"It takes a little time to get accustomed to such big bits of metal on one's heels," laughed Mr. Blunt. "A man looks very foolish if he happens to trip; and besides, a rowel can inflict a nasty wound on one's foot. Once we are off you can put them on, and practise walking with them, and when we reach our port you will feel more at home with them. I will see that you have a quiet horse, and can leave it to you to swing yourself into the saddle as if you had been at it all your life. Your poncho will always be strapped to the back of the saddle."
Some ten days later they arrived at the up-country port at which they were to disembark, Dudley being amazed at the size of the River Paraná. By then he was well accustomed to his new outfit, and was able to walk with ease and certainty in spite of his spurs. They went ashore, checked their goods, and handed them over to a party of gauchos who had come from the rancho to meet their employer.
"They will load them up on pack horses and come through after us," said Mr. Blunt. "Now, Dudley, this horse will suit you, and the stirrup leathers are, I should say, of a suitable length. Remember to keep your toes in, and your spurs clear of the flanks, or he will soon tell you that you are a novice. Pick up your reins, take a grip of his mane with the fingers of the same hand, and then tuck your toe into the stirrup. A little effort will carry you into the saddle, when you will easily get your other stirrup by a little manipulation. On no account place it on your toe with your hand."
The group of gauchos, dusky-faced and well-set-up fellows, who had come to meet Mr. Blunt, stood watching the two as they mounted. Their keen eyes had so far detected nothing about our hero save his youth, and perhaps the newness of his costume. They looked on critically as he went up to his horse, put his fingers beneath the girth to see that it was secure, and then patted the animal. Dudley was not going to be hurried, though he felt all those eyes on him. He picked up his reins, just as he had been taught to do at home, twisted a few locks of the long mane round his finger, and then put his toe in the stirrup. After that it was simple work to mount, and in less time than it takes to tell of it he was astride the saddle, and by good luck his other toe had found its stirrup.
"Bueno! He has ridden, but he is a gringo for all that," exclaimed one of the gauchos. "What is this tale of the master's?"
"The lad rescued him from a shark. Leaped into the water, and tore the brute's tail to shreds. He has pluck!"
"He will suit us, comrades," chimed in another. "I have asked the hands aboard, and they say that he has good manners, that he speaks politely to all, and that he is no duffer. There is a tale that he can shoot."
At that they pricked up their ears, for a gringo might ride fairly well, he might have ample pluck, but shoot!—no, that was an art learned only on the pampas.
"I will give my rifle to you, Pietro," growled one of their number, a rough-looking fellow. "Listen, I will give you my rifle if this gringo can hit the pith ball of a bolas placed on a fence thirty paces distant. That is, with the revolver. Anyone could do it with a rifle."
"And I will return the gift," came the answer. "I know nothing for sure, mark you, amigo, but the young señor is a good fellow, and he will try to win for me. Bueno! We will set to work to pack the animals."