after this fashion.  It was admirable to observe the manner in which the horse eased off the shock of bringing up an animal much heavier than itself, and by keeping a strain upon the lasso urged the furious beast onwards to a triangle which had been put up.  The other gaucho, Andrez Pelaluya by name, meanwhile was riding up behind, and at length threw his lasso over the heifer’s flanks, the slack of the noose falling down upon the ground—­in throwing up her heels the hind legs were dexterously caught, when in a moment the beast was dragged over on one side and firmly moored.  Leaving the horses to keep up the strain—­for the lasso is made fast to an iron ring in the saddle—­the riders dismounted, and Escalante drawing out a long knife from his belt and renewing the edge upon a steel which he carried in one boot, quickly despatched the beast.  A second heifer was afterwards picked out from the herd and caught by the horns; as the animal, maddened with terror, was galloped past with the lasso at full strain, I must confess that being a novice I did not feel quite comfortable, and instinctively clutched my gun, not being altogether sure that the lasso might not break—­but, although no thicker than the little finger, it is of immense strength, being made of plaited hide.  This beast was secured and butchered pretty much as in the former instance; the bolas had been thrown at the hind legs, but caught only one, round which the three thongs and balls were so tightly interlaced as to require some patience in extricating them.

While slaughtering the cattle it was amusing to notice the familiarity of the carrion hawks, hundreds of which were collected about, perched upon the little hillocks all round, watching every movement of ours, or hovering overhead within the distance of a few yards.  They are the Milvago australis, a bird of which the sexes differ so much in appearance, that they were pointed out to me as distinct species.  The settlers and others call them rooks, and another very common carrion bird of the vulture family (Cathartes aura) is known here as the john-crow.  On board the ship the sight of some quarters of beef secured to the mizen cross-trees had attracted numbers of these hawks, and upwards of a dozen might have been seen at one time perched upon the rigging, including one on each truck; on shore they made several attacks upon a pile of geese lying near the boat, and although repeatedly driven off with stones, they returned as often to make a fresh attempt.

July 25th.

Yesterday afternoon some of our people employed in cutting grass upon a small island close to the ship, stumbled upon a huge sealion asleep in one of the pit-like recesses among the tussocks.  At first it was supposed to be a dead bullock, but the beast on being disturbed rose upon his fore flippers, and, displaying a formidable array of teeth, roared loudly* at the disturbers of his rest, who, being unarmed, rushed helter-skelter to the boat and went off to the ship.  They returned immediately with an assortment of pikes, muskets, and pistols sufficient to ensure the destruction of a host of sealions; but after cautiously investing the place, it was discovered that the beast had very prudently got out of the way, nor this morning could he be found by a person who went to make a second search.