ld ride that mule of
his anywhere. I believe he could have ridden along the parapet of London
Bridge, so we were never surprised to see Dugald draw rein at the lower
sitting-room window, within the verandah. He was always laughing and merry
and mischievous-looking when he had had extra good luck; but the day he
landed that ostrich he was fairly wild with excitement. The body of it was
given to the Gauchos, and they made very merry over it: invited their
friends, in fact, and roasted the huge bird whole out of doors. They did
so in true Patagonian fashion--to wit, the ostrich was first trussed and
cleaned, a roaring fire of wood having been made, round stones were made
almost red-hot. The stones were for stuffing, though this kind of stuffing
is not very eatable, but it helps to cook the bird. The fire was then
raked away, and the dinner laid down and covered up. Meanwhile the
Gauchos, male and female, girls and boys, had a dance. The ubiquitous
guitars, of course, were the instruments, and two of these made not a bad
little band. After dinner they danced again, and wound up by wishing
Dugald all the good luck in the world, and plenty more ostriches. The
feathers of this big game-bird were carefully packed and sent home to
mother and Flora.

Well, we had got so used to Dugald's solitary ways that we never thought
anything of even his somewhat prolonged absence on the hill, for he
usually dropped round when luncheon was pretty nearly done. There was
always something kept warm for 'old Dugald,' as we all called him, and I
declare it did every one of us good to see him eat. His appetite was
certainly the proverbial appetite of a hunter.

On this particular day, however, old Dugald did not return to luncheon.

'Perhaps,' said Donald, 'he is dining with some of the shepherds, or
having "a pick at a priest's," as he calls it.'

'Perhaps,' I said musingly. The afternoon wore away, and there were no
signs of our brother coming, so I began to get rather uneasy, and spoke to
Donald about it.

'He may have met with an accident,' I said, 'or fifty things may have
happened.'

'Well,' replied Donald, 'I don't suppose fifty things have happened; but
as you seem a bit anxious, suppose we mount our mules, take a Gaucho with
us, and institute a search expedition?'

'I'm willing,' I cried, jumping up, 'and here's for off!'

There was going to be an extra good dinner that day, because we expected
letters from home, and our runner w