SUMMER IN THE SILVER WEST.
Though it really was not so very long since we had said farewell to our
friends in Scotland and the dear ones at home, it seemed an age. So it is
no wonder, seeing that all were well, our letters brought us joy. Not for
weeks did we cease to read them over and over again and talk about them.
One of mine was from Archie Bateman, and, much to my delight and that of
my brothers, he told us that he had never ceased worrying his father and
mother to let him come out to the Silver West and join us, and that they
were yielding fast. He meant, he said, to put the screw on a little harder
soon, by running away and taking a cruise as far as Newcastle-on-Tyne in a
coal-boat. He had no doubt that this would have the desired effect of
showing his dearly-beloved _pater et mater_ that he was in downright
earnest in his desire to go abroad. So we were to expect him next
summer--'that is,' he added, 'summer in England, and winter with you.'
Another letter of mine was from Irene M'Rae. I dare say there must have
been a deal of romance about me even then, for Irene's delightful little
matter-of-fact and prosaic letter gave me much pleasure, and I--I believe
I carried it about with me till it was all frayed at every fold, and I
finally stowed it away in my desk.
Flora wrote to us all, with a postscript in addition to Dugald. And we
were to make haste and get rich enough to send for pa and ma and her.
I did not see Townley's letter to aunt, but I know that much of it related
to the 'Coila crime,' as we all call it now. The scoundrel M'Rae had
disappeared, and Mr. Townley had failed to trace him. But he could wait.
He would not get tired. It was as certain as Fate that as soon as the
poacher spent his money--and fellows like him could not keep money
long--he would appear again at Coila, to extort more by begging or
threatening. Townley had a watch set for him, and as soon as he should
appear there would be an interview.
'It would,' the letter went on, 'aid my case very much indeed could I but
find the men who assisted him to restore the vault in the old ruin. But
they, too, are spirited away, apparently, and all I can do fails to find
them. But I live in hope. The good time is bound to come, and may Heaven
in justice send it soon!'
Moncrieff had no letters, but I am bound to say that he was as much
delighted to see us happy as if we were indeed his own brothers, and our
aunt his aunt, if such a thing could have been possible.
But meanwhile the building of our Coila Villa moved on apace, and only
those situated as we were could understand the eager interest we took in
its gradual rise. At the laying of the foundation-stone we gave all the
servants and workmen, and settlers, new and old, an entertainment. We had
not an ostrich to roast whole this time, but the supper placed before our
guests under Moncrieff's biggest tent was one his cook might well have
been proud of. After supper music commenced, only on this special and
auspicious occasion the guitars did not have it all their own way, having
to give place every now and then to the inspiring strains of the Highland
bagpipes. That was a night which was long remembered in our little
colony.
While the villa was being built our furniture was being made. This, like
that in Moncrieff's mansion, was all, or mostly, Indian work, and
manufactured by our half-caste Gauchos. The wood chiefly used was
algaroba, which, when polished, looked as bright as mahogany, and quite as
beautiful. This Occidental furniture, as we called it, was really very
light and elegant, the seats of the couches, fauteuils and sofas, and
chairs being worked with thongs, or pieces of hardened skin, in quite a
marvellous manner.
We had fences to make all round our fields, and hedges to plant, and even
trees. Then there was the whole irrigation system to see to, and the land
to sow with grain and lucerne, after the soil had been duly ploughed and
attended to. All this kept us young fellows very busy indeed, for we
worked with the men almost constantly, not only as simple superintendents,
but as labourers.
Yes, the duties about an _estancia_, even after it is fairly established,
are very varied; but, nevertheless, I know of no part of the world where
the soil responds more quickly or more kindly to the work of the tiller
than it does in the Silver West. And this is all the more wonderful when
we consider that a great part of the land hereabouts is by nature barren
in the extreme.
* * * * *
I do not think I am wrong in saying that sheep, if not first introduced
into the _estancias_ of the Silver West by the Scotch, have at all events
been elevated to the rank of a special feature of produce in the country
by them. Moncrieff had done much for the improvement of the breed, not
only as regards actual size of body, but in regard to the texture of the
wool; and it was his proudest boast to be able to say that the land of his
adoption could already compare favourably with Australia itself, and that
in the immediate future it was bound to beat that island.
It is no wonder, therefore, that we all looked forward to our first great
shearing as a very busy time indeed. Our great wool harvest was, indeed,
one of the principal events of the year. Moncrieff said he always felt
young again at the sheep-shearing times.
Now there are various styles of wool harvesting. Moncrieff's was simple
enough. Preparations were made for it, both out-doors and in, at least a
fortnight beforehand. Indoors, hams, &c., were got ready for cooking, and
the big tent was erected once more near and behind the mansion, for extra
hands to the number of twenty at least were to be imported; several
neighbour settlers--they lived ten miles off, and still were
neighbours--were coming over to lend a hand, and all had to eat, and most
had to sleep, under canvas.
If sheep-shearing prospects made Moncrieff young again, so they did his
mother. She was here, there, and everywhere; now in parlour or
dining-room, in kitchen and scullery, in out-houses and tent, giving
orders, leading, directing, ay, and sometimes even driving, the servants,
for few of the Gauchos, whether male or female, could work with speed
enough to please old Jenny.
Well, the sheds had to be cleared out, and a system of corralling adopted
which was only called for during times like these. Then there were the
weighing machines to be seen to; the tally tables and all the packing and
pressing machinery--which on this large _estancia_ was carried almost to
perfection--had all to be got into the very best working order imaginable.
For, in the matter of sheep-shearing, Moncrieff was fastidious to a
degree.
The sheep were washed the day before. This was hard work, for no animal I
know of is more obstinate than a sheep when it makes up its mind to be
so.
So the work commenced, and day after day it went merrily on. Moncrieff did
not consider this a very large shearing, and yet in six days' time no less
than 11,000 sheep were turned away fleeceless.
And what a scene it was, to be sure!
I remember well, when quite a little lad, thinking old Parson McGruer's
shearing a wonderful sight. The old man, who was very fat and podgy, and
seldom got down to breakfast before eleven in the morning, considered
himself a sheep farmer on rather a large scale. Did he not own a flock of
nearly six hundred--one shepherd's work--that fed quietly on the
heath-clad braes of Coila? One shepherd and two collies; and the collies
did nearly all the duty in summer and a great part of it in winter. The
shepherd had his bit of shieling in a clump of birch-trees at the
glen-foot, and at times, crook in hand, his Highland plaid dangling from
his shoulder, he might be seen slowly winding along the braes, or
standing, statue-like, on the hill-top, his romantic figure well defined
against the horizon, and very much in keeping with the scene. I never yet
saw the minister's shepherd running. His life was almost an idyllic one in
summer, when the birks waved green and eke, or in autumn, when the hills
were all ablaze with the crimson glory of the heather. To be sure, his pay
was not a great deal, and his fare for the most part consisted of oatmeal
and milk, with now and then a slice of the best part of a 'braxied' sheep.
Here, in our home in the Silver West, how different! Every _puestero_ had
a house or hut as good as the minister's shepherd; and as for living, why,
the worthy Mr. McGruer himself never had half so well-found a table. Our
dogs in the Silver West lived far more luxuriously than any farm servant
or shepherd, or even gamekeeper, 'in a' braid Scotland.'
But our shepherds had to run and to ride both. Wandering over miles upon
miles of pasturage, sheep learn to be dainty, and do not stay very long in
any one place; so it is considered almost impossible to herd them on foot.
It is not necessary to do so; at all events, where one can buy a horse for
forty shillings, and where his food costs _nil_, or next to _nil_, one
usually prefers riding to walking.
But it was a busy time in May even at the Scotch minister's place when
sheep-shearing came round. The minister got up early then, if he did not
do so all the year round again. The hurdles were all taken to the
river-side, or banks of the stream that, leaving Loch Coila, went
meandering through the glen. Here the sheep were washed and penned, and
anon turned into the enclosures where the shearers were. Lads and lasses
all took part in the work in one capacity or another. The sun would be
brightly shining, the 'jouking burnie' sparkling clear in its rays; the
glens and hills all green and bonnie; the laughing and joking and lilting
and singing, and the constant bleating of sheep and lambs, made altogether
a curious medley; but every now and then Donald the piper would tune his
pipes and make them 'skirl,' drowning all other sounds in martial melody.
But here on Moncrieff's _estancia_ everything was on a grander scale.
There was the same bleating of sheep, the same laughing, joking, lilting,
singing, and piping; the same hurry-scurry of dogs and men; the same
prevailing busy-ness and activity; but everything was multiplied by
twenty.
McGruer at home in Coila had his fleeces thrust into a huge sack, which
was held up by two stalwart Highlanders. Into this not only were the
fleeces put, but also a boy, to jump on them and pack them down. At the
_estancia_ we had the very newest forms of machinery to do everything.
Day by day, as our shearing went on, Moncrieff grew gayer and gayer, and
on the final morning he was as full of life and fun as a Harrow schoolboy
out on the range. The wool harvest had turned out well.
It had not been so every year with Moncrieff and his partner. They had had
many struggles to come through--sickness had at one time more than
decimated the flocks. The Indians, though they do not as a rule drive away
sheep, had played sad havoc among them, and scattered them far and wide
over the adjoining pampas, and the pampero[8] had several times destroyed
its thousands, before the trees had grown up to afford protection and
shelter.
I have said before that Moncrieff was fond of doing things in his own
fashion. He was willing enough to adopt all the customs of his adopted
country so long as he thought they were right, but many of the habits of
his native land he considered would engraft well with those of Mendoza.
Moncrieff delighted in dancing--that is, in giving a good hearty rout,
and he simply did so whenever there was the slightest excuse. The cereal
harvest ended thus, the grape harvest also, and making of the wine and
preserves, and so of course did the shearing.
The dinner at the mansion itself was a great success; the supper in the
marquee, with the romp to follow, was even a greater. Moncrieff himself
opened the fun with Aunt Cecilia as a partner, Donald and a charming
Spanish girl completing the quartette necessary for a real Highland reel.
The piper played, of course (guitars were not good enough for this sort of
thing), and I think we must have kept that first 'hoolichin' up for nearly
twenty minutes. Then Moncrieff and aunt were fain to retire
'for-fochten.'[9]
Well Moncrieff might have been 'for-fochten,' but neither Donald nor his
Spanish lassie were half tired. Nor was the piper.
'Come on, Dugald,' cried Donald, 'get a partner, lad. Hooch!'
'Hooch!' shouted Dugald in response, and lo and behold! he gaily led
forth--whom? Why, whom but old Jenny herself? What roars of laughter there
was as, keeping time to a heart-stirring strathspey, the litle lady
cracked her thumbs and danced, reeling, setting, and deeking! roars of
laughter, and genuine hearty applause as well.
Moncrieff was delighted with his mother's performance. It was glorious, he
said, and so true to time; surely everybody would believe him now that
mither was a downright ma_r-r-r-_vel. And everybody did.
During the shearing Donald and I had done duty as clerks; and very busy we
had been kept. As for Dugald, it would have been a pity to have parted him
and his dear gun, so the work assigned to him was that of lion's
provider--we, the shearing folk, being the lion.
For a youth of hardly sixteen Dugald was a splendid shot, and during the
shearing he really kept up his credit well. Moncrieff objected to have
birds killed when breeding; but in this country, as indeed in any other
where game is numerous, there are hosts of birds that do not, for various
reasons, breed or mate every season. These generally are to be found
either singly and solitary, as if they had some great grief on their minds
that they desired to nurse in solitude, or in small flocks of gay young
bachelors. Dugald knew such birds well, and it was from the ranks of these
he always filled the larder.
To the supply thus brought daily by Dugald were added fowls, ducks, and
turkeys from the _estancia's_ poultry-yard, to say nothing of joints of
beef, mutton, and pork. Nor was it birds alone that Dugald's seemingly
inexhaustible creels and bags were laden with, but eggs of the swan[10]
and the wild-duck and goose, with--to serve as tit-bits for those who
cared for such desert delicacies--cavies, biscachas, and now and then an
armadillo. If these were not properly appreciated by the new settlers, the
eyes of the old, and especially the Gauchos, sparkled with anticipation of
gustatory delight on beholding them.
For some days after the shearing was over comparative peace reigned around
and over the great _estancia_. But nevertheless preparations were being
made to send off a string of waggons to Villa Mercedes. The market at
Mendoza was hardly large enough to suit Moncrieff, nor were the prices so
good as could be obtained in the east. Indeed, Moncrieff had purchasing
agents from Villa Mercedes to meet his waggons on receipt of a telegram.
So the waggons were loaded up--wool, wine, and preserves, as well as
raisins.
To describe the vineyards at our _estancia_ would take up far too much
space. I must leave them to the reader's imagination; but I hardly think I
am wrong in stating that there are no grapes in the world more delicious
or more viniferous than those that grow in the province of Mendoza. The
usual difficulty is not in the making of wine, but in the supply of
barrels and bottles. Moncrieff found a way out of this; and in some hotels
in Buenos Ayres, and even Monte Video, the Chateau Moncrieff had already
gained some celebrity.
The manufacture of many different kinds of preserves was quite an industry
at the _estancia_, and one that paid fairly well. There were orangeries as
well as vineries; and although the making of marmalade had not before been
attempted, Moncrieff meant now to go in for it on quite a large scale.
This branch was to be superintended by old Jenny herself, and great was
her delight to find out that she was of some use on the estate, for
'really 'oman,' she told aunt, 'a body gets tired of the stockin'--shank,
shank, shank a' day is hard upon the hands, though a body maun do
something.'
Well, the waggons were laden and off at last. With them went Moncrieff's
Welsh partner as commander, to see to the sale, and prevent the Gauchos
and drivers generally from tapping the casks by the way. The force of men,
who were all well armed, was quite sufficient to give an excellent account
of any number of prowling Indians who were likely to put in an
appearance.
And now summer, in all its glory, was with us. And such glory! Such glory
of vegetable life, such profusion of foliage, such wealth of colouring,
such splendour of flowers! Such glory of animal life, beast and bird and
insect! The flowers themselves were not more gay and gorgeous than some of
these latter.
Nor were we very greatly plagued with the hopping and blood-sucking
genera. Numerous enough they were at times, it must be confessed, both by
day and night; but somehow we got used to them. The summer was wearing to
a close, the first wing of our Coila Villa was finished and dry, the
furniture was put in, and as soon as the smell of paint left we took
possession.
This was made the occasion for another of Moncrieff's festive gatherings.
Neighbours came from all directions except the south, for we knew of none
in this direction besides the wild Pampean Indians, and they were not
included in the invitation. Probably we should make them dance some other
day.
About a fortnight after our opening gathering, or 'house-warming,' as
Moncrieff called it, we had a spell of terribly hot weather. The heat was
of a sultry, close description, difficult to describe: the cattle, sheep,
and horses seemed to suffer very much, and even the poor dogs. These last,
by the way, we found it a good plan to clip. Long coats did not suit the
summer season.
One evening it seemed hotter and sultrier than ever. We were all seated
out in the verandah, men-folk smoking, and aunt and Aileen fanning
themselves and fighting the insects, when suddenly a low and ominous
rumbling was heard which made us all start except Moncrieff.
Is it thunder? No; there is not at present a cloud in the sky, although a
strange dark haze is gathering over the peaks on the western horizon.
'Look!' said Moncrieff to me. As he spoke he pointed groundwards. Beetles
and ants and crawling insects of every description were heading for the
verandah, seeking shelter from the coming storm.
The strange rumbling grew louder!
It was not coming from the sky, but from the earth!
-----
[8] Pampero, a storm wind that blows from the south.
[9] For-fochten = worn out. The term usually applies to
barn-yard roosters, who have been settling a quarrel, and
pause to pant, with their heads towards the ground.
[10] Swans usually commence laying some time before either
ducks or geese; but much depends upon the season.