Continuing my journey through the Durazno district, I forded the pretty
River Yí and entered the Tacuarembó department, which is immensely
long, extending right away to the Brazilian frontier. I rode over its
narrowest part, however, where it is only about twenty-five miles wide;
then, crossing two very curiously named rivers, Rios Salsipuedes Chico
and Salsipuedes Grande, which mean Get-out-if-you-can Rivers, Little and
Big, I at length reached the termination of my journey in the
province or department of Paysandù. The Estancia de la Virgen de
los Desamparados, or, to put it very shortly, Vagabonds' Rest, was
a good-sized, square brick house built on very high ground, which
overlooked an immense stretch of grassy, undulating country.
There was no plantation about the house, not even a shade tree or
cultivated plant of any description, but only some large _corrales_, or
enclosures, for the cattle, of which there were six or seven thousand
head on the land. The absence of shade and greenery gave the place a
desolate, uninviting aspect, but if I was ever to have any authority
here this would soon be changed. The Mayordomo, or manager, Don
Policarpo Santierra de Peñalosa, which, roughly done into English, means
Polycarp of the Holy Land abounding in Slippery Rocks, proved to be a
very pleasant, affable person. He welcomed me with that quiet Oriental
politeness which is never cold and never effusive, and then perused the
letter from Doña Isidora. Finally he said, “I am willing, my friend, to
supply you with all the conveniences procurable at this elevation;
and, for the rest, you know, doubtless, what I can say to you. A ready
understanding requires few words. Nevertheless, there is here no lack
of good beef, and, to be short, you will do me a great favour by making
this house with everything it contains your own, while you honour us by
remaining in it.”
After delivering himself of these kindly sentiments, which left me
rather in a mist as to my prospects, he mounted his horse and rode off,
probably on some very important affair, for I saw no more of him for
several days.
I at once proceeded to establish myself in the kitchen. No person inthe
house appeared ever to pay even a casual visit to any other room.
This kitchen was vast and barn-like, forty feet long at least, and
proportionately wide; the roof was of reeds, and the hearth, placed in
the centre of the floor, was a clay platform, fenced round with cows'
shank-bones, half buried and standing upright. Some trivets and iron
kettles were scattered about, and from the centre beam, supporting
the roof, a chain and hook were suspended to which a vast iron pot was
fastened. One more article, a spit about six feet long for roasting
meat, completed the list of cooking utensils. There were no chairs,
tables, knives, or forks; everyone carried his own knife, and at
meal-time the boiled meat was emptied into a great tin dish, whilst the
roast was eaten from the spit, each one laying hold with his fingers
and cutting his slice. The seats were logs of wood and horse-skulls.
The household was composed of one woman, an ancient, hideously ugly,
grey-headed negress, about seventy years old, and eighteen or nineteen
men of all ages and sizes, and of all colours from parchment-white to
very old oak. There was a _capatas,_ or overseer, and seven or
eight paid _peones,_ the others being all _agregados_--that is,
supernumeraries without pay, or, to put it plainly, vagabonds who attach
themselves like vagrant dogs to establishments of this kind, lured by
the abundance of flesh, and who occasionally assist the regular _peones_
at their work, and also do a little gambling and stealing to keep
themselves in small change. At break of day everyone was up sitting by
the hearth sipping bitter _maté_ and smoking cigarettes; before sunrise
all were mounted and away over the surrounding country to gather up the
herds; at midday they were back again to breakfast. The consumption and
waste of meat was something frightful. Frequently, after breakfast, as
much as twenty or thirty pounds of boiled and roast meat would be thrown
into a wheelbarrow and carried out to the dust-heap, where it served to
feed scores of hawks, gulls, and vultures, besides the dogs.
Of course, I was only an _agregado_, having no salary or regular
occupation yet. Thinking, however, that this would only be for a time, I
was quite willing to make the best of things, and very soon became
fast friends with my fellow _agregados_, joining heartily in all their
amusements and voluntary labours.
In a few days I got very tired of living exclusively on flesh, for not
even a biscuit was “procurable at this elevation”; and as for a potato,
one might as well have asked for a plum-pudding. It occurred to my mind
at last that, with so many cows, it might be possible to procure some
milk and introduce a little change into our diet. In the evening I
broached the subject, proposing that on the following day we should
capture a cow and tame her. Some of the men approved of the suggestion,
remarking that they had never thought of it themselves; but the old
negress, who, being the only representative of the fair sex present,
was always listened to with all the deference due to her position, threw
herself with immense zeal into the opposition. She affirmed that no
cow had been milked at that establishment since its owner had paid it
a visit with his young wife twelve years before. A milch-cow was then
kept, and on the señora partaking of a large quantity of milk “before
breaking her fast,” it produced such an indigestion in her that they
were obliged to give her powdered ostrich stomach, and finally to convey
her, with great trouble, in an ox-cart to Paysandù, and thence by water
to Montevideo. The owner ordered the cow to be released, and never, to
her certain knowledge, had cow been milked since at La Virgen de los
Desamparados.
These ominous croakings produced no effect on me, and the next day I
returned to the subject. I did not possess a lasso, and so could not
undertake to capture a half-wild cow without assistance. One of my
fellow _agregados_ at length volunteered to help me, observing that he
had not tasted milk for several years, and was inclined to renew his
acquaintance with that singular beverage. This new-found friend in need
merits being formally introduced to the reader. His name was Epifanio
Claro. He was tall and thin, and had an idiotic expression on his long,
sallow face. His cheeks were innocent of whiskers, and his lank, black
hair, parted in the middle, fell to his shoulders, enclosing his narrow
face between a pair of raven's wings. He had very large, light-coloured,
sheepish-looking eyes, and his eyebrows bent up like a couple of Gothic
arches, leaving a narrow strip above them that formed the merest apology
for a forehead. This facial peculiarity had won for him the nickname of
Cejas (Eyebrows), by which he was known to his intimates. He spent most
of his time strumming on a wretched old cracked guitar, and singing
amorous ballads in a lugubrious, whining falsetto, which reminded me not
a little of that hungry, complaining gull I had met at the _estancia_ in
Durazno. For, though poor Epifanio had an absorbing passion for music,
Nature had unkindly withheld from him the power to express it in a
manner pleasing to others. I must, however, in justice to him, allow
that he gave a preference to ballads or compositions of a thoughtful,
not to say metaphysical, character. I took the trouble of translating
the words of one literally, and here they are:
Yesterday my senses opened,
At a rap-a-tap from Reason,
Inspiring in me an intention
Which I never had before,
Seeing that through all my days
My life has been just what it is.
Therefore when I rose I said,
To-day shall be as yesterday,
Since Reason tells me I have been
From day to day the self-same thing.
This is very little to judge from, being only a fourth part of the song;
but it is a fair specimen, and the rest is no clearer. Of course it is
not to be supposed that Epifanio Claro, an illiterate person, took in
the whole philosophy of these lines; still, it is probable that a subtle
ray or two of their deep meaning touched his intellect, to make him a
wiser and a sadder man.
Accompanied by this strange individual, and with the grave permission
of the _capatas_, who declined, however, in words of many syllables, all
_responsabilidad_ in the matter, we went out to the grazing grounds in
quest of a promising-looking cow. Very soon we found one to our liking.
She was followed by a small calf, not more than a week old, and her
distended udder promised a generous supply of milk; but unfortunately
she was fierce-tempered, and had horns as sharp as needles.
“We will cut them by and by,” shouted Eyebrows.
He then lassoed the cow, and I captured the calf, and lifting it into
the saddle before me, started homewards. The cow followed me at a
furious pace, and behind came Claro at a swinging gallop. Possibly he
was a little too confident, and carelessly let his captive pull the line
that held her; anyhow, she turned suddenly on him, charged with amazing
fury, and sent one of her horrid horns deep into the belly of his horse.
He was, however, equal to the occasion, first dealing her a smart blow
on the nose, which made her recoil for a moment; he then severed the
lasso with his knife, and, shouting to me to drop the calf, made his
escape. We pulled up as soon as we had reached a safe distance, Claro
drily remarking that the lasso had been borrowed, and that the horse
belonged to the _estancia_, so that we had lost nothing. He alighted,
and stitched up the great gash in the poor brute's belly, using for a
thread a few hairs plucked from its tail. It was a difficult task, or
would have been so to me, as he had to bore holes in the animal's
hide with his knife-point, but it seemed quite easy to him. Taking the
remaining portion of the severed lasso, he drew it round the hind and
one of the fore feet of his horse, and threw him to the ground with a
dexterous jerk; then, binding him there, performed the operations of
sewing up the wound in about two minutes.
“Will he live?” I asked.
“How can I tell?” he answered indifferently. “I only know that now
he will be able to carry me home; if he dies afterwards, what will it
matter?”
We then mounted and rode quietly home. Of course, we were chaffed
without mercy, especially by the old negress, who had foreseen all
along, she told us, just how it would be. One would have imagined, to
hear this old black creature talk, that she looked on milk-drinking as
one of the greatest moral offences man could be guilty of, and that
in this case Providence had miraculously interposed to prevent us from
gratifying our depraved appetites.
Eyebrows took it all very coolly.
“Do not notice them,” he said to me. “The lasso was not ours, the horse
was not ours, what does it matter what they say?”
The owner of the lasso, who had good-naturedly lent it to us, roused
himself on hearing this. He was a very big, rough-looking man, his
face covered with an immense shaggy black beard. I had taken him for a
good-humoured specimen of the giant kind before, but I now changed my
opinion of him when his angry passions began to rise. Blas, or Barbudo,
as we called the giant, was seated on a log sipping _maté_.
“Perhaps you take me for a sheep, sirs, because you see me wrapped in
skins,” he observed; “but let me tell you this, the lasso I lent you
must be returned to me.”
“These words are not for us,” remarked Eyebrows, addressing me, “but for
the cow that carried away his lasso on her horns--curse them for being
so sharp!”
“No, sir,” returned Barbudo, “do not deceive yourself; they are not
for the cow, but for the fool that lassoed the cow. And I promise you,
Epifanio, that if it is not restored to me, this thatch over our heads
will not be broad enough to shelter us both.”
“I am pleased to hear it,” said the other, “for we are short of seats;
and when you leave us, the one you now encumber with your carcass will
be occupied by some more meritorious person.”
“You can say what you like, for no one has yet put a padlock on your
lips,” said Barbudo, raising his voice to a shout; “but you are not
going to plunder me; and if my lasso is not restored to me, then I swear
I will make myself a new one out of a human hide.”
“Then,” said Eyebrows, “the sooner you provide yourself with a hide for
the purpose, the better, for I will never return the lasso to you; for
who am I to fight against Providence, that took it out of my hands?”
To this Barbudo replied furiously:
“Then I will have it from this miserable starved foreigner, who comes
here to learn to eat meat and put himself on an equality with men.
Evidently he was weaned too soon; but if the starveling hungers for
infant's food, let him in future milk the cats that warm themselves
beside the fire, and can be caught without a lasso, even by a
Frenchman!”
I could not endure the brute's insults, and sprang up from my seat. I
happened to have a large knife in my hand, for we were just preparing to
make an assault on the roasted ribs of a cow, and my first impulse
was to throw down the knife and give him a blow with my fist. Had I
attempted it I should most probably have paid dearly for my rashness.
The instant I rose Barbudo was on me, knife in hand. He aimed a furious
blow, which luckily missed me, and at the same moment I struck him, and
he reeled back with a dreadful gash on his face. It was all done in a
second of time, and before the others could interpose; in another moment
they disarmed us, and set about bathing the barbarian's wound. During
the operation, which I daresay was very painful, for the old negress
insisted on having the wound bathed with rum instead of water, the brute
blasphemed outrageously, vowing that he would cut out my heart and eat
it stewed with onions and seasoned with cummin seed and various other
condiments.
I have often since thought of that sublime culinary conception of Blas
the barbarian. There must have been a spark of wild Oriental genius in
his bovine brains.
When the exhaustion caused by rage, pain, and loss of blood had at
length reduced him to silence, the old negress turned on him, exclaiming
that he had been rightly punished, for had he not, in spite of her
timely warnings, lent his lasso to enable these two heretics (for that
is what she called us) to capture a cow? Well, his lasso was lost; then
his friends, with the gratitude only to be expected from milk-drinkers,
had turned round and well-nigh killed him.
After supper the _capatas_ got me alone, and with excessive friendliness
of manner, and an abundance of circumlocutory phrases, advised me
to leave the _estancia_, as it would not be safe for me to remain. I
replied that I was not to blame, having struck the man in self-defence;
also, that I had been sent to the _estancia_ by a friend of the
Mayordomo, and was determined to see him and give him my version of the
affair.
The _capatas_ shrugged his shoulders and lit a cigarette.
At length Don Policarpo returned, and when I told him my story he
laughed slightly, but said nothing. In the evening I reminded him of the
subject of the letter I had brought from Montevideo, asking him whether
it was his intention to give me some employment on the _estancia_.
“You see, my friend,” he replied, “to employ you now would be
useless, however valuable your services might be, for by this time the
authorities will have information of your fight with Blas. In the course
of a few days you may expect them here to make inquiries into that
affair, and it is probable that you and Blas will both be taken into
custody.”
“What then would you advise me to do?” I asked.
His answer was, that when the ostrich asked the deer what he would
advise him to do when the hunters appeared, the deer's reply was, “Run
away.”
I laughed at his pretty apologue, and answered that I did not think the
authorities would trouble themselves about me--also that I was not fond
of running away.
Eyebrows, who had hitherto been rather inclined to patronise me and take
me under his protection, now became very warm in his friendship,
which was, however, dashed with an air of deference when we were alone
together, but in company he was fond of parading his familiarity with
me. I did not quite understand this change of manner at first, but by
and by he took me mysteriously aside and became extremely confidential.
“Do not distress yourself about Barbudo,” he said. “He will never again
presume to lift his hand against you; and if you will only condescend to
speak kindly to him, he will be your humble slave and proud to have
you wipe your greasy fingers on his beard. Take no notice of what the
Mayordomo says, he also is afraid of you. If the authorities take you,
it will only be to see what you can give them: they will not keep you
long, for you are a foreigner, and cannot be made to serve in the army.
But when you are again at liberty it will be necessary for you to kill
someone.” Very much amazed, I asked him why. “You see,” he replied,
“your reputation as a fighter is now established in this department,
and there is nothing men envy more. It is the same as in our old game of
_pato,_ where the man that carries the duck away is pursued by all the
others, and before they give up chasing him he must prove that he can
keep what he has taken. There are several fighters you do not know, who
have resolved to pick quarrels with you in order to try your strength.
In your next fight you must not wound, but kill, or you will have no
peace.” I was greatly disturbed at this result of my accidental victory
over Bias the Bearded, and did not at all appreciate the kind of
greatness my officious friend Claro seemed so determined to thrust upon
me. It was certainly flattering to hear that I had already established
my reputation as a good fighter in so warlike a department as Paysandu,
but then the consequences entailed were disagreeable, to say the least
of it; and so, while thanking Eyebrows for his friendly hint, I
resolved to quit the _estancia_ at once. I would not run away from the
authorities, since I was not an evil-doer, but from the necessity of
killing people for the sake of peace and quietness I certainly would
depart. And early next morning, to my friend's intense disgust, and
without telling my plans to anyone, I mounted my horse and quitted
Vagabond's Rest to pursue my adventures elsewhere.