Over the broad undulating plain which extends between Halberger's house
and the deserted _tolderia_ of the Tovas, a horseman is seen proceeding
in the direction of the latter. He is a man about middle age, of hale,
active appearance, in no way past his prime. Of medium size, or rather
above it, his figure though robust is well proportioned, with strong
sinewy arms and limbs lithe as a panther's, while his countenance,
notwithstanding the somewhat embrowned skin, has a pleasant, honest
expression, evincing good nature as a habitually amiable temper, at the
same time that his features show firmness and decision. A keenly
glancing eye, coal-black, bespeaks for him both courage and
intelligence; while the way in which he sits his horse, tells that he is
not new to the saddle; instead, seeming part of it. His garb is
peculiar, though not to the country which claims him as a native.
Draping down from his shoulders and spreading over the hips of his horse
is a garment of woollen fabric, woven in stripes of gaudy colours,
alternating white, yellow, and red, of no fit or fashion, but simply
kept on by having his head thrust through a slit in its centre. It is a
_poncho_--the universal wrap or cloak of every one who dwells upon the
banks of the La Plata or Parana. Under is another garment, of white
cotton stuff, somewhat resembling Zouave breeches, and called
_calzoneras_, these reaching a little below his knees; while his feet
and ankles are encased in boots of his own manufacture, seamless, since
each was originally the skin of a horse's leg, the hoof serving as heel,
with the shank shortened and gathered into a pucker for the toe. Tanned
and bleached to the whiteness of a wedding glove, with some ornamental
stitching and broidery, it furnishes a foot gear, alike comfortable and
becoming. Spurs, with grand rowels, several inches in diameter,
attached to the heels of these horse-hide boots, give them some
resemblance to the greaves and ankle armour of mediaeval times.
All this has he whose dress we are describing; while surmounting his
head is a broad-brimmed hat with high-peaked crown and plume of _rheas_
feathers--underneath all a kerchief of gaudy colour, which draping down
over the nape of his neck protects it from the fervid rays of the Chaco
sun. It is a costume imposing and picturesque; while the caparison of
his horse is in keeping with it. The saddle, called _recado_, is
furnished with several coverings, one upon another, the topmost,
_coronilla_, being of bright-coloured cloth elaborately quilted; while
the bridle of plaited horse-hair is studded with silver joints, from
which depend rings and tassels, the same ornamenting the breast-piece
and neck straps attaching the martingale, in short, the complete
equipment of a _gaucho_. And a gaucho he is--Gaspar, the hero of our
tale.
It has been already said, that he is in the service of Ludwig Halberger.
So is he, and has been ever since the hunter-naturalist settled in
Paraguay; in the capacity of steward, or as there called _mayor-domo_; a
term of very different signification from the _major-domo_ or
house-steward of European countries, with dress and duties differing as
well. No black coat, or white cravat, wears he of Spanish America, no
spotless stockings, or soft slipper shoes. Instead, a costume more
resembling that of a Cavalier, or Freebooter; while the services he is
called upon to perform require him to be not only a first-class
horseman, but able to throw the lazo, catch a wild cow or colt, and tame
the latter--in short, take a hand at anything. And at almost anything
Gaspar can; for he is man-of-all-work to the hunter-naturalist, as well
as his man of confidence.
Why he is riding away from the estancia at such an hour--for it is
afternoon--may be guessed from what has gone before. For it is on that
same day, when Halberger and his daughter started off to visit the
Indian village; and as these had not returned soon as promised, the
anxiety of the wife, rendered keen by the presentiment which had
oppressed her at their parting, became at length unbearable; and to
relieve it Gaspar has been despatched in quest of them.
No better man in all the pampas region, or South America itself, could
have been sent on such an errand. His skill as a tracker is not
excelled by any other gaucho in the Argentine States, from which he
originally came; while in general intelligence, combined with courage,
no one there, or elsewhere, could well be his superior. As the Senora
said her last words to him at parting, and listened to his in return,
she felt reassured. Gaspar was not the man to make delay, or come back
without the missing one. On this day, however, he deviates from his
usual habit, at the same time from the route he ought to take--that
leading direct to the Indian village, whither he knows his master and
young mistress to have gone. For while riding along going at a gentle
canter, a cock "ostrich" starts up before his horse, and soon after the
hen, the two trotting away over the plain to one side. It so chances
that but the day before his master had given him instructions to catch a
male ostrich for some purpose of natural history--the first he should
come across. And here was one, a splendid bird, in full flowing
plumage. This, with an observation made, that the ostriches seem less
shy than is usual with these wary creatures, and are moving away but
slowly, decides him to take after and have a try at capturing the cock.
Unloosing his _bolas_ from the saddle-bow, where he habitually carries
this weapon, and spurring his horse to a gallop, off after them he goes.
Magnificently mounted, for a gaucho would not be otherwise, he succeeds
in his intent, after a run of a mile or so, getting close enough to the
birds to operate upon them with his _bolas_. Winding these around his
head and launching them, he has the satisfaction of seeing the cock
ostrich go down upon the grass, its legs lapped together tight as if he
had hard spliced them.
Riding on up to the great bird, now hoppled and without any chance to
get away from him, he makes things more sure by drawing out his knife
and cutting the creature's throat. Then releasing the _bolas_, he
returns them to the place from which he had taken them--on the horn of
his _recado_. This done, he stands over the dead _rhea_, thus
reflecting:--
"I wonder what particular part of this beauty--it is a beauty, by the
way, and I don't remember ever having met with a finer bird of the
breed--but if I only knew which one with identical parts the master
wants, it would save me some trouble in the way of packing, and my horse
no little of a load. Just possible the _dueno_ only cares for the
tail-feathers, or the head and beak, or it may be but the legs. Well,
as I can't tell which, there's but one way to make sure about it--that
is, to take the entire carcase along with me. So, go it must."
Saying this, he lays hold of a leg, and drags the ostrich nearer to his
horse, which all the time stands tranquilly by: for a gaucho's steed is
trained to keep its place, without need of any one having care of it.
"_Carramba_!" he exclaims, raising the bird from the ground, "what a
weight the thing is! Heavy as a quarter of beef! Now I think on't, it
might have been better if I'd let the beast alone, and kept on without
getting myself into all this bother. Nay, I'm sure it would have been
wiser. What will the Senora say, when she knows of my thus dallying--
trifling with the commands she gave me? Bah! she won't know anything
about it--and needn't. She will, though, if I stand dallying here. I
mustn't a minute longer. So up, Senor Avertruz, and lie there."
At which, he hoists the ostrich--by the gauchos called "_avertruz_"--to
the croup of his _recado_; where, after a rapid manipulation of cords,
the bird is made fast, beyond all danger of dropping off.
This done, he springs upon his horse's back, and then looks out to see
which direction he should now take. A thing not so easily determined;
for in the chase after it, the ostrich had made more than one double;
and, although tolerably familiar with the topography of that plain, the
gaucho is for the time no little confused as to his whereabouts. Nor
strange he should be; since the palm-groves scattered over it are all so
much alike, and there is no high hill, nor any great eminence, to guide
him. Ridges there are, running this way and that; but all only gentle
undulations, with no bold projection, or other land-mark that he can
remember.
He begins to think he is really strayed, lost; and, believing so, is
angry with himself for having turned out of his path--as the path of his
duty. Angry at the ostrich, too, that tempted him.
"_Avertruz, maldito_!" he exclaims, terms in the gaucho vernacular
synonymous with "ostrich, be hanged!" adding, as he continues to gaze
hopelessly around, "I wish I'd let the long-legged brute go its way.
Like as not, it'll hinder me going mine, till too late. And if so,
there'll be a pretty tale to tell! _Santissima_! whatever am I to do?
I don't even know the way back to the house; though that wouldn't be any
good if I did. I daren't go there without taking some news with me.
Well; there's only one thing I can do; ride about, and quarter the
pampa, till I see something that'll set me back upon my road."
In conformity with this intention, he once more puts his horse in
motion, and strikes off over the plain; but he does not go altogether
without a guide, the sun somewhat helping him. He knows that his way to
the Indian village is westward, and as the bright luminary is now
beginning to descend, it points out that direction, so taking his
bearings by it, he rides on. Not far, however, before catching sight of
another object, which enables him to steer his course with greater
precision. This a tree, a grand vegetable giant of the species called
_ombu_, known to every gaucho--beloved, almost held sacred by him, as
affording shade to his sun-exposed and solitary dwelling. The one
Gaspar now sees has no house under its wide-spreading branches; but he
has himself been under them more than once while out on a hunt, and
smoked his _cigarrito_ in their shade. As his eye lights upon it, a
satisfied expression comes over his features, for he knows that the tree
is on the top of a little _loma_, or hill, about half-way between the
estancia and the Indian town, and nearly in the direct route.
He needs nothing more to guide him now; but instead of riding towards
the tree, he rather turns his back upon it, and starts off in a
different direction. This because he had already passed the _ombu_
before coming across the ostrich.
Soon again he is back upon the path from which he had strayed, and
proceeds along it without further interruption, riding at a rapid pace
to make up for the lost time.
Still, he is far from being satisfied with himself. Although he may
have done that which will be gratifying to his master, there is a
possibility of its displeasing his mistress. Most certainly will it do
this, should he not find the missing ones, and have to go home without
them. But he has no great fear of that; indeed, is not even uneasy.
Why should he be? He knows his master's proclivities, and believes that
he has come across some curious and rare specimens, which take time to
collect or examine, and this it is which has been retarding his return.
Thus reflecting, he continues on, every moment expecting to meet them.
But as there is neither road nor any regular path between the two
places, he needs to keep scanning the plain, lest on their return he may
pass them unobserved.
But he sees nothing of them till reaching the _tolderia_, and there only
the hoof-marks of his master's horse, with those of his young mistress's
pony, both conspicuous in the dust-covered ground by the doors of the
_toldos_. But on neither does he dwell, for he, too, as were the
others, is greatly surprised to find the place deserted--indeed alarmed,
and for a time sits in his saddle as one half-dazed.
Only a short while, for he is not the man to give way to long
irresolution, and recovering himself, he rides rapidly about, from
_toldo_ to _toldo_, all over the town, at the same time shouting and
calling out his master's name.
For answer, he only has the echoes of his own voice, now and then varied
with the howl of a wolf, which, prowling around like himself no doubt
wonders, as he, at the place being abandoned.
After a hurried examination of the houses, and seeing there is no one
within them, just as Halberger had done, he strikes off on the trail of
the departed inhabitants; and with the sun still high enough to light up
every track on it, he perceives those made by the _dueno's_ horse, and
the more diminutive hoof-prints alongside them.
On he goes following them up, and in a gallop, for they are so fresh and
clear he has no need to ride slowly. On in the same gait for a stretch
of ten miles, which brings him to the tributary stream at the
crossing-place. He rides down to the water's edge, there to be sorely
puzzled at what he sees--some scores of other horse-tracks recently
made, but turning hither and thither in crowded confusion.
It calls for all his skill as a _rastrero_, with some considerable time,
to unwind the tangled skein. But he at length succeeds, so far as to
discover that the whole horse troop, to whomsoever belonging, have
recrossed the ford; and crossing it himself, he sees they have gone back
up the Pilcomayo river. Among them is one showing a shod hoof; but he
knows that has not been made by his master's horse, the bar being larger
and broader, with the claw more deeply indented. Besides, he sees not
the pony's tracks--though they are or were there--and have been trodden
out by the ruck of the other animals trampling after.
The gaucho here turns back; though he intends following the trail
further, when he has made a more careful examination of the sign on the
other side of the stream; and recrossing, he again sets to scrutinising
it. This soon leading him to the place where Halberger entered the
_sumac_ grove. Now the gaucho, entering it also, and following the
_slot_ along the _tapir_ path, at a distance of some three hundred yards
from the crossing, comes out into an open glade, lit up by the last rays
of the setting sun, which fall slantingly through the trees standing
around. There a sight meets his eye, causing the blood at one moment to
run cold through his veins, in the next hot as boiling lava; while from
his lips issue exclamations of mingled astonishment and indignation.
What he sees is a horse, saddled and with the bridle also on, standing
with neck bent down, and head drooped till the nostrils almost touch the
earth. But between them and the ground is a figure extended at full
stretch; the body of a man to all appearance dead; which at a glance the
gaucho knows to be that of his master!