les.

These draught oxen are beautiful animals, mostly a deep cream in colour,
with dark points, magnificent eyes, and a sphinx-like look of patience,
as if biding their time for something much better to come. Their harness
is not apparently irksome to them, and is not so heavy as one sees on
the Portuguese oxen, for instance. They are coupled by a wooden bar
across the head, and their driver, if such he can be called--rather,
perhaps, the guide--walks in front with a long stick, possibly a wand of
office, over his shoulder to show them the way. The dress of this
functionary is picturesque: a wide-brimmed hat (_sombrero_), a shirt,
short trousers to the knees, with gaiters of woven grass (_esparto_), a
_faja_ round his waist, and _manta_ thrown over his shoulder if cold. He
stalks majestically along, followed by his equally majestic _bueyes_,
and one wonders of what all three are thinking as they trudge along the
sun-smitten roads, regardless of dust or of anything else. The cars are
rude enough, and the wheels sometimes solid discs of wood. Occasionally,
a hood of bent pieces of wood covered with linen is fixed. Tame oxen, or
_cabestros_, as they are called, play a very important part in the
_ganaderos_ and the bull-rings. They appear to be held in some sort of
superstitious reverence, or strange affection, by the poor beasts who
only live to make sport for men. In driving the bulls from one pasture
to another, or bringing them into the towns, the _cabestros_ are
followed with unwavering faith by these otherwise dangerous animals;
where the _cabestro_ goes, clanging his great bell, the bull follows,
and while under the charge of his domesticated friend he is quite
harmless.

[Illustration: BUEYES RESTING]

At one time, the bulls used to be driven to the bull-ring outside Madrid
in specially made roads sunk some fifteen feet below the level of the
fields, and paved. Along these the _pastor_, or shepherd, and
_picadores_, armed with long lances, went with the _cabestros_ and the
herd of bulls to be immolated. I have frequently met this procession
when riding, either in the early morning or late evening, outside
Madrid; but so long as the _cabestros_ are present, there is nothing to
fear, for the bulls are perfectly quiet and harmless. Once, however,
riding with a friend, I had a disagreeable and exciting adventure. We
were quietly walking our horses along the Ronda de Alcala, when we heard
an immense amount of shoutin