crop, may fall within the loop of his _lazo_.

Having kindled a fire--not for cooking purposes, but to dry their
ponchos, and other apparel saturated in the crossing of the stream--they
first spread everything out; hanging them on improvised clothes-horses,
constructed of _cana brava_--a brake of which skirts the adjacent
stream. Then, overcome with fatigue, and still suffering from the
effects of the animal electricity, they stretch themselves alongside the
fire, trusting to time for their recovery.

Nor trust they in vain. For, sooner than expected, the volatile fluid--
or whatever it may be--passes out of their veins, and their nervous
strength returns; even Ludwig saying he is himself again, though he is
not quite so yet.

And their animals also undergo a like rapid recovery, from browsing on
the leaves and bean-pods of the _algarobias_; a provender relished by
all pampas horses, as horned cattle, and nourishing to both. More than
this, the fruit of this valuable tree when ripe, is fit food for man
himself, and so used in several of the Argentine States.

This fact suggesting itself to Gaspar--as he lies watching the horses
plucking off the long siliques, and greedily devouring them--he says:--

"We can make a meal on the _algarobia_ beans, if nothing better's to be
had. And for me, it wouldn't be the first time by scores. In some
parts where I've travelled, they grind them like maize, and bake a very
fair sort of bread out of their meal."

"Why, Gaspar!" exclaims Ludwig, recalling some facts of which he had
heard his father speak, "you talk as if you had travelled in the Holy
Land, and in New Testament times! These very trees, or others of a
similar genus, are the ones whose fruit was eaten by Saint John the
Baptist. You remember that passage, where it is said: `his meat was
locusts and wild honey.' Some think the locusts he ate were the insects
of that name; and it may be so, since they are also eaten by Arabs, and
certain other tribes of Asiatic and African people. But, for my part, I
believe the beans of the `locust tree' are meant; which, like this, is a
species of acacia that the Arabs call _carob_; evidently the root from
which we take our word _algarobia_."

Gaspar listens, both patiently and pleased, to this learned
dissertation. For he is rejoiced to perceive, that the thoughts of his
young companion are beginning to find some abstraction and
forgetfulness, of that upon which they have bee