intervals with an angry cry and aiming a blow with its wing. The harrier methodically ducked its head each time its tormentor rushed down at it, after which it would tear its prey again in its uncomfortable manner. Farther away, in the depression running along at the foot of the hill, meandered a small stream so filled with aquatic grasses and plants that the water was quite concealed, its course appearing like a vivid green snake, miles long, lying there basking in the sunshine. At the point of the stream nearest to me an old man was seated on the ground, apparently washing himself, for he was stooping over a little pool of water, while behind him stood his horse with patient, drooping head, occasionally switching off the flies with its tail. A mile farther on stood a dwelling, which looked to me like an old _estancia_ house, surrounded by large shade trees growing singly or in irregular clumps. It was the only house near, but after gazing at it for some time I concluded that it was uninhabited. For even at that distance I could see plainly that there were no human beings moving about it, no horse or other domestic animal near, and there were certainly no hedges or enclosures of any description. Slowly I went down the hill, and to the old man sitting beside the stream. I found him engaged in the seemingly difficult operation of disentangling a luxuriant crop of very long hair, which had somehow--possibly from long neglect--got itself into great confusion. He had dipped his head into the water, and with an old comb, boasting about seven or eight teeth, was laboriously and with infinite patience drawing out the long hairs, a very few at a time. After saluting him, I lit a cigarette, and, leaning on the neck of my horse, watched his efforts for some time with profound interest. He toiled away in silence for five or six minutes, then dipped his head in the water again, and, while carefully wringing the wet out, he remarked that my horse looked tired. “Yes,” I replied; “so is his rider. Can you tell me who lives in that _estancia_?” “My master,” he returned laconically. “Is he a good-hearted man--one who will give shelter to a stranger?” I asked. He took a very long time to answer me, then said: “He has nothing to say about such matters.” “An invalid?” I remarked. Another long pause; then he shook his head and tapped his forehead significantly; after which he resumed his mermaid task. “Demented?” said I. He elevated an eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders, but said nothing. After a long silence, for I was anxious not to irritate him with too much questioning, I ventured to remark: “Well, they will not set the dogs on me, will they?” He grinned, and said that it was an establishment without dogs. I paid him for his information with a cigarette, which he took very readily, and seemed to think smoking a pleasant relief after his disentangling labours.