Out on the Pampas; Or, The Young Settlers

by G. A. Henty

The armadillos are of three or four species, all of them small. The peludo is about a foot in length, and has hair sticking out between his scales. The muletas are smaller. Both are excellent eating; but the girls were some time before they could bring themselves to touch them. The matajo, in addition to the protection of his scales, is able to roll himself into a ball at the approach of danger, and, clothed in his impervious armour, is proof against any attacks except those of man. These animals are so common, that the plain is in many cases quite honey-combed with them.

The girls had a great scare the first time they came upon an iguana, thinking that it was a crocodile. These great lizards are about five feet long, and are ferocious-looking, but very harmless unless attacked. Then they will defend themselves, and can inflict a sharp blow with their tails, or a severe bite with their teeth. They are very common, and the Indians eat them, and say that the meat is excellent; but the young Hardys could never be persuaded to taste it. Thus matters proceeded for some time without any noteworthy incident. Their circle of acquaintances grew little by little. Several neighbouring plots had been taken up; and although the new settlers had little time for making visits, still the very fact of their presence near, gave a feeling of companionship and security. Very frequently young men would arrive with letters of introduction, and would stay a few days with them while they inspected the country.

Their household, too, had received an increase. A young Englishman named Fitzgerald, the son of some very old friend of the Hardys, had written expressing a very strong desire to come out, and asking their advice in the matter. Several letters had been exchanged, and at length, at Mr. Fitzgerald’s earnest request, Mr. Hardy agreed to receive his son for a year, to learn the business of a Pampas farmer, before he embarked upon his own account. A small room was accordingly cleared out for him, and Mr. Hardy never had any reason to regret having received him. He was a pleasant, light-hearted young fellow of about twenty years of age.

One change, however, had taken place which deserves mention. Sarah one day came to her mistress, and with much blushing and hesitation said that Terence Kelly had asked her to marry him.

Mrs. Hardy had long suspected that an attachment had sprung up between the Irishman and her servant, so she only smiled and said, ‘Well, Sarah, and what did you say to Terence? The year you agreed to stop with us is over, so you are at liberty to do as you like, you know.’

‘Oh, ma’am, but I don’t want to leave you. That is just what I told Terence. “If master and mistress are willing that I shall marry you and stay on with them as before, I won’t say no, Terence; but if they say that they would not take a married servant, then, Terence, we must stay as we are.”’

‘I have no objection at all, Sarah, and I think I can answer for Mr. Hardy having none. Terence is a very good, steady fellow, and I know that Mr. Hardy has a high opinion of him; so you could not make a marriage which would please us more. We should be very sorry to lose you, but we could not in any case have opposed you marrying whom you liked, and now we shall have the satisfaction of keeping you here with us.’

And so it was settled; and a fortnight afterwards, Terence and Sarah had two days’ holiday, and went down to Buenos Ayres, where there was an English church, and came back again man and wife. After that each went back to work as usual, and the only change was, that Terence now took his meals and lived in the house instead of down in the men’s huts. By this time they had begun to find out which of the crops peculiar to warm countries would pay, and which would not, or rather—for they all paid more or less—which was the most suitable.

The cotton crop had proved a success; the field had in time been covered with cotton plants, which had burst first into a bright yellow blossom, and had then been covered with many balls of white fluff. The picking the cotton had been looked upon at first as great fun, although it had proved hard work before it was finished. Its weight had rather exceeded Mr. Hardy’s anticipation. The process of cleaning the cotton from the pods and seeds had proved a long and troublesome operation, and had taken an immense time. Judging by the progress that they at first made with it, they really began to despair of ever finishing it, but with practice they became more adroit. Still it was found to be too great a labour during the heat of the day, although carried on within doors. It had been a dirty work too; the light particles of fluff had got everywhere, and at the end of a couple of hours’ work the party had looked like a family of bakers. Indeed, before more than a quarter of the quantity raised was cleaned, they were heartily sick of the job, and the remainder was sold in the pod to an Englishman who had brought out machinery, and was attempting to raise cotton near Buenos Ayres. Although the profits had been considerable, it was unanimously determined that the experiment should not be repeated, at any rate for the present.

Mr. Hardy had not at first carried out his idea of planting a couple of acres with tobacco and sugar-cane, the ground having been required for other purposes. He had not, however, abandoned the idea; and about two months before the marriage of Terence and Sarah, he had planted some tobacco, which was, upon their return from Buenos Ayres, ready to be picked.