with a clearness unknown to northern
lands.

Were it otherwise, Rufino Valdez might have halted here, and been forced
to stay in the Chaco for another night. But tempted by the bright
moonlight, and the thought of his journey so near an end, he resolves
differently; and once more pricking his tired, steed with spurs long
since blood-clotted, he again forces it into a gallop.

But the pace is only for a short while sustained. Before going much
further he feels his horse floundering between his legs; while a glance
to the ground shows him he is riding through a _biscachera_!

Absorbed in thought--perhaps perfecting some wicked scheme--he had not
noticed the burrow till now. Now he sees it--holes and heaps all around
him--at the same time hearing the screeches of the owls, as the
frightened birds fly up out of his path.

He is about to d