milch cows, and a score of
sheep and cattle to supply the larder. He had hired four men,--a
stock-keeper named Lopez, who was called the capitaz or head man, a
tall, swarthy fellow, whose father was a Spaniard, and whose mother a
native woman; two labourers, the one a German, called Hans, who had been
some time in the colony, the other an Irishman, Terence Kelly, whose
face the boys remembered at once, as having come out in the same ship
with themselves. The last man was an American, one of those wandering
fellows who are never contented to remain anywhere, but are always
pushing on, as if they thought that the farther they went, the better
they should fare. He was engaged as carpenter and useful man, and there
were few things to which he could not turn his hand. Mr. Hardy was
pleased with their appearance; they were all powerful men, accustomed to
work. Their clothes were of the roughest and most miscellaneous kind, a
mixture of European and Indian garb, with the exception of Terence, who
still clung to the long blue-tailed coat and brass buttons of the 'ould
country.'

They waited the next day at Mr. Percy's station, and started the next
morning before daylight, as they had still ten miles to travel, and were
desirous of getting as early to the ground as possible.

The boys were in the highest spirits at being at last really out upon
the Pampas, and as day fairly broke, they had a hearty laugh at the
appearance of their cavalcade. There was no road or track of any kind,
and consequently, instead of following in a file, as they would have
done in any other country, the party straggled along in a confused body.
First came the animals--the sheep, bullocks, and cows. Behind these rode
Lopez, in his guacho dress, and a long whip in his hand, which he
cracked from time to time, with a report like that of a pistol--not
that there was any difficulty in driving the animals at a pace
sufficient to keep well ahead of the bullock-carts, for the sheep of the
Pampas are very much more active beasts than their English relations.
Accustomed to feed on the open plains, they travel over a large extent
of ground, and their ordinary pace is four miles an hour. When
frightened, they can go for many miles at a speed which will tax a good
horse to keep up with. The first bullock-cart was driven by Hans, who
sat upon the top of a heap of baggage, his head covered with a very old
and battered Panama hat, through several broad holes in which