broad space was clear where the flames could be stamped and beaten out
with horse-rugs. But sheep to be used in this way were not always to
be found on the spot, and even when a broad space could be made, if a
hot north wind was blowing it would carry showers of sparks and
burning sticks to the other side and the fire would travel on.

I remember going to one of these big fires when I was about twelve
years old. It broke out a few miles from home and was travelling in
our direction; I saw my father mount and dash off, but it took me half
an hour or more to catch a horse for myself, so that I arrived late on
the scene. A fresh fire had broken out a quarter of a mile in advance
of the main one, where most of the men were fighting the flames; and
to this spot I went first, and found some half a dozen neighbours who
had just arrived on the scene. Before we started operations about
twenty men from the main fire came galloping up to us. They had made
their path, but seeing this new fire so far ahead, had left it in
despair after an hour's hard hot work, and had flown to the new danger
spot. As they came up I looked in wonder at one who rode ahead, a tall
black man in his shirt sleeves who was a stranger to me. "Who is this
black fellow, I wonder?" said I to myself, and just then he shouted to
me in English, "Hullo, my boy, what are you doing here?" It was my
father; an hour's fighting with the flames in a cloud of black ashes
in that burning sun and wind had made him look like a pure-blooded
negro!

During December and January when this desert world of thistles dead
and dry as tinder continued standing, a menace and danger, the one
desire and hope of every one was for the _pampero_--the south-west
wind, which in hot weather is apt to come with startling suddenness,
and to blow with extraordinary violence. And it would come at last,