He only laughed, and said, “Poh! you are green, my boy. It is the custom here. When the porteño needs his hoss, he’ll take a friend’s animal, as I have done. We are all friends in this country; and I’ll send his hoss back before a week is out. Now, caro mio, push yourself just a leetle for’ard,—so,—that’s it; don’t ride, like a pole,—so,—so: here comes a breeze; isn’t this jolly? Now I feel that pain in my shoulder: a leetle rum won’t hurt it; you can try the water-cure.”
And on we galloped over the smooth, grassy plains, while the sun, resembling a huge red shield, sank before us into the grass.
The next day’s travel brought us to the very heart of the gaucho dominion. As far as the vision extended, and still farther beyond, a level plain, covered with grass, spread out, on which vast herds of cattle, the wealth of the herdsmen, were feeding. On we rode, our horses devouring space with almost untiring speed. Thus far during our day’s ride we had not met with a single human being. Nothing possessing life, except cattle and horses, had we seen. But at length we fell in with a large herd; and attending them were two gauchos, sitting on the ground, engrossed in a game of cards, their horses standing beside them. As we approached, they respectfully touched their hats, and wished us a “buenas dias” (good day). We inquired of them the name of the owner of the neighboring herds, when they replied that we were upon the estancia of Don Carlos B., in whose service they were employed as peons. We again put our horses to the gallop, and sped on over the smooth turf. All day the same speed was kept up; for our animals were true pampa steeds, and scorned a trot. Having traversed many miles, we met with another herd of cattle, which, instead of moving from us, as did the droves which we passed in the morning, seemed differently minded. Two or three old bulls left their several companies, and approached the spot where we drew up our horses. The old fellows seemed very courageous, lowering their heads, and shaking their long, shaggy locks, as if determined to contest our passage, or protect their weaker companions, who were closely huddled behind those pampa kings. We dismounted, and, leaving our horses, advanced towards the bulls. But the moment we touched the ground the animals assumed another character: as we advanced on foot towards them, they bellowed loudly, and, turning, with their heads down and tails up, scampered off as fast as fear could impel them, the ground trembling under the tread of hundreds of heavy hoofs.
Daniel laughingly explained, while we were mounting our horses, that, in those distant parts, cattle know man only when he is mounted upon horseback, and that a gaucho on foot is so rarely beheld that he is always mistaken for some unknown beast of prey.
As night came on, we dismounted, and, taking off the recardo, or country saddle, spread it upon the grass for a bed; we then hobbled our horses, and, after making a meal off a strip of roasted beef, lay down to a night’s welcome sleep.
At dawn we were again in motion, and, after galloping a mile or two, met a solitary gaucho, who was chasing a herd of cattle. On our calling to him, he instantly wheeled his horse, and, on inquiry, informed us—for your gaucho is a polite fellow—that we were upon the estancia of Don Carlos B.
“Don Carlos!” we exclaimed. “Why, we were upon his estate yesterday, and have galloped many miles since then. Can it be that his estancia is so large?”
“Yes,” answered the gaucho. “Don Carlos is the largest estanciero within two hundred miles.”
“How large is his farm, then?” I asked.
The gaucho confessed that he was ignorant, and neither did his master know; for many years before a pampero, or hurricane, carried away the boundary stakes.[1] And even his estate is small beside that of Candioti, the once great pampa lord, who possessed upwards of two hundred square leagues of territory, and was owner of nearly a million head of cattle, besides hundreds of thousands of horses and mules. Candioti lived in Santa Fé, and once had not a real of his own; but before he died he sent annually to Peru many thousands of mules, and a hundred heavily-laden wagons of merchandise. Since his death, his estate has been divided among his large family of illegitimate children.