Francisco laughed. "Why, Uncle Juan, you couldn't miss St. John's day unless you were deaf and blind. They make such a noise and have such huge bonfires always. For weeks before it comes the children save every piece of wood and paper, and last St. John's night I stood on our roof and looked over the city. My! how pretty it looked; the whole city seemed on fire; for nearly every street had half a dozen bonfires. I wish my saint was as popular. But to-day, I want to ask if I may go home just for a little while."
"Indeed you may, lad, whenever you choose."
"Well, you see, to-day, I've a special errand, Uncle; I've been making a pesebre for Elena and it's finished now just in time. I would like to go and set it up."
"Let me see it," said the Colonel.
"Oh, it's fine, Uncle. I've got twenty-eight figures and the paint is dry on every one of them. I worked all day yesterday in the back patio, and José, the portero, helped me cut out the camels. He said mine looked like giraffes." And the boy began to lay them out on the desk, tenderly lifting each one as though they were alive and breathing.
As each little representation took its place in the long row the Colonel's face grew tender. He dared not smile at their crudity for behind the rough, unskilful carving, he saw the ideal that had been in the carver's mind. He was seeing some new thing each day in the little fellow's character that made him love him more; and when they were all placed formally together, he drew the little linen coated figure into the circle of his arm and together they discussed the merits of each wee wooden figure.
"Niño, we will go together! That's what we'll do," he exclaimed almost boyishly. "I am tired of these long army statistics, so let us go inmediatamente."
A span of Argentine thoroughbreds took them this time, for the Colonel was a genuine lover of horse flesh, and he owned several of the finest in the country. It is said that an Argentine will lavish as much care on his favourite horse as a mother will upon her child; and these two, Saturnino and Val-d'Or, were the pride of his heart.
"This pair, Francisco," he began, as they took their seats in the open victoria, and the silver studded harness tinkled as the splendid horses started off; "this pair are to be taken abroad next month with my two trotters, Benita and Malacaro. Our horses are attracting more and more attention in Europe as they see the fine specimens our stables are sending there.
"I shall enter them on the English turf, and I am ready to hazard their price that they will come back, at least one of them, with a blue riband. At any rate, I am sure there are no finer appearing horses anywhere than these; but all of our horses are good to look at. Of course, I except those miserable cab horses; they are a disgrace to their name, and should be called sheep."