Refined Camps.
However, the scene is different to-day, with a pleasant sunshine, the crisp air sweeping over the uncultivated camp of natural grasses, and plenty of water in the river; but we cannot linger, so, after the pipe of peace for some, and a short siesta for others, "the all-aboard" bugle was sounded, horses were put in, carts packed once more, and, after a farewell to our host—who was returning to the section house—we went on ahead into the wilder regions, and had a pleasant, though rather short, drive for two or three hours before The Jehu called a halt. He explained that we should require at least an hour for the unloading and erection of the tents, tables, etc., before dusk; therefore, as the sun was only a hand's breadth from the horizon (roughly speaking, an hour before setting), we must dismount. He had chosen a pleasant spot for the camp of the night, not far from a small ranch, and here the coaches halted. Of course the luggage carts could not come up until some time later, as their loads were so much heavier, and My Lady became even more popular than usual when she suggested that the wait should be beguiled with a cup of tea, and produced her tea-basket from the coach; true, we found that there was no tea, but My Lady had plenty of cocoa. Water was obtained from the house near by, and a very welcome cup of cocoa handed round, accompanied by an unexpected slice of cake which apparently appeared from nowhere, and which disappeared equally effectively, for it was decidedly useful fodder and appreciated as such by all.
We discovered here that our friend "Monte" had declined to go back after lunch with his present master to Lucero, but had chosen to accompany his past master on this expedition. His presence was an agreeable surprise. He was found surveying the party with his calm scrutiny, and apparently he approved of our spot for camping, also of the cake.
As The Chaperon could find no work to do before the carts arrived, he, for once, relaxed from his terrible strain of usefulness, and tided over the tedious hour by trying to "throw the knife" in the most approved cowboy manner. As each member of the party had had their "tea" (he was practising with the knife which was used for the carving of the cake—and anything else, when needed), no one objected to this harmless amusement on his part, provided he did not pitch the knife on to their toes; and, after long exercise, with the help of The Wild Man, who is an adept at these tricks, The Chaperon at last succeeded in "throwing the knife" to his satisfaction, and others' terror. A sigh of relief escaped the lips of those who were dodging the knife when they saw the luggage-carts looming in the distance. They at once drew the attention of The Chaperon to the approach of the carts, and were rejoiced to see him return the weapon to its sheath (in his leggings), and stiffen into the attitude of action once more.
No sooner were the carts on the spot than every member of the party was at work, or pretending to be so. Poles were taken off the carts, luggage uncovered, canvas was everywhere, yells for "the mallet" alternated with the resounding blows struck, with the same, by the strong men of the band, tent-pegs bristled all over the ground, everyone wanted the hammer at the same time, and apparent chaos reigned for half an hour; then, behold! as by magic, the din ceased, two tents had been securely erected, floored with canvas, the luggage was placed under another covering of canvas, a table, with plates, knives, forks, etc., was ready in an open space, camp-stools stood around it, beds, blankets, sheets and pillows galore were in each tent, and the smell of roasting meat in the distance rose pleasantly upon the air. The place looked as if the party had been accustomed to camp there regularly once a week, so well was everything arranged. Nothing had been forgotten which could add comfort, for all hands had been working hard, and each peon, too, had done his share; in fact, the sight would have rejoiced the soul of the most ardent, red-tied Socialist, for surely never did a community carry out more thoroughly the principle of "each one working for the happiness of others." True, there was no trade union to limit their exertions, but that was an omission for which we may be thankful.
As the dusk quickly deepened, the peons gathered round their fire, over which the meat was cooking, a little distance from the camp site; the lamps were lit and hung from poles, and the party looked with satisfaction on their handiwork. It would have made an interesting, and not unpicturesque illustration, if one could have obtained a photo of the "Primera Vista" camp that evening.
But it was at this time, just when all seemed smiling and happy, that the travellers were to go through their first real trial, for here the discovery was made of a serious loss. It was spoken of in whispers at first, but gradually the whispers increased to a murmur as the loss became generally known; yet neither man nor woman quailed, and none could have told from their outward bearing the bitter struggle they were inwardly facing. A cynical traveller once said, after noting the innumerable number of statues in the land, "South America has evidently produced a phenomenal number of heroes," but we are inclined to think their tale has not been told if those who bore their trouble so bravely that night are to be "unhonoured and unsung." Think what it meant, you who may read this, in years to come, in civilised places, comfortably seated in your armchairs, conveniently near the cellaret, and,—honour our brave! They had at least two days to face (with no prospect of obtaining supplies anywhere) and they discovered, here, that the case of whisky was lost, left behind, vanished—they knew not what, only that it had disappeared!
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs not to moan or sigh,
E'en though their throats were dry,
Noble "Tacuruers"!
True, the comforting thought that they still had a bottle and a-half of the precious drink with them may have helped them to keep their spirits up with the hope of pouring spirits down, but a bottle and a-half is not much amongst so many thirsty souls for three days, and, we repeat, that great courage and bravery was shown by the equanimity with which the party bore the news of their loss.