As the Señor Stanley was an Englishman, his house interested Francisco in spite of his weariness. It was fitted with every luxury of a high class English home; the baths being supplied with cool spring water which flowed through them constantly. There were handsomely furnished parlours, a well-filled library and a billiard room. The stables were commodious and sanitary; and the tennis courts and golf links, gardens and patios were numerous.
In the corrals they found several hundred men gathered and there was much confusion and noise.
It was Sunday and therefore a holiday spirit pervaded everything, for Sunday is not observed in Argentina as a day of quiet and reverence; it is the day for sports, games and excursions. This sale had been set for Sunday to insure a large attendance.
First, breakfast was served. Under a long arbour, formed by tall eucalyptus trees, the table, fully a hundred feet in length, had been set. At each place was a bunch of flowers and a bottle of native wine.
Despite his aching body, Francisco did full justice to the soup, barbecued meats and fowls, vegetables and fruits that were served. But after he had eaten he crept under the shade of one of the trees to rest.
He fell asleep and slept until his uncle wakened him at máte time.
"Hello, my boy! Slept through all of this noise? You were certainly exhausted, for such a clatter as there has been. One hundred thousand dollars and many pedigreed animals have changed hands, and it wasn't done quietly either. We will have our máte and then ride home in the cool of the evening. Come." And the Colonel helped the stiff jointed, weary boy to his feet.
FOOTNOTES:
[13] It makes hot, literally.
[14] Blankets.