A CRUISE IN NORTHERN MEXICO.--V.
"Now, boys! now, boys! now, boys! Who--oop! Up you get, now; up you get!
No loafing! ----and -- --! We ain't going to stop here all day! Come!
it'll be sun-up directly! I'll be -- -- -- if some of you chaps wouldn't
sleep round the clock!" cried McGrew, turning out of his blankets at
Ramos.
Those were busy days at Corralitos, and long before daylight the cattle
manager's voice was raised thus. Ramos was one of the outlying ranches
on the property, of which there were four. One lay to the north of the
_hacienda_, and governed the approaches to the ranch from Janos and
Ascension; one to the south afforded an effectual check on the formerly
unimpeded and consequently free attentions which the good folks of Casas
Grandes had been accustomed to devote to Corralitos beef; Barrancas
(the ruins of an old mining village) was situated a few miles from
Corralitos, and was used as a dairy ranch; Ramos itself lay to the west,
on a stream that issued from springs in the foot-hills of the Sierra
Madre, and in the neighbourhood of grazing which would make an imported
cow that had once seen it sing, "It was a dream," for ever afterwards.
Few cattle ran on the eastern half of the Corralitos property, and those
few were worked from the San Pedro mining camp or from the main
_hacienda_.
Ramos, once a village, had been one of the oldest settlements in the
district, but, "cleaned out" many years ago by Apaches, had never
recovered its former importance. At present it consisted of a few more
or less ruined adobes (occupied by the _vaqueros_ and their families),
which formed with the neighbouring corrals, the old church, and the mill
that supplied Corralitos with flour, a large square or _plaza_.
A hurried breakfast of coffee, jerked beef, and corn-cake over, every
one repaired to the horse corral, into which the cow ponies, about a
hundred and fifty in number, had already been driven. Clouds of dust
rose in the air as they careered madly round and round in a band, or
checked, confused, and scattered, halted, and with ears pricked and
manes and tails flying, shied and dodged nervously amidst a score of
whirling lassoes. Here they were kicking and biting one another; here,
fighting wildly at the end of hair or raw-hide ropes; here, with wisdom
born of experience, following quietly after being captured.
In the _plaza_, too, the scene was a busy one. Before every door there
were signs of preparation. It might be that a _vaquero_ was vainly
coaxing a colt that backed and backed steadily as he attempted to
approach it with saddle or bridle; was taking a last reef in the
horse-hair _sincha_ or girth; coiling his lasso, or fastening it to the
pommel of the saddle; bending to accept a light for his cigarette from
the brand that his dark-eyed wife had brought to the door. There were
men in every condition of endeavouring to mount restive horses; and
horses in every stage of enjoying their morning buck; whilst mingled
with such brutes were a few corn-fed favourites, whose manners and
appearance were of a different type altogether. Women were standing
about amongst the men; and future _vaqueros_ clung to their skirts, or,
having outgrown this support, emulated their fathers and swung little
ropes, trying to capture every cock and hen, pig or dog, that came
within their reach.
Having "saddled up," the crowd moved towards the big corral. The gate
poles were shifted; the great herd of steers already collected streamed
slowly out, and pointed in the direction in which it was intended that
it should graze during the day, was allowed to string out on the plain.
A few men were detached to follow and hold it; and the rest, under
McGrew's direction, split up into small parties and scattered over the
country to "cut out" and bring in, from amongst the cattle they saw, all
the yearling and two-year-old steers. It was not always easy to turn
these youngsters, and many a short, sharp burst we had over broken
ground where a false step would have occasioned immeasurable grief.
Fortunately, however, the nags were sure-footed. Such scenes as these
recalled many of poor Gordon's lines, and one verse with but slight
alteration absolutely describes such a day's work:
"'Twas merry in the glowing morn among the gleaming grass,
To wander as we wandered many a mile,
And blow the cool tobacco cloud, and watch the white wreaths pass,
Sitting loosely in the saddle all the while.
"'Twas merry 'mid the _foot-hills_ when we spied the _Ramos_ roofs,
To wheel the wild scrub cattle at the yard,
With a running fire of stock-whips, and a fiery run of hoofs;
Oh! the hardest day was never then too hard."
In and out amongst the foot-hills we wound and reconnoitred, gathering
steers. Where it was found difficult to separate from the bunch with
which they ran those of the ages that we required, cows, calves, and
bulls were driven along with them and turned in with the others, to be
dropped one by one as they endeavoured naturally to escape on the way
back to Ramos. In the evening, before mingling the new bands with the
herd already held, the few cattle of wrong sex or age that remained
amongst the steers were cut out and driven off. As soon as the "round
up" was completed, the herd was taken down to the _hacienda_ where the
branding was to take place.
The following was a gala week at Corralitos. Every man or boy who could
beg, borrow, or steal a rope presented himself to take part in the
proceedings. As their services were in most cases dispensed with, they
sat in flocks on the walls of the corral, and added to the din of shouts
and bellowing with their cries and applause. Women, in their best
attire, mounted the roofs of houses that dominated the arena, and
watched the scene with as much interest as if it had been a bull-fight.
And truth to tell, it was not always devoid of excitement. These young
Mexican cattle were as wild and quick as mustangs, and in the band of
between a hundred and a hundred and thirty that occupied the branding
corral at a time, there were always four or five, often more, that were
as wicked as wild cats. In the old-fashioned and narrow enclosure it was
difficult sometimes to escape their rushes. But fortunately, although a
good many men were knocked down, no one was seriously hurt, a dozen
_vaqueros_ being always ready to lasso or draw the "fighting steer's"
attention from the prostrate individual.
At one end of the corral, near the gate, and the fire for the
branding-irons, were a couple of "snubbing-posts;" at the other the
cattle remained crowded together when not disturbed. When steers were
required two or three men would go in amongst them swinging their
_lariats_, and endeavouring to separate a bunch of ten or a dozen to
drive towards the posts. Generally, however, they divided off thirty or
forty head, sometimes many more, and not unfrequently the whole herd
would stampede, and thunder round and round the yard. As they passed, a
dozen _lariats_ would be launched at them. Perhaps one of the foremost
steers would be lassoed round the horns, and his captor succeed in
bending the other end of his _riata_ round one of the posts; sometimes
two steers would be noosed at once, and both ropes hitched to the same
post, whilst the herd that followed them would rush on and fall over the
tense ropes, a writhing, struggling mass of frantic animals. The noise,
the dust, and confusion at such a juncture was indescribable. One by one
the steers would extricate themselves, and amidst the "swoosh" of
whirling ropes, the bellowing of their fellow cattle, and the cries of
the _vaqueros_, would make a few false points or feints from side to
side, and spring away to the other end of the corral. Kicking and
rearing frantically, as they entangled themselves and one another more
and more inextricably in the ropes that held them, the two steers that
remained would struggle on, until in answer to the shout, "La cola! la
cola!" gripped by the tails, they were turned adroitly on their sides,
and covered by half-a-dozen fellows holding horns, legs, and tail, and
all vociferating, "Hierro! hierro!" With a diamond A iron Murray would
hasten from the fire then, and set the Colonel's mark upon the right
hip; whilst with a Corralitos brand, similar to that already borne by
them on the hip, McGrew would follow and score the opposite
shoulder--thus venting, or neutralising the meaning of the brand
altogether.
Not every one who had secured a steer succeeded in attaching his lasso
to a snubbing-post. Under these circumstances, leaning back, with his
feet set forward, the luckless one was dragged, sliding, after the rest
of the herd. Sometimes the steer got away with the rope; sometimes its
owner fell, and still clinging to it, was tugged about through dust six
inches deep, until, in answer to his agonised cries of "Otra soga! otra
soga!" his companions came to his assistance, and entangled in a network
of _lariats_, the two-year-old was brought to ground, or taken to a
snubbing-post.
When three or four were being marked at the same time, the order was,
"No las suelten!" until the last one was finished, lest those who were
occupied with steers as yet unbranded should be taken at a disadvantage
by those loosed. But at a given signal the men would all rise together,
dodge behind the posts, make for the walls, or clinging to the tails of
the newly-marked victims, start them fairly towards the rest of the
herd. Amongst the better _vaqueros_ it was a point of honour not to
mount a wall, unless absolutely obliged to do so. But brought up from
earliest childhood amongst cattle, as these fellows are, they display a
degree of confidence and address in a corral which is the best refuge
they can have. I saw one deep-chested, gorilla-built fellow, when
charged in mid-corral, wait coolly for the young steer, catch him by the
horns with both hands, and giving back a little presently check him
altogether. A second later he sprang aside, brought his lasso down on
the flanks of the animal, and with a shout started him on again.
Frequently, instead of quitting them when they were turned loose, the
boys would sit astride of the steers they had been holding, and "stay
with them" as they went bucking down the corral towards their fellows,
until the proximity of these latter warned the riders to roll off and
"dust."
Throughout the whole proceedings with a running fire of "Carambas!
carajos!" etc., the air was filled with the warning shouts, "Cuidado!
cuidado! El Prieto! El Pinto! or El Colorado!" as now a black, now a
piebald, now a red steer, that "meant business," left the herd and
charged some one, amidst the laughter and applause of the onlookers.
Some really fast times were made over short distances; Britton Davis and
I distinguishing ourselves in this particular occasionally. As for the
Colonel and Joe, they sat upon the wall and chaffed us, the former
keeping tally of the ages and number of the cattle branded, in
conjunction with a representative of the Corralitos Company.
The foregoing proceedings are not mentioned as in any way typical of
what would take place on a well-ordered ranch in the States, where
things were worked systematically and carefully. No attempt had been
made until quite recently to train the Mexican hands employed on the
Corralitos ranch, and they were consequently extremely rough in their
style of handling cattle. Lassoing steers by the fore-legs when they are
running, in order to have the satisfaction of seeing them turn a
complete somersault, may commend itself to the mind of the untutored
Mexican cow-puncher, but it is dangerous, and as a rule forbidden where
broken legs, broken horns, etc., are taken into consideration. The
Mexicans in California are amongst the finest cow-hands in the United
States, and although they are a better type of men as a rule than those
in Sonora, Chihuahua, and Cohuila, there is no reason why in course of
time the latter should not become good workmen also.
During this week work commenced in the corral at day-break, and about a
hundred steers were branded before the triangle rang for breakfast.
Recommencing shortly after nine, branding was continued until dinner at
12.30. In the afternoons, Lieut. Britton Davis, the manager, and I,
generally forsook the corrals and went duck-shooting.
The duck-shooting at Corralitos was very good and extremely easy. Any
day--at any rate during winter--a fair shot with two guns could have
killed fifty or sixty couple. We never went out until the afternoon, and
then, in the course of two or three hours, killed about twenty or
twenty-five couple--that, too, in the constantly-disturbed home reaches
of the river. The variety of ducks here was scarcely less remarkable
than their number.
Accompanied by a retriever in the form of a boy mounted on an old pony,
we either walked along the banks under cover of the cotton-woods or
willow-trees, or sitting down, directed our attendant to make circuits
of a few hundred yards and drive the birds to us. In either case we saw
far more than we required.
I was sitting smoking one afternoon on one of the brick seats outside
the offices, in the Calle de los Alamos, when a company of Mexican
soldiers marched in from Casas Grandes. They looked so perfectly "fit"
after their dusty tramp of twenty-six miles in a hot sun, that I was
remarking on it, when half-a-dozen women, some of whom carried infants,
and all of whom had children trotting beside them, came literally
"sailing" in after them. They were the wives of some of the men, and
they and their children had travelled the same distance in the same
manner. It would seem that the walking powers of the Mexican are second
only to those of the Apache, and if what I heard of them was correct,
Mexican soldiers are immeasurably superior in this respect to any other
regular soldiers that I know of. It was no unusual thing, I was told,
for troops to march in a day from Casas Grandes to a mining camp near
the north-east corner of the Corralitos property (the name of which I
have forgotten), the distance being forty-five miles over a rough trail.
I have heard it asserted two or three times in open company, without
question, that during the war between Mexico and the States, 22,000 men
under General Santa Ana marched twenty leagues in twenty-four hours, and
then fought all day at Buena Vista, doing this extraordinary work on a
little parched corn, ground and soaked in water with a little sugar.
Averse though he may be, therefore, to continuous labour, the Mexican is
able to exert himself to some purpose "upon a compelling occasion."
Whether it was that the bare discussion of these feats made some of us
thirsty, I know not, but an amicable rivalry in the manufacture of milk
punches sprang up in the store that afternoon, with the result that one
of the manufacturers had to be assisted to bed before supper-time. He
vowed of course on the following day, that it was "the milk that did
it." It always is the "milk," or the "lemon," or the "sugar," or
something of that kind.
_A propos_ of the store, by the way, one of the assistants there, a very
handsome and gentlemanly boy, was named Ponce de Leon. It seemed odd to
find a namesake of the celebrated Marquess of Cadiz--the light of
Andalusian chivalry and pride of Ferdinand and Isabella's court, the
captor of Alhama and leading figure in the reconquest of
Granada--serving out coffee or sugar for a few cents to peasants. But
many a name that rings in Spanish history is borne in Mexico by men
quite as insignificantly placed as this.
I had drifted out of the noisy store into the cool, quiet Calle de los
Alamos, and was standing talking to Joe when an ambulance containing
three Americans drove up. As they descended it appeared that one of them
was handcuffed and manacled. The prisoner was Sam Rider, who had been
captured by Mexican soldiers in a small village further south, after a
desperate struggle in a little wine-shop, and was now returning in
charge of the Marshal of Georgetown to be tried for killing the Deputy
there. It is not easy to swagger under the embarrassment of handcuffs
and irons, but Sam made a desperate effort to appear unconcerned. Before
he left next morning I took the opportunity of giving him Squito's
message.
"'He knows!' I know? What do I know?" and the man's bold, dark,
prominent, and rather glassy eyes looked perplexedly in mine. Suddenly a
light of intelligence grew in them, and I could see that he had caught
the girl's meaning. He shrugged his shoulders irritably, and was silent
for a moment. "Oh, ----! D--n Squito! It seems like she'd coppered[40]
me. Ever since she----since I seen that gal, luck's gone dead against
me. If you see Squito, tell her I don't 'know' nothing--and don't want.
Blast Squito!"
Poor little Squito! It was hardly worth while that her first love should
have been wasted thus. What wonder that
"----our frothed out life's commotion
Settles down to Ennui's ocean"
as often as it does!
Full of regret at leaving so delightful a place, and of gratitude for
the exceeding kindness and hospitality that we received at the hands of
Lieut. Britton Davis and his associates, we took our departure from
Corralitos as soon as we had seen the herd of steers started. We almost
had to leave Joe behind. As usual, he wore us out waiting whilst he
looked about for some more old women and children to tip. On the return
journey, we made a detour by a couple of extremely pretty ranches
belonging to Mr. Scobell, and Lord Deleval Beresford and Mr. Corbet, but
finally arrived again at Ascension, where we were received effusively by
Don Juan Carrion.
FOOTNOTE:
[40] To "copper" a stake at faro, is to cover it with a small check,
which signifies that the card selected is backed to lose, not win.