PART I.

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BLANCO Y COLORADO

BLANCO Y COLORADO

OLD DAYS AMONG THE

GA[~U]CHOS OF URUGUAY

BY

WILLIAM C. TETLEY

F. R. HOCKLIFFE

86 & 88, HIGH STREET, BEDFORD

LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL,

HAMILTON, KENT & CO., LTD.

1921

PREFACE

The following pages contain the writer's personal experiences in the

"Republic of Uruguay" during a revolution in what are now known as the

"Old Days."

If they enable the reader to understand what life in that country really

meant at that time, the object of this book will then be attained.

W. C. T.

The Close, Wavendon,

Woburn Sands,

Bucks.

July, 1919.

CONTENTS

PAGE

PART I. LAS SIERRAS DE MAL ABRIGO 9

PART II. EL CERRO DEL PICHINANGO 68

PART III. LA ESTANCIA ESPERANZA 169

BLANCO Y COLORADO.

PART I.

LAS SIERRAS DE MAL ABRIGO.

The clock of the "Cathedral de la Matrix" was striking ten on a lovely

morning in October, when our signal gun was fired, and the anchor of the

S.S. "Copernicus" let go to find bottom in the muddy waters of

La Plata.

On the right the town of Monte Video, with its whitewashed "azotea," or

flat-roofed houses, glistened in the bright sunshine; to the left the

broad estuary stretched away towards the open sea; while in front of us

the famous Cerro, a gently sloping hill, looked green and fresh and

pleasant after our long sea voyage. The tug which brought off the

Medical Officer of Health did not delay long before coming alongside,

when permission was given to the passengers to land, and I soon found

myself standing with my baggage on the Custom House wharf, and having

duly passed it, made my way to the "Hotel Oriental."

Here I enquired when a diligence would leave for the interior, which

would take me within reasonable distance of my friend's estancia, whom I

had come out to visit, which I believed to be situate about thirty-three

leagues, or one hundred miles, up country. I was informed that it was to

leave the next morning, but that, as it started from a "fonda," or inn,

outside the town at 5 a.m., it would be necessary to sleep there,

otherwise I should certainly miss it. At this time the diligence was

the only public conveyance traversing the country, a railway being as

yet unthought of. So I ordered some dinner at the "Hotel Oriental," and

occupied the interval by having a look round the city. I was much

pleased with the straight, wide streets, running at right angles, by the

size and importance of the public buildings, and by many of the private

houses, often opening on to a "plaza," or square, prettily planted with

trees and flowering shrubs. But I was most impressed by the variety and

beauty of the excellent shops, which I could hardly have expected to

find in a South American town at that time, so remote from Europe. I

also saw more than one of the famous "quintas," or villas, with large

grounds, where semi-tropical flowers can be seen in all their beauty,

and palms and magnolias everywhere flourish.

I arrived at the inn whence the diligence started at 9 p.m. The

proprietor received me with courtesy, and shewed me my bedroom, which

was small and not very clean; but it had a window opening on the street,

so I could get plenty of air. Some natives were making a noise in the

bar below, where they had doubtless been drinking, and seemed inclined

to quarrel. I gave instructions to be called, and the last thing I heard

as I dropped off to sleep was the cry of the "sereno," or

night-watchman, whose business it was, during the night, to call the

time and state of the weather every half hour. A loud rapping at my door

awoke me in time to look up my baggage and drink some hot coffee, before

a start was made. Dawn was fast breaking in the East as five horses and

three mules were being harnessed up, four abreast, to the old wooden

diligence, which carried the mails and baggage piled on its top, the

passengers sitting facing each other on hard wooden seats inside. In

front, beneath a wooden shelter, sat the driver, with room for one

passenger beside him. The diligence was heavily built, with large broad

wooden wheels, and there were no springs. In front rode a native on

horseback, with his lasso made fast to the leading horses, so that he

was able to guide the course of the diligence. His was an office of

importance, and he was called the "quartia dor." The team was evidently

well accustomed to the streets, so we rumbled heavily along, passed

suburb and quinta, until houses became less frequent, and by the end of

the first stage had ceased to appear; and we then saw before us the

rolling plains of Uruguay. A word as to my fellow-passengers. Four were

apparently business men, probably buyers of produce, one of whom spoke

French, and kindly gave me information as we went along. The fifth was

an officer, in a lieutenant's uniform. Reaching the end of our first

stage, we found another team shut up in a yard, waiting. This time they

were all horses, diverse in colour, wilder, and more spirited than the

others. But they were soon harnessed up, and we quickly got under weigh,

the driver now increasing our speed. As we descended a decline we went

mostly at full gallop, to get across the mud in the stream at the

bottom, and so have a good impetus for the rise on the other side, the

old diligence, which had seen much service, swaying and rolling like a

ship in a sea-way. By eleven o'clock we reached Santa Lucia, then only a

village, with one so-called hotel, and a straggling street of native

huts. Here we waited for an hour for breakfast: meat, boiled and roast,

with vegetables; bread, cheese, and coffee, which we much appreciated.

Then, with four new passengers and a fresh team of horses, we made a

start for the town of San Jose, where we were to stop for the night. As

we proceeded, the country opened out before us on every side, the

rolling plain, with here and there a clump of trees to mark some native

estancia, where a flock of sheep, and also cattle, could be seen feeding

in absolute freedom, for there were no fences or divisions of any kind,

neither was there anything in the way of cultivation. Occasionally a

native came into view, galloping after a troop of horses, his poncho

fluttering in the wind, and then, as he passed over a roll of the plain,

like some phantom, would seem to disappear. The afternoon was drawing to

a close when we saw far in front of us the golden rays of the now

fast-declining sun reflected on the cupola of the large church, flanking

the principal square of the country town of San Jose. Gradually the

houses rise up on the horizon, and half an hour later we drive up with

the usual flourish in front of the "Hotel Oriental." It was apparently

an old house, situate in the main street. We dined in a long low room,

with the addition of soup and a sweet, much as we had breakfasted.

Within its walls more than one murder had been planned, and many a

political "cabale" concocted; indeed, I was told that at the very table

where I sat an officer was dining with some boon companions. When

sipping their coffee he turned to them and said, "Tengo rabia voy a

matar un Gringo," "I feel in a rage, I am going to kill a foreigner." He

went straight out, and turning up the street, met an Italian stonemason

returning home from work. He pierced him through with his sword, and,

walking off to where he had left his horse, mounted, and rode away. The

poor man died, but the matter was hushed up, and nothing more was heard

about it. I soon went to bed, feeling tired, and my limbs ached from the

bumping and confinement of the diligence for so many hours.

In the morning we started early. The sun was just rising above the

horizon as we left the outskirts of San Jose, and made for the open

plain, unbroken, save by the dull grey line which alone seemed to mark

the "camino real," or Government road. At eleven o'clock we stopped at a

pulperia, or store, for some breakfast, and for fresh horses, which were

ready waiting for us. They were a wilder lot this time, and a chestnut

and a piebald especially gave trouble, at first refusing to be

harnessed. Once started, however, they had nothing for it but to settle

down, aided by a free application of the driver's whip. Just before two

o'clock we reached Guaycoru, where my journey by diligence ended; this

being the nearest point to my friend's estancia. Gathering together my

saddle, bridle and light baggage, I entered the pulperia, or store, to

enquire in what direction my friend's estancia lay, and how far off it

was. The pulpero, or storekeeper, fortunately could speak a little

French, which was a great help. He was very polite, pointed out the

direction, saying it was only between five and six miles distant, and

was situate at the far end of some rocky country which stretched out

before us. He offered to supply me with a couple of horses, one for

myself and another for my baggage, and to send a rather

ruffianly-looking mulatto, half Spanish and half negro, his face badly

pitted with small pox, to act as guide, and also to bring back the

horses. He soon appeared with a bay, a grey, and a piebald, and I at

once occupied myself fitting my saddle and bridle on the former, and not

apparently to his satisfaction. The headstall of the bridle was too

long, the girths of the saddle too short; but at last I got them to

meet, and, slinging my belongings over the back of the piebald and

mounting his grey, my attendant made a start, and I followed a few paces

behind. Our departure being watched with great interest by the pulpero

and his family. We had not gone far when we got in among the rocks, or

"sierras," as they were called, lying in long large masses, not very

high except in places; although, often rising well above one's head as

you rode along through the breaks between. Owing to the shelter thus

afforded, this district was noted as being the resort of robbers. The

lay of the land favoured these gentlemen, as they could easily hide both

their horses and themselves among the rocks during the day, and then go

out with the moon at night to kill a young cow, or steal a horse, as

their fancy took them. They were not a pleasant lot to have to do with,

and I could see that my not understanding Spanish alone prevented my

dark-skinned guide from duly expatiating upon the dangers of the road.

Meanwhile, the sun was declining, and there was no wind. You could

hardly hear a sound, and a weird creepy kind of feeling came over me as

we entered a passage between two large rocks, higher and steeper than

hitherto, which seemed to twist and turn so that I could not help

wondering when and where we were going to come out. Every now and then

we came across a few cattle, which made off hurriedly as we approached,

and when we happened to see a horse or two they instantly got out of

sight round some turn of the rocks, evidently well-known to them, but

which seemed to me an all but impossible path. And so we kept jogging

along, until the rocks got smaller and fewer, and at length we came out

into a piece of open country, where a large flock of sheep were quietly

grazing, their faces apparently set, as their custom is at eventide,

towards home. About half a mile in front of us was the estancia whither

we were bound, quiet and peaceful as I first saw it in the rays of the

now setting sun. An azotea, or flat-roofed house, whitewashed outside;

near it two large "ombus," a tree much valued for its shade; to the left

three or four "ranchos," or huts, the walls of mud, the roofs of a reed

called "paja"; on one side a yard for sheep, and on the other a large

corral, in which to shut in horses and cattle; it did not look

imposing, but I saw it all with interest as being for me a resting

place, and with pleasure, for I had now reached the end of my long

journey. My friend, Robert Royd, saw me riding up, and came out to

welcome me. He had a fall from his horse, and sprained his knee, so was

prevented coming in to Monte Video to meet me, as he had hoped to do. I

was glad to see him again. I had known him in England when life held out

a different prospect for him, and we had neither of us heard of Uruguay.

How he came to be located at Las Sierras de Mal Abrigo he could hardly

have told you himself. He went out for a voyage to Monte Video, took a

fancy to the country and its climate, and to the open-air life, made up

his mind to set up as an estanciero in a small way, and here he was. I

had now to make the acquaintance of another person, Mr. Henry Marsh,

called by the natives Henriquez. He had exchanged life in a merchant's

office in London for a similar position in Mexico, where he had met with

misfortune. He had drifted down the coast, first to Pernambuco, and

afterwards to Monte Video, where he at length found himself without

money or friends. Royd happened to come across him, and taking a fancy

to him, brought him up country to look after a flock of sheep. He was a

pleasant little man, a regular cockney through and through. He became

somewhat plaintive whenever he talked of the past, and was apt to be

nervous and over-anxious; but he was willing and obliging, and always

glad to help in any way he could. He professed to understand and rather

to like Spaniards, but he was really in mortal fear of a native, and he

never went out far without a large revolver, and also a big knife stuck

in his belt behind, neither of which formidable weapons would he have

been at all willing to use. When I arrived, a Frenchman, whom we called

Pedro, was acting as cook. He was not at all fond of soap and water, nor

did he take much pride in the culinary art, for he apparently gave us an

endless succession of mutton chops. But however early you wanted to make

a start in the morning, he was always ready with hot coffee, and would

get you some food at almost any hour of the day. So as our movements

were often erratic, there were compensations. A native "peon," or

servant, and a boy to get up horses, completed the establishment. As

regards the stock, there were the flock of sheep before mentioned, about

nine hundred in number, and another larger one of about fifteen hundred,

towards the other end of the estancia, at a "puesto," as it was called

in the direction, but to the West of the pulperia of Guaycoru, where I

had first arrived in the diligence. The country was open there, being

outside the "sierras," and a young Englishman called Charles Bent had

arranged to take charge of this flock not long before I came upon the

scene. He was a nice young fellow, with fair hair and blue eyes. He had

a quick temper, but a kind heart. Having learnt farming in England in

the usual kind of way, he came out to Uruguay. He had some capital,

which he invested in sheep, and renting land up towards the Rio Negro,

started on his own account. But he was without South American

experience, and he had also bad luck: many of his sheep were stolen,

others died of disease, and after about three years his money had

vanished, and he was compelled, like others, to earn his living; so he

took to the usual occupation of looking after a flock of sheep. He was

always tidy and neat in appearance, and had a nice sheep dog, called

"Bob," which he had brought with him from England, then little more than

a puppy, of which he was very fond. There were seven hundred head of

cattle on the place, which fed in a semi-wild state among the rocks, on

a stretch of country some three and a half miles long, and half to

three-quarters of a mile broad, known as the estancia; as also did a

troop of mares and colts, mostly pretty wild. These latter were often

difficult to come across, and to run them up into the stone enclosure,

or "manga," near the house was no easy matter. We had seventeen riding

horses of varied quality, mostly brought up into the wooden corral near

the house every morning, so that we might each catch up a horse for the

needs of the day. The cattle were very apt to stray outside the boundary

of the estancia, and so get mixed up with those belonging to neighbours,

often causing annoyance. This was much more the case on the Eastern than

on the Western boundary, which was fortunate, as the natives living on

that side were not only more friendly, but had better places themselves,

and were therefore able to give us more help in keeping the cattle

apart. On the Western side the rocks became ever a greater feature of

the landscape, with but little open land between, thus forming a

suitable resort for "matreros," _i.e._, people in hiding, of doubtful

reputation, with no character whatever to lose. Here was where we had

reason to apprehend trouble, should a revolution break out. We each took

a turn to "repuntar," or drive in the cattle, which fed together in

groups, and the same thing took place with the mares and colts. They

also had to be continually turned inwards, and gathered up every now and

again into the "manga," or stone enclosure to be looked over. When you

had been some time at this work, it was wonderful how keen your eyesight

became, and how it adapted itself to your needs. For instance, you could

make out cattle and horses at a distance, when the ordinary observer

would hardly know they were animals at all. Moreover, your eye became

accustomed to tell you whether they were your own or your neighbour's,

by their manner of feeding when grouped, their apparent number, and

their behaviour when disturbed. Early morning and late afternoon was the

time for this work, especially in warm weather, as both horses and

cattle were glad to take advantage of the shelter of the high rocks

during the heat of the day. We had three dogs, which helped us greatly,

as they yelped and barked and chased the cattle to their heart's

content. I rather took to this work; there was a kind of excitement

about it, as you never quite knew whom you were likely to come across,

or what was likely to happen before you got home. At evening, too, if

you chanced to be late, there was a certain weirdness about it all: the

huge masses of rock casting their grey shadows as the sun fell towards

the horizon, and then when it had fully set, a great silence seemed to

fall upon everything. Scarcely a sound could be heard in any direction.

The "pteru-pteru," or wild plover, ceased his shrill cry, and both bird

and beast, active during daylight, quietly sought their rest. Not so,

however, those of the night, for when the short twilight was over, and

darkness had fairly set in you could hear strange sounds and noises, as

if something or other was at work, never seen nor heard during the day,

and the short bark of the wild fox would sound out sharp and clear as he

sallied forth in search of his prey. Then, indeed, you feel truly glad

when the welcome light of the estancia house tells you that you are

nearly home. Your horse, too, knows that he is near, that his work for

that day at any rate, is done, and he looks joyfully forward to joining

his companions, and to a peaceful time till morning. It was usual, once

a week, to gather up all the cattle together upon a spot selected for

that purpose, where a high post is fixed in the ground, around which

when collected the cattle revolve. Upon such an occasion, those who had

furthest to go were on horseback soon after dawn, each taking an

appointed route, and as he returned driving the cattle in front of him.

On this estancia there were special difficulties to contend with, as the

high masses of rock enabled here and there a point of cattle to break

back unseen, or if you did see them, probably it was at a place where it

was difficult to follow them. But the horses were truly wonderful, as

they carried you at a gallop over the rocky and uneven ground. They

seldom made a mistake; bred among the sierras, they were quite at home

there, and you soon learnt to give them their head, and to trust that

all would be well. With us this weekly gathering together of the cattle

never seemed entirely satisfactory. They never came up together all at

one time. One portion or another seemed always to be missing. The long,

narrow position of the estancia, and its rough and rocky character

probably accounted for this. Moreover, we were always short-handed, and

we could not keep any consecutive line as is done in more open country.

This was therefore a day of disappointment, and we could not help

fearing some of the cattle had been stolen; certainly we did not know

where to find them. Royd took this a good deal to heart, for when he

bought the herd this trouble had not been anticipated. The fact was the

cattle had got rather out of hand, and we also feared animals were being

killed on the camp, by "matreros," or fugitive soldiers, of whose

existence in the district we were at the time unaware, but who

afterwards proved themselves dangerous neighbours. Our sheep never

seemed to suffer; on the contrary, they did well; nor was Charles Bent

troubled in any way. For this we were thankful, and kept up our spirits

accordingly. As to the troop of mares and colts, they had things pretty

much their own way. They could gallop like the wind, and go faster over

the rough ground than we could, and we were obliged to try and run them

up to the manga, or stone enclosure, just as we happened most easily to

come across them. The summer, with its long hot afternoons, was now

passing, and the early autumn, perhaps the most pleasant time of the

southern year, was close upon us. As the weather got cooler, I was

continually out among the sierras looking after cattle, and I almost

always went alone. I had happened to fasten over a black bowler hat a

white "pugaree," with its ends hanging down behind to protect the back

of my neck from the sun, and late one afternoon when following a path

among the rocks with which I was well acquainted, my horse took a wrong

turn. In a few moments, passing from beneath the shadow of a large grey

rock to my right, I suddenly found myself in a small open space, about

one hundred yards long by thirty wide, where the grass grew green and

long, and a tiny stream trickled; quite an oasis in a small way. Here,

seated on the ground, their horses saddled and feeding near them, were

five men, apparently soldiers, for each had a broad red band round his

black felt hat, and a lance stuck in the ground, from which hung the red

banner. A fire was already lighted, over which was a large roast, part

of a young cow they had lately killed. A kettle was almost on the boil,

and they were evidently about to enjoy a meal. Their "arms" and

"ponchos" were piled in a heap, but each held either a knife or a short

dagger in his hand, and I noticed that two at least carried revolvers in

their belts. They were a rough-looking lot, as much surprised to see me

as I was to see them. For the moment I hardly knew what best to do. I

was quite unarmed, but did not wish to appear nervous or frightened; nor

could I make a satisfactory retreat. So I sat on my horse, perfectly

still, and then they all got up and surrounded me, gesticulating

violently, and pointing to the white covering of my hat, which seemed to

be the cause of the annoyance. My feigned composure somewhat calmed

their excitement. They told me to hand over my hat and, placing it on a

point of rock about fifteen paces distant, succeeded in putting a bullet

through it with a revolver, to their great amusement and satisfaction.

Meanwhile those who were not shooting tried to frighten me; making signs

with their knives that it was all over with me, but seeing I was an

Englishman they fortunately had no real motive to hurt me; had they

wished to do so, I was completely at their mercy. Being "colorados,"

soldiers belonging to the Red Party, they chose to assume that the white

covering on my hat was a Blanco device; but of course, they knew this

was not so. Finally, they allowed me to depart unharmed, returning to me

my hat, minus its white covering which they tore in pieces, but still

with the bullet hole in it as a proof of what happened. The matter was

not much in itself, but it shewed that mischief was brewing, and that it

was becoming unsafe to ride about in the rocks alone, more especially if

unarmed. From that day forth I also started a revolver, to the proper

loading of which I saw carefully before going any distance away. When I

got home and related what happened, it did not tend to reassure poor

Royd, who was rather in low spirits about things in general. He had

moreover heard that afternoon from a passing traveller there was a

rumour a revolution had actually broken out. However, a week passed, and

we heard no more of it, so we followed our usual occupations, leaving

matters to declare themselves. A few days later, when running up a point

of mares, we managed to include three colts which hitherto had always

eluded us. They were all chestnuts, very wild, very fast, with long

flowing manes and tails. Two of them had a broad white blaze, each with

two white hind feet. The third was larger than the others, with long,

sloping quarters; rather a light chestnut, with a white star on his

forehead and nothing more. He had good shoulders and a smooth easy way

of slipping along which greatly took my fancy. So I bought him for a

nominal sum and handed him over to a decent little native named Severo

to break in for me. When he returned the horse to me I found he quite

justified my expectations, and although still a bit raw he was easy and

pleasant to ride; and I called him _Carnival_. I also took rather an

interest in Severo, who was a beautiful rider, with a good seat and

light hands. He could speak a few words of English; where he had learned

them I did not know, but he seemed anxious to be communicative, and to

teach me a few words of Spanish when I went to see how my horse was

getting on. He had lately married, and lived in a rancho, or native hut,

only a short distance from our Southern boundary. When I arrived I was

invited to sit down on their only chair, placed in the centre of the

room, Severo himself sitting on a little wooden stool, while the bride

served Mate, a liquid made by pouring boiling water on a couple of

spoonfuls of "yerba," a kind of tea grown in Brazil; a favourite

beverage among the Spaniards. The Mate is really the gourd in which the

tea is served. You suck it into your mouth through a bombilla, or silver

tube, which latter, if you are not careful, is apt to get so hot as

often to burn your lips. This beverage and the offer of a cigarette is

the orthodox form of native hospitality.

One morning a party of soldiers showing Red colours galloped up

unexpectedly and took Severo prisoner, with a view to making him serve

in the Government forces. Remonstrance was in vain! He had to saddle up

his best horse and to start at once. His poor young wife was in despair,

and she rode up in tears to tell Royd of her trouble. It was useless to

attempt to get him back, so we comforted her as best we could, with the

hope that her husband would manage to make his escape at the first

convenient opportunity. If he belonged to any political party it was to

the "Blancos," with whom his wife's people had always been mixed up.

This made the enforced separation a greater trial to both of them. It

was fortunate for me that "Carnival" had already been returned to me, or

he also would probably have fallen into their hands. That same afternoon

a party of "Colorados" called at the estancia to take our "peon," or

native servant, for a soldier, but he saw them coming in time, and got

away among the rocks and hid himself before they arrived, so they were

obliged to go away without him. It was evident the Reds were taking up

men not only for the ordinary strengthening of the Government forces,

but for some special purpose. This, and the persistent rumour we were

constantly hearing of a revolution having broken out in the direction of

the "Rio Negro," put us upon our guard, and we took such measures as we

could to look sharply after our stock, more especially our horses, and

to avoid being taken unawares. We also looked up our arms and

ammunition, and considered what we could do for the best in case of any

serious and sudden trouble. The position of Uruguay was at this time

probably unique in the usual stormy history of a South American

republic. Torn by faction and internal strife, peace alone seemed

wanting to ensure its progress and prosperity. The many natural

advantages, such as a good climate, abundant water, grassy plains, and

the beautiful woods which bordered the rivers, rendered it especially

suitable for pastoral purposes. Agriculture was as yet almost unknown,

except in the immediate neighbourhood of the towns, and was then of the

most primitive description. But the land itself was fertile in many

districts, consisting of a rich black loam, where crops of wheat and

maize would give excellent results, and an abundant yield could be

anticipated in suitable situations from a virgin and not easily

exhausted soil. The Flores war, which had lasted for three years, had

ended in the temporary subjugation of the Blanco, or White Party, and

the placing in power of a "Colorado," or Red government. This was not in

sympathy with the majority of the people, more especially those engaged

in pastoral pursuits, such as the raising of sheep and cattle, headed by

the large native land owners, mostly "Blancos," and therefore bitterly

opposed to the "Colorados," or "Reds." These latter often had a majority

in and near the provincial towns, and especially in Monte Video, the

capital. They were led by what may be termed professional politicians,

their soldiers being partly made up of paid foreigners, forming fairly

efficient infantry, together with a large number of natives, whom they

pressed in their service when in power. Some of these, too, received

payment, so long as their party possessed sufficient funds, while a

great number got very little except their food and arms. Their bands of

irregular horse comprised anyone and everyone who had nothing to do,

together with what might be termed the scum of the townsmen, who had

nothing whatever to lose; least of all their reputation. Moreover, there

were certain families, Reds by tradition, whose heads occupied the

government posts when the "Colorados" were in power, and whose minor

members and hangers-on swarmed in the Public Offices. There were also

certain "estancieros" throughout the country, especially up towards the

Brazilian frontier, many of them influential and wealthy, whose politics

had always been Red, and who were supporters of the "Colorado Party."

But they were not nearly so united either in heart or sympathy as were

the Blancos, nor did they cultivate the same enthusiasm. The Blancos

included the descendants of most of the old Castilian families, who had

been the original Spanish Colonists, and they possessed, therefore, a

certain aristocratic element, if you could justly so term it, as being

part of the inner life of the republic. Their importance and influence,

and comparative wealth, accrued mainly from landed property and the

countless herds of sheep and cattle which spread themselves far and

wide, finding good and abundant pasturage on the rolling and

grass-covered plains. While therefore the "Reds" were enabled to

maintain themselves in power by means of an ample supply of money, so

long as they could control the resources of the republic, popular

sympathy in general was with the White Party; indeed, so great was the

disaffection and discontent at this particular time, it needed but a

spark, as it were, applied to gunpowder to set the whole country in a

flame. It only required a real leader, who commanded the full confidence

of the native population, to come upon the scene, and to raise high the

standard of revolt, for the people to flock to his banner far and wide

throughout the country. Thus, as it were in a moment, in a South

American republic, is a revolution born and made. Nor can this be

wondered at when you consider that intrigue and revolution is but a

natural attribute of all populations of purely Spanish descent, and when

you come to mingle an Indian and Italian and foreign element, and then

try to purify the whole by an admixture of the unruly blood of Spain,

the result means a state of general unrest, and a condition of affairs

in which the seeds of revolution are for ever present. Another incentive

is that during a revolution, horses are looked upon as munitions of war,

and may be taken from their owners as required, to be returned and paid

for as Providence may permit. Sheep and cattle, too, required for food,

may be commandeered by armed troops as necessity requires, a nominal

receipt for their value being usually given by the officer in charge,

which in all probability will never be paid. All this naturally gives an

opportunity to the less honest and self-respecting classes of the

community to live a free, roving, careless kind of life at other

people's expense. Although natives will tell you they hate the law of

conscription which obliges them to serve for a time in the army, this is

by no means always really true. Moreover, many of those who are poor are

apt to look upon time of war as a means of relief from the necessity for

honest toil, always distasteful to the Spaniard of South America. They,

moreover, manage to console themselves fairly well for a temporary

absence from their home, with a dim and ill-defined hope that if only

they have good luck they may possibly come out of it all considerably

better off than they went in. One afternoon, a "tropero," or buyer of

cattle, rode up to the house to enquire if we had any fat bullocks to

sell. He told us he was making up a large troop round about the

neighbourhood to take in to Monte Video. Of course, he was full of news

about the revolution, and he should not be surprised if war were to

break out at any time. As he offered Royd fifteen dollars each for any

bullocks which were fat, the latter thought it best to turn anything he

could into cash. So it was arranged we should have a gathering together

of the cattle on the following day, so as to allow the purchaser to part

out what he wished, and he also arranged to stay the night with us. He

was a pleasant man, well-dressed, and the silver fittings of his native

saddle and bridle were quite magnificent. A little before dawn next

morning found us all on the move. The cook had already got hot coffee.

Our horses had been tied up the night before, and we saddled up just as

day was breaking, and one after another slipped quietly away, each of

us taking his appointed line in the general drive up of the herd. The

tropero himself did not go, but his two young men lent a hand, we, of

course, finding them horses. This morning things went better with us

than usual, and twice when the wildest of the bullocks made a rush and

tried to break back they were effectively stopped and disappointed.

Altogether we had a very good "para rodeo," but few of our cattle

apparently remaining behind. Next followed the parting out of the fat

animals. A short distance away from the general herd, which kept

revolving round a large post placed in the centre of the "rodeo," about

a dozen tame animals were stationed, guarded by a couple of young

natives. Each fat bullock, as it was selected by the "tropero," was then

run out of the herd into this little group, the tropero and his head man

commencing operations by running them out himself. It was all very

neatly done. They rode quietly in among the cattle, which we kept

rounded up on every side. Fixing their attention upon a fat bullock,

they placed their horses close up to it, one on either side, and so ran

it out with a sudden rush in the direction of the tame animals.

Sometimes it refused to be so dealt with, and persistently broke back at

all costs. Then the lasso was brought into play, and after it had been

lassoed and bullied about it generally thought better of it and did what

was required. For this particular work the rider must possess not only

skill, but he must be well mounted. His horse must be fast and active on

his legs; he must be intelligent, so as to enter thoroughly into the

spirit of the work, and he must also have plenty of courage. At the same

time he must exercise caution, and thoroughly know his business,

otherwise either he or his rider, probably both, may get caught on the

horns of the bullock and so come to serious grief. But it is wonderful

to see how a good horse will himself enjoy it, and with what marvellous

perfection and accuracy he will perform his part. The rider, too, must

have good nerves, and above all a firm seat, and an accurate eye for

judging distance. As a rule, however, if he is really well mounted, the

more he trusts to his horse and the less he worries him the better.

Meanwhile, to Royd's gratification, the tropero parted out fifty fat

bullocks; quite a good parting for our comparatively small herd, but, as

a matter of fact, our cattle did wonderfully well among the rocks if

only they were left quiet. They had plenty of clear water, and the

grasses which grew there were sweet and nourishing, while in summer time

they greatly enjoyed both the shade and shelter. On the following day,

Friday, I rode over to the pulperia, or store, at Guaycoru and, as

several things were wanted, I took the boy with me, mounted on an old

grey horse, across the saddle of which a pair of large saddle bags were

slung, in which to carry them. We had not long arrived at the pulperia

when a native rode up, mounted on a fine "oscuro," or _dark_ brown

horse, with a long flowing mane and tail, his reins, breastplate, and

stirrups all mounted in solid silver. He was a good-looking man,

something over thirty years of age; a slight but firmly knit figure as

he sat on his horse, with the easy, graceful seat of one born almost in

the saddle. His wide black "bombachos," or loose trousers, tucked inside

high boots, ornamented with silver spurs. The broad-brimmed felt hat,

the long "facon," a two-edged dagger, stuck in his belt, and a white

silk handkerchief tied loosely round his neck, all betokened the

"Spanish caballero," the free, independent life of the horseman on the

open plain. Quickly dismounting, he carelessly strolled into the

"pulperia," with the usual "Buenos tardes Senores," "Good afternoon,

gentlemen." But as he passed me I noticed that he was fully armed, and

had also an alert watchful look about him, and the thought passed

through my mind that here at any rate was no ordinary man. He talked a

few moments to the pulpero, somewhat earnestly, and then came forward,

raising his hat, and offered me a cigarette, remarking something about

the heat of the afternoon. Soon after, I and the boy, having collected

our purchases, mounted our horses to return. Just as we rode round the

edge of the outbuildings a dark-skinned individual in somewhat tattered

garments rose from a low seat where he had been sitting smoking, and

came hurriedly forward. "Did you speak to the Senor with the 'oscuro,'"

he asked. "Yes!" I replied, "what about him?" The mulatto smiled and

showed his white teeth, and then said, almost in a whisper, "You do not

know him! Mamerto Godez! Cuidado! (Beware)."

One afternoon just about three o'clock, I was sitting in the dining room

writing a letter. It was quite warm, and both door and windows stood

wide open. Royd and Henriquez had gone off to a pulperia owned by a man

called Saballa, on the other side of the River Rosario, to buy some

necessaries. I heard the dogs barking, but paid no attention, when

suddenly half a dozen soldiers with the white device round their hats,

and carrying the white banner on their lances, rode up from behind the

house and halted at the front door. I went out and stood right in front

of them. One who seemed superior to the others accosted me in Spanish,

and I understood him to say that war had broken out, and that their

business was to take up men and horses. Pedro the cook, so soon as he

saw them, had gone to hide among the rocks, fearing, I suppose, lest he

should be taken off for a soldier, Frenchman though he was! However, I

explained as well as my scanty knowledge of Spanish would permit exactly

who were employed, and I also told him about our horses. The result of

it all was that they rode off more or less satisfied, saying that as

"Don Roberto" was away they would call about them another time. About

five o'clock Royd and Henriquez returned, having obtained all they

wanted, and also bringing news. A revolution had broken out far and wide

throughout the country, and a Colonel Aparicio, who had distinguished

himself in a previous war, when General Flores and the Colorados were

victorious, had apparently taken temporary command of the Blanco forces,

which were increasing enormously day by day. That evening we held a

consultation as to how we could act for the best. Royd was naturally

rather despondent, for the rocky nature of the estancia obviously

increased our difficulty in protecting and guarding the stock, besides

affording a safe refuge for thieves and bad characters of every kind.

This was always a drawback in time of peace, and, of course, the danger

would be infinitely greater in time of war. However, there seemed

nothing for it but to await events, and meanwhile do our best to keep

our cattle and horses together as well as we could. The flock of sheep

near the house fed where the land was open, and Henriquez looked after

them. Should he be away, then either I or the boy did so for him. The

other flock up towards Guaycoru fed also in open country, and Charles

Bent was careful and reliable, and could be trusted to look well after

them. He seldom went away from his "puesto," or hut, where he lived

alone, his sole companion being his sheep-dog, "Bob," which he had

brought out with him, when little more than a puppy, from England. He

had one or two neighbours on his further side, who were friendly, and he

also was no great distance from the pulperia where I had first arrived

in the diligence; so up to now he had not found it quite so lonely as

might have been expected. The stone manga, where we could shut in

horses, and also a fair number of cattle, was in a broken and bad

condition, and Royd decided that he would get an Italian stonemason and

his son, who lived not very far away, towards the Rosario, to come over

and build up all the gaps and so put it in good order. Meanwhile, we had

to get the stone from where it lay among the big rocks; no easy job! It

then had to be put upon a wooden truck to which a pair of bullocks were

yoked, who slowly conveyed it to the corral. Fortunately, for a few days

the weather was fine and cool. We all took our share of this work, which

was tedious and tiring. We got a good supply by the time the stonemason

and his son arrived. The father was a thin, rather careworn-looking man,

beyond middle age, with hair fast turning grey; the son, a wiry-looking

youth of about sixteen, with black hair and a sallow complexion. With

them came a sandy-yellow coloured dog, eleven months old, very thin and

lanky-looking, but with muscular limbs, a long, straight back, a broad

forehead, small ears, and a pair of very intelligent eyes. For some

reason or other he took a fancy to me, and I saw he was well fed, for

which he seemed very grateful. He had the look of a lurcher, and was, of

course, a mongrel. He was the son's dog, from whom I bought him for a

couple of dollars. He was called "Napoleon," and I never altered his

name. We saw no more of the soldiers, so we contented ourselves with

keeping a constant eye on the horses, leaving the cattle for the time

being to look after themselves, nor did we attempt to gather them up to

the "rodeo," while the stonemason and his son were with us. Having

finished their work they bid us adieu, received payment, and with many

thanks, took their departure. "Napoleon" did not evince the least desire

to go back with them, for when they mounted their horses he came and lay

down by me, showing no sorrow at his change of owners. Following on all

this, I resumed my work of riding out among the rocks to look up the

cattle again, and the dog seemed very glad to go with me. I had not been

at this more than a couple of days when I thought I missed a point of

animals I had always been accustomed to find feeding more or less in the

same locality. I reported this to Royd, who had not been very well. I

think he had overdone himself, when we were all so busy collecting the

stone. He decided we should have a "para rodeo," or gathering together

of the herd, so as to form a better idea whether any of our cattle had

been stolen. So on Saturday morning we all sallied forth just after

daybreak, our horses having been tied up the night before. The gathering

up, however, was not a successful one, for although we did not let any

we saw break back, when we got them upon the rodeo they certainly seemed

fewer than usual. From the way they came up we hardly thought any had

stayed behind among the rocks. The next day Royd and I took a turn round

to visit our neighbours, to enquire if any of our cattle had been seen

by them. They welcomed us in a friendly manner, and were all apparently

anxious to talk about the war, and to relate all they had heard

regarding it. But we could hear nothing about our missing cattle. All,

therefore, we could do was to arrange for another gathering up within a

week, and two of our neighbours kindly offered to help us. They arranged

to meet us at the far end of the estancia, just after sunrise, and a

couple of native boys came with them. However, when we got the herd

collected on the "rodeo," they again seemed to be fewer than usual, so

we shut part of them up in the stone manga, for it would not hold them

all, and first counted those outside and then those inside, and we were

sadly compelled to conclude that quite fifty animals were missing. Where

to find them we did not know, and we could only hope they would turn up

again at the next para-rodeo.

A few days later, Henriquez started off early in the afternoon to

Saballa's pulperia, with the large saddle-bags slung over his saddle to

bring back his purchases. He returned just before sunset, and we at once

saw by his manner that something unusual had happened. He told us the

people at the pulperia were much upset because on the previous day a

little over a mile away, down near the wood which bordered the river

Rosario, a poor Italian musician had been found lying with his throat

cut from ear to ear. Whoever had done the deed appeared to have tied a

poor little monkey to the ankle of the dead man, and so to have left

them by the side of his small barrel-organ, which was also much broken.

The body was lying at the pulperia when Henriquez arrived, waiting

permission for burial; and he also saw the monkey, which was being taken

care of. It certainly shewed there were some very wicked people about,

as from the footprints round the place where the body was found, it

would seem that whoever did it was not alone. The Italian had been

playing two nights before at the house of a native, where there had been

a small dance, when several girls and young men were present, all of

whom, however, were well-known. In the morning he had some coffee given

to him, and left the house quite well, en route for the pulperia, and

late that afternoon his body was found by a casual passer-by, who at

once gave notice of what had happened. Poor Henriquez was greatly

affected during the evening, and kept repeating over and over again,

"Pobre Italiano" (poor Italian). "There he lay with his throat cut from

ear to ear. Oh! it's 'orrid, 'orrid, 'orrid!" For in his distress the

cockney accent became more pronounced than ever.

When, however, he had somewhat recovered his composure, he told us the

Whites were assembling in large force up towards Paysandu, and that many

Blancos from our neighbourhood had already gone outside to join them.

Meanwhile, the Reds were assembling in the province of San Jose, as also

in the Department of Colonia, and he seemed to think at present we had

more to fear from the Government forces so far as our horses and cattle

were concerned than we had from the revolutionists. As "Carnival" was

rather a good-looking horse, I caught him up most days, although I only

rode him occasionally. I let him out to feed late in the afternoon, when

so far as we knew all seemed to be quiet. Royd had an "ovaro," or

piebald, he thought a lot of, and also a grey he often rode, and

Henriquez took all the care he could of a nice little chestnut he was

very proud of, and always rode on special occasions. Things now went on

much as usual, and we had no visit from the Red soldiers, for which we

were thankful. I was out pretty regularly looking up the cattle, and I

kept on fancying from time to time that some were missing; nor, when we

had the para rodeo did I ever think as many came up as used to do. We

had some of the small fallow deer of the pampas about among the rocks,

and they could often be seen coming out towards late afternoon into the

open glades to feed. I managed to shoot four of them with my rifle, and

took off their skins which, when dried in the sun, soften easily. I also

shot a couple of "carpinchos," a kind of water-pig, which could often be

seen about sunset on the bank of the stream running along the western

side of the camp. They are hard to get near, and easily frightened.

Their skins are much thought of by the natives, who get them tanned, and

put them across the top of their "recados," or saddles. A few days later

we were all sitting at breakfast when Charles Bent arrived. He had

someone staying with him at the puesto for a few days, so was able to

get away. He told us he had not been troubled by soldiers, and that the

sheep were all right. But he said it was rumoured cattle had been stolen

from a small native estancia, beyond where he lived, which belonged to a

"Blanco," and it was supposed they had been taken by some "Colorado"

soldiers, who wished to escape service, and whose chief hiding place was

said to be among the large sierras on our camp. Royd did not like the

look of this at all, as if true it would prove a great danger to our

cattle, and might easily account for the number we thought missing. Bent

stayed the night, and did not go back until next afternoon. He told me

privately he believed there were some bad characters hiding among the

rocks, but that he did not wish to say more than he could help to Royd,

as he was apt to take things so much to heart, and it might cause him

needless worry. But he begged me to be careful, and take every

precaution when riding about among the sierras alone, looking up the

cattle, and he advised me to have "Napoleon" with me, and to see that I

was well armed. He also said he did not feel very happy himself, living

alone at the "puesto," but as it was well outside the rocks, surrounded

by open country, he intended to keep a sharp look-out and if possible to

avoid being taken unawares.

Fortunately, he had a placid, easy-going temperament, and was not at all

nervous, nor was he inclined to meet trouble half-way. The following

Friday, a little before eleven, a Blanco officer arrived, and with him

about fifty soldiers. They were passing from the town of Colla, towards

Guaycoru, and going on to join the White army. They had several extra

horses with them, so they did not trouble much about ours, except a

saino, or brown, which was feeding not far from the house, and this they

asked to take along with them. I had "Carnival" tied up and saddled, as

also was Royd's piebald, and Henriquez happened to be riding his

chestnut down with the sheep. The other horses were among the rocks, so

they did not see them. We invited the officer in to breakfast, which,

after the Spanish fashion, we were accustomed to have at eleven o'clock,

and dinner at sundown. He was quite young, having served but a short

time in the army. He asked if his men might have something to eat, which

meant they would like to kill a couple of sheep, and roast the meat over

two fires made in the open. They also had some "farenha," a kind of

meal, which they eat raw, with roast meat, and cooked into a sort of

pudding with boiled. We also gave them "yerba" and sugar to make their

mate, or native tea, and they were quite happy. They were all more or

less armed with either lances or guns, and many carried both. Many had a

revolver, and often a facon, or double-edged knife, stuck in their belts

behind; but taking them all round, they were quite orderly, and the

young officer seemed to have them under good control. He told us that

the revolution was extremely popular. Men were flocking far and wide to

the White banner, and up towards Paysandu had already joined in very

large numbers. He asked us if any of the "Colorados" had come to the

estancia, and if we knew of any being about in our neighbourhood. As

they departed they looked quite picturesque, with the Blanco device

round their hats, and the white banner flying from their lances, many

leading their spare horses. They all rode off at a trotte-cito, or

jog-trot, the young officer following alone in solitary grandeur behind.

But their visit, although it passed off quite well, seemed unduly to

depress poor Royd, whom we found it difficult to persuade into taking

anything like a cheerful view of the situation.

Towards the end of the next week, Henriquez said he should like to ride

over and visit a friend who lived at a small native place on the other

side of Guaycoru. So it was arranged he should go on Saturday morning,

returning home on the Monday, and that I should keep an eye on the flock

of sheep. They did not feed far distant from the house, and when once

turned early in the afternoon, usually fed quietly on their way home. So

on Saturday morning after coffee, Henriquez caught and saddled up his

chestnut, putting on his best gear, and wearing a clean white shirt, a

black jacket and waistcoat, and a pair of black "merino bombachos," or

wide trousers, tucked inside a pair of carefully polished long boots. On

these he buckled a pair of silver spurs, of which he was very proud, as

also of the handsome silver buttons fastening the wide belt of carpincho

skin he wore round his waist. Finally he put on his summer poncho, a

very nice one, and a soft broad-brimmed felt hat completed his

appearance, which seemed to give him every satisfaction. Just before

mounting his horse he examined his revolver, which he carefully fixed in

its proper place inside his belt. I rode with him for about half a mile,

and the last I saw of him was as he turned round the corner of a large

grey mass of rock which bordered the track, and so disappeared from

view. He did not return on the Monday as expected, and on the Tuesday

morning when the boy drove up the riding horses to the corral, much to

our surprise his chestnut was among them, with a bit of broken hide

hanging loosely down from where it was fastened round the horse's neck.

We supposed, however, it had been collared to a mare where Henriquez was

staying, as was a usual custom, and had broken away during the early

part of the previous night, and so found its way home. However, both

Tuesday and Wednesday passed and he did not return, as we felt quite

sure he would do, on a horse borrowed from his friends. So on Thursday

morning I started to ride over to the place where Henriquez had gone,

and during my absence the boy was to watch the sheep. Arriving there, as

I did, about nine o'clock, my surprise may be imagined when I was told

that Henriquez had left them about two o'clock on the Monday afternoon,

quite well, mounted on his own horse, and that he seemed anxious to

reach home with as little delay as possible. I stayed about half an hour

discussing the situation, and then started to ride to the pulperia at

Guaycoru, to make further enquiries. When I got there the owner knew

nothing, nor had he heard anything regarding Henriquez from anyone who

had come to his pulperia. He was a kind little man, and much concerned

at my news, and he promised to enquire from anyone who called at his

house if perchance they might have seen Henriquez, or heard any news of

him. I stayed a little while and got some coffee and two or three

biscuits, and then remounted a big brown horse I was riding, somewhat

loosely put together, but sure-footed all the same, and well-accustomed

to stony country. He had a head quite half of it white, and two wall

eyes, known to the natives as a "pampa," by which name he usually went.

Horses of this type and colour were said to have belonged to the

original Indians of the "Pampas," at the time of the Spanish

colonisation. After again talking things over with the pulpero, we

agreed my best plan would be to ride round by Bent's puesto, in case he

should have heard anything, and if not, I could let him know what had

happened, so that he too might make enquiries. I arrived a little before

one o'clock, and saw Bent walking close to his house as I rode up. "Bob"

ran out barking, but immediately knew me and gave me a friendly

greeting. Bent, of course, had known Henriquez well, and was much

perturbed by what I had to tell him. He had neither seen nor heard

anything. All he could tell me was that it was rumoured there were a

party of thieves supposed to be fugitives from the Reds, who were said

to have taken up their quarters in the rocks, and were stealing small

points of cattle and sheep as opportunity offered. These they were

supposed to drive off at night if there was any moon, or else

immediately after daybreak, to a place some considerable distance away,

where they were said to collect them, and where doubtless they had

friends ready to receive them. All this, however, was not very

comforting, but I asked Bent to be sure and let us know at once if he

heard any news of Henriquez, and also to make his disappearance known to

anyone he might happen to come across, for he lived not very far from

the "camino real," or Government road. I then mounted my horse,

determined to lose no time in getting back to the estancia as soon as

might be. I knocked the "pampa" along at about his best pace,

considering the broken ground over which I had to pass. I always had a

queer feeling passing through the rocks. You could see so little in

front of you, and were so easily apt to miss your way. However, it was

barely half past two when I rode up. Royd was at home, and at once came

out of the house. He was much shocked and greatly upset by what I had to

tell him, saying again and again he felt quite sure the worst had

happened, and that we should none of us ever see or hear of poor

Henriquez again. On Friday Royd and I spent the day searching the tracks

which ran through the rocky part of the estancia; first those over which

a horseman returning direct to the house was most likely to pass, and

then the ones which ran out on either side, which it was not usual for a

traveller to follow. We came across various signs that men with horses

had recently been passing in and out of the sierras, for twice we came

across places where apparently a young cow had been killed and a fire

made near, where part of it at any rate had evidently been roasted, and

that quite recently. On Saturday we carefully searched over another

portion of the estancia, but all without result. Not a sign could we see

of the missing man. Henriquez "had simply vanished!" On Monday morning

we sent the boy over to the pulperia at Guaycoru with a letter to the

pulpero, asking if he could give us any news. But all in vain; no one

had seen or heard anything of him since he started from his friends'

house on his chestnut horse to return home on that Monday afternoon, now

exactly a week ago. Tuesday passed and nothing came to relieve our

suspense. But on Wednesday morning Bent turned up about eleven o'clock,

and I saw at once by his face that something had happened. Having his

friend with him, he started on his horse to come down to the estancia,

and not wishing to be away longer than he could help, he chose a track

which ran through the centre of the rocks in a diagonal direction, not

usually followed, which came out not more than three-quarters of a mile

from the estancia house itself. Contrary to his custom, "Bob" followed

his master, instead of staying at the puesto, where the sheep were,

until his return. Bent was riding carefully along this track when "Bob"

suddenly began to whine and bark, and turning off on one side

disappeared round a big rock.

Bent whistled and called, but the dog did not return. So he got off his

horse and tied him up to a low bush which happened to be near. He then

took out his revolver and followed on foot in the direction the dog had

gone. He only went about fifty yards just round the edge of the large

rock already mentioned when he found himself in a small open glade, some

thirty yards long, and perhaps fifteen wide, at the far end of which

stood "Bob," close by an object which lay stretched on the ground. Here

was all that remained of poor Henriquez. He was lying slightly on one

side, face downwards; his hat and poncho, and his long boots and silver

spurs, his jacket and waistcoat, belt and revolver all gone! How he ever

came there goodness only knew. Nothing was left but his white shirt, his

black bombachos, and his stockings. It seemed as if the body must have

been either carried or dragged to the place where it lay. His face

looked peaceful, and the only thing to be noticed were signs of a wound

where a bullet had entered just between the shoulders, apparently fired

from behind. There were no signs of bruised or broken grass or horses'

footprints, if indeed a horse could have got round the very narrow space

beside the big rock. Bent covered the face with his pocket handkerchief,

leaving the body lying exactly as it was when he found it, and then

returning to where he had left his horse came on straight to the

estancia. Royd was greatly affected by the sad news which Bent brought

us, as well he might be. However, he said that he and I had better go

back with Bent to the place, taking the native peon and a spade and pick

with us, so that we might dig a grave, and so give the body a decent

burial. Fortunately, we found a spot close by, where the stones and rock

underneath the surface soil were more or less loose and detached. When

we had finished digging the grave, Bent read a portion of the burial

service, as we lowered all that remained of poor Henriquez into his last

resting-place. We then filled in the earth again, placing the loose

pieces of rock we had got out so that they covered and protected the

top, our intention being later on to fix a wooden cross, suitably

inscribed at the head of the grave, permanently to mark the place where

our poor friend lay. It was late afternoon as Royd and I slowly and

sorrowfully wended our way home, closely followed by the native peon,

for Bent had returned to his puesto so soon as the interment was finally

completed. Nothing much happened during the next few days. We had a

gathering together of the cattle, but we were short-handed, and when we

got them up to the rodeo we were compelled to conclude that a good many

of them were missing. One morning, about nine o'clock, a dozen

Government soldiers rode up, each with a red band round his hat and the

red banner flying from their lances. They were not too civil, and merely

said they were taking up horses and men. Our native peon was away among

the rocks, looking for two of our riding horses, which were missing.

Pedro, the cook, had retired to a dark corner of the kitchen. Our other

horses were feeding at some distance from the house, but they asked for

them to be brought up into the corral, so that they might take what they

required. So we sent off the native boy to bring them in. Fortunately,

"Carnival" and Royd's two horses happened to be feeding alone much

further away, so they did not come up with the others, and the soldiers

never saw them. They ended by taking five, including the pampa,

previously mentioned, and they left us two in very poor condition. It

was rather a trial to see them go off, but the soldiers gave us no

choice in the matter, so we could not do otherwise than let them go.

They also asked for some meat, and taking with them the greater part of

a sheep which was hanging in the galpon, they rode off in the direction

of Guaycoru, and we were pleased to see them depart without causing us

further trouble.

On the Monday following, Royd rode over to stay until the end of the

week with some friends who had an estancia a few miles on our side of

the town of San Jose. Nothing happened during his absence until Friday,

when Bent rode up about eight o'clock in the morning, looking much

perturbed. Fortunately, his friend had been staying with him at the

puesto as he so often did, for he told me that during the night not only

had about two-thirds of his flock been driven off and could not be found

anywhere in the morning, but that the puesto itself had been attacked

just after midnight by four men, all apparently fully armed. They had

doubtless expected Bent to be alone, but his dog "Bob" was sleeping at

the foot of his bed, and woke him up from sleep by his growling, and so

gave the alarm.

The puesto was a long, narrow building, built mostly of wood, thickly

plastered inside and out with mud, the inside being well whitewashed

throughout. The roof was thatched with a reed called "paja," much used

for the purpose, for it kept the house both warm in winter, and cool in

summer, and was an excellent protection against heavy rain. The front

door stood close up towards one end of the building, facing West. Inside

were two rooms, each with a window facing East, divided by a wall, so as

to make a living-room, into which you entered, with a sleeping-room

beyond. This latter had also an extra piece built on to it at right

angles, so as to give more sleeping accommodation, one of the walls of

which overlooked the front door. In the middle of this wall, about four

feet from the ground was a small wooden frame about eighteen inches

square which had been put in the wall for the purpose of ventilation,

and inside this was a moveable shutter which slid easily sideways,

secured by a small iron hook to keep it in its place. Both frame and

shutter were somewhat discoloured, so they were not easily noticed,

appearing more or less the same as the mud wall outside. The moon was

almost full, every now and again shaded over by light cloud, which came

slowly sailing up from the south, although there was really but little

wind.

The flock had gone quietly to rest on the large bare open space, where

they usually passed the night, perhaps one hundred and fifty yards

distant from the front door of the building. Bent had taken a look at

them between nine and ten o'clock, before retiring to rest, when they

appeared quite still, and everything quiet. It would be about two

o'clock in the morning, when "Bob" began to growl in low but savage

tones, which awoke Bent and his friend, who soon got into their clothes

and had hold of their revolvers, which were always kept loaded.

Meanwhile, Bent thought he could hear low voices outside the front door,

so with great presence of mind he pushed the table which stood in the

middle of the sitting-room up against it, and the chairs also, thus

forming a sort of barricade. Leaving his friend to press the table

inside against the front door as hard as he could, and also "Bob," who

was then barking violently. Bent hurried round to the wooden shutter in

his friend's bedroom wall, already mentioned, and drew it quietly back

without making any noise. Looking through it he saw four men fully armed

trying to force open the front door. He could also see their horses

standing saddled near the outside kitchen only a few yards away. He

promptly fired full at the nearest man, who forthwith uttered a loud

cry, apparently wounded. He then fired two more shots in quick

succession, but after the first shot the men made for their horses in

great confusion, mounted them, and hurriedly rode away.

The two horses which were missing a week ago had not yet turned up, so I

sent out the boy to have a good look round among the rocks, and if

possible to find them, for I feared lest they had been stolen, which

ultimately proved to be the case, for we never saw them again. Leaving

the native peon at the house to look after the sheep, I started with

Bent to go to the puesto, so that we might try if we could hear

anything of all the sheep he told me were missing. His friend appeared

glad to see us, for he had received rather a shock, and did not much

like, after all that had happened, being there by himself. When we came

to count up the sheep we found the number remaining to be barely six

hundred some nine hundred having disappeared, which was indeed a heavy

loss. Poor Bent seemed very sad about it, and well he might be! We could

only conclude that the four men who attacked the puesto must have had

accomplices, who drove off the sheep earlier in the night without

causing much disturbance, by first turning them off the bare place where

the flock was resting across the ground where they were accustomed to

feed, before finally driving them off, as they appeared to have done. In

so doing the strongest and best sheep would naturally go in front, while

those which were weaker and less valuable would be the ones to stay

behind. Seeing that four armed men had attacked the puesto, it seemed

probable that at least an equal number had carried off the sheep. The

fact that there was so much rocky and broken country in the

neighbourhood of the estancia, and not very far away, made it all the

more difficult to obtain any clue as to the route the thieves might have

taken. The ground was hard, and we could find no trace of where the

stolen sheep had passed.

Having done all we could in this direction, Bent and I separated, each

of us riding round to two or three of the neighbours whom we knew, to

make them aware of what had happened. Late in the afternoon I called at

the pulperia at Guaycoru, hoping I might perhaps hear something

there--but all the owner could tell me was he had heard a rumour that

Mamerto Gomez, the man I had once spoken to at his house, had been seen

three days previously with half a dozen other men entering the rocks,

fully armed, from the opposite side, but for what purpose or whether

they were in any way connected with the carrying off of the sheep, it

was impossible to say! It was easy to surmise they were up to no good,

but this was of course merely conjecture, and I completely failed to

learn anything which might lead to the recovery of the large number of

sheep which were missing. Royd was to come home the next afternoon, and

I knew what a blow this would be to him, when he came to hear of his

loss. I had "Carnival" tied up that night, and sunrise saw me in the

saddle on my way to the puesto, to consult with Bent as to what we could

do further, with a view to obtaining some reliable information if

possible by the time Royd would return. When I got there Bent had heard

nothing, although he had communicated with more than one traveller

riding towards the road along which the diligence passed. We arranged

the direction in which Bent should search during the day, and I took the

opposite one, and made a long round, calling up anywhere I thought it

possible I might hear anything. By mid-day, I found myself not very far

from the pulperia at Guaycoru, so stopped there, and arranged with the

owner to send over a messenger at once to the estancia should he hear

anything which would help us. I then rode back to the puesto to consult

once more with Bent, who by this time--it was now two o'clock--had

returned from his search, without having obtained any information,

although he had questioned at least a dozen people since I left him in

the morning. It was all very trying and disappointing. There seemed

nothing for it but to return to the estancia to meet Royd when he got

home, and tell him what had happened.

It was nearly four o'clock when I arrived, and about half an hour later

Royd turned up, having much enjoyed his little outing. He brought a

young English boy, about fifteen, with him, tall for his age, with broad

shoulders, and an upright figure. His name was Frank Tryon, but he was

generally known as "Francisco." He was an excellent rider, and fond of

horses and dogs, especially of the pretty "alazan," or chestnut pony he

was riding when he arrived, with its flowing mane and tail, of which it

was easy to see he was really very proud.

I helped them to unsaddle, and told the cook to get some coffee ready,

as they told me they had breakfast as they came along. Royd then sat

down in an easy chair and began to smoke. "Well, Royd," I said, "I am

very glad to see you back. I have just come down from Bent's puesto. It

was attacked by thieves on Thursday night, and two-thirds of the sheep

were stolen. Bent and I have searched in every direction both yesterday

and to-day, and we can learn nothing whatever about them." "Goodness

gracious! that is indeed bad luck," replied Royd, "but I am glad poor

Bent got off all right; it must have given him a great shock. I hope his

friend was with him so that he would not be alone." I then told him all

that had happened, and also what I had heard about Mamerto Gomez and his

men having been seen entering the sierras. "It is not unlikely he may be

the real cause of it all," said Royd. "I fully expect that fellow had a

hand in it, for I believe him to be a regular scoundrel, in spite of his

suave manner and grand appearance." Certainly Royd bore his misfortune

with more fortitude than I expected, for the loss was indeed a heavy

one. The late afternoon was now drawing on, and I sent the native boy to

bring up the "tropilla," which happened to be feeding not far away, up

into the corral, so that we might collar Francisco's pony to the

tropilla mare, and we then let them all out again to feed for the night.

After dinner we talked the whole affair over before going to bed,

without, however, coming to any conclusion as to what prospect there was

of our ever again hearing of the missing sheep. Early on Monday morning,

leaving Francisco at the house, who said he would keep an eye on the

sheep, Royd and I rode over to the puesto, where Bent had nothing

whatever to report. He had managed to interview during Sunday some half

dozen horsemen who were riding along within reach of him, but could

obtain nothing in the way of information. Royd and I both took a long

turn round in opposite directions, each returning to the puesto about

three o'clock; but it was all in vain: we could learn nothing which

would help us from anybody. We again held a consultation, and Royd

determined that for the present Bent should stay on at the puesto and

have his friend with him, maintaining as strict a watch as possible over

the sheep which remained. Later, if we failed to hear anything of the

ones that had been stolen, the only thing to do would be for Bent to

come down with his sheep to the estancia, and join them on to those

which were there. As by leaving the puesto he would not only be safer

and more secure himself, but he could then look after all the sheep

remaining on the estancia by keeping them together in one flock.

The autumn of the Southern year was now well advanced, and there was

still plenty of grass within reasonable reach of the estancia house--but

meanwhile we only thought of this plan as being one suitable for the

near future. Royd and I then rode home, having had a fairly long day.

Everything seemed quiet as we followed along the narrow track which

wound itself like a snake among the big masses of grey rock. Suddenly

Napoleon, who was with us, started off as if in pursuit of something,

and I took out my revolver and followed him up. Reaching an open space

quite hidden from the track, I came upon the remains of a young cow, the

best joints of the meat having evidently been cut up and taken away with

the hide on them, while the animal was still warm; indeed, it was plain

the cow had only been recently killed. I called to Royd who was only a

little way behind me to come and look. It certainly looked as if thieves

were not very far off, and in view of recent events it did not tend to

make either of us feel very comfortable. Probably one of the grey foxes

often to be seen as evening approached had been visiting the remains,

and Napoleon had caught scent of it, which attracted his attention. When

we got home we found Francisco quite happy, and he and I took a turn

round and brought up the riding horses, shutting them up for the night

in the stone "manga," instead of leaving them out to feed as usual. We

also saw to our guns and ammunition. All this gave us food for

reflection, and we sat up talking and smoking until quite late.

Towards the end of the week we made up our minds to have another

gathering together of the cattle. Francisco looked forward to this with

much pleasure, as he was anxious to see how his chestnut would acquit

himself among the rocks, which were quite new to him. We tied up horses

over night, and were on the move just after dawn. It was a beautiful

morning, the sun rose in a clear sky, the herald of a fine day. I and

the native peon went together to quite the far end of the camp. Royd and

Francisco taking a position a little nearer home The cattle appeared to

be coming up well, nor did any so far as we knew succeed in breaking

back. When, however, we got them up to the rodeo and made a count, at

least two hundred and fifty animals seemed missing. The native peon and

boy with the aid of Francisco, kept them there, not allowing them to go

back to their feeding ground until twelve o'clock. Meanwhile, Royd and I

went back over the ground again to try and discover if any, and if so

how many, might have escaped us. However, we failed to find them in any

direction. That being so the only conclusion we could come to was that a

large number of the herd, certainly more than two hundred had

disappeared, and in all probability been stolen. This was by no means a

pleasant conclusion. Poor Royd was very depressed, and as we sat by the

fire that evening, turned to me and said, "If this sort of thing goes on

it will be about time for me to clear out." I tried to comfort him as

well as I could, although I did not feel at all happy in my own mind;

far from it. "Suppose we have another gathering up in a week's time, we

can see what happens then," I said. Meanwhile I will be about on

horseback as much as I can among the rocks, and I will see if I can find

a clue to the mystery. "Thank you!" replied Royd, "we will wait and see

if more of them come up to the rodeo in a week's time." But before the

day came I could see the matter was constantly weighing on his mind, nor

did I at all wonder, and I really felt very sorry for him. Next morning

we were up betimes, and all went to the corral to catch up horses for

the day. There was a very pretty "dorodilla," or bay filly in the

tropilla, with a black mane and tail, about two years old. This Royd

proposed to give as a present to Francisco, as he said it would make a

nice companion for his chestnut. This pleased him greatly, and he soon

began to talk of catching it up and leading it about with a halter and

rein if only it was sufficiently tame to allow this to be done. The

following days I spent among the sierras, and I could not disguise from

myself that the various groups of cattle when I saw them feeding, and I

recollected what they used to look like seemed certainly smaller;

indeed, several animals I knew and therefore quite expected to see I

never managed to see at all. All seemed quiet, however, nor did they

show any evidence of having been recently disturbed. I was riding home

on Friday evening later than usual for it was close upon sunset, when I

thought I heard voices. I immediately stopped and listened carefully. A

light breeze rustling from where the sound came seemed to bring it

nearer, and I judged it could not be more than one hundred and fifty

yards distant. There happened to be an open space close to where I was,

some twenty paces long by ten wide. It had a narrow entrance, and was

quite surrounded and shut in by the high rocks. I knew well where it

was, having been there before. So I dismounted and led my horse through

this narrow entrance into the open space, where he was completely hidden

from view, and hobbled him and tied him up. I then came out, and

carefully concealing myself, stole along on foot in the direction from

which I had heard the voices. I easily obtained sufficient cover, and

had not advanced at all far when I saw four men, all armed, about sixty

paces from me. One of them was Mamerto Gomez, the man I had seen at the

pulperia; I recognised him at once, and he seemed to be directing the

others, as if they were arranging some plan or other. I listened

attentively, hoping I might perhaps hear some mention of the stolen

sheep, but what with the subdued tone in which they conversed and the

fact that I did not know much Spanish, I failed to make out what they

were saying. Their horses stood saddled near them, and I noticed they

wore the red device round their black felt hats. I remained perfectly

still for quite ten minutes, well sheltered from their view by a large

piece of rock, where I could see but could not be seen. At the end of

that time they suddenly mounted their horses and rode away in the

opposite direction to where I was hid, and I must allow I did not feel

very sorry to see them depart. I then went back to my horse, and at once

rode home. Royd also had just returned, and was unsaddling near the

front door. He had been round to ask three or four of our neighbours to

help us to gather up our cattle on the Monday morning following. He

thought, perhaps, if we had more horsemen we might make a more

successful "para rodeo" than we had done before.

I told him my little adventure, and what I had seen, and he shook his

head. "That fellow Mamerto is at the bottom of all this trouble, I do

believe," he said, "and I do wish you had been able to hear distinctly

what those thieves were planning and talking about."

Only the first sign of dawn was appearing on Monday morning when we

saddled up our horses and rode silently in among the grey rocks.

Francisco did not go with us, but he joined us later at the rodeo. I had

the furthest to go, quite to the end of the estancia, near Guaycoru.

Bent came from his side, and four of our neighbours each fell into line

at the place appointed. So this time we mustered a fairly strong force,

and none of the cattle had any chance of breaking back. But by the time

we had got them outside the sierras, and even before I could see them

gathered together at close quarters, I felt sure in my own mind that

quite a third of the herd was missing. Thanks to our neighbours'

assistance we were able to make a correct count, and this we did twice

over, so as to be sure we were correct. There were only four hundred and

sixty-five animals, not counting a dozen very small calves, whereas

there ought to have been over seven hundred at least. Anyway, making

every possible allowance, there were certainly more than two hundred

missing; not far different from what we had made them out to be ten days

ago. There was no accounting in any way where the missing animals could

be, so we had to accept the inevitable and conclude they must have been

driven off, probably during the night, and stolen. They seemed just to

have vanished in the same way as did the sheep. One misfortune so

quickly following the other caused Royd to feel his loss very acutely,

and it naturally made him despondent and down-hearted. I tried my best

to cheer him up, but with little success. One day we succeeded in

running the troop of mares and colts up into the stone enclosure. They

were swift of foot, knew every turn and twist of the rocks, and so long

as they kept inside the sierras it was difficult for anyone to get hold

of them. When once in the corral it was a different matter. A chestnut

colt, with a white star on his forehead, smaller and younger than

"Carnival" was easily lassoed, and afterwards tied up to a post, from

which to no purpose he made strenuous efforts to get loose. He had to

remain where he was during the night, and next morning we collared him

to a tame mare, so that he could easily be got hold of when wanted. A

couple of mornings later, when the riding horses were brought up to the

corral, Francisco's bay filly was missing, and, after a long search, was

found, minus its skin, which was but of small value. Why it had been

killed was a mystery, until some time afterwards it became known that a

near neighbour was making a set of horse-gear of raw cowhide and mares

hide; and as this set was a very particular one it required all the hide

to be of the same colour. So the maker, having run out of mare's hide,

searched round in the neighbourhood until he found an animal to suit

him, which happened to be Francisco's filly. The latter was greatly

distressed by his potrilla coming to so premature an end, but there it

lay dead, so there was nothing more to be done. This shews the small

amount of respect there was for property in those days in the country

districts of the Republic. Immediately following this little event,

Colonel Pinto Mallada who held an important position in the Department,

arrived with two hundred and fifty soldiers and encamped near the

estancia for a couple of days. He sent his adjutant up to say he would

require a supply of meat for his men to eat, but that orders had been

given them not to take any horses. Consequently, those we wanted to save

were brought up to feed within easy distance of the house, as Mallada's

orders were generally obeyed.

Francisco happened to be left alone at the estancia with Pedro the cook,

and when he went out to see if the horses were all right, he noticed

that his chestnut pony was missing. So he went down on an old brown

horse he was riding to the Colonel's tent, situate under a tree, but he

was not allowed to see him, as he was taking his "siesta." However, his

sergeant, whom he interviewed, said he was to come later. The Colonel,

who was a stern half Indian, was much feared; he spoke little, and had

but little mercy for his enemies. So Francisco returned to the house and

went down again to see him later on. He found him sitting sucking

"mate," while the sergeant stood beside him combing carefully for him

his long hair, which hung down almost to his shoulders. Francisco told

the Colonel his pony had gone, whereupon the latter directed his

sergeant to take him round the encampment, as the soldiers were

scattered in different places in lots of eight or ten together. No pony

could be found, so Francisco and the sergeant returned to see the

Colonel, who then said if the pony was not in the encampment some men he

had sent away must have taken it, but that Francisco need not fear, as

he should have his pony back again.

Thereupon Francisco once again returned to the house very sorry not to

have found his pony--but still hoping for the best. Sure enough in three

days a soldier rode up with the chestnut pony, apparently none the worse

for his enforced absence.

This shews the Colonel had a certain kind of feeling about him, although

at the same time he had little regard for the lives of those who

happened to oppose his wishes. I believe in the end, a long time

afterwards, he was shot in Rosario, during some political trouble. Early

in the next week I rode over to what was known as the "Swiss Colony,"

some fourteen miles distant from us in more or less a Southerly

direction. There was a pulperia there where the diligence which came out

from Monte Video stopped, and often brought us letters--which usually

came to hand sooner or later, as opportunity offered. However, just now

Royd was expecting some, and as a few small purchases were also required

I saddled up poor Henriquez's chestnut, and taking a pair of saddle-bags

with me, made a start. He was a good little horse, the morning was

bright and fine, and I enjoyed my ride as I galloped along over the

rolling country in front of me. I just pulled up at Saballa's pulperia

as I passed to hear if there was any news. But everything was quiet, and

no soldiers seemed to be about. Just about a mile distant from the pass

over the river Rosario, leading to the Swiss Colony, I overtook Mr.

Frederick Dampier, owner of the Estancia del Pichinango. He also was on

his way to Quincke's pulperia, so we rode on together. He asked me a

good deal about Royd, and how he was getting on, etc, and he looked very

serious when I related to him all that had happened. "I doubt if you

will ever see either those sheep or cattle again," he said. "I expect

there is a regular gang of thieves located inside the sierras, with

Mamerto Gomez as their leader."

"I hope they won't take it into their heads to come our way; it would

not be the first time such a thing has happened; although, fortunately,

there is no secure hiding place for them in the day-time here, like

there is inside the sierras."

When we got to the pulperia I found three letters, two for Royd and one

for me. I soon completed my small purchases, and half an hour later was

ready to start on my return journey. Mr. Dampier was also returning by

the same way we had come, so we rode on together. When we had got

through the pass, he turned to me and said, "I wonder if you would care

to go and take charge up at the Cerro. It is where my partner lived

before he returned to England, a little more than a year ago. You might

find yourself fairly comfortable there; anyway, you would have plenty of

room, and you could assist me in the management of the estancia." This

proposal certainly took me somewhat by surprise, for I had only been

about nine months in the country, but I thanked him, and said I would

see what Royd thought about it when I got back, and let him know without

unnecessary delay. We then parted company, just about in the same place

where we had met in the morning. The chestnut was going well, the sun,

now past the meridian, was shining brightly, the air was fresh and cool,

and my ride was a pleasant one. I thought a good deal as I rode along

about what Mr. Dampier had said to me, and the more I thought of it the

better I liked the idea of what he had proposed. The only difficulty was

that if Royd was going to have continued trouble at the rocks, I did not

wish to leave him, as it were, in the lurch.

Now that the war had definitely broken out, it seemed to me that if I

went to the "Cerro," it would certainly be an experience, and there

would probably prove to be a fair amount of excitement as well. It was

just after two o'clock when I reached the estancia. Royd had ridden out,

and did not return until towards sunset. I unsaddled the chestnut and

let him go. He at once trotted off to find his friends and enjoy a quiet

feed. He knew they would not be very far away. Meanwhile Pedro got me

some food and coffee, and I sat down and read my letter, which had come

from England, over again, and smoked a quiet pipe. When Royd returned I

handed him his letters and showed him my purchases, which he found

satisfactory. He had been out among the sierras, and had taken a turn

round to see a native neighbour, where doubtless he had discussed the

situation, and why so many cattle were missing when we got them up to

the rodeo. Perhaps his native friend had given him comfort, for he

seemed in better spirits than usual. I said nothing to him until we had

finished dinner and were sitting smoking by the fire in the dining room;

for winter was coming on, and the evenings began to be chilly. Then I

told him how I had met Mr. Dampier, and what he had said to me. He

looked up rather amused. "I think if I were you I should go," he said.

"Mr. Dampier is an exceedingly nice man, and I feel sure you will get on

very well with him; and you will be sure to gain a lot of experience at

a large estancia like the Pichinango." "But what about the trouble in

the rocks," I replied. "I should not like to leave you without seeing

you through; that is if I can be of any help to you." "Well," said Royd,

"I have been thinking things over this afternoon. I can bring Bent and

the remaining sheep down, and join them on to the flock we already have

here. He can then look after them all together. Curiously enough, one of

the letters you brought me is from my friends, with whom I stayed the

other day, who have their estancia on this side of San Jose. They

propose, if things get worse over here, I should take what cattle and

sheep I may have to their camp, and join up with them. They have more

land, you know, than they really want, and it could carry comfortably

more stock than I am likely to have remaining here. At any rate, the

idea seems worth considering, for if this war continues, it might

perhaps turn out to be the best thing to do." "Well," I said, "we will

sleep over it all, and then if you are still in the same mind I will see

about accepting Mr. Dampier's offer." Next morning, we had just finished

our coffee and were walking down to the corral to catch our horses as

usual. "Well, Royd, what do you think about it this morning?" I said.

"Are you still of the same opinion about my going to the 'Cerro'?" "Yes,

I am," he said. "I think it would be a great pity for you to refuse the

offer. I have got some letters to write, and as the diligence will be

passing Quincke's in a couple of days on its way back to San Jose, I

will send the native peon over with them early to-morrow morning. I will

finish the letters first, and then you and I can ride over to the puesto

and see Bent."

"That being so," I replied, "I think I cannot do better than write a

letter to Mr. Dampier, accepting his proposal, and tell him I will go

over to the 'Cerro' on Wednesday in next week. The peon could leave my

letter at Mr. Dampier's house as he passes by."

"So be it," said Royd, "and I sincerely wish you all luck and prosperity

in the new departure." So I wrote my letter while I was waiting for

Royd, thanking Mr. Dampier for what he had said to me, accepting his

offer, and saying I would go over to the "Cerro" on Wednesday morning in

the following week. All appeared quiet as Royd and I rode among the

rocks to the puesto. Here and there we passed a few cattle, a silver fox

we disturbed ran in front of us for a hundred yards or so, and then

dodged round the corner of a rock, where he probably had his lair. We

noticed the smell of a skunk a little further along. He, too, had been

out and about for his morning exercise. Silence reigned everywhere,

broken only by the shrill cry of the "pteru-pteru," or plover, a cry we

were so accustomed to hear that we hardly noticed it. When we arrived we

found Bent all right, having just come to his house to see about some

breakfast. The sheep were quietly feeding a little distance away. There

was no news. He had heard nothing; nor had he seen anyone just lately.

His friend had gone away for a few hours to see a native he knew up

towards Guaycoru.

Royd told Bent he thought he had better come down with the sheep to the

estancia, leaving the puesto for the time being unoccupied. This seemed

to please him rather than otherwise, and it was settled he should come

down with his belongings on the following Monday, and Royd promised to

send up the native peon to help him to drive the sheep. Anything he had

to leave behind could remain in the house, which he could lock up,

bringing the key away with him, and whatever there was could be sent for

later. I also told Bent about Mr. Dampier's offer to me, at which he

seemed somewhat amused, although his good manners prevented him saying

all that was perhaps passing through his mind. Royd and I then rode

round by the pulperia at Guaycoru to see if by chance we could hear

anything which might afford us a clue as to what had become of our

missing cattle; or indeed, of the stolen sheep. Early next morning the

native peon rode off with Royd's letters for the Swiss Colony, and I

gave him mine to deliver at Mr. Dampier's house as he passed. On the

Monday following he and Francisco made an early start to go and help to

bring down the sheep from the puesto. The latter rode his chestnut pony

and hoped to enjoy the ride.

The sheep travelled down well. Bent brought his two horses with him,

riding one and leading the other as a pack-horse with his things. "Bob,"

of course, followed, greatly interested, behind the sheep; indeed, he

seemed to enjoy the excitement of making the move. "Napoleon" gave him

an affectionate welcome, for they had always been friends. On the

Tuesday I put together my things. Royd kindly said he would send the

native peon with me, who could lead the extra horse which was to carry

them, and then bring him back afterwards. Anything I could not take was

put into a big box, which was to be sent to Saballa's pulperia by the

first cart which might pass, whence I could easily get it brought on to

the "Cerro." I took my Colts revolver and all my cartridges with me,

also my "Service" rifle, which I had given to me just as I was leaving

England, and I found I could pack all I was likely to need for the

present quite easily in two large bundles, which could be fixed on

either side of the "recado," on the led horse. The peon took a large

pair of saddle-bags for me on the horse he rode, and I had a smaller

pair on mine. Wednesday morning, June 15th, proved fine, the sun shining

in a clear sky. So I bid adieu to Royd and Bent and Francisco, and with

many good wishes from them all, mounted "Carnival," accompanied by

Napoleon, and duly followed the native peon who, with the pack-horse

behind him, had already made a start. And so I bid adieu not without

regret to "Las Sierras de Mal Abrigo," for I had been very happy there,

and as I passed along my way it seemed to me, at any rate for the time

being, a step into the great unknown. When we arrived at the "Cerro del

Pichinango" I was received by an Englishman called Robinson, who acted

as cook and general caretaker inside the house. He soon got me some food

and coffee ready, and he also found something to eat for the man who had

come with me. There were three peones, or out-door servants about; an

uncle, and two of his nephews. They were natives of Uruguay, but by

parentage were Indians of the Pampas, which also showed very clearly in

their countenances. I wrote a message to Royd on a piece of paper, which

I gave to the peon for him, just to say I had arrived all right.

Meantime I had unsaddled "Carnival," and tied him up in a grass-covered

court or enclosure, surrounded by a high stone wall, where there were

also several trees and two large iron gates at the bottom, which were

usually kept locked. The house itself certainly looked imposing. It was

built the whole width of the upper end of the court, and was divided

into two parts by a high stone archway, the front of which stood level

with the court, while the back led direct into the large "galpon," or

wool-shed, which was joined to the house its full length behind, with

two large openings on its outer side, closed by wide wooden doors, both

ends being quite shut in. The house had nine rooms, large and small;

four on one side of the open archway, which was shut off from the galpon

by a door in the centre, and five on the other. Each had a large window

overlooking the court, protected outside by thick iron bars. First came

the kitchen, with a door leading direct into the open, and a bedroom

above, for the cook; then, the dining room, with two large windows

opening on the court; next, a small room, with a little iron stove

called the gun-room, and next again a bedroom; each having a window

looking on the court. This bedroom had also a door opening into the

stone archway. On the other side of this were five rooms, all leading

one into another; but the fourth had a door opening on the court; while

the fifth room was called the visitors' room, and had a large high

window in the middle of the end of the house, which gave abundance of

light, although it, too, was heavily barred. This room was comfortably

furnished, while from the others on this side of the archway the

furniture had been mostly removed, one of them being at this time used

as a storeroom.

The whole house was an "azotea," having one long flat roof throughout,

all round which was a low battlemented parapet with open spaces, between

where you could place firearms for self-defence in the event of a siege

or an attack from outside. Out of the dining room was an inside passage

and ladder leading to the roof, which was removable, having a small

shelter or covering built over it at the top. The roof itself was

carefully tiled and cemented, collecting all the rain-water which fell

upon it, and carrying it through pipes into the large Alhibi, or

reservoir, carefully tiled, which stood in the middle of the court. Here

the water remained quite cool in summer, an ample supply being collected

during the rainy weather, sufficient to last the whole year.

There were no wells or springs, for the house stood high on an eminence

overlooking the surrounding country, the ground all round being of a

rocky nature, the surface soil in places having scarcely any depth at

all; indeed, nowhere near the house was it at all suitable for either

crops or cultivation.

During the afternoon I had one of the tropillas of horses brought up

into the corral, and we collared "Carnival" to a nice little grey mare,

so that he could go out to feed with the other horses. But he could not

escape back again to the rocks, as he certainly would have done had he

been left loose. The mare, however, seemed very considerate and good to

him, and he afterwards became quite fond of her. Napoleon, too, seemed

to settle down easily into his new surroundings, and it was not long

before he obtained control over the three or four mongrels who barked at

him on his arrival. I took a little walk round the establishment during

the afternoon, and had a look over a small flock of "southdowns" which

fed near the house, and were shut up into their sheep yard at night,

surrounded by a stone wall. They were now feeding with their faces

towards home, and were generally looked after by one of the Indian boys.

As I walked along through the long grass, a brace of partridges got up

close to me, and flew away straight in front of me. Had I taken a gun

with me they would have been an easy shot. Behind the "Cerro" the

country seemed to roll away into distance, like the waves of the sea, so

characteristic of the Pampas of South America.

As I returned I climbed up to the top of the group of rocks just behind

the house itself, enclosed by a stone wall not by any means in good

condition. From there the country on one side appeared rocky and broken,

with a valley running down at right angles, where apparently stone had

been got out of a kind of quarry, near which I could see two or three

stone erections, which might be either huts or temporary shelters. Far

in the distance were woods which seemed to border a river. This I found

to be the river Pichinango, which was the boundary of the estate on that

side.

I had some dinner at sundown, and then enjoyed a quiet pipe, and thought

over the events of the day. Later, I fixed up my things in the bedroom

joining the archway, in the corner of which latter I placed an old

wool-bag I found lying about, for Napoleon to sleep on, and I too went

to bed, asking the cook to be sure and call me in good time in the

morning. I slept soundly, and the air felt fresh and keen when I went

out into the courtyard not long after sunrise, where I was

affectionately greeted by Napoleon, who seemed very pleased to see me

again. The Indians were already sitting round their fire in the galpon,

sucking Mate, and Robinson was busy in his kitchen, preparing the early

coffee. The first thing I did was to have the horses belonging to the

"Cerro" brought up into the corral, so that I might look them over. They

were a mixed lot, some seventy in all, and varied greatly in colour and

appearance. But this was only to be expected, and there were some useful

horses among them.

A little before eleven, Don Frederico Dampier rode up from his house,

"La Concordia," situate at the other end of the estancia. I saw him

coming so went out a little way to meet him. His well-knit but spare

figure looked remarkably well on horseback. We first took a turn

outside, and Don Frederico pointed out certain things which needed

attention. We then went inside, and he gave me the keys of two large

cupboards which contained linen and household necessaries. He also gave

me a book called the "log-book," in which I was to write down anything

which happened, and also the work which was done each day, as it passed.

By this time, Robinson had got ready some breakfast for us, after which

we mounted our horses and rode round a troop of cattle called the

"tamberos," or tame animals; supposed to come up to their "rodeo" every

day before sundown. However, as a matter of fact, they were quite as

wild as the larger herd, and it was some little time before I got them

well under control. We then went on to two of the puestos, each in

charge of a puestero, or shepherd, who looked after his flock of

something under three thousand sheep. The first puesto we came to was in

charge of a "basco" named Laborde, who had emigrated, while yet young,

to Uruguay, from the Spanish shores of the Bay of Biscay. He was a

fresh-coloured, good-tempered looking man, still in middle life, and he

seemed cheerful and comfortable with his wife and three children round

him. He gave us many particulars about his flock; how they were getting

on, etc. He had been with them most of the morning; had just ridden home

to get something to eat, and was going out to give them a turn towards

home a little later on. He said he had not been troubled by soldiers,

although he had noticed small detachments passing towards the Sierras,

but they had not come near either the flock or his puesto. We then rode

on to the second, kept also by a basco, called Martin, the number of

sheep being more or less the same as the one previously visited. Martin

was a fine, robust, good-looking man, in the prime of life; very alert

and intelligent, and apparently well-versed in the ways of estancia

life. We passed alongside his flock as they were quietly feeding; and we

looked over three large points of cattle, and also some mares and colts

as I accompanied Don Frederico a little further on his way home.

I then bid him farewell and rode back direct to the Cerro, and with one

of the Indians got the tamberos, before-mentioned, up to their rodeo in

the afternoon, keeping them there about three-quarters of an hour as a

matter of discipline, and then as the sun fell towards the horizon on

the late autumn afternoon the little flock of Southdown sheep drew

towards home, to be shut in their sheepyard for the night. So I took the

opportunity of looking them carefully over, and making a correct count

of them; they were just over three hundred, so that I might the more

easily become aware, if by ill-luck any should be missing.

The old cook, Robinson, had gone through some exciting experiences in

his earlier life. When little more than a boy he sailed for the

Southern seas in one of "Green's" whaling ships, fitted out for a three

years' cruise beyond Cape Horn, in pursuit of the sperm whale. This was

then a very profitable occupation. From captain to cabin-boy, everyone

had a share in the results of the voyage, and when the good ship

returned, fully loaded with her valuable cargo of sperm oil, she had a

great welcome from her owner, who often went down to greet her arrival

in Plymouth Sound. Eventually he rose to be a first-class hand aboard;

indeed, it was his office to throw the harpoon, as he stood upright in

the bow of the boat, into the whale, an act requiring not only courage,

but also great judgment and skill. It was only upon rare occasions that

the old man could be induced to talk of his sea-faring days. A kind of

gloom always seemed to lie behind them all, and it was but by a mere

chance that I happened later to find out what it meant. Like so many of

the sea-faring class with him drink was the trouble, and after a bout of

it he would sometimes fall into a kind of delirium, talking incessantly

to himself, yet hardly aware of what he was saying. It seems he had been

wrecked on the northern coast of New Zealand in the days of long ago,

and there he had lived with a Maori tribe, and had wedded a Maori

spouse. Then came a war with a neighbouring tribe, who proved

victorious, and he saw his wife tomahawked before his eyes, while he

himself was unable to render her any assistance.

Following this, he fled into the bush, where he subsisted on fern-root,

and anything else he could obtain, until by great good fortune he

managed to signal and attract the attention of a passing vessel, who

lowered a boat and took him off.

He then worked his way back to England, and afterwards went out to the

Falkland Islands Company, at Port Stanley.

Finally, he came over to Uruguay, drifted to the "Cerro del Pichinango"

during the war of "Oribe," where he had remained ever since. So long as

all went well, he was attentive to duty inside the house; clean and tidy

in preparing the meals; indeed, never happier than when fully employed

with his scrubbing brush and an ample supply of soap and water. One of

his great pleasures was to hoist the Union Jack on the small standard on

the top of the azotea on feast-days and holidays, when he would again

lower it at sunset, the same as he would have done on board ship. His

failing compelled me to keep all Canya, or white rum, under lock and key,

although I was instructed to deal him out his daily allowance twice

during the day; when the sun got over the fore-yard, as he was wont to

express it, and at sundown. Outside he chiefly employed himself in

chopping and splitting up wood for the stove in the kitchen, with his

two axes, of which he took great care, and of which he was apparently

very proud.

We happened to have a spell of fine weather during the first few days

after I arrived at the "Cerro," so I was enabled to see things generally

better than I could otherwise have done.