At length we broke from the rough country, upon a bare hill, whence, far below and beyond us, rolled the glorious land of the pampas--portions of it almost as level as a floor, but the greater part rolling like the billows of the sea. A large troop of ostriches were feeding below us, and we could see several herds of horses and guanacos in the distance. Walgilka immediately gave the signal to charge, and, with a ringing shout, we dashed down the hill upon the astonished ostriches, who immediately started off at a tremendous pace. "They run well for having just finished a twenty-mile trot!" said Tony Trybrace, who was riding at my side. I thought the same thing. But we had not got very far before we heard a cry in our rear. Walgilka turned and then gave the signal for a halt. When we looked back we perceived one of the natives pursuing us at a great rate, and, upon coming up, we were informed that we were pursuing the wrong flock of birds. Those which had been specially fatigued for our benefit were feeding some miles further inland. So, with many a joke at our own mistake, we left the pursuit of the fresh flock--and it would probably have been a long stern-chase, if we had kept it up--and proceeded eastward, over the pampas, to find the tired game. We came upon them in about half an hour. And this time it was no mistake. Although the birds ran very swiftly at first, several of them limped painfully, and soon, one by one, they began to drop behind each other. We could see them flap their little wings painfully, as they panted on before our fresh and momentarily nearing steeds. At length, one of the poor creatures stopped and laid down, at the same time extending its head despairingly along the ground, and tacitly receiving the deadly arrow of the nearest horseman. We rapidly gained on the whole flock and were soon in the midst of them, knocking them down in every direction. I got a shot at a very fine bird and laid him low, while, almost simultaneously, Tony and the captain each brought one down. Bluefish also did well, but little Dicky Drake, as usual, made a laughing-stock of himself. His tender heart got the better of his desire for carnage just as we got in the midst of the flock, and he conceived the brilliant conception of taking one of the birds alive. Springing from his horse, he made at a very large ostrich with outstretched arms, when he received a most unmerciful kick from the powerful leg of the bird, which doubled him up and laid him sprawling. Nevertheless, he was plucky and immediately got up to try it again. This time, evading the legs of the bird, he made a spring and alighted upon her back, when the bird, no doubt extremely terrified at this maneuver, summoned up her remaining energies and started on a brisk run. Dicky clung to her, probably as much frightened as she, and bellowing like a good 'un amid the noisy laughter of all the huntsmen. "Stick to her! Good-by, Dicky!" shouted old Bluefish.