The road, or rather track, was in a bad condition, owing to the recent
wet weather, and on each side of the five _canadas_, or small rivers,
which we had to ford, there were deep morasses, through which we had
to struggle as best we could, with the mud up to our axletrees. Just
before arriving at the point where the stream had to be crossed, the
horses were well flogged and urged on at a gallop, which they
gallantly maintained until the other side was reached. Then we stopped
to breathe the horses and to repair damages, generally finding that a
trace had given way, or that some other part of the harness had shown
signs of weakness. On one occasion we were delayed for a considerable
time by the breaking of the splinter-bar, to repair which was a
troublesome matter; indeed, I don't know how we should have managed it
if we had not met a native lad, who sold us his long lasso to bind the
pieces together again. It was a lucky _rencontre_ for us, as he was
the only human being we saw during the whole of our drive of thirty
miles, except the peon who brought us a change of horses, half-way.
In the course of the journey we passed a large estancia, the road to
which was marked by the dead bodies and skeletons of the poor beasts
who had perished in the late droughts.
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