difficulty persuaded Correo to go to his bed and have a sleep, for he was much upset, and trembling all over, but at last I succeeded. I thereupon locked the door of the room, taking the key with me, and returned to my bed for the rest of the night, which passed without further disturbance of any kind. The next morning, but one, Steff drove up in his cart with the coffin, into which we silently placed the remains, and he started at once to convey it to the cemetery in the Swiss Colony. At the same time I rode down to La Concordia to advise Don Frederico that it was on its way to its last resting place. When I got there I unsaddled my horse and tied him up under the euremada before going inside the house. A little later I was sitting in the dining room talking to Jennings, when Don Frederico came hurriedly in. "Good gracious!" he said, "there is Steff crossing the rincon towards the Pass of the Rosario standing up in the cart and trotting ever so fast. Do go down and stop him, and tell him only to go at a foot pace." A "moro rosillo" (blue roan horse) was standing ready saddled outside. I jumped up on him and went down the high bank behind the house somewhat faster than he liked. He started bucking as he got nearly to the bottom, and what with being taken unprepared and only having my right hand on the reins, I narrowly escaped what might have been a nasty fall; but I was able to stop the cart before it crossed the pass. I returned to the house, and shortly afterwards Don Frederico started to go to the cemetery in the Swiss Colony, in order to attend the funeral, while I rode up to the Cerro, as some sheep-working was going on there I wanted to see after. Ramonou came and helped, and soon proved himself useful in getting the sheep through the yards. We were now in the first week of October, and as work of this kind would be pretty constant throughout the month it seemed as if he had arrived on the scene just about the right time. One morning I was busy superintending this work; the weather was becoming hot, and progress somewhat slow. Before going to breakfast, I went to my room to wash my hands; my arm had now got much better, the inflammation and swelling having gone. I had turned up my shirt sleeve, and was rubbing the soap gently between my hands, when a thistle thorn half an inch long suddenly popped out of my arm, somewhat in the same way as a cork flies out of a bottle, and fell into the soapy water. By its appearance it should have been a larger thorn, so that part must have broken off when it entered the arm. Anyway, I was only too glad to be rid of it, for it might easily have caused me more trouble than it had done, and I felt thankful to the "curandera" for the advice she had given me. The thorns of the big thistle are very sharp and strong, so much so that when riding through them I have known a thorn pierce right through a long leather riding boot.