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

by F. S. Brereton

"He is a youth, it is true, comrades," Pietro had said on one occasion when the new manager was under discussion, "he was a gringo only a little while ago, but, I ask, is there here a man who could draw on him and hope to be alive within a minute?"

"There is not one," came the emphatic answer from a comrade. "And yet, I declare that that is wrong after all; for our young master, it is true, would have his muzzle at our heads before we could wink, but would not fire. He knows that we like him."

There was a chorus of assent, and then and there all declared that the arrangement made by Mr. Blunt was excellent, and met with their approval. They thought a lot of the new manager. He was not conceited, not full of foolish airs and graces, and by no means soft. He didn't know everything, and was not ashamed to acknowledge his inexperience. But when it came to giving orders, he was the one, and already they understood that he would have no unnecessary interference. Mr. Blunt was away just at this time, and so it was natural that they should turn to Dudley.

Pietro selected his men at once, and each one stood beside his horse, his gun over his shoulder, while the gaucho told them in his own tongue and in the plainest language what was expected of them.

"This is not to be the usual raid, comrades," he said. "The Indians are not to have it all their own way as formerly, for our young master will attack them. We are to wait here till they come up in force, and then we are to retire in haste as if we feared them. Not a shot is to be fired. Watch me, and when I shout, turn your horses and gallop back past the herd. It will be getting dark by then, and as soon as we are out of sight we will draw in together and trot on to the meeting place."

It was pretty to watch the way in which this party of gauchos swung themselves into their native saddles. Pietro gave the word, and in less than half a minute the men were in their seats, their toes home in the stirrups, and their weapons in their hands. And there they sat like statues, the fringes of their leggings blowing out on either side, their broad-brimmed hats pulled down well, so that they should not lose them, and a general air of expectancy on every face. For this was so different from their action on former occasions. No man likes to be hounded off his own land, and see the possessions of which he has had charge filched from beneath his very nose. Such a course of conduct is demoralizing. The thought that they were to make a struggle, not for their own lives so much as for their master's property, heartened these fine gauchos, and they cast many an admiring glance at their young commander. Dudley limped across the grass, for he was stiff and sore after such a tumble, and clambered into the saddle. He was to ride a spare horse, while his own fine beast was led, for it was still too exhausted for active work, and could hardly have supported a man's weight. Then he waved his arm, and at the signal the remainder of the gauchos fell in beside him and walked their horses back towards the spot where the herd was being guarded. Four miles beyond, a dozen galloping figures were seen dimly in the distance, and a little later these gauchos, besides some five or six more, had joined their force, increasing its numbers till they were quite respectable.

"There is firing behind, señor," said Pepito, suddenly, for he was riding beside Dudley. "Listen again! There and there! The Indians are within range, perhaps, or they are driving our friends before them. It is too dark to see far. If it were early morning we could detect their figures."

Dudley reined in his horse and sat upright, listening.

"We will halt here for a while in case they are in difficulties," said he promptly; "then we can all ride on together."

A quarter of an hour passed before a group of horsemen was seen approaching through the dusk. It was Pietro and his party, and there was a broad grin of satisfaction on every face. The two parties fell in together and trotted on over the swelling pampas till they had passed the herd for which the Indians were making and had gone four miles beyond.