The Amazing Argentine: A New Land of Enterprise

by John Foster Fraser

In spite of his rough appearance and manner, the gaucho is often kind-hearted. He is, however, quarrelsome in his cups, and has all the native capacity for fancying an insult and much tenacity in revenge. Much of his spare time is spent in gambling, and any money he does not lose in this way he spends in drink or extravagant and useless purchases.

At the heart of the camp town stands the camp store, and the gauchos will always be found near it. It is the post office, the exchange, the rendezvous. Under its roof are formed and discussed the ideas that count in local self-government. Business is transacted with a delightful absence of hustle. All the slowness of Spanish courtesy is added to the deliberation of the dweller in wide solitudes. The result is an unhurrying way of buying and selling which would make a Smithfield salesman white with despair.

The gauchos are responsible for the chief amusement of the camp town—other than drinking and gambling—for it is they who organise the horse-races. These primitive meetings are not quite so frequent as they used to be, but they still take place on many Sundays and holidays, and for them the gaucho makes preparations such as he cannot be stirred to at any other time. He gets a new suit of clothes, cleans and polishes the saddle and bridle of his horse, puts round his neck a silk scarf of gorgeous design, and has an unwonted show of silver both on his horse and himself. Only on horseback is the gaucho thoroughly at home, and on these days he looks his best. There is no finesse about the racing; it is a test of sheer endurance of man and animal, and when the race is over both are exhausted. The handicapping has none of the careful science of Newmarket. When the best horse is in full course, running as fast as it can be urged, the handicapper catches one of his hind feet in a lasso and gives a quick jerk so that horse and rider are flung heavily to the ground. This, as may be imagined, gives the second horse a very fair chance of equalising a disadvantage in pace or staying power. Although the riders are perfect horsemen, there is little attraction for the European spectator in such a wild ordeal to man and animal. The prizes are usually a saddle, a bridle, a suit of clothes, or even a piece of beef of ample size and unusual quality. The gaucho, it may be mentioned, is very fond of beef, which he roasts with the hide on.

The duties of the gaucho are to look after the stock on the ranch, chiefly in connection with the "rodeo," or mustering of the cattle. Mounted on horseback, the gaucho drives the animals to the meeting-place. The herds are never allowed to stand still, but even at the end of their journey are kept moving in a sort of rough circle so that the chance of panic and stampede is minimised. The cattle are counted by driving them in ones or twos through a narrow line, a task requiring considerable activity—especially when the herd, after being counted, has to be divided into two or three lots—if a stampede is to be prevented.

Perhaps the only fear in the gaucho's life is that he may take anthrax from the cattle, for should he do so, and the wound be not cut or burnt out by the third day, his chance of recovery is slight.

With the changes that have come over the estancias during the last twenty-five years—fenced fields of alfalfa appearing where formerly there was nothing but the open plain—the days of unrestricted gallop over the prairie are over. The rider now passes through an endless series of enclosures, through gate after gate. The law of trespass, formerly unknown, may even prevent him from approaching the lagunas. Barbed wire, too, has been introduced; but though injuries sometimes occur, the cattle seem to have learned to keep clear of it.

In the house itself the change is as remarkable. The old cramped quarters and ugly furniture have given place to more rooms, better furnished, and pictures, pianos, and books are not at all uncommon. Fruit and flower gardens have been laid out. Sometimes on a large ranch a dairy is found; there is a blacksmith's and carpenter's shop, and gardeners and book-keepers are kept. Better accommodation is also provided for the peons. Still, generally speaking, these are the exceptions.

Around the ranches of Britishers there are many signs of national individuality—a tennis court, cricket grounds, even a golf course. Pheasants and rabbits are sometimes reared so that the exile may not be without a chance of shooting such as he would enjoy at home.

The houses themselves are not costly structures. Some are of the soft, dark red Argentine brick, which mellows rapidly, and in a few years looks as picturesque and soft-toned as English brick does after a century or so.

The houses of the colonists are mostly built of mud. The new colonist, when given his unprepared land, does not trouble to build anything but the simplest of dwellings. Boards are built up so as to leave a narrow oblong space of the same shape as the outer walls of the house are to be, and in this is placed mud mixed with straw. When this has dried the boards are removed, and the four walls of the required height are left standing. Spaces for windows and doors are then cut out, a thatched roof is put on, and, without much further elaboration, the tenants put in the furniture and begin life in their new home. Sometimes the walls are made of mud bricks.