“Garzoneando!” exclaims Ludwig in echo. “Good Gaspar, whatever do you mean by that?”
“You’ll see, young master, soon as I’ve made things ready for it. And your cousin here, he’s the fittest for the part to be played. I’d undertake it myself, but I’m a bit too bulky to counterfeit a creature of such slender proportions as the garzon soldado; while Señor Cypriano’s figure will just suit to a nicety.”
Neither of the two youths has the slightest idea of what the gaucho designs doing; but, accustomed to his quaint, queer ways, and knowing that whatever he intends is pretty sure to be something of service to them—as likely to have a successful issue—they await his action with patience and in silence.
Chapter Thirty Eight.
A Counterfeit Crane.
Gaspar allows no time to be lost, but instantly commences taking measures for the garzoneando—whatever that may be. As yet neither of his young companions has been told what it is, though they soon begin to have a guess.
While they stand watching, they see him once more plunge his hand into those capacious saddle-bags, where for a time it rummages about. When drawn out again, it is seen to grasp a folded bundle of soft goods, which, on being shaken open, shows to be a shirt. No common cotton thing, however, but an affair of the finest linen, snow-white, with an embroidered bosom and ruffles; in short, his gala shirt, such as are worn by gauchos when they appear at fiestas and fandangoes.
“A pity to use my best camisa for such a purpose,” he observes, while in the act of unfolding it. “Still it won’t likely get much damage; and a wash, with a bit of starch, will set it all right again.”