Some horsemen watched them. As the sun went down,
The waggon reached the estancia builded like a town.
With wide corrales where the horses squealed,
Biting and lashing out; some half-wild hounds
Gnawed at the cowbones littered on the field,
Or made the stallions stretch their picket bounds.
Some hides were drying; horsemen came from rounds,
Unsaddled stiff, and turned their mounts to feed,
And then brewed bitter drink and sucked it through a reed.
The Irishman removed his pipe and spoke: