Blanco y Colorado: Old Days among the Gauchos of Uruguay

by William C. Tetley

Indeed, I have always been given to understand that the "boleadores" were in use among the Indians of the Pampas from quite remote times. A few days passed, and nothing happened, and then one morning just after ten o'clock a Blanco officer and between seventy and eighty soldiers arrived, who asked for food and horses. Accordingly I had two sheep killed, and gave them what else they required, and told them to make a couple of fires outside, over which to roast their meat and boil their kettles. As to horses, I told them we had none left, only a few more or less useless ones, which had been left by soldiers. As, however, they said they had four tired ones which could go no further, I sent Pedrito to bring up what we had into the corral, so that they could suit themselves, for under the circumstances it was the only thing to do. Finally, they took five and left their broken-down ones in their place. So we were not much worse off after all. The rosillo I had saddled, and regarding him they gave me no trouble whatever, so I really had cause to be thankful, for I particularly did not wish to lose him. We invited the officer to come in and have breakfast. He was a good-looking man, not more than thirty years of age. He told us they had come from the north, and were going to join their division near Colonia. He said the main White army was now very strong indeed, and it was their intention before long to push right through the province of San Josè, where they expected to easily drive the Colorados before them, and then to besiege Monte Video, thus stopping all supplies coming in from the interior. Should they succeed in carrying out their intention, which he fully believed they would do, we might have reason to hope the war would soon be over. In due course, the soldiers having refreshed themselves, took their departure, proceeding at a "trotte-cito," or jog-trot, towards the Pass of the Pichinango, the officer riding in solitary grandeur behind. One afternoon in the middle of the week following, Bent and I were up on the azotea taking a look round. We had not been there long when we saw something which looked like a man on horseback going slowly, leaning forward in the saddle, with his arms resting upon the horse's neck. He seemed to sit more or less helpless, and the horse, which was three-quarters of a mile distant, appeared to be making his own way, having come from the East, behind the Cerro, towards the road which led from it to La Concordia. I sent Justiniano, who had a horse saddled, to see if anything was amiss, and if so, told him to bring the horse and rider back with him. This he did, and the latter turned out to be a Swiss, weak and faint from loss of blood. We got him off his horse, and carried him into the galpon, where we laid him on a "quatre," or light wooden bedstead, and I then managed to pour a little Caña and water down his throat, for, as we lifted him from his horse, he had suddenly fainted. After a few moments he came round, and told us he was coming in from outside with a considerable sum of money on him. Suddenly three men appeared, whom he took to be "matreros," or deserters, for they had no device on their hats, although all were armed. They compelled him to hand over all the money, his poncho, spurs, and silver-handled whip, even to a large gold ring which he wore on the fourth finger of his right hand. They threatened to cut his throat if he made any resistance, and as it was he had a deep wound from a stab with a knife, just about the middle of the forearm, inside and below the elbow of the bridle hand. This had evidently bled profusely, and was even then bleeding, and it was clear the poor man had lost a good deal of blood. He thought the wound must have been made when one of them was taking the ring from his finger. However, Bent and I managed to improvise a small tourniquet, and so get pressure to bear, which easily controlled the bleeding. We then bound up the arm with a cold water bandage, and made the man as comfortable as we could. Correo made him some "bouillon," and when he had taken this he soon sank off into a doze. About an hour and a half later he woke up, feeling better, whereupon we readjusted the bandage and enquired his name and address, and where his home was situate in the Swiss Colony. I told him to make himself as comfortable as he could during the night, and early in the morning I would send a messenger to advise his friends what had happened, so that they could bring a light cart to fetch him, for he was too weak to ride. I told Justiniano to tie up a horse and start as soon after daylight as he could, taking at the same time a note I wrote to Don Frederico, telling him what had happened. This Justiniano could leave at La Concordia as he passed, without really going out of his way. Meanwhile, old Juan said he would keep an eye on the man during the early part of the night, and advise me if anything went wrong. Bent and I then turned in, feeling pretty sure that if the Swiss could get some sleep he would probably be better in the morning. Fortunately, this turned out to be the case, although the patient was still very weak. About ten o'clock a friend and a relation arrived in a light covered cart, with a straw mattress and suitable coverings. We carried the Swiss, and placed him carefully in the cart, it was evident he had received altogether a great shock. I gave his relative a written statement of what we saw; how we had found him; and what we had done, so that if necessary it could be shewn to the police, and I said I was prepared and willing to answer any further enquiries. They soon made a start, and this little excitement was over. May was now well advanced, and sheep-working among the flocks, which had been pretty constant, was drawing to its close. One morning, towards the end of the month, Bent and I rode down early to La Concordia, where the fine flock was to be passed through the yards. The work made good progress, so that we were both back again at the Cerro a little before twelve o'clock. When I saw Correo he told me a Swiss baker had called during our absence, on his way outside with bread, and that he had bought three loaves from him. We were glad of this, as being a pleasant change from the "galleta," or hard camp biscuit. According to our usual custom, we were both again up on the "azotea" about four o'clock in the afternoon.

Everything seemed quiet, but we had not been there long before our attention was arrested by what looked like a covered cart slowly crossing the camp, about a mile and a half away, in the direction of the Cañada Grande, opposite to Laborde's puesto. Every now and again it seemed to stop, and the two horses, which we could see were drawing it, appeared to be grazing. Altogether, it gave us the impression that either there was no driver in the cart, or that if one was there, he was either drunk or incapable. I then decided to send Justiniano to see what was the matter. He had the bay colt his uncle had tamed saddled, whose shoulder was even yet not quite sound. I told him if he found anything wrong to make his lasso fast to the horses, and so bring them cart and all, up to the Cerro. By this time, from Correo's description, we had identified the cart as belonging to the Swiss baker, who had passed in the morning. Of course, it was possible that he had somehow got separated from his cart, which was now moving towards home without him. Meanwhile, we watched Justiniano reach the cart, get off his horse, and go round to the back to look in behind. He then came round and made fast his lasso to the horses' heads, remounted, and made start with the cart in tow in the direction of the Cerro. All this we could see quite clearly through the telescope. When he arrived, I went down to meet him, and Correo and Pedrito and uncle Juan were all in attendance. I saw at once from Justiniano's countenance, that something serious had happened. Our consternation may be imagined when he told us that the body of the baker was lying inside the cart, and that he was quite dead, with his throat cut from ear to ear. How he had come to his death we were unable to form any idea. We could only suppose that two or three "matreros" had come across him in the open camp, far from any dwelling, and that they had done the dastardly deed from sheer devilry. The poor man apparently had no revolver or weapon with him in the cart; if he had one it had been taken away, neither was there any sign of shots having been fired at him; nor was either of the horses in any way maimed or injured. In fact the whole thing was a complete mystery. Correo and the Indians seemed greatly impressed. Naturally, the former could identify the body and the cart as being that of the man from whom he had bought the three loaves of bread in the morning, but beyond that there was nothing whatever to point as to how the tragedy had come about. Inside the cart was indeed a sickening sight. The loaves that remained, and the floor of the cart, were covered with blood. I took a note of all the gruesome details, and then we got the body out of the cart, and laid it on a heap of sheepskins inside the galpon, and covered it over with a white sheet. When I first saw it the body was quite cold, and probably the poor man had already been dead for more than two or three hours, for already the arms and legs had begun to get slightly stiff. By the time all this was done, it was getting dusk. The sun had already set, so I postponed sending down to the Swiss Colony to convey the sad news until early the following morning.

Soon after sunrise Justiniano started, and I told him to call at La Concordia on his way back, and tell Don Frederico what had happened. About ten o'clock two men arrived, who took away the cart and the remains. I made out a written statement of the whole affair, so far as we knew about it, and were concerned in it. This I signed and dated, and got Bent to witness. I then gave it to one of the two men, who turned out to be a relation of the "finado," or deceased. In the afternoon I rode down to Marmasola's puesto. He had just returned from Solarez's pulperia on the other side of the pass. He told me he had heard that a large division of the Colorado army, with infantry and artillery, was coming up to turn the Blancos out of the province of Colonia, and that there was pretty sure to be a battle very shortly. Hearing this, I rode on to La Concordia to acquaint Don Frederico, who said it was just about what he expected, and we had better be on the alert, and keep a sharp look-out. I then went back to the Cerro, and we got the "tamberos" up on to their "rodeo," and I saw the southdowns safely shut in, and by the time I had unsaddled and put the "rosillo" into the stable, it was already sundown. Next morning we were all early on the move. We carefully shut all the doors and entrances to the galpon, and so far as we could made all fast. We looked to our firearms, and had our long ladder which reached to the roof of the house, carefully concealed in the galpon, so that no one could get up there from outside; in fact, we prepared everything to make as good a defence as we could in the event of our being attacked.

Next morning, after all our preparations, everything appeared quiet, but about three o'clock in the afternoon we heard the constant firing of big guns out towards Colla, although, by their sound, we were able to tell they must have been a good long distance away. The firing continued intermittently until sundown. We spent the afternoon on the roof, which we could reach with the small ladder inside the house. Nothing happened during the night, but half an hour after sunrise the first signs of the battle which had taken place began to show themselves. First a small party of Blanco soldiers were seen crossing the estancia at a gallop from the Pass of the Pichinango, shaping their course straight for the Sierras de Mal Abrigo. These were followed by others and by single soldiers, galloping for all they were worth. Then, later on, came the main body of the Blancos in full flight. Stretching in a long uneven, but continuous line, they passed about two hundred yards in front of the Cerro, the wounded in carts without springs, drawn by horses, and what looked in some cases like half-tamed mares, were continually passing, to which any amount of whip was forthcoming to make them move. Early in the day none of the soldiers came up to the Cerro, but about three o'clock a light cart, with a canvas covering, drove up to the house, with three horses attached to it. A negro, who sat in front with a whip, which he evidently had made good use of, was driving. In attendance were two soldiers, with their lances, and fully armed. They told us that a wounded colonel lay inside, who was in great pain, so much so that he could with difficulty bear the jolting of the vehicle, which had no springs. They asked if we could do anything to help him in his plight. I proposed that we should get him out of the cart and lay him on a "quatre" in the covered way which led from the galpon into the court, where he would get plenty of air, and we could then see if anything could be done for him. This we did, and then Bent and I attended to him. He had a severe lance wound in the right side, just above the hip bone. It was only very roughly bound up with some dirty calico, and he had evidently lost a good deal of blood. We first gave him a little Caña and water, and I told Correo to bring him a cup of bouillon, made of mutton, with rice in it, which he happened to have cooking on the kitchen stove. We undid the bandage, sponging the wound with warm water, so as to get it clean so far as we could. I then put on three pads made of linen soaked in cold water, fresh from the "alhibi," covered them with a piece of oil-silk I happened to have, and over these a broad linen bandage, to do which I remember I tore up the last remaining dress shirt I possessed. Above all this, we firmly fastened a broad strip of blanket, so that it would not easily move. Meanwhile, Correo and the Indians roughly fixed up three small bags filled with the dead leaf of the maize plant, and some old wool we had in the galpon; one for him to lie upon, with the other two on either side, in order, so far as possible, to deaden the jolting of the cart. By this time he seemed to have somewhat recovered, and although we could not persuade him to eat anything solid he took some more "bouillon," with a little biscuit broken into it. He seemed a very nice man, about forty years of age, and he told us his name was Antonio Martinez, and gave me an address which would always find him. He was very grateful for the little we had been able to do for him, and told me if at any time he could be of any service to us I was to be sure to let him know. We then carried him carefully to the cart, where we made him as comfortable as might be. The soldiers and the negro had meanwhile got something to eat, and sucked some Matè in the galpon, so they were quite refreshed, and we watched them make a start, with the sincere hope that the wounded colonel might safely reach his journey's end. The passing of the soldiers went on during the day; it did not finish until about half an hour before sunset. Bent and I watched it to the end from the "azotea," and it was indeed a wonderful sight. The excitement and the desire to get on was intense, and it was quite clear the Blancos had been defeated, and were now making a pretty good run of it, and that the whole division, of which we had from time to time seen portions, and heard so much, was hastening to join their main army, lest the victorious Colorados should again come up with them. We also remained watchful and alert, and continued to have everything made fast for the next two or three days, so that should they happen to come our way they would not catch us unprepared. The dogs, however, did not at all approve of it, because they could not run in and out of the galpon at will, but "Napoleon" and "Ramonou" managed to take exercise in the courtyard, and "Brag" and "Bully" did very much the same. However, a week went by and we heard nothing of the Colorados after the battle; all we knew was that none of them seemed to come our way, and for this we were thankful. One afternoon, a few days later, about half an hour before sunset, a captain in the Blanco army rode up to the Cerro, attended by a soldier, carrying his lance and wearing the white device on his hat. They had a led horse with them in addition to the two they rode, and all three were in first-rate condition. The captain asked me if we could put them up for the night. So soon as they had unsaddled, I had one of the tropillas brought up, and we collared their horses for them. Correo soon made up a bed, and it was not long before Bent and I and the captain sat down to supper, the soldier, meanwhile, making himself quite happy with the Indians in the galpon. After it was over we sat and smoked and talked in the gun-room, where Correo had lit a small fire in the stove, so that we were warm and comfortable. Our guest told us his name was Eduardo Suares; he was very polite, and appeared to be well educated; and he looked certainly not more than thirty years of age. He told us the battle of Colonia would have no influence whatever upon the movements of the main Blanco army, which he expected would now very shortly be moving forward, and that it would not be long before Monte Video would be besieged. He did not think for a moment that the Colorados would be able to make any firm stand outside the capital. All this being so, he considered that early in July the revolution might probably be at an end, and the Colorados would be compelled to resign office. Captain Suarez also said he had passed a great part of his life in the province of Entre Rios, where his relations had an estancia, but that he himself was a native of the republic of Uruguay. He gave us the following interesting account of the great Urguiza, Governour and despot of the province of Entre Rios, who was one of the strongest, ablest and most savage lieutenants of the famous Dictator Rosas. He ruled his province with the dagger and the bullet; himself shut up in a strong castle in the midst of the "Pampa." Eventually he succeeded to supreme power after the fall of Rosas, and his first important administrative act was to assemble all the provincial governours and to ratify the Fundamental Agreement of January, 1831, as the basis of the Constitution of the Argentine Confederation. He further told us that he himself was present at the death of Urguiza, when he was assassinated in 1870. He said that when Urguiza's body lay dead an Indian chief who was present exclaimed "Impossibile! El General Urguiza nunca muere!" "Impossible! The General Urguiza never dies!" It was during Urguiza's governorship of Entre Rios that it was said you could hang up a pair of silver stirrups upon a tree in the Monte, on the bank of the river, where there was much traffic, and go and find them there in a month's time. But this state of things was certainly not the case in the Republic of Uruguay during La Guerra de Aparicio, from the year 1870 to the year 1872. We both enjoyed listening to our guest's descriptive and animated conversation, and having bid each other "Buena noche" (good-night), retired to rest, as the captain wished to start early next morning. The horses were up in the corral by sunrise, when the soldier caught up and saddled his own and the captain's horse, and after partaking of coffee the latter bid us "Adios" with many thanks for the very slight hospitality I had been able to afford them. Exactly three weeks from the day when the wounded colonel Antonio Martinez drove up to the Cerro, a negro rode up about twelve o'clock. I happened to be just returning from a ride round the camp in the opposite direction. He appeared to be well mounted on a good-looking "bayo," or cream horse, with a black mane and tail, and he was leading a "saino," or brown, with a white star on his forehead. He saluted me, and asked if I was in charge of the Cerro. I said "Yes," whereupon he handed me a letter from Colonel Martinez, saying that after leaving us he had suffered very much less on his journey, that he had reached a hospital, and was now almost convalescent, for his wound had gone on well. It was a nice letter, couched in very friendly terms, thanking me for what we had done, which was really very little, and begging that I would accept the "saino" horse as a slight memento of what had happened. I told the negro to unsaddle and tie up the two horses and go into the galpon to get some breakfast, which he seemed very pleased to do. I then just had a look over the "saino." He was at first sight rather a long low-looking horse, with good shoulders and long sweeping quarters, and it was this length of body which made him appear, until you got close up to him, a smaller horse in height than he really was. He gave me the impression of being between six and seven years old. Bent had ridden down to the Swiss Colony, hoping to find some letters he was expecting, so I had to await his return before giving me his opinion regarding him. I wrote a letter to Colonel Martinez, thanking him for the horse, and for his kind thought about us, and gave it to the negro, who promised to deliver it, and after he was sufficiently refreshed he mounted his "bayo," to whom we had given a feed of maize, and departed. I then had the "tropilla" brought in, and collared the "saino" to the bay mare. Her colt, which old Juan had tamed, still suffered at times from his shoulder; hard ground seemed to affect him the most, for after rain he could then be ridden. A little before sundown Bent returned quite cheerful, having received his letters. There were several people at Quincke's pulperia, and the place seemed full of conversation and news. It was said that the advance on Monte Video by the Blanco army had already begun, and that the Colorados were now retiring before them. Those who had taken part in the battle of Colonia had already returned to the province of San Josè by a route which led them nearer to the estuary of La Plata, and I could not help fearing lest in their passing they might have gone to Monsieur Emile Gunther's, and so have taken "Carnival." However, I comforted myself by the certainty that if I had kept him on at the Cerro I must have lost him. When the horses came up in the morning, I saddled the "saino" and rode him down to La Concordia. Bent was not much impressed by his appearance, but when I saw Don Frederico, he said he thought him a good honest horse, likely to prove a good servant, and that I had better do all I could to look after him. We had now reached the second week in June, and winter had already come. However, we had plenty of grass, and both sheep and cattle had done very well since the New Year began. About eleven o'clock Marmasola sent me up a message by one of his boys to say that a battle on a somewhat large scale had taken place inside the province of San Josè; that the Blancos had been victorious, and that the Colorados were now completely disorganised, and fleeing before them. Further, it was supposed the main Blanco army would now move forward and besiege Monte Video. This was indeed great news, and we now felt we should soon see the end of the revolution, and peace would be declared at last. Two days later, about four o'clock, a Blanco officer rode up to the Cerro, carrying dispatches. He said his horse was tired, for he had travelled fast and far, and he begged me to lend him a really good horse, which would carry him along for five leagues (15 miles), without loss of time, at the end of which he felt certain of obtaining fresh horses and all he wanted. What was I to do? He said the dispatches were urgent, and he had been directed to make all possible haste. I thought it over a couple of minutes, and then told him I would lend him my rosillo, provided he would faithfully promise to let him go at the end of the five leagues, and this he promised to do. The moon was nearly at the full, and would be shining during the greater part of the night, which looked as if it would be fine and clear. The rosillo was in excellent form; he had not been ridden for nearly a week, and I knew he would carry him swiftly and well, and that if all went right, when let loose he would do his best to make his own way back to the Cerro with the moon. While he was being got ready, the officer, who looked as if his word could be relied on, told me that the news Marmasola had sent to me was correct, and that it was more than probable that the siege of the capital had already commenced. It was with a sore heart that I said, "Hasta la vista," "until we see each other again," to the rosillo, and saw the officer mount him and ride away. For it was the first and only time that a soldier had put a leg across him during the revolution. So I wished the officer "un buen viaje" (a good journey); the rosillo tossed up his head and set off at a gallop; he had the heart of a lion, and very soon both were out of sight.

The first news I heard next morning was from Pedrito. He said he was bringing up the tropillas not long after sunrise, when he heard a neigh behind him, and looking back there was the rosillo, coming at a trot to join his troop, just as if nothing had happened. He looked none the worse for his journey, and a drink of water from the "alhibi" and a feed of maize pleased him greatly. "Napoleon," too, showed pleasure at his safe return, for they were great friends, and had passed many a night together when the rosillo was tied up in the court, and even when in his stable the dog would lie as close to it as he could. June passed away and nothing happened, except that the news of Monte Video being closely besieged by the Blancos was fully confirmed; and then early in July peace was declared. The revolution was over, and what had been known as "La Guerra de Aparicio" was at length a thing of the past. Thereupon the Blancos took over the government, and assumed power, and the whole country quickly settled down, as was the custom of a South American republic under similar circumstances.

Charles Bent at once began to prepare to go into Monte Video, and left by the diligence from Quincke's pulperia the middle of the following week. His life in Uruguay had not been a very successful one, nor was he really fond of camp life; indeed, he was already looking forward with pleasure to the many conveniences and comparative comfort of life in a town. During the latter half of the month I too was turning over in my mind whether I would not take a journey out towards the Rio Negro, where I knew a man who had a large estancia. I had rather a fancy to go up country, for not only should I be able to see all that was to be seen, but also obtain a little more experience of estancia life, probably under somewhat different conditions and surroundings. However, while I was thinking it all over, I received a letter from Mr. James Jardine, who was living at his estancia La Esperanza, situate some six leagues from the town of San Josè in the direction of the river Plate, inviting me to come and stay with him there for a time. He said he had heard from a mutual friend in Monte Video that it was not unlikely I might be leaving the Cerro now the war was over, so he wrote at once lest I should be making any different plans. I rode down to La Concordia and showed the letter to Don Frederico, who advised me to take advantage of the opportunity offered. He said, however, that he was arranging to go away himself very shortly for about three weeks, and he hoped I should be able to stay on at the Cerro during his absence, and so look after things until his return. Accordingly, I dispatched a letter to Mr. Jardine, thanking him for what he so kindly said in his letter, and informing him how matters stood, and saying that I hoped to arrive at La Esperanza during the last week in August. I found myself fully occupied during Don Frederico's absence, and I kept the weekly "para rodeo" of the cattle going on regularly. On one of these occasions, I was riding the "saino," we were rather short-handed, and a big point of cattle made an attempt to break back. I had to put the "saino," therefore, into a full gallop, and was rather surprised to find that he seemed to me to have, when stretching himself out, quite a superior turn of speed. With a little care and rest he had considerably improved, both in looks and condition. One beautiful day, with a frosty air and a blue sky, I rode him down to Monsieur Emile Gunther's, to ask after "Carnival." I found him at home, and he kindly invited me to join them at breakfast. Although it was the end of winter, the Swiss Colony looked attractive as I rode through it, and this was doubtless due to the fact that the numerous and large clumps of "eucalypti" never lost their summer foliage. Monsieur Emile told me "Carnival" had kept well and safe from soldiers. Moreover, when from time to time he had been good enough to use him, as I had especially asked him to do, he had always found him a very pleasant horse to ride. I sincerely thanked him for his kindness, and, when I left, saddled up "Carnival," leading the "saino," who led very well, and I arrived home with my two horses feeling that I had greatly enjoyed my ride, and I am sure that "Napoleon" was glad to see his friend again. One afternoon during Don Frederico's absence I had been round the puestos, returning but a few minutes before sundown. The southdowns were shut up inside their sheepyard, and in it was a man in the act of catching hold of one of them. He was brandishing a large knife, and loudly gesticulating, and he looked to me as if he had been drinking too much Caña. It seems he had ridden up shortly before and asked the Indians to give him some mutton to eat, as he said he had been riding in the woods of the Pichinango, and that he was hungry, and wanted food. This they offered to do, but when he saw the southdowns in their yard he said he would have one of them, and when they remonstrated and told him I should be very angry, merely remarked "that he did not care for any Englishmen, whether he liked it or not. It did not matter the least to him." As it happened, I just rode up at the critical moment, when I at once jumped off my horse, went into the yard, and told the man to come out of it, and leave the sheep alone. He made a step or two forward, towards me, knife in hand, but I whipped out my Colts revolver, and covered him with the barrel, warning him that if he came a step forward I should fire. This calmed him down, and he put back his knife into its sheath and began to walk out of the yard. I told him to mount his horse at once, and clear out, and that if I found him again interfering with any of the stock upon the estancia, it would be the worse for him. So he rode away, looking very much subdued. I could only suppose him to be one of the matreros who were still said to be hovering about the woods in our neighbourhood.

It had been Correo's intention to go into Monte Video so soon as peace was declared, but he told me he felt altogether so much better for his stay at the Cerro, he should like to remain on until I left. On August 25th, Don Frederico returned, and I went down to see him the following morning. He very kindly said he wished me to keep the rosillo, seeing I had taken such care of him in memory of my stay at the Cerro. I proposed that "Ramonou" should go down to La Concordia, where I knew he would be useful, as there were plenty of sheep dogs where I was going. "Bully" and "Brag" were to go there with him. Jennings had been away for some time, but I thought perhaps he might like to have them back. Don Frederico also said I had better take Justiniano with me, as he could lead the "saino" with my light baggage. My box and portmanteau meanwhile could be sent over to Quincke's pulperia to await the next diligence passing on to San Josè, where it could be left at the Hotel Oriental, until I could send for them. I arranged to start three days later, and when I got back began putting my things together, and getting everything ready for a move. The morning proved fine, and Justiniano and I were all ready saddled up soon after sunrise.

I rode "Carnival" and led the rosillo, while Justiniano bestrode a grey, not by any means a bad horse, which had been left by soldiers. He led the "saino," also saddled, and carrying my light baggage.

Uncle Juan, and Correo, and Pedrito were all present to see us off, and thus I bid adieu to the Cerro del Pichinango, not without regret, as I thought of the day I had first arrived there, now more than two years ago, and of all that had happened since.