The great distances that separate many of the estancias from the stations or ports give employment to thousands of horses, and the usual method of travelling is either by riding or driving in light covered carts drawn by four horses. If the journey is very long, eight horses are taken, half of them drawing the carriage, the other half being driven on in front, and harnessed at some half-way point, an estancia or “pulperia,” where the first team is released and allowed to rest until the return of the conveyance from its destination. These pulperia or native stores are very primitive affairs. A few sticks mud-plastered form the walls, mother earth the floor, while reeds and grasses thatch the roof. When the traveller arrives at one of these he generally finds a few horses, with fore feet hobbled, dozing under the shade cast by a few trees that are planted round the huts, swishing their tails to keep away the flies. Inside the hut or store two or three gauchos squat on boxes, bags, or barrels, and in the intervals of drinking their native spirit, “bolichi” (a fiery, untamed brand), chat with the “bolichero” or publican. The talk is all of the [Illustration: A “PULPERIA.”] camp, for the outside world of civilisation is only a name to them, and the echoes of its doings fall but faintly upon their ears. Horses, cattle, the doings of the neighbouring estancias are discussed with the dark-bearded host, who is the newsvendor to the country-side. Shepherds from far outlying “puestos,” who live in solitary isolation from even the other gauchos of the estancias, find their visits to these wayside inns the principal excitement of their lives. Long journeys of scores of miles, that would be an expedition to an English horseman, are nothing to them. They are as much at home and at their ease in their great saddles, as a club man is in a smoking-room chair, and they can sleep in them as easily as in their beds. The gaucho and his horse are one, inseparable, and if the animal is his own and not one belonging to the estancia, he takes extravagant care of it. With his poncho to keep off the rain, his cigar or cigarette, his “maté” to make his tea in, the gaucho is equipped for any emergency. In some of the “pulperias” there are small billiard tables, not too level; for they rest upon the soft earthen floor, and when not in play are often as not used for seats by the gossips who may happen to forgather. Primitive, yet affording much of the luxury the gaucho finds in his hard life, here also he can replenish his wardrobe and his larder, for belts, knives, “alpagatos” (shoes with rope soles and canvas tops), ponchos, hang all round, and in sacks upon the ground manioca or meal lies ready for a purchaser. The goods retailed are of the cheapest description, most of them of German origin, and especially made to suit the gauchos’ requirements. Primitive ideas obtain amongst these people, and many superstitions too. In one of