of his apparel in such hot weather, was a mystery only to be accounted for by considering the force of habit. This individual was the owner of a shooting machine containing nine barrels, which he could fire at once, and which he had christened, in a pet manner, "Don Bolo." He appeared quite as fond of this Bolo as though it had been a wife or child; and was most proud to tell of his exploits in connection with it—how many ducks and wolves Bolo had slain, and how many times Bolo had been the means of preserving his valuable life.
His companion, José Pantido, was a Mestizo of a yet darker shade of colour, whose life had been spent either upon the prairies, or in the neighbourhood of the lakes. He was less in stature than his comrade, but infinitely more important in manner. He had a fowling-piece composed of five barrels; and his clothes were in a hopelessly ragged state. This latter circumstance, however, did not interfere with the grandeur of his style: wretchedly poor and degraded as he was, he affected to patronize the rest, and was the braggart of the party. Not an adventure by flood or field, but José had experienced it in his own person; and to hear
