"THE TACURU."
No. 2.
Sunday, March 27th, 1910.
The party did not sit up late last night; they had a short talk on the verandah for the sake of digestion, and then all retired to bed, but alas! not to rest. Foolishly they had imagined that mosquitoes were things of the past, and no nets were put up, with the result that one and all soon learnt that for fresh blood and newcomers there was a plethora of these little demons waiting with their irritating song, sting, and bite: from some of the party we learn complaints of other songs, more human, and more nasal, and it is believed that it was Our Guest who was heard at midnight to be murmuring the chorus of a favourite song, viz., "Hush, boys! No noise! Silence ebryting! Listen, and you'll hear de little angels sing." At least it says "angels" in the song, but the word Our Guest used sounded like "demons," but probably he was dreaming of the "ping" of bullets and the roar of battle as the snores resounded through the room, or, one might almost say, through the house. Very early this morning there were cries for The Chaperon: he was wanted to tell the time; he was wanted to bring water for ablutions; he was wanted to tell us when breakfast would be ready; he was wanted to give advice or remedies for mosquito bites, and, in general, for a short space of time, he justified his existence. When at last the members of the party had collected themselves from all sorts of odd corners, coffee (with the addition of bacon and eggs, and several other things) was served, and the interval, before the order "All aboard" was issued, was chiefly occupied in observing and discussing the effects of our first night's experience of bichos. Our Guest, after due deliberation, laid down some useful rules for future guidance, the chief being, "Never be without a Mosquitero": his face and head were literally enlarged on this point, and he assured us that a mosquito's proboscis is an impressive point. Apparently The Kid, too, would have liked to give her views on mosquitoes and their ways, but her uninteresting remarks were cut short by The Wild Man's order of "kennel up," and, given a bottle of cana, she seemed quite happy. Our Guest seemed to have an impression, also, that someone had blundered. He knew someone had slumbered (some had not), and plaintively he begged that he might be allowed in future to sleep at one estancia further ahead of the rest of the party.
Most of the nomads had had some slapping acquaintance with mosquitoes during the night, and the showing of bites, swellings, lumps, etc., only ended when The Jehu ordered the bugle to be sounded for an onward move. We were well under way before half the lamentations had been entered in the station complaint book.
Bidding adieu to Polvareda, where the green fields of alfalfa show the march of progress, we pushed forward, but as we left we were unable to decide whether it was a desire to escape observation (and, perhaps, the too-effusive thanks of the lady members of the party), or a violent toothache, which caused our host to conceal himself in a huge blanket wrapped around his head as we left, but we fear it was toothache that necessitated the extra wrappings.
The Green Fields of Alfalfa.
We had not gone far on our journey before we crossed the bridge over Las Conchas. The manager of the next section met us soon afterwards, and we inspected the cattle on his domains. On our way from Polvareda to Michelot we passed the emporium of the Universal Provider of the North, in other words, "the stores," where most of the necessities and many of the luxuries of life can be obtained. The Saint can never resist the desire of a bargain, and others of the party were anxious to see all that the stores contained, so we made a halt and inundated the building, where everything was extraordinarily neat and clean, shelves piled high with bales of bright-coloured cottons, cloths, and handkerchiefs; hats hanging in long lines, brilliant saddle-cloths, pipes, knives, tobacco, axes, leather goods and harness, every variety of tinned foods, barrels of flour, sugar, etc., all arranged with precision, and showing cleanliness and method at every turn. Some men were sitting on the benches, smoking and drinking and chatting together, for apparently "the stores" constitutes the local rendezvous and news agency for miles around.
The Saint at once made purchases, for no place is stamped on her memory unless she has spent money there. She wanted to make the whole party presents of hats, handkerchiefs, or pipes, but she was restrained, and ultimately satisfied her generosity by choosing the best saddle-cloth the establishment could supply, and one or two hats. We went into the living-rooms of the storekeeper, and found the same attractive neatness there. A gramophone occupied a side table, and skins and pictures were hanging on the walls. The storekeeper's wife and her sister were attractive Englishwomen; there were two or three children running about, but none of them could speak anything but their father's native language. After this inspection we drove on, and we are glad to be able to register the fact that Our Guest for once acted up to the first part of the old adage, "Earn sixpence a day and live up to it." The Jehu's coach had stayed behind for a while, to allow The Instigator to observe and note a great many things which were no business of his at all, and the peons had likewise remained, but The Saint, having fulfilled her mission of purchasing whenever possible, was content, and anxious to get on to the Section house for a rest before her afternoon ride, so The Chaperon drove on with his coach, and we are assured, on what we consider good authority, that when Our Guest perceived a closed gate in the way, and no peon at hand, he leapt from the carriage (perhaps "flew" would be a better word) and opened that gate. Possibly he had been fired with ambition to earn money while inspecting those crimson and blue handkerchiefs at the stores, for we know he appreciates "colours"; but, whatever his motive, he did open that gate, and let it be recorded to the honour of his fellow-passengers that his action was not allowed to pass unappreciated or unrewarded. When all the party were collected at Michelot estancia house, lunch was served on the verandah by a dour-looking Oriental, who apparently combined the duties of cook and parlourmaid in his own somewhat yellow person, and very well he performed his task, but as he went silently about his business of serving this large party, which he did with a slow precision and apparent utter disregard of his master's orders, he reminded us irresistibly of the soi-disant American definition of "Life," and we began to wonder whether it were not a Chinaman who summed up existence in the words, "After all, Life is only one d——d thing after another."
Herd of Cattle.
A short siesta followed lunch, and after an early tea everyone mounted horses or carriages and went forth to see the sights of the Section—everyone, that is to say, save The Chaperon, who had other work to do; he it was who discovered and averted what might have been a disaster. Some members of the party were quite content as long as they were given three cups of tea, others fancied cocktails, and some babbled for cocoa. It was suddenly found that the supply of this last useful article was running short. The Kid not being a cocoa-drinker, casually suggested filling up the tin with tannin extract or dust; she said "it looked the same and nobody need smell it," but The Chaperon declined to resort to subterfuges and rode off to the stores to supply a deficiency caused by his own lack of attention.
At Michelot, as at Polvareda, great progress has been made of late years, alfalfa laid down, fences and wells made, and the cattle are improving yearly. Our last sight, before the inspection for the day was finished, was a wonderful rodeo of 3,000 cattle, which we viewed from the vantage point of the banks of a newly made reservoir. It was a striking picture, which will not easily be erased from the memory of those who saw it. The cattle, with their long continuous lowing, were rounded up below us, and away on the horizon the sun was setting with the glory one never sees better elsewhere than over a plain, leaving, as it rapidly sank from sight, marvellous shades of gold and crimson on the fantastically shaped clouds. Save for the animals and their drivers just around us, the whole vast space seemed so still and empty, yet on every hand were traces of man's labour and skill, conquering a tract of land which was almost valueless a few short years back.
On our return to the house we found dinner for us on the verandah. This was a delightfully cool method of taking food, but rather apt to attract beasties, and although the philosophers and friends of the party arranged the lights to keep away insects as much as possible, and succeeded in their efforts, some members of the party preferred to take no risks and dined with veils wrapped around their heads, only leaving their mouths available. The Wild Man caused some excitement before we sat down to dinner by introducing us to a beast he called a "railway insect." It certainly strongly resembled a railway train, with its green light on its head, red at the tail, and luminous yellow lights all over its caterpillar-like body; it was a most interesting discovery, and the Wild Man went up in everyone's estimation for a few minutes. The Oriental again served us with silent steadiness. It was suggested that one of our "boys" should assist him in the task of waiting on the party of twelve, but notwithstanding the fact that he had been told he might kick round any boy he chose to make an assistant, he waived aside all outside help with the words "no good," and continued on his way imperturbably.
The Instigator, with The Delineator and The Jehu, had a long discussion after dinner on various Argentine subjects too deep for the ordinary mortal, though The Wild Man and The Chaperon seemed to be trying to take an intelligent interest in the conversation. Our Guest sat silent, looked sad, and on being offered a penny for his thoughts, he murmured that he was wondering whether he would be allowed any sleep to-night. Doubtless he felt wearied, because, as it is Sunday, The Chaperon had been allowed to take a half-day off for his own amusements, and Our Guest, perhaps stimulated by his financial success of the morning, offered to fulfil the duties of chaperon during his absence; but we regret to say that we cannot candidly advise Our Guest to take up chaperoning as a means of livelihood, for though willing and tactful, he lacks the long training and apprenticeship necessary for continual service in this arduous work.
The ladies seemed happier, for they had noted the mosquito nets over each bed in their room, and they looked forward to a peaceful night. We had our usual communication with Our Hostess over the telephone before retiring, and received and gave satisfactory reports from both sides.
A correspondent wishes to know if any of our readers can name the author of these lines:—
"Heaven gives sleep to the bad, in order that the good may be undisturbed." He would also like to know if this generally accepted quotation is quite correct, or whether the "un" is a misprint. Replies to "O.G.," c/o THE TACURU.
Owing to the innumerable applications which we have received for advertising space in our widely circulated periodical, we have decided to open our columns to advertisements at the rate of 50 cents per line, applications to be sent to "The Advertisement Editor," THE TACURU Offices, c/o The Jehu, First Coach. All orders must be prepaid.
ADVERTISEMENTS.
WANTED.—Bricklayers who can build straight.—Apply Manager, Michelot.
RIDING TAUGHT by a lady, side-saddle or astride; fees go to Charity.—Apply "T.S.," c/o TACURU Offices.
BOOT CLEANING undertaken in best style. Gents', per pair, $1; Ladies', per pair, for the asking.—Orders received by "T.C.," Offices of this Paper.