On the fourth day, about two hours’ sail from the confluence of the Tua
with the Meta River, we stopped at a large cattle-ranch called Santa
Barbara. The owner invited us to a dinner—the inevitable dishes of the
_llano_: meat roasted over a bonfire, plaintains and coffee.
The ranch consisted, we were told, of about 10,000 head of cattle, and
was typical of the ranches to be found on the _llanos_ of Colombia and
Venezuela.
Here, in the person of what might be called the sub-manager, whose name
was Secundino, we came face to face with a real tiger-hunter.
After dinner I asked Secundino how men fleeted the time away in that
lonely region beyond the din of civilized life. His statements
corroborated what I had heard before, that there is no ownership of land
in the _llanos_; the herds graze freely over the plains, the animals
being practically wild, and kept together by the presence amongst them
of a few tame cattle which, being accustomed to the presence of man,
will remain in the neighbourhood of the houses or _caneyes_. Another
great attraction to the cattle is the salt which is strewn upon large
slabs of stone or flat boards. By these two devices, thousands of
animals are kept within a comparatively short distance of the ranch.
To enable each ranch-owner to brand the cattle belonging to him,
_rodeos_ or round-ups are held two or three times during the year. These
_rodeos_ are gatherings of the herds. The men ride out in all directions
from the ranch, and drive the cattle towards the _corrales_. In this
task they are greatly helped by the presence of the tame animals, which
are easily led or driven as required, and are always followed by the
others.
Once in the _corrales_, the branding begins. A red-hot iron is used,
shaped either to form one or two letters or some special sign which
constitutes the trade or hall mark, so to speak, of the respective
ranch. The animals are forced to pass through a long, narrow enclosure
between two fences, and are branded as they go by; but with animals that
give a great deal of trouble a different method is followed. This
consists in starting the bull, heifer, or cow, as the case may be, on
the run. A man on horseback follows, and when both the horse and the
bull have attained sufficient impetus, the man seizes the bull by the
tail, and with a sudden twist turns it over on its side, jumping at once
from his horse to pass the tail under the bull’s leg; this compresses
certain muscles, prevents all motion, and leaves the fallen animal
helpless. The branding is then done without any difficulty, either on
the fore or the hind quarters.
Secundino told us that this way of throwing the cattle down was not
confined to the branding season, but that it formed a frequent sport
amongst herdsmen in the plains, as it required great skill to accomplish
it. Another sport in which he and his friends indulged, and which he
described with great zest, was riding wild bulls. The process consists
first in throwing the bull to the ground, whereupon a thick rope is tied
as a girdle, only that it is placed quite close to the withers and right
under the forelegs of the animal. All this time the bull has been held
on the ground, bellowing and panting for sheer rage; as soon as the rope
is ready, the intending rider stands by the side of the animal with his
two hands stuck between the rope and the skin, on either side of the
spine, and the moment the bull is let loose and stands on its feet the
man leaps on its back. Then follows a wonderful struggle: the beast,
unaccustomed to any burden, rears and plunges, springs backwards and
forwards with great violence; the man, always spurred, increases the
fury of the animal by pricking its sides. His two arms, like bars of
iron, stand rigid, and man and bullock seem as though made of one piece.
At last the bull is exhausted, and sullenly acknowledges the superior
force of the rider; but it takes rare courage and strength to accomplish
this feat.
After describing these and other pastimes, Secundino quietly added:
‘Whenever my work leaves me time, I kill tigers.’
He said this unpretentiously, yet with a certain air of
self-consciousness that must have brought the shadow of a doubting smile
to my lips. Secundino saw this, and, without appearing to take notice of
it, invited us outside the house, and showed us, at a certain distance
from it, lying on the ground, ten tigers’ skulls, some of which bore
traces of having been recently cleansed from skin and flesh.
‘You see,’ he added, ‘that I have some proofs of my tiger-killing!’
He told us that the tigers were the worst enemies of the cattle-farmer.
‘Other animals,’ he said, ‘will take just what they want, but the tiger
is fierce, cruel, and kills for the sake of killing. If he should happen
to get into an enclosure containing twenty or thirty young calves, he
will kill them all, and take one away with him. We are at open and
constant warfare with the tigers,’ he added, ‘and there is no truce
between us.’
The _llaneros_ usually kill tigers by spearing them. Referring to this,
Secundino said that doubtless it was more dangerous than shooting the
beast down at long range with a Winchester or a Remington rifle; ‘but,’
he went on to say, ‘powder and lead are expensive, cartridges are
difficult to obtain, and when once exhausted your weapon is no better
than a broomstick. The spear, however, is always ready, and never fails
you. When I go out tiger-hunting I take my dogs, who follow the scent
and guide me. I carry with me, besides the spears, a muzzle-loader, in
case of emergency. The moment the dogs see the tiger they give cry; the
beast seeks higher ground, and the fight with the dogs begins at once.
The tiger is afraid even of a cur. The dogs that we have here are well
trained, and though at times they are killed by the tiger, that seldom
happens. I follow my dogs, keeping the animal well in sight, with my
spear ready, and at the right moment dash forward and plunge it into his
breast. If the blow is a good one, that ends it. Now and then it is
necessary to fire the rifle into him; but this is a great pity, owing to
the waste of lead and gunpowder.’
I am trying to repeat here word by word Secundino’s quiet statement. It
sounds fanciful and exaggerated, but all those who have travelled over
the plains of either Venezuela or Colombia will have heard that such is
the commonest mode of tiger-killing amongst the _llaneros_. The tiger of
these latitudes, however, is not the same as the tiger of India and
other parts of Asia. It is smaller, but not less ferocious; it is
spotted, and not striped. The spear used is very long, made of very hard
wood, and has a most murderous appearance.
Secundino, after telling me of his short way with tigers, asked me to
handle the weapon, and generously gave me some instructions as to the
exact poise to be adopted for striking a blow, explaining to me how
dangerous it might be were I to forget the rules which he could
recommend from experience. To begin with, I could hardly lift the spear,
and, then, there was practically no chance of my ever going to seek a
tiger in his lair. Secundino, however, was profoundly in earnest, and,
rather than disabuse him or hurt his feelings, I solemnly promised him
that I would never kill tigers otherwise than in strict conformity with
his advice, and that at the first opportunity I would practise throwing
the spear and poising my body, so as to make sure.
Towards evening, as we were about leaving, when I was already seated in
the canoe, whilst Leal was still ashore, I overheard these words passing
between him and Secundino:
‘How far are you going, Friend Leal?’
‘Down to the Orinoco, to accompany these gentlemen.’
‘How are you coming back, by land or by water?’
‘I do not know yet—that depends.’
‘Well, all right; if you come this way, I should like you to tackle a
horse that we have here, which no one seems able to ride, and which I
dare not tackle myself.’
‘Never you mind,’ answered Leal; ‘I will see to it when I return.’
Here was a revelation. Leal’s prowess grew in our estimation. This guide
of ours was called upon to break in a horse which Secundino, the
tiger-hunter, whose title to the name, if devoid of diplomas or academic
signatures, was vouched for by the ten tiger-skulls which we had seen,
would not dare to ride himself!
On we went towards the Meta River, leaving our friends on the shore
shouting to us messages of good speed. We soon noticed that our canoe,
being lighter in draft, had left the other far behind it.
It darkened much earlier than we expected, and to our great regret we
saw that the second canoe could not catch us up, which was annoying, as
supper, beds, and everything else, with the exception of a demijohn of
aniseed _aguardiente_, were in it. We landed at the first beach that we
struck, hoping against hope that the stragglers might overtake us.
Time had passed so agreeably at Santa Barbara, listening to Secundino’s
tales, that we had not noticed how late it was. It seemed to us,
furthermore, that darkness had set in earlier than usual. On hearing
some remark to that effect, Fermin observed that the sun had set for us
that day earlier than usual. He laid stress upon the words ‘for us,’
and, on being asked what he meant thereby, said that the darkness had
been caused by a cloud which had interposed itself between us and the
setting sun, thus bringing night earlier than usual.
‘What nonsense are you talking about?’ said Raoul. ‘There is no cloud in
the matter; we went on talking and talking, and forgot the time.’
‘No, sir,’ Fermin said, without moving a muscle; ‘I know what I am
talking about. The cloud was formed by the feathers of that bird which
we tried to pluck yesterday; they are so many that they darken the light
of the sun!’
Up to this day I cannot say what happened. I do not know if we mistook
the hour of the day and were overtaken by night, or if, in truth, as
Fermin asserted, the wrathful ghost of the mishandled duck spread its
black feathers above our heads, thus forming a mantle like the mantle of
arrows which the Spartan warriors asked the Persian invaders to fire at
them, so that they might fight in the shade. This problem, which
contains historical, astronomical and atmospherical elements, will
remain for ever as dark and mysterious as the feathers of the dead bird.