I heard yarns, vouched for, but which seem like travellers' tales. There is a little bird which sits on a branch and twitters. Others come round, and are apparently mesmerised. Then the little bird attacks one, maybe much bigger than itself, and kills it without any resistance being offered. There is another bird which lives on friendly terms with the Indians, hops in and out of their mud huts, and is known as the "watch bird," because it always raises a peculiar cry when a stranger approaches.

In its physical aspects the Chaco is strange, with swamps, arid plains, and mighty clumps of forest. Here grows the quebracho, which means the break-axe; so it is a very hard wood. It is to get this wood that companies have men working in the Chaco, hundreds of miles from even a vestige of civilisation. Bullocks are employed to drag the trunks, and the poor beasts have a bad time of it. Then there are light railways to carry the trunks to the mills. Originally the quebracho was sought because it made serviceable and long lasting "sleepers" for railroads. Now it is chiefly wanted for the tannin in it; it is said to contain 50 per cent. of tannin.

Mention has been made of singular birds in the Chaco. But there are others to be found elsewhere in Argentina. W. H. Hudson, in his instructive book "The Naturalist in La Plata," describes the ypecaha, which holds public meetings and has dancing performances. "A number of ypecahas," he says, "have their assembling places on a small area of smooth, level ground, just above the water and hemmed in by dense rush beds. First one bird among the rushes emits a powerful cry, thrice repeated, and this is a note of invitation quickly responded to by other birds from all sides as they hurriedly repair to the usual place. In a few moments they appear to the number of a dozen or twenty, bursting from the rushes and rushing into the open space and instantly beginning the performance. There is a screaming concert. The screams they utter have a certain resemblance to the human voice, exerted to its utmost pitch and expressive of extreme terror, frenzy and despair. A long, piercing shriek is succeeded by a lower note as if in the first the creature had wellnigh exhausted itself. Whilst screaming, the birds rush from side to side, as if possessed by madness, the wings spread and vibrating, the long beak wide open and raised vertically. This exhibition lasts three or four minutes, after which the assembly peaceably breaks up." Quite like a political meeting at home.

European domestic animals have thrived since their introduction, though there is a tendency, checked by the constant introduction of breeding stock, to develop local characteristics. This has been particularly remarked in sheep which have strayed and have been left to themselves for several generations. They grow bigger and bonier, and with their leanness comes the power of rapid movement, so that their flesh is scant and their wool has an inclination toward growing straight and stiff like the hair of a goat. In the outlands of Argentina ostriches, jaguars, and deer may be seen; but you can live for years on the prairies—and that is where most of the colonisation is going on—and never catch a glimpse of one of these.

The thing which lays hold of the seeing man, after he has remembered the ages during which the country, suitable for maintaining innumerable millions of men and beasts, lay dormant, is the way the land has been completely transformed in its inhabitants, human and animal, and how alien vegetation has found a thriving home. The early Spanish adventurers, as has already been told, had to start their settlement by bringing animals from Spain, and it was chance, the extraordinary reproductiveness of herds which strayed or were abandoned, which taught them they had come into possession of something more valuable than gold mines. Books of history chiefly deal with the lust and the cruelty of the early Spaniards. I have nothing to do here with the story of the way in which Spain conquered the land. We have not to lose sight of the fact, however, they began settling in these parts nearly four hundred years ago, when a voyage to the Americas was like a journey to another planet, when the ships were small and incommodious and dangers were great, and the world had no experience in the science of colonisation. The authorities freely gave tracts of land, but in their wisdom they always stipulated that European domestic animals should be introduced. A settler got land for wheat and maize and an orchard, and then more land, just in proportion to how many horses, cows, sheep, pigs, and goats he would introduce. The land could be obtained for nothing, but always on condition that it was put to its full use in the maintenance of stock. That was a rough and ready, and yet very statesmanlike procedure. The best incentive was given to the agriculturist and breeder. The more cattle he introduced the more land he put to the plough, the bigger was the grant given to him by the authorities. Thus possession and prosperity advanced hand in hand. Here is a lesson which might be learnt to-day and copied by such countries as Australia, where there are millions of acres of undeveloped territory.

Time came when the wild herds waxed so numerous that the local councils proclaimed that all such cattle were the public property of their own people. To prevent those who lived under another local council taking possession, the system of branding these cattle, when they could be caught, was introduced. When the cattle thief came on the scene, and he was got hold of, he was first branded on the shoulder and for subsequent offences branded in the hand, flogged and hanged. The straying cattle in a district belonging to the public, the public soon began to appreciate that here were cheap meat and cheap hides. They were hunted as the buffalo were subsequently hunted in North America, and it really seemed as though they were going to be exterminated. Regulations had to be made limiting the number of animals to be killed every year. Though there was still great slaughter, the herds continued to multiply amazingly, and, of course, wandered hundreds of miles away from any settlements. So the tide rolled on until two hundred years ago the number of cattle had increased to many millions. Carlos Gervasini, a Jesuit missionary, writing from Buenos Aires in 1729, says, "So numerous are the cattle in the neighbouring campo here that any landlord may take from ten to twelve thousand to breed from, merely for the trouble of lassoing them and driving them home. In order to take more than this number a special licence is required from the governor. The ships returning to Spain are filled with the hides, and none but good specimens of these are troubled about. As to the flesh, each man takes what he requires and leaves the rest to the jaguars and dogs." Some years later a visitor to Argentina said there were so many cattle that the plains were covered; and had it not been for the number of dogs which devoured the young the country would have been devastated by them. There were so many cattle that when the Spaniards were at war, and invading boats appeared, their custom was to drive vast herds pell-mell down the river bank and so prevent a landing.

See the extraordinary whirligig. First no cattle. Then land granted to settlers who would introduce cattle. Then so many cattle they could be had by anyone for the asking, and this followed by wholesale slaughter, the extermination so thorough that a halt had to be called. Then further amazing multiplication, till the increasing wild dogs played havoc with the young animals. Then the dogs got so numerous, and their ravages so extensive, that soldiers were sent out to wage war on the canine pests. They killed untold thousands, but the people, instead of being grateful, chaffed the soldiers and dubbed them the "dog killers." The dogs started to increase again, faster than the cattle, but men refused to go out and kill the dogs when the only reward was to be nicknamed "dog killer." So the dogs were left alone, and they kept down the number of cattle. It was not till fifty years ago that a systematic massacre of the wild dogs took place, because just then the Argentines were beginning to settle down to scientific breeding.

It is astonishing how few dogs there are in Argentina. The dog may be the friend of man in other parts of the world, but not in Argentina. The Argentine hates the dog. In Buenos Aires the police have order to arrest every dog, whether it is with anyone or not. During the time I was in "B.A." I saw only one dog, and that was the property of Sir Reginald Tower at the British Legation.

That is not all the story. Not only did the wild dogs develop a taste for young calves, but the native Indians began to show a fondness for horseflesh. For centuries, although he could have had any number of cattle and nobody would have objected, the Indian maintained a preference for horseflesh. Then, suddenly, his fancy extended to cattle. When he started rounding up the cattle of the Spaniards there was trouble. Sheep were prolific, but mutton was contemptible food. None was so poor as to be obliged to eat mutton. The Spaniards regarded mutton much as Englishmen now regard horseflesh. The only use of a sheep was for its wool and fat. But the prejudice against mutton, after lasting for nearly three hundred years, finally disappeared.

Whilst there was an increasing carrying trade from Buenos Aires to Spain of skins, wool, and tallow—very profitable merchandise—Spain officially was not enthusiastic over this mean trading. What she wanted was gold and silver. As these came from Peru and Chili those countries were favoured whilst Argentina was the Cinderella of the family. What good was a country that had no mines but only grass to feed horses and cattle and sheep?