Roughriders of the Pampas: A Tale of Ranch Life in South America

by F. S. Brereton

"Care! Of course we shall share the work," sang out Dudley briskly. "We are not going to lie under our saddles and sleep all through the night when a watch has to be kept. It will do us good to take our turn. Divide the men into three lots of three, then, Pepito, placing the señor here with one batch, yourself with another, and myself with the last. We will watch for two hours, and then the guards will be changed."

He waved his hand to show that the interview was over, and then watched as Harold made his preparations for the evening meal. The young fellow set to work with a will, for camp cooking was an art which had attracted his attention since he came to the pampas. Up till then he could hardly have prepared a rasher of bacon had he been asked, but the days he had spent away on the estancia with Dudley, when raw provisions were carried in their haversacks, and had to be cooked before they could be eaten, had taught him not a little, and the lad was beginning to pride himself upon his ability. Selecting a hollow down by the stream which ran close beside the camp, he and the man told off to help him erected a fireplace with boulders taken from the bed of the stream, and, breaking open a cartridge, damped a portion of the powder, setting fire to the train of dry grains which led to it by means of a flint and steel, for matches in those days were very precious out there on the pampas. Driftwood from the bank of the stream had already been piled over the powder, and very soon there was a merry blaze. Cooking pots were now produced, and for an hour, while Dudley and Pepito were busily superintending the watering, feeding, and grooming of the horses, the two cooks went on with their work.

"Roast deer, grilled bones, bread and coffee," shouted Harold at length, appearing before Dudley in his shirt sleeves. "Dinner is ready and waiting."

"And so are we. Bring the boys, Pepito," sang out Dudley. "Let us get the meal over before it is dark. Then the men will have time for a smoke before turning in."

Out there on the pampas, when the first streak of light found the camps astir, and the rising of the sun often enough discovered the gauchos, already breakfasted, their horses watered and fed, and themselves mounted and away after the cattle, a man did not as a rule wish to sit up late after darkness had fallen. Candles, like matches, were scarce, and, besides, the strenuous life, and the fresh open air, always had their effect. The gauchos worked hard from cock-crow till nightfall, and then, having supped and smoked a pipe, they were content to fall asleep, as if they were children, and make the utmost of the hours of darkness. Scarcely an hour, therefore, after their meal was ended, the camp was wrapped in silence, eight long figures lying beneath blankets under the shelter of as many saddles, while on the four sides, spread out some two hundred yards from the camp, rode the comrades who were on guard. Gaunt and weird, too, did these latter look as the light of a small crescent of the moon fell upon their figures. Each man was wrapped in his poncho, which belled out all round him, falling sometimes even lower than his knees. Wide-brimmed hats were pulled well over the ears, and in every case a thin rod stuck up above the shoulder and head, standing out prominently against the light of the moon, and showing plainly that the gaucho carried arms. Sometimes the sturdy fellows would sit like statues, watching and listening, while their mounts, seeming to understand what was expected of them, would stand without so much as a move, waiting, like the patient and well-trained beasts they were, for the word of their masters. Perhaps a low whistle would sound across the camp, and at once the men on guard would lift their heads and would amble across to where the call had originated, only to retire again within a minute. For the whistle was a signal, and a prompt answer to it told the one who had given it that his comrades were awake and alert.

"The two hours is ended. The señor takes the guard."

The tall figure of Pepito bent over our hero, and with a start he was awake.

"Two hours gone!" he exclaimed, as he rubbed his eyes. "Why, I lay down only a minute ago! There is some mistake."

"There is none, señor. Two full hours have passed, and you have slept all the while. I know that, for I crossed close to you many times. The horses are sleeping peacefully, señor, and there is nothing to report. The moon falls in two hours more, so you will know when to rouse the other guard."

It was true. Dudley sprang to his feet, threw his poncho over his shoulder, and ran off with his saddle to where the horses were picketed. Two minutes later he and his three gauchos took up their guard, and patrolled round the camp. It was a new experience to our hero, and many a time that night did he see an enemy in some bush across the stream, which on quiet investigation proved to be a shadow. For he was like the young soldier taking sentry duty soon after joining the ranks, who finds this unaccustomed work at first somewhat trying. However, nothing startling occurred during the night, and when the sun flashed across the pampas on the following morning it found the camp broken up, and Dudley and his escort well on their way.