Around us on the plains were many animals in droves and herds, all preparing for the night. Troops of wild colts galloped homeward past us at the heels of their anxious mothers, who occasionally halted as if to dispute our right of passage through their territory. Darkness now set in, and soon the caravan halted for the night. I made my bed upon a raw hide, spread upon the top of the cargo in the cart, and was soon fast asleep; but I was shortly awakened by Don Facundo, who climbed into the cart, coughing loudly, and saying, by dumb show, pointing towards the south-west, that a pampero had commenced blowing. The wind, which was accompanied by rain and hail, violently shook the old cart, and whistled dolefully through its reed-covered sides. The don’s cough had increased alarmingly, and he shivered with cold. “Compañero,” he continually called out, giving me a poke to signify something that his ignorance of the Spanish language would not allow him to express more intelligibly, for he spoke only the tongue of his native province—the Quichua. I at last handed him my overcoat—an act of generosity that I afterwards regretted, for, though I applied several times for its restoration during the journey, he would not give it up, but ate, slept, and worked in it until we had crossed the country, and it was no longer serviceable.
CHAPTER VIII.
LIFE ON THE PAMPAS—CONTINUED.
The night passed drearily away, and glad enough was I when day dawned, and the caravan was prepared to start.
Before we began to move, I retired to my cart, and changed my clothes, appearing before my companions in the unconfined and comfortable garb of a sailor.
The moment the peons, who were clustered around the fire, beheld me, they shouted to each other “Montenero!” a word which at that time I did not comprehend, but which, as I learned some months later, was the name of a particular class of bandits, who, about 1817, under the leadership of Artizas, filled the republic with consternation. Probably my sailor’s dress resembled that of the robbers.
As the heavy mist rolled off the pampas, we discerned two shepherds driving their flocks to another pasture; and, as there was no hut in sight, they had probably passed the night sleeping upon their saddles, a common custom of the herdsmen. As a specimen of his skill, the younger of the two spurred his horse after a ram, the patriarch of the flock, and, as he drew near it, swung the lasso a few times around his head, and the fatal noose fell over the neck of the animal. Dismounting from his horse, the gaucho jumped upon the ram, which began to run for dear life. As they scampered over the plain, I could plainly see pieces of wool flying from the animal’s fleecy sides, as the rider plied his sharp, heavy spurs.
But rams were evidently not created for saddle-beasts, for the animal stumbled in his flight, upsetting, in a most ludicrous manner, his rider, who sprawled upon the turf.
Our caravan was now in motion. As we proceeded on our course, the pampa gradually became more undulating, and was covered with a coarser herbage, shooting up in clumps to the height of a foot or more.
Soon after sunrise we met a party of eight horsemen from Mendoza, one of whom was armed with a spear, which was ornamented with a flag. About ten o’clock we passed a miserable estancia house, built of burnt bricks; we halted near it for the purpose of greasing the wheels of the carts. This was attended to by the capataz. He first cut into thin slices a pound of white native soap, and, after pouring hot water upon it, added a little salt, when he beat the whole together with a bunch of reeds drawn from the sides of the cart. While stirring this mixture, he would not permit me to look into the pail, but, turning his back on me, leaned over the mixture, muttering to himself, and making crosses over it, acting as if afraid that I would discover the recipe for the wheel-grease.
Before noon the caravan was again in motion. Three half-starved dogs that accompanied us gave chase to several deer that appeared in sight, but they were unable to approach them. These deer (Cervus campestris) are very common on the pampas. They have one habit which is common to the antelopes of North American prairies. When a person approaches them, they seem anxious to make his acquaintance, drawing near, and scrutinizing him with much curiosity. They are a small species, are of a yellowish-brown color on the upper parts, and white beneath the body. They are hunted by the gauchos in parties, who pursue and capture them with the boliadores.