Blanco y Colorado: Old Days among the Gauchos of Uruguay

by William C. Tetley

It was now eleven o'clock, seventy-five bullocks had been parted; each one being counted as it went by two people. So a fire was lighted, and a large "asado," or roast of mutton, put on, a little coffee and sugar, some biscuits, farinha and yerba, for the men's Matè were brought down from the Cerro, and it was not long before breakfast was ready. When up at the house I let "Carnival" go, and saddled up the rosillo, who was now in first-rate condition. Work was resumed with as little delay as possible, and when the tropero announced it was time to stop one hundred and sixty bullocks had been parted. The tropero seemed well satisfied, and so were we. Our next business was to give him every assistance to get the animals outside the boundary of the estancia, where they would be easier to manage than they were on their own camp. Meanwhile we kept the tame animals with the novillos which had been parted, to give them a lead and so render them easier to drive, and we made a start towards the pass of the Rosario, beyond Marmasola's puesto. There being many of us, we had no difficulty in getting them across the pass, and when they had gone a short distance on strange ground we parted out the tame cattle, and I returned with them to the Cerro. Don Frederico and Jennings, also the tropero, rode to La Concordia, to receive payment and give the usual certificate, shewing the mark and number of the animals sold, this document being required for the police. The sun was now declining fast towards the horizon, and we had made a fairly long day. Supper, when it came, was welcome, and the pipe which followed it; and having duly recorded particulars in the log-book, I was not sorry to lock up and get early to bed. Autumn was now past, and it would not be long before winter, with its rain and storm, cold nights and early mornings, would be really upon us. I had three cart-loads of wood brought up from the "monte," where we had some men working. Some of the flocks had to be passed through the sheepyards, and what with attending to one thing and another, I always found the day pretty fully occupied. Ten days later a party of Blanco soldiers rode up and asked if they could have some food, and also fresh horses. They were on their way to the town of Colla, having passed not far from Guaycoru, as they travelled from outside. With them was Colonel Mallada, who had sent back Francisco's pony at Las Sierras de Mal Abrigo. He had a great reputation among the natives as a fighter. When I went out I found him sitting on his horse, surrounded by some twenty soldiers. I invited him to get off and come in and have some breakfast while the soldiers lit a fire at a little distance, and made themselves a roast outside, for, as it happened, we had a whole sheep hanging in the galpon, ready skinned and dressed. I was amused to see the attitude of the Indians when the Colonel passed through into the courtyard. They stood up together on one side, as it were, at attention, with a very solemn expression of countenance, and they evidently looked upon him as a man to be feared rather than loved. He was quite civil during our meal, and told me that a large division of the Blancos were coming down to occupy the province of Colonia, while the main army was now largely concentrated outside, waiting for a favourable opportunity to march in to the province of San Josè, and so on towards the capital itself. He seemed to enjoy a cigarette with his coffee after our meal, and a glass of Caña also met with approval. Meanwhile, I had told Justiniano to get all the horses up into the corral. I had "Carnival" tied up under the ombu tree in the courtyard. The Colonel himself was well-mounted on a good-looking grey, apparently quite fresh. The soldiers caught five of our horses, and left us three tired ones, so we did not get off so badly after all, and I was very glad to think that the rosillo, whose back I had cured, was not among them. They all rode off, apparently satisfied, towards the Pass of the Pichinango, and we were all glad to see them depart. But it made me think, and realise what now might at any time happen, and I determined to have the rosillo caught up and tied in the courtyard oftener than I had done, and to keep a sharp look-out over "Carnival." At two of the puestos the shepherds were each somewhat of a character in their way. They were both of them "bascos," i.e., either natives of or having originated from one of the Bay of Biscay provinces in Spain. One of them, whose name was Gaitan, looked after what was known as the "Fine Flock," because it contained the highest strain of Negretti blood. From it were selected the male lambs, which were to be the future rams for the other flocks. He was now no longer in middle age, bent in figure, and slow in his movements. He lived quite alone, doing his own cooking and washing, and he wore remarkably old clothes. He had been for many years on the estancia, getting the usual pay of a puestero, viz., fifteen dollars and thirty-six cents per month (just over £3), together with his allowance of meat and rations, viz., farinha, yerba and salt, which he received monthly. His only luxury was a little tobacco, and he was said to be somewhat of a miser, and to be quite rich. He was usually seen bestriding an old and rather poor horse, but he was a very good shepherd, and except when cooking or eating his meals, or towards evening, when his sheep were drawing home, I never knew him to be long absent from his flock. He was extremely reserved and silent, and I always found it difficult to carry on a conversation with him. His puesto was situate to the north of La Concordia, rather towards the centre of the estancia, and really not very far distant from the former. The other shepherd was called Anjel; he was a much younger man, although he looked older than he really was. He, too, was reserved and silent, and I often wondered if it was the solitary life he led which tended towards this, and whether he would have appeared a somewhat different man if he had been cast among other surroundings. He had neither wife nor child, and like Gaitan, was but a poor rider, and I never saw him on a decent-looking horse. But he had usually a dog with him, and I often saw a cat or two when I visited his puesto, situate close to the river Pichinango, some little distance below the pass. Here the grass was good and plentiful, and his flock, which was rather a large one, did very well. He was a most careful and conscientious shepherd, and a skilled worker in wasca, or raw hide, of which he manufactured reins and headstalls, and whips and hobbles; indeed, everything of the kind a well-equipped horseman would require. Just about this time I did not happen to be very busy, so was able to shoot a few partridge, more correctly described as "quail," which were now in good condition, and made a pleasant variation in diet. There was a little single barrel gun available, which I found very nice to shoot with. I also managed to shoot some of the common deer of the Pampas (Cervus Gampestris) with my rifle, the flesh of which is not very appetising, but the skins were easy to dry and soften, and were not only useful as a covering for my "recado," or native saddle, but also served well as rugs for the floor of the sitting-room. The natives mostly chase the deer on horseback with dogs. There is a very curious peculiarity attaching to the young of this species of deer when not more than three or four days old, when the perfection of its instincts at that tender age seems very wonderful in a ruminant. When the doe with fawn is approached by a horseman, even when accompanied by dogs, she stands perfectly motionless, gazing fixedly at the enemy, with her fawn at her side. Then suddenly, as if at a preconcerted signal, the fawn rushes away from her at its utmost speed and, going to a distance of perhaps six hundred yards, conceals itself in a hollow on the ground, or among the long grass; lying down very close, with head stretched out horizontally, and will thus remain until sought by the dam. When very young it will allow itself to be taken, making no further effort to escape. After the fawn has run away the doe still maintains her statuesque attitude, as if to await the onset. Then, but only when the dogs are close upon her, she too rushes away; but invariably in a direction as nearly opposite to the fawn as possible. At first she runs slowly, with a limping gait, and frequently pausing as if to entice her enemy on, just like a partridge, duck, or plover when driven from its young. But as the dogs begin to press her more closely her speed increases, becoming greater the further she succeeds in leading them from the starting point. Truly a marvellous combination of both instinct and sagacity, and also of maternal love.

Winter was now come, and we had a spell of cold and stormy weather, with a fair amount of rain. I was out in the camp and round the puestos pretty constantly, to see that the flocks were all right, and that there had been no trouble from soldiers. One afternoon I called at La Concordia to see Don Frederico, as I thought it advisable to have three of the flocks passed through the sheepyards, to part out sheep which did not belong to them, and have their feet attended to. This was necessary from time to time, as during bad and stormy weather a certain amount of mixing was apt to occur, however careful the puestero might be. It was obviously more difficult to prevent where the land over which one of the flocks was accustomed to feed lay in the same direction on the estancia, and not very far distant from the land occupied by another. Don Frederico told me he was making arrangements to send Mrs. Dampier and the children on a visit to England, and that he was already in communication with the shipping company about taking their passage. His idea was that they should go into Monte Video about a week before the steamer left, and that he would drive them himself in his own carriage with horses and a couple of servants, while their luggage could be sent in a cart to San Josè, and on from there by diligence to Monte Video. The visit to England had been thought of some little time, but, as, owing to the war, things seemed to be getting more and more unsettled, he thought it better not to delay longer than was necessary. He spoke to me about two or three matters needing attention, and said that Jennings would remain at La Concordia during his absence, and would help me in any way should anything of consequence happen, or an unforeseen difficulty arise. When I got back, I found old Robinson in a very unsatisfactory state; he had evidently got hold of some Caña, but how I could not imagine, as I always kept it securely locked up. He talked a lot of nonsense about being tired of life at the Cerro, and of his determination, although he knew he was an old man, to go off somewhere or other, he did not care where, with a view to bettering himself. I concluded this phase would be a passing one, and by next morning he would be himself again. However, when it came, he was both dull and disagreeable, and although he had always been subject to occasional fits of the kind, I felt that his present state of mental irritation and unrest really proceeded from something more than his having drunk a little more than was good for him. I enquired of the Indians if anyone had been to see him. Margarito had seen no one, but Justiniano said he had been looking up the "tamberos," and as he was riding back he saw someone in the distance come out of the door of the kitchen, mount a horse, and ride off towards the Pichinango; and he thought by the way he rode he looked like a "gringo," the native term for a foreigner. However, next day Robinson seemed better, and the little household disturbance for the moment at any rate passed over. At the end of the week seven Blanco soldiers rode up and asked for food and horses. They had evidently come a good distance, and were en route for Colonia. They had four tired horses, which they left with us, taking the two horses previously left by soldiers, and two of ours as well. However, they were quite civil, and one of them told me we might expect to have a good many more coming our way before long. "Carnival" and the rosillo happened both to be tied up in the courtyard, nor did they trouble the least about them. Old Juan, the Indian, mostly kept himself out of sight when soldiers arrived. I suppose he had a sort of idea they might take him off, as they probably would have done had he been younger. I noticed he was always very talkative, and apparently in extra good spirits when they had gone. After about a week the bad weather cleared up, and it set in fine and dry. I went down to La Concordia the afternoon before Don Frederico and the family were to leave for Monte Video. Everything was now ready; the luggage had been sent on two days previously, and they were to make an early start the following morning, which happened to be a Wednesday. It turned out a lovely day for the time of the year, continual sunshine, with a cool breeze, perfect for travelling. On Saturday I had our usual para rodeo of the cattle, and they came up well. Early on Monday morning I started on "Carnival" to ride down to the far end of the Swiss Colony, whence the land stretched away to the Estuary de la Plata, which divided the republic of Uruguay from that of Argentina. I called at La Concordia on my way, and had a talk with Jennings about the business I had on hand. My object was to see a man, Emile Gunther by name, who was a buyer of hides and sheepskins. We had a large number of these at the Cerro, and I was anxious to be rid of them, as they were apt to get damp and out of condition during the winter. I crossed the Pass of the Rosario below La Concordia, into the Colony, following the track which led out of it, gradually rising to higher ground. Every here and there "chacras," or farms, each surrounded by more or less cultivated land. Many of the houses were built of bricks, plastered and whitewashed outside, one storey only, with bright red tiles on the roof, and they usually had a wide open verandah, very convenient to sit in, and also to eat one's meals during warm weather. Each house seemed to have its garden, where vegetables did well, for the soil was good and easy to work, and it was rare to find one without a few flowers, while clumps of "eucalypti," the blue gum of Australia, planted either round or near the homesteads, were almost universal. The stables and outbuildings were mostly mud-huts, with roofs of "paja," a reed which was quite common, and very suitable for the purpose. All this was that part of the Colony which could be seen in the distance from La Concordia, where the original Colonists had first settled themselves down and made their homes. As I rode on, I came to a much wider track, with wire fencing stretched on wooden posts on either side, running at right angles to the one I had hitherto followed. Turning to the left, I rode along this in a south-westerly direction, and as I proceeded the farms got fewer, and further apart, while the land intervening was thickly covered by a shrub, with a small leaf, the knobby roots of which, when dried, made excellent firewood. Here cattle and horses could be seen feeding, for the soil was rich and fertile, and where the shrub, or "chirca," as it was called, was not too thick, good grasses grew in between. I had no difficulty in finding Señor Gunther's farm, which was quite an important one, for, in addition to land under cultivation, where wheat and maize were grown, there were two large "portreros," or paddocks, fenced in with wire, affording ample pasturage to a considerable number of stock. Trees of various kinds had been planted, including fruit trees, and were growing well. There was a little "monte," or wood of "eucalypti," and some were also planted on either side of the drive leading up to the house, forming quite a respectable avenue. The house was an "azotea," one storey high, with a flat roof, the rooms spacious and comfortable, overlooking on their further side a garden, with fruit trees and flowers. As I rode up, I was welcomed by the owner's wife and daughter, who told me he had only gone down the farm for half an hour, and would soon return. Meanwhile, they invited me to come in and sit down, shewing me where to tie up my horse. Señor Gunther, when he came, was a fine-looking man, above middle height, well set up, apparently about fifty. He looked shrewd and intelligent, with a pair of keen blue eyes and light hair, already beginning to turn a little grey. "Buen dia Señor" (Good morning, Sir) he exclaimed genially, as he came up to shake hands. "I have heard of you." "I, too, am equally pleased," I replied in Spanish. "What a nice situation you have, and how well the trees must have grown!" "Yes, indeed they have," he said, "considering the time we have been here." He said he had a number of milk cows, and had already made a fair amount of Swiss cheese, which sold well, and he had reason to think it would prove profitable, and hoped to increase it. He told me to unsaddle and turn out my horse into a small paddock close by, and invited me to stay and have some breakfast, which would be ready in half an hour. "After this," he said, "if you have sufficient time to spare, I would like to show you round the farm." Our meal was enjoyable, and he pressed me to drink some excellent muscatel wine of a rich golden colour, which he had himself purchased, and brought out from Monte Video. Coffee and cigarettes followed, and he had evidently become able to surround himself with an amount of comfort by no means easily attainable on some of the estancias outside. Of course, we discussed the war, and I then spoke to him as to the business about which I had come. Finally, it was arranged that he should purchase all the hides and sheepskins at the Cerro at the price I asked for them, and he was to send a cart and fetch them away in about a week. He told me they were fortunately situate in regard to soldiers, being out of their track, and that scarcely any seemed to come their way, nor did he think they were likely to unless anything unforeseen occurred. After a turn round the garden, he went and had a look at "Carnival," whom he seemed to admire. I told him I had brought him from the Sierras de Mal Abrigo, where he was bred and born, and that I was greatly afraid lest the soldiers should take him at the Cerro, as we heard so many were coming our way it seemed hardly possible he could escape. He then said if I cared to leave "Carnival" with him I was welcome to do so, and he would do his best to look after him, at any rate until the worst of the trouble we were looking forward to should pass over. I gladly accepted this offer, with very grateful thanks. My host suggested I should saddle him up now, when taking our turn round to farm, and then just have a look at the Piedmontese Colony, which was not far distant. He further proposed that on our return I could leave "Carnival," now he was here with him, and he would lend me a horse to ride home on, which could be brought back when he sent a cart for the hides, etc. I gladly agreed to this arrangement, and we made a start forthwith. A peon was ploughing on the arable land, using a somewhat heavy plough, drawn by a yoke of oxen. It was a slow business, but had the advantage of turning up the soil fairly deep. The milk cows and a small flock of sheep were feeding together in one large paddock, while some nice-looking young stock and the horses were feeding in the other; besides these was a small flock of fifteen goats, the milk of which I concluded was used in the manufacture of cheese. Near the house was the usual corral to shut up animals, and attached to the outbuildings which were roomy and convenient was a well-arranged dairy.

We were not long in reaching the Piedmontese Colony, which at that time consisted only of one pulperia, or general store, and half a dozen houses, more or less near it. From there the land which stretched away towards the river Plate was mostly covered with "chirca," and evidently at that time but sparsely occupied. You could just see the smoke rising from the chimneys of perhaps a dozen mud ranchos, a considerable distance apart, evidently in possession of people only recently settled there, who as yet had not had time to do much in the way of agriculture. However, I was glad to have a chance of seeing the country, and I wondered as we rode back what kind of future might possibly lie before it. Returning to the house we had some coffee and little cakes served with it. Meanwhile, a chestnut was ready tied up, on which I was to ride home; not very attractive-looking, but good enough for the purpose. Indeed, in time of war I had learned that a good-looking horse was a certain care and an uncertain pleasure. So I bid good-bye to Señor Emile and his family, with many thanks for their kindness and hospitality, and the request that should he at any time find himself in the neighbourhood of the Cerro, he would not fail to call and see me. The chestnut travelled along quite comfortably, if not very fast, and the sun was nearly down when I reached home. The first thing Justiniano told me was that Robinson had departed. Two men from the stonemason's, who lived on the other side of the Pichinango, had come for him with a led horse, about the middle of the morning, and old Robinson had put together a few clothes and belongings and had accompanied them. The craving for drink had probably been his motive, for the stonemason himself was given that way, and at his house Caña was generally more or less on the go. Old Robinson had always kept up a sort of friendship with these people, much against my wish, for I prophesied they would one day be the ruin of him. However, the fact I had to face was that I was now without a cook, but Juan got me some coffee, and supper ready on the fire in the galpon, which I myself carried into the dining room, and then I smoked a pipe and thought over my pleasant day. Later I locked all up and went early to bed. Next morning, when I went out, "Napoleon" greeted me joyfully. I had left him at home the day before. The Indians got me some hot coffee at their fire, and after seeing to some things that were necessary, I saddled up the "mala-kara," or bay, with white blaze and stockings, and started off to La Concordia to consult with Jennings as to what I had better do in regard to Robinson's departure. I found him already busy in the garden pruning the fruit trees, and told him what I had arranged with Señor Gunther, and how I was now left without a cook. He said he thought the best thing was to leave Robinson where he was; it was no good attempting to fetch him back, as he would by this time probably be drunk and incapable, or, to say the least of it, very difficult to manage. He proposed to send me a nice-looking young Swiss, called Vicente, who was looking after the "capones," up to the Cerro, to take Robinson's place, and also keep an eye on the southdowns, and I could send Margarito down to La Concordia in his stead. Vicente was handy, and obliging, getting on for nineteen, nor would he at all object to doing a little cooking and housework if required. Jennings asked me to stay and have breakfast, which I did, and said he had received a letter from Don Frederico, written from Santa Lucia, saying all had gone well, and that so far they had travelled comfortably. We saw Vicente before I left; he had just come in from his flock. He said he would be pleased to go up to the Cerro, and would do his best to make things comfortable, and promised to be there a little before sundown. I then bid adieu to Jennings, and rode round by Anjel's puesto. He was out with his flock, and I came across him without having to go so far as his house. He was silent and serious as usual, but gave it as his opinion that Robinson "would come to no good with those people over there," and promised, should he hear of anything further happening, he would manage to let me know. When I got home, we got the "tamberos" up on to their rodeo. No one had arrived during my absence, and I sent Margarito down to La Concordia as arranged.

Early in the following week, one morning just after ten o'clock, Colonel Medina rode up to the Cerro, accompanied by seventy Blanco soldiers. I had met him before, and Don Frederico knew him well, for he lived not so very far from the Pichinango, and we had always looked upon him more or less as a neighbour. I at once invited him to dismount and come inside and have breakfast, assuring him it would not be long before it was ready. As for the soldiers, I said they had better make a fire down below the house, towards the big "manga," and if one was not enough, they could make two. Meanwhile, I would have a couple of sheep killed, so that they could make themselves a roast, as they wanted, and I would send them down a supply of farinha, salt and yerba, in order that they might do what a native always dearly loves, viz., have a rest and suck Matè.

The colonel was a man of middle height, his hair beginning to turn a little grey. I daresay he would be getting on towards fifty. He was well-educated, and had to a certain extent travelled, having held a minor office in the Blanco Government previous to the Flores war, when the Reds came into power. Probably, too, he looked forward before very long to taking office again, when the present revolution should be over, and the success of his own party assured. He told me he was on his way to Colonia, where a division of the Blanco army would probably be concentrated, to hold the province before very long, but that the main advance contemplated, whenever the proper time should come, was to lay siege to the city of Monte Video itself, and he believed it would be quite powerful enough to accomplish this when a really suitable opportunity should arise. This was certainly good news so far as it went, but at the same time he warned me that the war was as yet far from being over, for the Colorados were still fairly strong on the inside camps, especially in the direction of the capital, where they were able to command the assistance of both infantry and artillery and also, if necessary, that of mercenary troops as well. I was greatly interested; indeed, I felt quite sorry when breakfast was over, and the colonel said it was time to make a move. Neither he nor his soldiers asked for horses, having a troop of spare ones in first-rate condition, which they were driving along with them. We parted with mutual compliments, and with the usual "Hasta la vista amigo!" (Friend, until we meet again!), and he further told me that if he could do anything for me during the changes and chances of war-time, I was to be sure to let him know, which, to say the least of it, was very civil of him. The soldiers quickly marshalled up near the door leading out of the courtyard, through which he passed, and I accompanied him. He then mounted a grey horse, which was being held ready for him, and gave the word of command to go forward, and we all watched them jogging along towards the Pass of the Pichinango, when that little excitement was over. It came on to rain early in the afternoon, and we got the sheepskins turned over, and put together again, ready for the purchaser when he should think well to send for them.

Early next morning the sun shone bright, and warm, but it did not last long, for a "pampero," or southerly wind, from the Pampas, blew up soon after mid-day, and towards evening it became very cold and stormy-looking. I was able to "repuntar," or turn inwards, the cattle on the northern boundary of the estancia, and also to visit three of the puestos, where I found everything all right. The following day a bad spell of weather set in, with cold winds and constant showers of rain. However, I kept on the move as well as I could, for it was in stormy weather that a little supervision was most needed. Vicente was an obliging young man, and did his best in his new occupation, and he made me a nice little fire in the gun-room stove, where it was comfortable to sit after supper, especially after having had a bit of a wetting outside. Jennings had given me two little bull terrier puppies. They were an amusing little pair about five months old, small in size, with all the characteristics of a bulldog, except that they were very quick and active on their legs. One I called "Bully"; he was the colour of yellow sand, and the other was a brindle, like its mother, and to him I gave the name of "Brag." As they grew up they hunted the "legatos," a very large lizard, who lived among the rocks, behind the house. They also went with me when I took a gun and went after a brace or two of partridge, and they joined joyfully in the general uproar and barking when any stranger rode up, or indeed near the house. This was so much to the good, as it lessened the chance of our being taken unawares as to what might be coming, always a distinct advantage in time of war. The rosillo had now quite recovered and greatly improved in condition, and I often had him tied up in the courtyard, where I gave him a little maize, which he had learned to eat with satisfaction. I was now able to ride him with my recado, as well as my English saddle, and I made up my mind to take all the care I could of him, for the more I rode him the better I liked him. After about a week the weather became fine, and I decided to ride in to the little country town of Colla, which lay some nine miles south of the river Pichinango, as I wanted to go to the "policia," or police station about some business connected with the estancia. I had intended to put off going until Don Frederico's return, as I rather wished to see him before doing so. However, as I understood from Jennings it was more than likely he would not be able to come home so soon as he expected, I decided to delay no longer, but to start early the next morning. I did not want to take a good-looking horse, for I knew the town would be full of soldiers, so I told Justiniano to have the horses in the corral in good time, and to catch me up rather an oldish bay, left by soldiers, nothing whatever to look at, but really a good deal better horse than he appeared, and also to tie up the rosillo in the courtyard, about eleven o'clock, so that he might be safer if anyone came. The little town of Colla lay pleasantly situate on the bank of a small river. It consisted of one main street, with houses unevenly built, and somewhat scattered on either side. About half way down this widened a little, forming a small plaza, or square, where a band played on summer evenings, and people walked round and round, or sat about and listened to the music, and enjoyed also the pleasure of looking at their neighbours. There was a Roman Catholic Church, and some rather sordid-looking barracks, and quarters for soldiers. Half a dozen pulperias, and general stores, and two or three "fondes," or second-rate hotels, with here and there a private residence, often enclosed inside a garden, completed the buildings of any importance, while stretching away behind these, on either side were the smaller houses and ranchos, occupied by natives, more or less of the working class. Some of these had spaces of cultivated ground attached, and at others two or three cows and a horse or two, and some poultry would be kept, just as happened to be most convenient. There were plenty of soldiers about in the streets, as well as in the cafés and fondas. I rode straight up to the police station, and it was not very long before I was able to conclude my business. Having done this, I did not go to an hotel, as I should otherwise have done, to put up my horse and have some breakfast, on account of the soldiers, but I made my way to the house of a man called Pedro Dominguez. It was next to a large general store, which he owned as well, where he carried on an extensive and profitable business, as a buyer of produce and a seller of merchandise, and had long had dealings with the Estancia Pichinango. He received me with courtesy. A man below the middle height, getting on in years, and somewhat bent in figure, he looked to me as much like a Portuguese as anything else. "Buen dia, Señor," he said, as I rode up and explained who I was. "Please come inside, and I can put up your horse in my stable." Moreover, he invited me to have some breakfast, which was very good of him, for I began to feel hungry after my ride. His house was comfortable, and he had a good sized garden attached, very well kept, and he told me he was a great lover of flowers. While we were enjoying our meal one of the black, hairless dogs, greatly esteemed by natives, trotted into the room. It was about the size of a small terrier, with a perfectly smooth black skin, entirely devoid of hair. It had a pointed nose and a pair of very bright eyes, and they are said to be very affectionate. Señor Dominguez told me he had a widowed daughter and a grandchild who lived with him, but just then they were away on a visit to friends in Colonia. Of course, we talked about the war. He said he had never taken any part in politics, but his sympathies were with the Blancos, and he was very glad to think that for the present Colla at any rate, had seen the last of the Colorados, who he believed as a Government were self-seeking and corrupt, and he felt sure if they were allowed to continue in power, would bring certain ruin on the country. We had some coffee and a cigar, and it was after two o'clock when I saddled up the bay, and with many thanks for his kind hospitality, started on my return journey. The old horse travelled back faster than he had come, and I reached the Cerro somewhat earlier than I expected. As the sun declined, it got quite cold, and I was glad to find a fire lit in the gun-room stove to welcome me. Justiniano had got up the "tamberos" on to their rodeo, and the southdowns were already shut up in their yard, as I rode up to the house. "Napoleon" was delighted to see me, and even "Brag" and "Bully" gave me a sort of welcome in their way. I let go my horse, and wrote up the log-book, and so ended what had been quite an agreeable day. I had the usual "para rodeo" on Saturday, which was quite satisfactory, and I saw reason to think we were now getting the cattle well in hand. This was important during time of revolution, when we were likely to have fewer people to look after them. On the next Tuesday morning, I had just got in from a turn round the puestos, when the cart arrived to take away the hides and sheepskins. The Indians gave the cartman some breakfast in the galpon, and we then counted and handed over the hides and skins, for which the cartman gave me a receipt, while I handed to him a certificate that we had sold them. He started for home about one o'clock, taking with him the chestnut horse, which Señor Gunther had lent me to ride home on. The cartman told me that "Carnival" was all right, and seemed quite happy in his new quarters. The middle of the following week Don Frederico returned to La Concordia. I rode down to see him, and he said he could hardly believe he had been away nearly a month. The fact was his family did not leave for England in the steamer he intended, but waited for the next one, and he naturally wished to see them safe, and as comfortable as might be on board. I told him about old Robinson, and he said the arrangement we had made would do quite well for the present, though later on he should want Vicente back at La Concordia. Meanwhile, however, I could look about and see if I could find a cook. The winter was now passing, and every now and again we had two or three days when the sun would be quite warm, with every sign of approaching spring. We saw but few soldiers, and they were only passers-by, anxious to reach the end of their journey as soon as might be, but we had every reason to believe a considerable movement of troops would take place before very long. Early in August we had begun to see symptoms of what is known as epidemia, or sickness among the cattle. At first a single animal would be found in the camp dead, looking in good condition, and from no apparent cause. Later two or three might be seen, and in different parts of the estancia. Then you would find here and there an animal looking young and even fat, standing by itself, away from the others, not moving or eating, and with obviously something the matter with it. If taken in time and got to move quickly, and the horseman could give it a sharp run, it would probably recover. Should it, however, have gone too far, all one could do was to kill it, and take off its hide, rather than let it lie down on the ground and die slowly by inches. The epidemic went on for some little time, and we lost a good many cattle, and curiously enough it was much more towards the Cerro end of the estancia than it was at La Concordia. During this time, I was constantly out in the camp, looking up sick animals, and I took Juan and Justiniano with me, to take off the hides when necessary. Towards the end of the month I was out with the latter having a look round, and we came across a cow evidently very bad, for it could hardly stand on its legs and, when I tried to move it, it seemed only to totter from side to side. I jumped off my horse, handing the reins to the Indian, and caught hold of its tail with both hands to pull it over. I pulled my hardest, when the hair came suddenly out of the tail, and before I could recover myself I fell sideway into a bunch of big thistles which stood near. Unfortunately, I fell right among them, and felt one of the stiff sharp thorns pierce the flesh on the inside of my left arm, just below the elbow. I turned up my sleeve and tried to get it out with my knife but was unable to do so. We killed the poor cow, and I left Justiniano to commence taking off the hide while I rode back to the Cerro and sent his uncle Juan to help him. I then had another try to get out the thorn, but could not manage it. I bathed it with hot water, and as it was getting a bit painful, applied a hot poultice and hoped for the best. September came in fine, and towards noon the sun began to feel quite warm. At the beginning of its second week, twenty-two soldiers rode up, and said they wanted horses. I saw they meant business, so I told Justiniano to get all our horses into the corral. I had the rosillo saddled in the courtyard, so he was all right, as it was unusual for soldiers to take a horse one had saddled, except for some special reason, or because they really wished to be as disagreeable as they could. They were travelling out north, and were evidently pressed for time. They took six of our horses, including the "manchado," which had caused the death of the poor young Englishman, and left us one, an old bay, and he looked a very poor one. However, there was no alternative, so we had to put up with it, but it gave me a reminder of what we had to expect. The two colts we had tamed, now well-behaved horses, they paid no attention to whatever, and for this I was glad. My arm had become swollen and inflamed, and continued to give me a good deal of pain, and I was obliged to have it in a sling. It was rather a nuisance, for it was my bridle hand, but I consoled myself by thinking had it been my right arm it would have been worse, and as it was I could get about as usual. One fine morning, about eleven o'clock, an old negro woman rode up to the Cerro mounted on a rather thin "gatiado," or drab-coloured horse, with a dark stripe down its back, from which is derived its name. She had a maiden with her, black, like herself, mounted on an old grey. Each had a rug thrown over her horse, made fast with a surcingle, on which she sat, and appeared quite comfortable. The old lady asked me if they could stay for a while, and have a rest before proceeding on their journey. "By all means," I replied, and told Juan, who happened to be about, to give them a couple of bancos, or stools by the fire in the galpon, and I also asked them if they would like anything to eat. "Pero con mucho gusto, Señor," "But with great pleasure, Sir," they replied, "and if you could kindly give us a little yerba and sugar we should greatly enjoy drinking Matè, for we both feel very thirsty." Juan soon made up a good fire, and put on the kettle for hot water, and gave them a piece of meat to roast, and some "farinha," and the ladies seemed quite happy. Later on, as I was passing out through the galpon, the old one came up to thank me for the hospitality we had shewn them. "But pardon, Señor," she said, "may I ask what is the matter with your arm, for I see you have it bound up. I myself am a 'curandera,' or healer, and I am on my way to see a man who is very ill. Please let me have a look at it." This I gladly did, and she told me it was the thorn still in it which was causing the trouble, but she hoped it might work its way out. She said I must take care of it, as my arm looked to her rather as if it had been poisoned. She further said I was to send one of the Indians down to the wood which bordered the bank of the river Pichinango, and he was to get the leaves of a certain shrub which grew there. I was to make these leaves into a poultice and put it on my arm as hot as I could bear it every night for about a fortnight. Further, I was to put the water in which the leaves were boiled into a jug and drink it cold each morning as soon as I awoke. She interviewed both Juan and Justiniano and made them clearly understand what was the shrub the leaves of which were to be brought: what it was like, and how and where it grew. She then explained to Vicente exactly how to make the poultice, and how much of the leaves to use at a time. Then came the curious part of the would-be cure. The old lady insisted that I should begin it on the first evening of the new moon, and at no other time but then. We were all somewhat impressed, the Indians very much so, for they looked up the "curandera" with a certain amount of superstitious awe. However, I determined to try the "remedio," and as there happened to be a new moon that evening I sent Justiniano at once off to the Pichinango to find the leaves. He returned with a good supply of them. It was a small leaf, a little larger than the ordinary tea leaf, and it reminded me very much of the leaf of a small tree known as the "manouka" tree, of New Zealand. So the poultice was duly made; the water in which the leaves were boiled was put ready to drink the first thing next morning, and forthwith the prescribed treatment began. A few days passed, when one morning, between seven and eight o'clock fifteen soldiers rode up and demanded horses. The tropillas had not long been turned out of the corral, so our horses were quite close for the soldiers to see. There was nothing for it but to shut them in and let them take what they wanted. I did the best I could, but they took four and left one, an old gatiado, with a stripe down its back, the same colour as the one the curandera had ridden. The soldiers only stayed long enough to get horses, and then resumed their journey, travelling north. The weather was now getting warm, when one afternoon about four o'clock, an elderly negro rode up to the Cerro, mounted on a very poor-looking old "bayo," or cream-coloured horse. The Indians, who had been out in the camp, were sitting by the galpon fire, sucking Matè. I was in the courtyard unsaddling the rosillo, whom I had been riding, but not far away. I heard a great barking of dogs, "Napoleon's" voice being loud among them; "Brag" and "Bully" were also doing their best to increase the noise. I passed out through the small door, and there was an old man, surrounded by the barking dogs, sitting quietly on his horse, calling out "Ave Maria," the customary form of salutation, and waiting for someone to ask him to dismount. This I did, and he enquired if here was the Cerro del Pichinango, and if I would allow him to put up in the galpon for the night. As for his horse, he said it was worth very little, and if let go he did not think it would move far away. He looked tired, and weary, as did his steed, and said what most he needed was a real good sleep. He had a bundle with him, tied up in a roll at the back of his old "recado," a battered black felt hat and a much-dilapidated summer poncho, while some old "bombachos" and a pair of alpargatas, or canvas shoes, completed his attire. I told him to make himself comfortable, and left him to rest as I was just thinking of saddling up the bay colt we had tamed, and riding down to Marmasola's puesto. I found his flock quite near it, ready to be shut in for the night. He himself was at home, and he told me that a soldier who had passed by not long before had told him there had been an engagement some distance out beyond Guaycoru, and that the Blancos had been victorious, and had driven the Reds off in full flight to the north of the Sierras de Mal Abrigo, and so on towards the province of San Josè. How far this was really true, and whether it was an affair of much importance he did not know. He thought, however we should all do well to be on the alert, and promised to send me up word should he hear any further news. Everything seemed quiet as I rode back: the epidemia among the cattle was now dying out, and there was only an isolated case now and then, and I was thankful to think we had been able to get through the trouble so easily.

My arm by this time had become less inflamed, and much less painful, so I thought it better to go on with the treatment for a few days longer than the "curandera" had suggested. When I saw the negro again next morning he told me he had slept well, and felt all the better for it. He told me he had passed through a rough time with General Lopez Jordan up in Paraguay during the war between that country and Brazil. Having drifted down into Uruguay, he found himself with hardly any money, and no friends. Had it not been time of revolution, he did not doubt but that he could easily have got work. He said his nerves had been completely shattered, and what he wanted was a feeling of security and a little rest. He asked me if I would allow him to stay on a bit at the Cerro, as he liked the look of the place, for you had a good view all round, and could see anyone who might be coming. He said if I would permit him to stay he would be glad to do anything he could to make himself useful. I thereupon asked him if he would act as cook. "Pero con mucho gusto," "But with great pleasure," he replied. When I next saw Don Frederico he said I had better arrange with the negro, whose name was Correo, to do the cooking, and such housework as had to be done. Vicente could then come back to him, as he needed him rather badly. He also told me I had better take a little boy about twelve years old, a grandson of the old Indian, Feliciano, to help to look after the southdowns, and to look up horses, as otherwise I should find myself short-handed. He was a funny little person, with a pair of sharp-looking black eyes. His father was said to have been killed in a quarrel during the war, and although, of course, a relative of Justiniano, he had every appearance of mixed blood. Correo seemed very pleased at the prospect of staying on at the Cerro, and settled down quite comfortably. He kept the rooms clean and tidy, and could cook anything that was required. For the next ten days or so we had sheep-working on hand, and I was kept pretty busy; and we had the regular para rodeo of the cattle on Saturday as usual, which was now quite easy to manage.

A few days later, I started to ride over to an estancia belonging to a Mr. Trafford, which lay beyond the town of Colla, well on towards Colonia. My object was to see some rams we needed for the Fine Flock, and which Don Frederico had heard were for sale there. I rode a dark chestnut horse, which had been left tired and almost done up by soldiers, but had now recovered. I preferred taking him to a horse of our own mark, as I thought it quite possible I might have to pass through the Blanco lines. Should this be so and they took the chestnut they would probably give me another in exchange which would do to bring me home. I was up early and in the saddle just after sunrise. It was a nice morning, and the chestnut was in good spirits, and went along smoothly and easily. When I reached Colla I found the place full of troops, so did not delay, but rode straight on and beyond, being asked as I passed the Police Station who I was, and where I was going. No one interfered with me. I stayed that night and over the next day with Mr. Trafford, who was very kind and hospitable. He had no one with him when I arrived, for his daughter, not yet grown up, was away at school in Buenos Aires. His house was comfortable, well-built, and well-arranged, with a very wide verandah on one side of it. He saw me ride up, and came forward to welcome me, a thin, tall man, with a somewhat serious expression, which made him look older than he really was. He kept up the English custom of having tea in the afternoon about four o'clock, with bread and butter, cakes, jam, etc., which to me were quite a luxury. After partaking of this, I had a look over the rams, which were then in a large paddock not far from the house. They were a nice lot, well cared for, and in good condition, and on hearing the price I came to the conclusion they would be just about what Don Frederico required. So I arranged provisionally to buy twenty of them, and to pick out the ones we would have in the morning; this arrangement being subject to Don Frederico's approval. I further proposed he should write to Mr. Trafford immediately after my return, and so complete the purchase, and then we could send over to fetch them, as might seem convenient. The following day I much enjoyed as we rode over the estancia, and inspected both the sheep and cattle, for, as a matter of fact, Mr. Trafford had, for that time, some exceptionally good stock. He took great interest in his garden, which appeared well-stocked with both flowers and vegetables, and his numerous fruit trees were evidently a source of great pleasure to him. Next morning, after coffee, I saddled up the chestnut and started for home. On my way back I passed close to a place where a Spaniard, who was really a "basco," was driving a good sized flock of sheep up towards his house. A nice-looking sheep-dog, which looked well bred, was helping him very efficiently. I pulled up for a while to give my horse a rest, and I took a great fancy to the dog, for I liked the way he went about his work. We were getting a bit short-handed, and I thought a dog like this one would be useful, so I made his owner a bid for him, just in case he might care to part with him. Rather to my surprise, the man said he would not mind selling him, but only because he contemplated leaving where he was to go and live in a town, where the dog would be no use to him. The only condition he made was that I would be kind to him and treat him well. He was black and light tan in colour, and the true sheep-dog breed, with a nice head and intelligent eyes. The only fault I could see in him was he had rather too heavy a coat for work in hot weather. His name was Ramonou. He did not at all like being taken away from his home by a stranger, and I was obliged to lead him with a thin thong of hide, fastened to his collar, which I held in my hand. Fortunately the chestnut was very quiet and tractable, but having the dog with me naturally delayed my progress, so that it was late when I reached home. However, there was a moon which shone brightly, so it did not much matter. "Napoleon," as usual, was glad to see me back. Nothing had happened during my absence, and Correo soon got me some supper, and seemed quite contented and happy. Next morning "Ramonou" seemed none the worse for his journey. I had tied him up for the night and given him some food, and I now let him loose in the courtyard, just to stretch his legs. "Napoleon" was not at all quarrelsome, and the two dogs happily took to each other, and soon became great friends. I had the bay horse caught up, and started down to La Concordia, as I wished to lose no time in letting Don Frederico know what I had arranged about the rams. He was perfectly satisfied, and said he would at once write to Mr. Trafford. He told me he had heard that old Robinson was lying very ill over at the stonemason's, from the effect of too much Caña, and he went so far as to say he was doubtful if he would recover. "You know we should not like him to die over there," he said; "after being so many years at the Cerro, we had come to look upon him as almost part of the place!" "Supposing I send Steff, the Swiss peon, with a light cart to be at Anjel's puesto, say at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning. You might then send Juan and Justiniano to meet him there at that time, and they could all three go on together to the other side of the Pichinango. If there is plenty of 'paja' in the cart and he is well wrapped up, I do not see why he should not travel all right." So it was arranged; and I promised to see that the Indians were at the place appointed at the hour named. As a matter of fact, they both rather liked old Robinson, and would be sorry for him being so ill, and I felt sure they would do their best to bring him back with as little suffering as possible. I then rode back to the Cerro, round by Anjel's puesto.

When the cart arrived at the Cerro with the poor old man lying full length in it, I saw at once that he was very ill. We got him out of the cart and into the kitchen, where we laid him down in front of the fire and started rubbing his hands and feet, for he really seemed in all but a comatose condition. After a while he somewhat recovered, and I got him to swallow two or three spoonfuls of mutton broth made strong and quite plain. Towards evening he seemed better, and said he wished us to get him up into his bedroom above the kitchen. He could not speak above a whisper, but I understood him to say he felt cold, and would rather be in his own room above the kitchen stove than in one of the larger rooms on the ground floor. For two or three days he seemed to mend, and then one afternoon he sank into an unconscious state, and I knew it would not be long before all was over. He could take nothing whatever, but he lasted through the night, and passed peacefully away about eleven o'clock next morning. I sent down at once to tell Don Frederico, and he sent me word he would have a shell coffin sent up as soon as possible. During the afternoon we got the remains down from the bedroom and laid them on a "quatre," or wooden camp bedstead, in the last room but one at the far end of the house, which had a door in it, opening into the courtyard, covering the body over with a white sheet. Late in the evening the wooden shell arrived, and we reverently laid him in it. I put a couple of screws in half way down, just to hold on the lid for the time being. The Indians said they would light a candle and watch by the coffin, and Correo said he would like to take a turn also. It was a fine clear night, calm and still, with the moon now in its second quarter, and about nine o'clock I went to bed. I was awakened some three hours later by a loud knocking at my door. I jumped up, hastily putting on some clothes, and took up my revolver, which was lying by my bedside. When I opened my door, leading into the covered archway, there was Correo, his face an ashy grey colour, gesticulating violently outside, and begging me to come at once to the room where we had placed the coffin. He said the Indians who had been on guard were terribly frightened, because while they were on watch the ghost of the "finado," or dead man, had appeared, and was then to be seen passing like a shadow up and down the room. As I went out into the courtyard "Napoleon" came and put his cold nose in my hand, and the rosillo who was shut in there for the night, gave a little neigh. I went to the door, opened it, and entered the room, followed by the negro, who was almost in tears. Of course, there was nothing, and I showed him the two screws half way down in the lid, exactly as we had left them. Meanwhile the Indians had fled and hid themselves in the galpon; the candle they had left lighted was flickering down in its socket, and the room was in semi-darkness. I with difficulty persuaded Correo to go to his bed and have a sleep, for he was much upset, and trembling all over, but at last I succeeded. I thereupon locked the door of the room, taking the key with me, and returned to my bed for the rest of the night, which passed without further disturbance of any kind. The next morning, but one, Steff drove up in his cart with the coffin, into which we silently placed the remains, and he started at once to convey it to the cemetery in the Swiss Colony. At the same time I rode down to La Concordia to advise Don Frederico that it was on its way to its last resting place. When I got there I unsaddled my horse and tied him up under the euremada before going inside the house. A little later I was sitting in the dining room talking to Jennings, when Don Frederico came hurriedly in. "Good gracious!" he said, "there is Steff crossing the rincon towards the Pass of the Rosario standing up in the cart and trotting ever so fast. Do go down and stop him, and tell him only to go at a foot pace." A "moro rosillo" (blue roan horse) was standing ready saddled outside. I jumped up on him and went down the high bank behind the house somewhat faster than he liked. He started bucking as he got nearly to the bottom, and what with being taken unprepared and only having my right hand on the reins, I narrowly escaped what might have been a nasty fall; but I was able to stop the cart before it crossed the pass. I returned to the house, and shortly afterwards Don Frederico started to go to the cemetery in the Swiss Colony, in order to attend the funeral, while I rode up to the Cerro, as some sheep-working was going on there I wanted to see after. Ramonou came and helped, and soon proved himself useful in getting the sheep through the yards. We were now in the first week of October, and as work of this kind would be pretty constant throughout the month it seemed as if he had arrived on the scene just about the right time. One morning I was busy superintending this work; the weather was becoming hot, and progress somewhat slow. Before going to breakfast, I went to my room to wash my hands; my arm had now got much better, the inflammation and swelling having gone. I had turned up my shirt sleeve, and was rubbing the soap gently between my hands, when a thistle thorn half an inch long suddenly popped out of my arm, somewhat in the same way as a cork flies out of a bottle, and fell into the soapy water. By its appearance it should have been a larger thorn, so that part must have broken off when it entered the arm. Anyway, I was only too glad to be rid of it, for it might easily have caused me more trouble than it had done, and I felt thankful to the "curandera" for the advice she had given me. The thorns of the big thistle are very sharp and strong, so much so that when riding through them I have known a thorn pierce right through a long leather riding boot.

The spring had so far been a dry one, and we were looking forward to soon beginning the shearing, partly because the season was an early one, and also on account of the difficulty of getting shearers. Soldiers were everywhere more or less on the move, and on an estancia this is always a hindrance to work of every kind. Saturday came round again with its "para rodeo" of the cattle, and on Monday morning, between ten and eleven o'clock, thirty soldiers arrived asking for food and horses. They were travelling north to join the main army. I had a sheep killed for them, as they said they were hungry, and gave them some farinha and yerba, and I ordered our horses to be got up into the corral; it was, in fact, the only thing to do. They ended by taking thirteen horses, six of our own mark, including the brown colt we had tamed, and seven which had been left with us by soldiers, among them the chestnut I had ridden over to Mr. Trafford's estancia. They left us five, apparently tired out, and weary, and all in poor condition.