The cattle were driven a long distance from the road to feed, but no pasturage was to be had, and at about one o’clock I was aroused by the approach of the cattle, and the loud cries of the drivers, who shouted “Fuera! fuera!” as they drove the teams to the carts.
The moon had set, and the night was very dark; but the necessity of moving at once was obvious, for there was no water nor grass to be had for many miles, and both must necessarily be obtained at the earliest moment for the hungry and thirsty beasts.
We got under way at once, and travelled by landmarks with which the drivers were acquainted. As we moved along the plain, the noise of the caravan aroused hundreds of parrots from a roosting-place among the branches of a clump of algarrobas. An Indian stampede could not have created a more confused or louder noise than that of the frightened parrots, as they hovered over us in a cloud.
CHAPTER XI.
SAN LUIS AND THE SALINE DESERT.
We travelled through the remainder of the night, and until near eleven o’clock on the following day, when we encamped at a place in which there was a fair pasturage and some water. Here we tarried until the morning of the next day, when we filled our vessels with water, harnessed up the teams, and started.
Our course lay through a country that was dreary in the extreme, and we had no incidents or experiences that were worthy of a notice here.
My readers have found in these pages so many mentions of a certain individual, the capataz, that they, perhaps, would like to know him better.
As capataz, Don Manuel Montero commanded the troop when the patron, or owner, was absent, and his services as baqueano, or guide, were of the utmost importance to the welfare and success of the caravan. Don Manuel had not the swarthy complexion of the Indian peons, but could prove his superiority of birth and family in comparison to theirs by a hue that would have been pronounced in the United States decidedly yellow, that is, if his physiognomy could have been divested of dirt so as to exhibit the true color; for the don loved not pure water externally applied, and would have been but a poor patron of hydropathy, even could he have been convinced of its wonderful virtues. He was of middle stature, and sat with great dignity upon his pampa steed, which he rarely left during the day; for, being a true gaucho, he always kept the saddle except when he was eating or sleeping. These two necessary duties he attended to while reclining on the ground—a position that he always assumed when off duty. To sleep within a hut or cart was beneath his gaucho dignity.
His hair hung in long black locks, excelled in jettiness only by those of Facundo, my cook. His toilet was attended to at such times as the same operations were necessary for the comfort of his dog Choco, when master and animal shared the use of the same toilet articles. I might write a treatise upon his comb, in which I could speak of its decayed and broken parts; of its lusty and lively inhabitants that played hide-and-seek between the teeth; of a brawny, lively creature from the hair of Don Manuel struggling for mastery with another from the shaggy coat of dog Choco.
As a guide the don’s skill was unrivalled. Like most baqueanos he was grave and reserved in manner, and conversed but little with the other gauchos.