So for a week or two we passed our lives, collecting horses of every shade and hue, wild, tame and bagualon, that is, neither quite wild nor tame, and then, before starting, had to go to “La Justicia” to get a passport with their attributes and marks.
I found the Alcalde, one Quintin Perez, sitting at his door, softening a piece of hide by beating on it with a heavy mallet of ñandubay. He could not read, but was so far advanced towards culture as to be able to sign his name and rubricate. His rubric was most elaborate, and he informed me that a signature was good, but that he thought a rubric more authentic. Though he could not decipher the document I brought for signature, he scrutinized the horses’ marks, all neatly painted in the margin, discussed each one of them, and found out instantly some were from distant “pagos,” and on this account, before the signature or rubric was appended, in addition to the usual fee, I was obliged to “speak a little English to him,” which in the River Plate is used to signify the taking and receiving of that conscience money which causes the affairs of justice to move pleasantly for all concerned. Meanwhile my partner had gone to town (Durazno) to arrange about the revision of the passport with the chief authorities. Nothing moved quickly at that time in Uruguay; so after waiting one or two days in town, without a word, he quietly let loose his horse in a by-street at night to save his keep, and casting about where he should leave his saddle, thought that the cloak-room of the railway-station might be safe, because the station-master was an Englishman. The saddle, having silver stirrups and good saddle-cloths and silver-mounted reins and bit, was worth more than the horse, which, being a stray, he had bought for a couple of dollars, and was not anxious to retain.
After a day or two of talk, and “speaking English,” he wanted his saddle, and going to the station found it gone. Not being up at that time in the ways of the Republic, he informed the police, waited a day, then two days, and found nothing done. Luckily, just at that time, I came to town and asked him if he had offered a reward. Hearing he had not, we went down to see the Commissary of Police, and found him sitting in his office training two cocks to fight. A rustle and the slamming of a door just marked the hurried exit of a lady, who must have been assisting at the main. Compliments duly passed, cigarettes lighted and maté circulating, “served” by a negro soldier in a ragged uniform with iron spurs upon his naked feet who stood attention every time he passed the gourd in which the maté is contained to either of us, we plunged into our talk.
“Ten dollars, Comissario.”
“No, señor, fifteen, and a slight gratification to the man who brings the saddle back.”
We settled at thirteen, and then the Commissary winked slowly, and saying, “This is not Europe,” asked for a little something for himself, received it, and calling to the negro, said—
“Tio Gancho, get at once to horse, take with you one or two men, and scour the ‘pago’ till you bring this saddle back. See that you find it, or I will have your thumbs both broken as your toes are, by San Edovige and by the Mother of our Lord.”
A look at Tio Gancho showed both his big toes had been broken when a slave in Brazil, either to stop him walking, or, as the Commissary thought, to help him to catch the stirrup, for he was a noted rider of a redomon. [20]
Duly next day the saddle was brought (so said the Commissary) into the light of justice, and it then appeared one of the silver stirrups had been lost. The Commissary was much annoyed, reproached his men, being, as he said he was: “Un hombre muy honrado.” After thinking the case well out, he returned me two and a half dollars out of the thirteen I had agreed to pay. Honour no doubt was satisfied upon both sides, and a new silver stirrup cost ten dollars at the least; but as the saddle was well worth sixty, we parted friends. That is, we should have parted so had not the “Hombre muy honrado” had another card to play.
“How long do you want the thief detained?” he asked. And we, thinking to be magnanimous and to impress him with our liberal ideas, said loftily—