CHAPTER V
SHOWING HIS METTLE
There was a calm air of self-possession about Dudley Compton as he stood in front of the rancho building on the following morning, his native saddle at his feet and his gun across his shoulder. For he had every reason to be pleased with the way in which his fortunes were progressing. He had worked hard, till every bone in his body ached, and till his knees were chafed and raw. He had persevered until even the exacting Mr. Blunt was favorably impressed with his riding.
"Few would consider him to be a gringo now," reflected his employer, as he watched his young friend out of the tail of his eye. "He is well set up, carries his new clothes as if he had been born in them, and can get about as if spurs had grown on his heels as a natural appendage. He ought to do well. The gauchos view him with favor, except that fellow Giono. I don't like the man, and never have. There is something mysterious about him. However, there he is, and Dudley must go through the trial they have arranged for him, for trial there will be as sure as I stand here. A gringo must always be tested."
A few minutes later a dozen of the gauchos employed on the estancia came round the corner of the building, and strode up to our hero. They were a rough but a good-looking and pleasant lot of men. All were dressed in the same sort of costume as Dudley wore. They carried revolvers at their hips, and hunting knives in their belts, and some of them had a coil of rope, with the bolas attached, slung over the shoulder. As they looked at the young Englishman, all save one were bound to confess that he was a fine-looking fellow.
"He will be one of us, surely," said Pietro, their leader, beneath his breath. "He may be a gringo, but he is not soft; that I will swear. Now, Giono, you can take a better look at the señor. Does the arrangement still hold?"
Giono, who was taller than his companions, was a raw-boned, dusky individual, with deep-set eyes and a protruding lower jaw, which gave him the appearance of being vindictive. He was a surly, silent fellow, and was known by his comrades to be somewhat short-tempered. This was an evil reputation to have amongst gauchos, a class of men who were exceedingly polite to one another whenever possible, though at other times they had violent and bitter quarrels. Dudley did not know them yet, but those who worked with them could tell how these fine horsemen of the pampas, with their strain of Spanish blood, could be as tender as women to one another, and then would draw their knives and engage in conflicts which too often resulted in the death of more than one of the combatants. In short, they cultivated a native politeness for the simple reason that ungainliness and a surly manner led to trouble, and a man, however pugnacious, could not be forever fighting, or hope always to be victorious.
"Pietro is thinking tenderly of his gun," was Giono's harsh rejoinder as he scowled at Dudley. "He wishes to make excuses for this English pup. Good! I am willing to accept a fine of some sort. Give me a hunting knife, Pietro, and we will cry quits. But is it not a pity? This señor stands as if he owned the ground on which his heels rest, and lets all the world see his revolver. If he carries one, surely he can shoot, or else why have the weapon?"
"Bueno! You will have the match," was the answer, given very suavely, for Pietro knew the man with whom he had to deal, and he had no wish to experience his rough temper. "Good, Giono, we will speak to the señor. As to the rifle, it is yours if you can win it. I have no fears of our gringo. Señor," he said, coming up to Dudley, "Señor, we have had a little discussion amongst ourselves, and I, who think I know a man when I see him, have boasted that you can shoot. We hear that you have courage, for you have saved our master. Now we wish to see whether you can use your revolver. Giono here declares that you are a novice. He is even risking his rifle, to show that he considers himself a better judge than I am."
"To show that he is sure of his statement," growled the gaucho, striding up to the two, and towering over Dudley as if he would impress him with his superior proportions. "I said that a gringo was always a gringo; that because he could scramble on to a saddle he was not therefore a horseman, nor without fear of horses. As to the revolver, why, there are men, and boys too, to be found who carry them to gain a fine appearance. You understand? A boy feels grand when decked up in the clothes of a gaucho."