Blanco y Colorado: Old Days among the Gauchos of Uruguay

by William C. Tetley

I had the rosillo saddled; indeed, I now had him up very constantly, letting him out to feed at night. Our own horses were gradually disappearing, and I saw it would not be long before we ran short of them. We were now busy getting ready for shearing, and I had to go round to all the native neighbours and find out how many and when they would be likely to come. This year, owing to the scarcity of outside people, it seemed probable that more of our own people would have to shear than usual. Meanwhile, Don Frederico was doing all he could in the Swiss Colony, although as a rule the colonists were not great shearers, for at that particular time their own farms often needed attention. I had the stone walls of the sheepyards attended to, and saw to the gates, and also that the doors and belongings of the galpon were all in proper order. I also had an ample supply of wood brought up from the Monte, the necessary provisions had to be got ready as well as numerous other articles, all of which were sure to be wanted at such a busy time. On November 1st a small gang of nine shearers arrived. They had been previously engaged, and commenced work on the following day. Meantime, Jennings duly turned up at the Cerro to take charge inside the galpon, while I looked after matters outside, and also helped him in my spare time. It was not long before we found out how useful Ramonou could make himself. He helped to get the sheep through the yards, and also to hurry a flock from one of the puestos, which otherwise would have come too slowly, and so kept the shearers waiting for sheep. The weather favoured us—for the month proved warm and exceptionally dry, so work got on faster than it could otherwise have done. Soldiers called up half a dozen at a time, but no large number came to trouble us, for which we were very thankful. Pedrito now kept an eye on the southdowns, and also got up the horses, for both old Juan and Justiniano took a turn at shearing, although neither of them were very efficient.

Work progressed as the days passed, and time went on, so that by the end of the first week in December, we made a finish, and the gang of shearers having received their money, at length took their departure. No sooner was shearing over than we had to see about marking the calves. This should have been done earlier, but perhaps owing to the same causes which had produced the epidemia the cattle this spring had been in rather poor condition, and the calves generally both younger and weaker than usual. The third week in December began on a Wednesday, and Don Frederico fixed that day for the marking. I went round to let our native neighbours know, and asked them all to come and help. Fortunately, the morning was fine, and we were all on the move at the Cerro even earlier than usual. I rode a black horse with a white star and two white hind feet. Pedrito was quite proud of himself, mounted on a small bay which had been left tired by soldiers, but had now recovered. He was a good rider, inherited no doubt from his Indian ancestry, and he never pulled his horse's mouth about more than was necessary. As it happened, although we were fewer horsemen than usual, the cattle came up well, and we left them to go round and round on the rodeo while Don Frederico and Jennings came up to the Cerro to have some coffee which Correo had ready for us. I let go the black horse and saddled up the rosillo, and on returning to the rodeo was pleased to find that several of our native neighbours had arrived. With the aid of a point of tame cattle to lead them, we got the herd shut up in the manga, and I felt relieved to think that my responsibility was now over. Two large fires were lit, and the brands heated, and then two of our native neighbours rode in among the cattle to lasso and bring out the calves. And so the work progressed, until about eleven o'clock a halt was made for breakfast. Seeing we depended so much upon the help of our native neighbours, Don Frederico said we had better regale them with what was known as "Carne con cuiro," or beef roasted in the hide. So a young cow had been killed and cut up in a much shorter time than the uninitiated would deem possible, and two big roasts with the hide on them were already cooking before the fires. This above everything is a delicacy the South American native dearly loves, and Pedrito's face was a picture when he learnt what was going to happen. Caña, farinha, salt, and yerba were served out, and the company were all enjoying their repast when a horseman appeared approaching, perhaps two hundred and fifty yards away. As he got nearer I saw he was riding a colt, known as a "redamon," i.e., only about half tamed, with a piece of hide tied round its lower jaw, instead of a bit, and as he rode on towards us the animal, a beautiful "rosillo," answering the slightest touch of the rider's hand on the rein, he was indeed a sight to see. His long black hair well oiled and curling beneath a worn and battered old felt hat, fell almost down to his shoulders. Over a shirt anything but clean was a dilapidated old summer "poncho," with a rag of a white handkerchief tied loosely round his neck. An old worn coloured "cheripa," over a pair of cotton drawers, covered his waist and the upper part of his legs, and below were a pair of potro boots, made of the skin of a wild mare, from which the hair had been removed; mounted with a pair of large iron spurs, completed his footgear. As he rode among the crowd, he raised his hat above his head with a "Buen dia Señores" (Good-day, gentlemen) as he sat on his horse like a statue waiting to be invited to dismount. Then came a cry from the assembled company, "Cypriano caramba! Cypriano!" but the tribute was certainly not to his wealth, nor indeed, to his character, for he was a well-known horse stealer, as well as a famous "domador," or horse-tamer, but rather a spontaneous and unpremeditated recognition of his wonderful horsemanship. This touched the hearts of the "Gauchos" as nothing else could have done. In spite of his rags and his dirt and his poverty, he was to them a true aristocrat, rising for the moment head and shoulders above his fellows; for such, indeed, at that time, was the way and custom and manner of the "Pampas."

Breakfast being finished, work was resumed. By three o'clock the marking was over, and the herd of cattle let go, when, owing to the times through which we were living, the company at once dispersed. The weather continued hot and dry right into the New Year, when I found the water in the alhibi, or reservoir in the courtyard was becoming exhausted. As I have previously stated, all our water came from collecting the rainfall on the roof, whence it passed through pipes into the "alhibi." Usually the supply was sufficient, but probably the water had been used in excess and wasted during the shearing, and as no rain had fallen now for some weeks, it was easy to account for the shortage I wished to preserve what there was for the house, and indoor use; so we caught up an old petiso called Waddle, and Justiniano mounted him and made fast his lasso to the forked branch of a tree with a barrel fixed on its top, and started for the Cañada Grande to fetch water. He did not go very fast, for Waddle had seen much of life, and had an enlarged knee; but he had done the job before, and he did not mind. I daresay, too, he knew by experience it was not likely to last very long. So with the daily barrel brought up each morning, we managed to get along quite comfortably. As to the stock, they always had plenty of water, with the river Rosario on one side and the river Pichinango on the other, not to speak of the Cañada Grande, which was hardly ever dry; nor, indeed, had they to go any distance to drink. Of course the "seca" had its effect on the pasture, and the grass everywhere got very dry. Where, however, the camp was not overstocked, and there was good water, the animals could pass through time of drought without coming to any harm. One morning Pedrito, who had been out on an old horse looking after the southdowns, came back and said he had seen an ostrich nest with several eggs in it, which he thought were still quite good; so I sent Juan with him to fetch them. There were seven, and they turned out to be but recently laid. The female bird will lay her eggs out in the open, choosing a place where the grass is long and dry, and well exposed to the sun. The yolk is somewhat rich, both in taste and colour; but when fried in a frying pan or made into an omelette is excellent eating. One of his other pastimes was going after partridges also on horseback, holding a long stick in his hand, at the end of which was fastened a thin running noose. When he saw a bird lying in the grass, which they were fond of doing during hot and dry weather, he would ride round and round in a circle, gradually getting nearer and nearer, until he could drop the noose over the head of the bird as it lay still, as it often would do for some time. Correo could cook both the ostrich eggs and partridge very well, and I found them a pleasant change after a prolonged course of mutton roast and boiled. During hot weather he often wore a beautiful suit of white cotton; he had two of these with him, and when he brought in my meal to the dining room he would occasionally stand behind my chair, in a solemn manner while I was eating, which certainly looked imposing, for his black skin shone like ebony, but was at the same time quite unnecessary. He did not much like talking about his experiences during the war in Paraguay, which I always realised had given him a pretty severe shock, for he told me he had passed through villages where not a single man had been left alive, and where a stranger entering them would find himself surrounded by only women and children, all of whom were in a state of semi-starvation, and of abject terror and misery. All the crops and animals had been destroyed by the troops as they passed, and there was nothing suitable in the way of food anywhere within reach. I liked the old man, whom I always found very willing and obliging, and I was glad to see his health improve, as it certainly did, doubtless owing to the rest, and quiet, and to freedom for the time being from any care or anxiety as to where or how he could get a living.

The New Year came in exceptionally hot; day after day brought continual sunshine from a blue sky, in which scarcely a cloud could be seen. Towards mid-day the rays of heat poured down so fiercely, they seemed as if they would scorch the very tussock grass itself. The rocks behind the house fairly glistened and shimmered in the noon-tide glare, and the large lizards were very happy, constantly running in and out of their holes, and indeed had a glorious time. Out in the camp, the ground itself got warm, and everything dried up. The cattle could be seen here and there in groups; by this formation they seemed to think they might escape the burning rays of the sun, and it was in the night and early morning, as well as late afternoon, that they were able to feed in comfort. They went gladly enough to the rivers to drink, but they could not stay long by the woods on account of the number of flies which were ever ready to pester and torment them, until they hardly knew how to bear. The sheep, also, could be seen clumping themselves together, each trying, as it were, to get shade by standing in each other's shadow.

If the pasturage on the estancia was hard and dry, there was yet plenty of it, and as there was abundant water I had no fear of anything like starvation for the stock. During the great heat the "siesta" in the middle of the day had to be longer than usual, and practically all work was suspended, except during the early morning and late afternoon. The rooms, however, were very comfortable during hot weather, for being so high, and opening one into another, there was always plenty of air, even when the heavily-barred windows were, according to the Spanish custom, kept shut during the middle of the day in order to keep out the heat. We had no garden to suffer, and were thankful for the grateful shade of the "ombu," and also of the figtrees in the courtyard, so that, except for the want of water, we had little to complain of during the period of the "seca." Curiously enough, during the great heat we had no thunderstorm, the atmosphere remaining perfectly clear and dry. This, however, was quite unusual.

One morning, not long after sunrise, two Blanco officers, and about eighty soldiers rode up to the Cerro. They said they were en route for Colonia, and had been travelling the greater part of the night, taking advantage of a nearly full moon. I invited the two officers into the house to have some coffee, but before accepting, they said what they wanted were horses, for many of those they had with them were tired, and it was important they should get on with as little delay as possible. I asked if the soldiers wanted food, but all they were allowed to do was to make a couple of fires and suck some Matè, before proceeding on their journey. As to the horses, there was nothing for it but to get all our horses up into the corral—they had not long been let go—and let the soldiers take what they wanted. There were now but few of our own mark to choose from; the others being horses previously left with us. However, they took seventeen and left us twelve tired ones, poor in condition, and not one of them looking as if he was much account. As it happened, the bay colt we had tamed was with his mother and the wall-eyed horse I often rode, and old Waddle some distance further away. So these did not come up with the others, thus the bay colt once more escaped attention. I had the rosillo tied up and saddled, and Pedrito was riding the little "mala kara," so he got off, but a very light bay horse, called an "andador," or pacer, which Justiniano was fond of riding, was one of the first chosen by the soldiers. The officers told me they were going to join a large division of the Blanco army, now in the province of Colonia, which was thought likely to be moving in our direction, and it was supposed General Aparicio himself was coming down shortly just to see how things were going. The officers were quite civil, but when they were gone, and I had time to think matters over, I realised that this hardly compensated for the fact that we had now hardly any horses of our own mark left to us. Such, indeed, was so often the fortune of those whose business it was in "the old days" to try and carry on an estancia during time of revolution.

On January the twentieth, we had three or four very short and slight showers, and on the day following, heavy rain fell and continued without intermission for twenty-four hours. The "seca" had now broken up, the "alhibi" was more than half full, and we had no further trouble in regard to water. Soon after two o'clock on the last afternoon in the month, a party of soldiers rode up, and one of them, who appeared to be their leader, told me I was to go with them to where a division of the Blanco army was encamped, some two and a half leagues to the south-east of the Cerro. As they seemed to attach importance to the request, I did not care to quite refuse or indeed argue the point as to whether I should go or not. Moreover, I thought it would be an experience, and possibly somewhat of an adventure. As it happened, I had caught up the rosillo a short time before, intending to take a turn round the camp. I told them I would be ready in a quarter of an hour, saddled him up, strapped the belt of my revolver round my waist, slipped a light summer poncho over my head, and we made a start forthwith. Meanwhile, the Indians had hid themselves in the galpon, and I bid adieu to Correo, who looked greatly perturbed when he saw me depart. We travelled rapidly along, for something over an hour, and then, as I looked ahead, I saw an interesting scene spread out before me. In a large "rincon," at the back of which was a stream, lightly bordered by trees, were quite a large number of soldiers. Horses were either feeding loose or tethered everywhere. The men were scattered about in every sort of attitude and position, mostly resting and smoking, and some enjoying a game of cards, while others were chatting and talking together, and apparently enjoying themselves. Meanwhile, fires had been lighted in front of which large joints of meat were already roasting. A little to the right, half a dozen "Gauchos" were busy giving some colts they had got hold of a gallop, which, from their appearance, had only been recently caught up. Behind all these, on slightly rising ground, a group of officers were gathered. One of these was seated on some rugs and saddle gear, which had been piled up for the purpose, and he was at the time occupied in sucking Matè through a silver "bombilla," or tube. He was a remarkable looking man, somewhat above middle height, with rather broad shoulders, over which his long hair hung down in a slight curl at the back, swarthy in complexion, with a very keen-looking pair of black eyes. I realised at once that I was in the presence of no less a personage than General Aparicio himself. Meanwhile, he invited me to dismount, and asked me who I was, and where I had come from, and what had brought me there. When I told him, he said, "This ought not to have happened! There must have been some mistake!" Then he continued, "Siente sé Señor," "Sit down, Sir." "Vamos à tomar un matecito," "Let us drink a little Matè." In the meantime, a soldier was holding my horse, and behind where we were sitting, two lances were stuck in the ground, from which the white banner was flying. The General's sharp eyes caught my horse. "That little rosillo seems made of some good stuff," he said. "You had better take good care of him." I told him he had the mark of the Estancia Pichinango, and was about the only one we had left. "Pero que quiere mi amigo? Es tiempo de guerra." ("But what could you wish, my friend? It is time of war,") he replied, with a laugh. The General then told me that a good many matreros (deserters from the army) and bad characters, were said to be hiding in the woods our way, and that he would send a couple of soldiers with me when I went back, who could also stay at the Cerro for a time, in case I should find myself in any trouble. Thereupon I thanked him, and about half an hour later made my adieux. As I left the camp the two soldiers rode in front of me, each carrying his lance, with the white banner flying, while I followed immediately behind. Upon reaching the Cerro, which we did just after sundown, I got quite a reception from Correo and the Indians, in which "Napoleon" and "Ramonou," also "Brag" and "Bully," took part, in fact, they all appeared quite relieved, and very pleased to see me back again. On the next morning, I rode down to La Concordia to see Don Frederico. He was greatly amused when I told him of my little expedition, and at once asked me if I thought the Blancos were likely to be coming our way. I told him I thought not, as from what I had gathered their intention was to make straight for Colonia across country, as it were, without touching the town of Colla, in which case they would not be likely to come near the Pichinango. He further said the two soldiers who had come back with me would be a help rather than a hindrance, for he had been wondering how we could manage to get the horses all gathered up into the "manga" this year, and the foals marked, seeing there was hardly any outside person available. He said that now I had the two soldiers, who doubtless understood camp work, at disposal, he would arrange a day to gather up the horses, with as little delay as possible, and let me know. I could then inform our native neighbours, and possibly succeed in getting a certain amount of help. I rode back by Marmasola's puesto, and told him if he knew of anyone likely to be of any use, to be sure and let me know. That same evening, a little before sundown, a young Englishman, Mr. Frank Turnor, arrived, with three horses and a peon. He was "Major Domo" on a large English estancia up the country, and he asked if we could put him up for the night. This I was delighted to do, and we had the horses collared and sent out to feed. He was a fine-looking young man, with broad shoulders, and a tall, upright figure. We were sitting smoking after dinner, when the conversation turned upon "matreros," men wanted by the police, hiding in the woods, whereupon he told me the following story. He said where he was living they had large woods bordering the river, in which "matreros" would come and stay for a time, living on the estancia cattle, and then move off again to other secure places, where the police could not catch them. They were a desperate lot, and murdered one of the shepherds of the place because he mended up the fence after they had cut the wires, so as to pass backwards and forwards, which was a cause of annoyance to them. He said it was his business, together with two men, to search the woods every Saturday to see if they were there, as they always left some trace or other, such as the remains of food or tracks of horses. Both he and his men always carried rifles, but he was never very keen about finding the thieves, as they were known to be very dangerous characters. A new Chief of Police had come, whose ambition was to catch these men. Knowing the outlaws were in the woods, he thereupon notified him, and the police officer appeared early one Sunday morning with ten men, all fully armed, when he at once went with him to show more or less where the matreros were to be found. On the way they met a half Indian man called the Negro Largo, who in peace time was allowed three sheep a week to keep him from stealing, and in time of revolution forty dollars a month to save the horses; as the Indian then had some thirty men under his command. He went on to say that as he and the Negro Largo knew the woods, they were asked to go quietly ahead, so as to try and find the encampment, the police following.

At last some horses were seen tied out near some little "talditos," or coverings made of branches, but all was quiet; it was very hot, and the thieves were sleeping. He and the Negro Largo then returned to the police, without disturbing the sleepers. Turnor wanted the "comisario" to charge right up on horseback, but being an infantry officer, he preferred to do so on foot. So after approaching a little nearer he ordered his men to dismount and form line, and himself heading them with drawn sword, charged up to the place where the horses were tied. Owing, however, to the noise caused by dismounting, etc., the outlaws, hearing what was going on, made a bolt into the thick wood, so that only the horses, saddles, etc., were captured. He further mentioned that he and the Negro Largo were not in the charge, but behind a tree watching.

The police officer was intensely proud of his achievement, and at once ordered one of the best looking horses to be saddled up for him. When he mounted, however, the horse reared, and coming over backwards, gave him a bad fall, much to the general amusement.

Turnor said that this was his only encounter with the "matreros," but that some time after two of the men with rifles who were revising the woods as usual came right upon the outlaws over a bank, with their horses saddled. Instead of trying to escape they at once mounted and attacked them, firing their pistols, when they on their part being taken by surprise, made a bolt of it, and being better mounted succeeded in getting safely away. Eventually all the outlaws were captured and put in prison.