FROM RIO QUARTO TO CERRO MORO--CONTINUED.
While all around me seemed to offer danger in some form, I grew
lighter at heart every day that we further penetrated the country,
for everything was novel and captivating to the fancy. I was at last
among a strange people, and their habits and mode of life, and the many
incidents that were constantly occurring, were full of interest to me.
Although my heart was light, and I trudged along cheerfully and with
courage, my companions in the caravan were but little calculated to
make the trip a pleasant one; and I must say that they did not try to
change their evidently disagreeable nature.
The rations I received from the tall Santia gueño, my “protector and
firm friend,” were selected from the toughest and driest portions of
the meat, while he devoured my living, and at the same time, at meals,
called the attention of the whole company to the unsuccessful attempts
I made at mastication.
At times, when indignation caused me to reply in no gentle terms to
their conduct, in a tongue different from theirs, I perceived my folly,
for it only served to draw out more jibes and greater insults from the
fellows.
When we were in motion, to avoid uncongenial company, I started in
advance of the troop, and kept far ahead of it. Sometimes I improved
these opportunities to brood over the ill-treatment of the men; but at
sight of a wild animal, or a gaucho pursuing a colt across the plains,
an instant revival of my spirits took place, and my whole senses were
awakened to things around me.
I usually had enough to occupy my mind; sometimes I was studying the
habits of birds or insects, at others following with my eyes the
movements of a herd of cattle, or gazing upon the mirage in the distant
horizon, in which our caravan was reflected with wonderful distinctness.
I have said that the peons had not treated me with great friendliness
lately; but since we left Rio Quarto their coolness grew more
noticeable, and at length I began to fear that we should not part
without a collision, in which case I knew I could depend on but two
people in the whole caravan, the old Indian and the woman spoken of in
a preceding chapter.
These two had always treated me kindly, while all the others had given
me uneasiness in some way or other.
Before the troop had left Rosario, my friend, Señor G., cautioned me
against showing money, and I had followed his advice, having departed
from it only on one or two occasions. When near Rio Quarto, not wishing
to be thought penurious, I had imprudently purchased more than my share
of the pumpkins and melons, which served to regale the peons at night,
when collected around the camp-fires; and this had caused the ignorant
fellows to suppose that there was _mucha plata_ (much money) in my
possession. And this was the cause of their ill-feeling towards me.
Several times they were particularly anxious to know if I had friends
in Mendoza, and who were the persons that would receive me on the
arrival of the troop in that town. I at last found it necessary to
introduce to their consideration a character as new to myself as he
was to them. One night, when we were lying around the fires, I, after
describing my home and friends, casually remarked that one of them,
a medico, the distinguished Dr. Carmel, of Mendoza, was anxiously
awaiting my arrival, and that his apprehensions for my safety would
increase until I reached the town.
To the reader whose conscience has never been subjected to violence,
this subterfuge may appear unmanly; but, in justice to myself, I was
obliged thus to impose upon the peons, and the result fully proved it.
Under Dr. Carmel’s strong (prospective) arm and influence I found more
peaceful hours, and suffered less from annoyance than if his name had
never been mentioned, or if the villanous fellows had been left in
their first belief; which at the same time was correct, that I was a
friendless _gringo_, to whom they might offer any insult without fear
of punishment. In what manner was I, a solitary stripling, to protect
myself against more than a score of barbarians, in the very heart
of a country to the languages and localities of which I was a total
stranger, unless by subterfuge?
But my troubles were not yet over.
While walking, as usual, one day, in advance of the carts, which
came slowly creaking behind, my attention was directed to Juan, the
little son of my female friend, who came running after me. Juan spoke
only broken Spanish; but upon reaching my side he commenced a voluble
discourse, which, however, I gave little notice to, supposing it to be
merely childish prattle. At length the boy took my hand, and demanded
my attention.
From what he said, I could, indeed, glean but little; but it was enough
to confirm my suspicions, which I had had for some time, that some
rascality was being planned by the drivers. From mispronounced words
and broken sentences, I received warning not to eat with the _capataz_
at the fire,--“_Sta malo no come con él_,”--and to be cautious when
with the men. Juan said that his mother had sent him to tell me this.
The little fellow was about to communicate something further regarding
his mother, when he suddenly became silent, and squeezed my hand. I
looked around, and beheld _Chico_, the servant of the _capataz_, close
upon our heels; he had stealthily approached, without attracting our
notice.
“Why do you walk?” interrogated little Juan.
To this question the swarthy Chico, half Indian, half negro, made no
answer; but he uttered a sly laugh, that meant a good deal. We walked
on for upwards of an hour, during which time the half-breed kept close
behind us.
Watching favorable opportunities, Juan informed me that the _capataz_
had sent his servant to prevent us from conversing; and seeing that he
was determined to remain by us, I at length, with the boy, rejoined the
troop.
When the caravan halted for the night, I walked over to the fire where
the China woman was seated; but two or three gauchos from our own fire
followed me, and engaged the woman in conversation.
In the aspect of affairs now, I confess I was somewhat alarmed, and
more than ever felt the want of a companion on whom I could depend. The
words of a foreign merchant, with whom I had conversed in Buenos Ayres,
were recalled most forcibly to me. “My boy,” he said, “you don’t know
whither you are going. When you get among the gauchos, you will find
much trouble and danger.” And I acknowledge that I now felt he spoke
the truth.
The men still kept the woman aloof from me. I determined to take things
coolly, and await events.
Don Manuel came to the fire late in the evening, and, taking his
meat in his hand, galloped off in the dark to see to the cattle. I
now missed Don José, the _patron_, whose protecting arm was to be my
support in danger. On inquiring of Facundo, my cook, he pointed off
into the gloom, and uttered the Spanish word “_Estancia_,” by which I
understood that the _patron_ was at some one of the great cattle-farms
lying off the road.
I now felt that I was unprotected, indeed; and when the hour arrived
for our lying down to sleep, I was uncertain as to whether or not
I should remain unmolested through the night. But the time for the
attempt on my purse, if not life, had evidently not arrived. I was
permitted to fall asleep, which I did at last; and our whole party
evidently accompanied me in my visit to the land of dreams, for nothing
was heard among us, and no one moved (if they had I would have been
awakened in an instant) until daybreak.
When the sun was just appearing above the horizon, the _capataz_ came
galloping up to the carts, and soon the word was spoken to get up the
oxen and mules, and prepare to start.
I remained in the cart to write in my journal until the ugly-visaged
Facundo appeared to inform me that my breakfast was ready. As I
approached the group that was huddled about the fire, not one of them
deigned to notice me, save one big fellow, who, with an obsequiousness
that I knew to be assumed, pointed to the breakfast.
The strips of meat had been removed from the fire, and the spit, in a
separate piece, was stuck into the ground, waiting for me. This was an
unusual attention, for I generally shared my meat with the _capataz_,
or with Facundo. The _capataz_ sat smoking by the fire, but the
_patron_ had not yet returned from the _estancia_. I offered my steak
to Don Manuel; but he courteously declined, appearing to lack appetite.
He refused a second similar offer, and continued smoking.
Determined not to be balked by him, as I wished to prove my suspicions
that mischief was afoot, I informed him that he lacked politeness,
and that I would not eat without him. The effect of my words upon the
company was of such a character that I could no longer doubt their
intentions.
At length Don Manuel, seeing that I suspected something, cut off from
the extreme edge of the steak a mouthful or two, and ate it, upon
which I cut from the opposite side a little larger piece, and ate it
leisurely. I then cut off another piece, and, pretending to eat it on
the way, left the party, and retired to the cart to finish my writing,
throwing the meat in the grass on the way.
Fifteen or twenty minutes passed, at the end of which time I was
compelled to put aside paper and pen, for a strange sensation of
weakness came upon me, rendering me unable to move--a helpless prisoner
in the cart.
Violent pains, that racked my head, were followed by strong vomitive
symptoms; but I was still helpless.
While the oxen were being harnessed, I made a second effort to leave
the cart, but I could not rise. Soon the villanous Facundo entered,
and, bidding me, in no gentle tones, to keep quiet, and not kick
around, he started his oxen, and, with the rest of the caravan, we were
again in motion.
I soon fell into a delightful sleep, and dreamed most pleasant dreams.
At one moment I was moving through the air, light, free from human
bonds, a very spirit; my whole senses were intoxicated with most
delicious sensations. Again I beheld most beautiful visions and most
gorgeous colors. At last I seemed to have been transported back to my
native village, and kind friends were grouped around me. The voice of
welcome greeted me, all trouble seemed ended. A clear, sweet voice sang
a well-remembered song, which seemed to be the very essence of melody,
so ravishingly did it fill upon my ear.
Gradually the voice grew indistinct, then loud and harsh, and I
returned to consciousness to recognize the tones of Facundo, who was
singing to himself. His discordant words were uttered in a long-drawn
cadence, commencing in a low, mournful strain, and ending with a
couplet and groans.
The following syllables will give an idea of his song. They were
repeated so many times that I shall hardly forget them:--
“Que pur ma no yepe--_oh_--AH--OUGH.
Ya, ke, pur, se, va, yah--_oh_--OH--AH--OUGH.”
Facundo continued groaning, either for his own pleasure or for my
discomfort, during the greater part of the time that I lay sick in the
cart.
At our first stopping-place, about two hours after breakfast, the
woman sent me, by little Juan, a tea that she had prepared from some
herbaceous plant of the pampas, to gather which she had walked all the
morning behind the carts.
I felt much better after drinking the tea, but did not entirely recover
from my sudden illness for several days. I subsequently learned that
it was not unusual for the Santia gueños to revenge a fancied insult,
or to annoy one whom they have a dislike for, by administering poison,
sometimes in sufficient quantities to destroy life, and at other times
in a quantity sufficient to produce only sickness. They had undoubtedly
taken advantage of the absence of the _patron_ to treat me as they did.
The first time I sallied forth from confinement I was received in a
characteristic manner by the drivers, who clapped their hands to their
stomachs, and questioned me with impudent gestures if I was not ill,
and what was the trouble. The good woman only said, compassionately,
“_Pobre cito_” (poor fellow).
During my sickness I continued to write daily, much to the annoyance of
Facundo, who looked threateningly at my notes, as if he suspected his
name was there. I even went so far as to ask him how he spelt his name,
which was a useless question enough; for had he been disposed to inform
me, he could not, since he knew not one letter from another.
My illness cost me but little time, and I was soon able to resume my
pedestrian journey, and by night of the same day I was nearly well.
Our journey had been through the day across a hilly country. As evening
drew near, we reached a watering-place, which afforded an abundance of
feed around it, and the caravan was halted, and camp prepared.
At supper I was cautious to eat only of the food that I saw the others
partake of, which they observing, I noticed that glances and meaning
smiles were exchanged among them.
Early the next morning we were again in motion.
The country was still broken, and we met several deep gullies, which
we crossed with great labor, it being necessary to attach extra yokes
of oxen to the carts to effect a passage. One of these gullies was so
dangerous, on account of the steepness of its sides, that a pair of
oxen were fastened behind the cart to prevent it from gaining too great
a velocity in its descent.
Near this latter pass was a five by six stone hut, roofed with
sticks and mud, which served as a post house, where the galloping
courier receives his fresh horse. Two women, with low foreheads and
heavy features, came out of the cabin, followed by an old man, the
postmaster, to stare at us, and inquire if the drivers had any sugar or
yerba to exchange with them. For what articles they proposed to barter
I could not conceive, as the open side of the hut showed an interior
destitute of everything like comfort; for it contained only an old hide
and bedding, and one cheese, that rested upon a swinging shelf made of
canes bound together with hide thongs.
Like many of the poor gauchos, the postman smoked bad Tucuman tobacco,
rolled up in a narrow piece of corn-leaf, a material that is preferred
by some to the coarse linen paper manufactured in Europe for the South
American market.
Among the hills that bounded our northern horizon, and which some
travellers would classify as mountains, the wind blows almost
constantly with great force from various quarters. The smallest of the
hills were well grassed over, and wherever the ruts entered the soil
near them it showed a sandy gravel. Upon the plains to the south was
the richer pasturage, with a soil better fitted for cultivation.
At night we encamped close by the hamlet of El Moro, situated, as I
believe, not far from the foot of Cerro Moro, a chain of low mountains.
At daylight the next morning the caravan wound down among the hills to
a level pampa, with barren mountains to the north.
The Mendoza diligence passed, drawn by six tired horses. Besides
drawing his share of the weight of the carriage, each animal carried
upon his back a postilion, who did not fail to use whip or spur as
necessity demanded.
The plain that we were upon was covered with immense piles of
decomposed granite, how placed in such positions it is difficult to
surmise. The thorn and algarroba tree grew abundantly. Our course for
the remainder of the day continued over the pampa, with hills growing
more distinct each hour in the distance: a strong wind blew steadily
from the Cerro until dark, when it died away, and a calm, lovely night
succeeded.
The following day we left the plains, and travelled through a hilly
country, which gradually became more and more irregular as we
approached the River Quinto, which stream we reached about noon, and
halted on its banks for dinner.
The country near the river was sandy, and covered with scattered
thorn-bushes. The banks of the Quinto, at the ford where we camped,
were high, and almost perpendicular. The bed of the river appeared to
be formed of quicksand in agitation, and the current was very strong. A
few mud huts were close to the river on each side, and their occupants
had a great quantity of beef cut in strips, drying for winter use,
together with sliced pumpkins, which two articles of diet form the
principal support of the people; the sterility of the soil will not
support a healthy crop of corn.
Large flocks of parrots, of a species that dig holes in the banks in
which to deposit their eggs, like our northern bank swallows (_Cotyle
riparia_), filled the air with loud cries, and gave some appearance
of life to the scene. The town of Rio Quinto was not far off; but as
the road lay in a different direction, I did not get a glimpse of
it, but, judging by the few lazy natives that I saw, who appeared
as if laboring under mental derangement, with two prominent traits
visible,--selfishness and idleness,--I did not feel that I was losing
much in not visiting the place.
Dinner over, we prepared to move. Crossing the river, we found the
ascent of the opposite bank the most difficult to surmount of any
obstacle we had met on the road; great exertions were made to get
the carts up the rise, and the oxen were most terribly goaded by the
drivers. One peon, with loud imprecations, thrust his goad into an
animal so far that it could not be withdrawn until the iron was pulled
out of the goad-stick, when the man caught it, and jerked so fiercely,
that when it came from the wound the blood followed it in a little
stream. This exhibition of brutality afforded satisfaction to the other
drivers, who laughed at the fellow as he cursed the ox for being the
cause of the breaking of his new picano. At last we were all across the
river and in motion.
The high plain upon the opposite side was covered with thorns and
algarroba, save here and there some spot more fertile than the rest,
which sustained a growth of coarse grass. In crossing this tract the
wheels of the carts sank into the deep ruts to the hubs, and raised
clouds of dust that were almost choking.
I covered myself with a woollen poncho, for I well knew that it was
doubtful if an opportunity to bathe would again present itself before
we reached San Luis, the great town of the interior. During the
afternoon a little boy passed us, driving to his house by the river a
flock of goats and sheep; the last-named animals looked very ragged,
from the custom of the people, who still adhere to the old practice of
_pulling out_ the wool from the skin instead of shearing, at such times
and in such quantities as they need it.
As the moon was a few days old, the caravan kept on until eight
o’clock, when it encamped on the travesia.
The cattle were driven a long distance from the road to feed, but no
pasturage was to be had, and at about one o’clock I was aroused by the
approach of the cattle, and the loud cries of the drivers, who shouted
“_Fuera! fuera!_” as they drove the teams to the carts.
The moon had set, and the night was very dark; but the necessity of
moving at once was obvious, for there was no water nor grass to be had
for many miles, and both must necessarily be obtained at the earliest
moment for the hungry and thirsty beasts.
We got under way at once, and travelled by landmarks with which the
drivers were acquainted. As we moved along the plain, the noise of the
caravan aroused hundreds of parrots from a roosting-place among the
branches of a clump of algarrobas. An Indian stampede could not have
created a more confused or louder noise than that of the frightened
parrots, as they hovered over us in a cloud.