mouth, and seats himself firmly in the saddle at the moment when the
animal recovers strength enough to rise. The fearful plunges, the wild
bounds, the vicious attempts at biting, which ensue, are all in vain; in
a couple of days he subsides into a mere high-spirited trotter, whom one
can ride with ease after once effecting a mount.

The pastime of "tailing" a bull is somewhat singular. Two or three
horsemen single out an animal upon which to practise it, and secure a
lasso about its horns. Another lasso, deftly thrown about its hind legs,
is fastened to a tree, and the strongest of the party then seizes the
bellowing beast by its tail, which he twists until his victim falls over
on its side and is dispatched. The greatest dexterity is required in
this manoeuvre by all practising it, as the slacking of either lasso
enables the bull to turn upon his caudal persecutor, who is certain to
be gored to death. This, indeed, not unfrequently happens. But a Llanero
cares little for death. He faces it daily in his lonely converse with
thousands of intractable beasts, in his bath in the river swarming with
alligators,--in the swamp teeming with serpents, against whose poison
there is no antidote, and whose bite will destroy the life of a man in a
single hour. Content with the wild excitement of his daily round of duty
and recreation, with his meal of dried beef and cassava-cake, washed
down, it is likely, with a gourdful of _guarapo_, a species of rum, in
comparison with which the New England beverage is innocent and weak, and
with the occasional recurrence of some such turbulent festival as that
of the branding, he cares nothing for the future, and bestows no thought
upon the past. The Llanero may be called a happy man.


II.