Chapter III: Part I: Las Sierras De Mal Abrigo (2)

When, however, he had somewhat recovered his composure, he told us the Whites were assembling in large force up towards Paysandu, and that many Blancos from our neighbourhood had already gone outside to join them. Meanwhile, the Reds were assembling in the province of San Jose, as also in the Department of Colonia, and he seemed to think at present we had more to fear from the Government forces so far as our horses and cattle were concerned than we had from the revolutionists. As "Carnival" was rather a good-looking horse, I caught him up most days, although I only rode him occasionally. I let him out to feed late in the afternoon, when so far as we knew all seemed to be quiet. Royd had an "ovaro," or piebald, he thought a lot of, and also a grey he often rode, and Henriquez took all the care he could of a nice little chestnut he was very proud of, and always rode on special occasions. Things now went on much as usual, and we had no visit from the Red soldiers, for which we were thankful. I was out pretty regularly looking up the cattle, and I kept on fancying from time to time that some were missing; nor, when we had the para rodeo did I ever think as many came up as used to do. We had some of the small fallow deer of the pampas about among the rocks, and they could often be seen coming out towards late afternoon into the open glades to feed. I managed to shoot four of them with my rifle, and took off their skins which, when dried in the sun, soften easily. I also shot a couple of "carpinchos," a kind of water-pig, which could often be seen about sunset on the bank of the stream running along the western side of the camp. They are hard to get near, and easily frightened. Their skins are much thought of by the natives, who get them tanned, and put them across the top of their "recados," or saddles. A few days later we were all sitting at breakfast when Charles Bent arrived. He had someone staying with him at the puesto for a few days, so was able to get away. He told us he had not been troubled by soldiers, and that the sheep were all right. But he said it was rumoured cattle had been stolen from a small native estancia, beyond where he lived, which belonged to a "Blanco," and it was supposed they had been taken by some "Colorado" soldiers, who wished to escape service, and whose chief hiding place was said to be among the large sierras on our camp. Royd did not like the look of this at all, as if true it would prove a great danger to our cattle, and might easily account for the number we thought missing. Bent stayed the night, and did not go back until next afternoon. He told me privately he believed there were some bad characters hiding among the rocks, but that he did not wish to say more than he could help to Royd, as he was apt to take things so much to heart, and it might cause him needless worry. But he begged me to be careful, and take every precaution when riding about among the sierras alone, looking up the cattle, and he advised me to have "Napoleon" with me, and to see that I was well armed. He also said he did not feel very happy himself, living alone at the "puesto," but as it was well outside the rocks, surrounded by open country, he intended to keep a sharp look-out and if possible to avoid being taken unawares.

Fortunately, he had a placid, easy-going temperament, and was not at all nervous, nor was he inclined to meet trouble half-way. The following Friday, a little before eleven, a Blanco officer arrived, and with him about fifty soldiers. They were passing from the town of Colla, towards Guaycoru, and going on to join the White army. They had several extra horses with them, so they did not trouble much about ours, except a saino, or brown, which was feeding not far from the house, and this they asked to take along with them. I had "Carnival" tied up and saddled, as also was Royd's piebald, and Henriquez happened to be riding his chestnut down with the sheep. The other horses were among the rocks, so they did not see them. We invited the officer in to breakfast, which, after the Spanish fashion, we were accustomed to have at eleven o'clock, and dinner at sundown. He was quite young, having served but a short time in the army. He asked if his men might have something to eat, which meant they would like to kill a couple of sheep, and roast the meat over two fires made in the open. They also had some "farenha," a kind of meal, which they eat raw, with roast meat, and cooked into a sort of pudding with boiled. We also gave them "yerba" and sugar to make their mate, or native tea, and they were quite happy. They were all more or less armed with either lances or guns, and many carried both. Many had a revolver, and often a facon, or double-edged knife, stuck in their belts behind; but taking them all round, they were quite orderly, and the young officer seemed to have them under good control. He told us that the revolution was extremely popular. Men were flocking far and wide to the White banner, and up towards Paysandu had already joined in very large numbers. He asked us if any of the "Colorados" had come to the estancia, and if we knew of any being about in our neighbourhood. As they departed they looked quite picturesque, with the Blanco device round their hats, and the white banner flying from their lances, many leading their spare horses. They all rode off at a trotte-cito, or jog-trot, the young officer following alone in solitary grandeur behind. But their visit, although it passed off quite well, seemed unduly to depress poor Royd, whom we found it difficult to persuade into taking anything like a cheerful view of the situation.

Towards the end of the next week, Henriquez said he should like to ride over and visit a friend who lived at a small native place on the other side of Guaycoru. So it was arranged he should go on Saturday morning, returning home on the Monday, and that I should keep an eye on the flock of sheep. They did not feed far distant from the house, and when once turned early in the afternoon, usually fed quietly on their way home. So on Saturday morning after coffee, Henriquez caught and saddled up his chestnut, putting on his best gear, and wearing a clean white shirt, a black jacket and waistcoat, and a pair of black "merino bombachos," or wide trousers, tucked inside a pair of carefully polished long boots. On these he buckled a pair of silver spurs, of which he was very proud, as also of the handsome silver buttons fastening the wide belt of carpincho skin he wore round his waist. Finally he put on his summer poncho, a very nice one, and a soft broad-brimmed felt hat completed his appearance, which seemed to give him every satisfaction. Just before mounting his horse he examined his revolver, which he carefully fixed in its proper place inside his belt. I rode with him for about half a mile, and the last I saw of him was as he turned round the corner of a large grey mass of rock which bordered the track, and so disappeared from view. He did not return on the Monday as expected, and on the Tuesday morning when the boy drove up the riding horses to the corral, much to our surprise his chestnut was among them, with a bit of broken hide hanging loosely down from where it was fastened round the horse's neck. We supposed, however, it had been collared to a mare where Henriquez was staying, as was a usual custom, and had broken away during the early part of the previous night, and so found its way home. However, both Tuesday and Wednesday passed and he did not return, as we felt quite sure he would do, on a horse borrowed from his friends. So on Thursday morning I started to ride over to the place where Henriquez had gone, and during my absence the boy was to watch the sheep. Arriving there, as I did, about nine o'clock, my surprise may be imagined when I was told that Henriquez had left them about two o'clock on the Monday afternoon, quite well, mounted on his own horse, and that he seemed anxious to reach home with as little delay as possible. I stayed about half an hour discussing the situation, and then started to ride to the pulperia at Guaycoru, to make further enquiries. When I got there the owner knew nothing, nor had he heard anything regarding Henriquez from anyone who had come to his pulperia. He was a kind little man, and much concerned at my news, and he promised to enquire from anyone who called at his house if perchance they might have seen Henriquez, or heard any news of him. I stayed a little while and got some coffee and two or three biscuits, and then remounted a big brown horse I was riding, somewhat loosely put together, but sure-footed all the same, and well-accustomed to stony country. He had a head quite half of it white, and two wall eyes, known to the natives as a "pampa," by which name he usually went. Horses of this type and colour were said to have belonged to the original Indians of the "Pampas," at the time of the Spanish colonisation. After again talking things over with the pulpero, we agreed my best plan would be to ride round by Bent's puesto, in case he should have heard anything, and if not, I could let him know what had happened, so that he too might make enquiries. I arrived a little before one o'clock, and saw Bent walking close to his house as I rode up. "Bob" ran out barking, but immediately knew me and gave me a friendly greeting. Bent, of course, had known Henriquez well, and was much perturbed by what I had to tell him. He had neither seen nor heard anything. All he could tell me was that it was rumoured there were a party of thieves supposed to be fugitives from the Reds, who were said to have taken up their quarters in the rocks, and were stealing small points of cattle and sheep as opportunity offered. These they were supposed to drive off at night if there was any moon, or else immediately after daybreak, to a place some considerable distance away, where they were said to collect them, and where doubtless they had friends ready to receive them. All this, however, was not very comforting, but I asked Bent to be sure and let us know at once if he heard any news of Henriquez, and also to make his disappearance known to anyone he might happen to come across, for he lived not very far from the "camino real," or Government road. I then mounted my horse, determined to lose no time in getting back to the estancia as soon as might be. I knocked the "pampa" along at about his best pace, considering the broken ground over which I had to pass. I always had a queer feeling passing through the rocks. You could see so little in front of you, and were so easily apt to miss your way. However, it was barely half past two when I rode up. Royd was at home, and at once came out of the house. He was much shocked and greatly upset by what I had to tell him, saying again and again he felt quite sure the worst had happened, and that we should none of us ever see or hear of poor Henriquez again. On Friday Royd and I spent the day searching the tracks which ran through the rocky part of the estancia; first those over which a horseman returning direct to the house was most likely to pass, and then the ones which ran out on either side, which it was not usual for a traveller to follow. We came across various signs that men with horses had recently been passing in and out of the sierras, for twice we came across places where apparently a young cow had been killed and a fire made near, where part of it at any rate had evidently been roasted, and that quite recently. On Saturday we carefully searched over another portion of the estancia, but all without result. Not a sign could we see of the missing man. Henriquez "had simply vanished!" On Monday morning we sent the boy over to the pulperia at Guaycoru with a letter to the pulpero, asking if he could give us any news. But all in vain; no one had seen or heard anything of him since he started from his friends' house on his chestnut horse to return home on that Monday afternoon, now exactly a week ago. Tuesday passed and nothing came to relieve our suspense. But on Wednesday morning Bent turned up about eleven o'clock, and I saw at once by his face that something had happened. Having his friend with him, he started on his horse to come down to the estancia, and not wishing to be away longer than he could help, he chose a track which ran through the centre of the rocks in a diagonal direction, not usually followed, which came out not more than three-quarters of a mile from the estancia house itself. Contrary to his custom, "Bob" followed his master, instead of staying at the puesto, where the sheep were, until his return. Bent was riding carefully along this track when "Bob" suddenly began to whine and bark, and turning off on one side disappeared round a big rock.

Bent whistled and called, but the dog did not return. So he got off his horse and tied him up to a low bush which happened to be near. He then took out his revolver and followed on foot in the direction the dog had gone. He only went about fifty yards just round the edge of the large rock already mentioned when he found himself in a small open glade, some thirty yards long, and perhaps fifteen wide, at the far end of which stood "Bob," close by an object which lay stretched on the ground. Here was all that remained of poor Henriquez. He was lying slightly on one side, face downwards; his hat and poncho, and his long boots and silver spurs, his jacket and waistcoat, belt and revolver all gone! How he ever came there goodness only knew. Nothing was left but his white shirt, his black bombachos, and his stockings. It seemed as if the body must have been either carried or dragged to the place where it lay. His face looked peaceful, and the only thing to be noticed were signs of a wound where a bullet had entered just between the shoulders, apparently fired from behind. There were no signs of bruised or broken grass or horses' footprints, if indeed a horse could have got round the very narrow space beside the big rock. Bent covered the face with his pocket handkerchief, leaving the body lying exactly as it was when he found it, and then returning to where he had left his horse came on straight to the estancia. Royd was greatly affected by the sad news which Bent brought us, as well he might be. However, he said that he and I had better go back with Bent to the place, taking the native peon and a spade and pick with us, so that we might dig a grave, and so give the body a decent burial. Fortunately, we found a spot close by, where the stones and rock underneath the surface soil were more or less loose and detached. When we had finished digging the grave, Bent read a portion of the burial service, as we lowered all that remained of poor Henriquez into his last resting-place. We then filled in the earth again, placing the loose pieces of rock we had got out so that they covered and protected the top, our intention being later on to fix a wooden cross, suitably inscribed at the head of the grave, permanently to mark the place where our poor friend lay. It was late afternoon as Royd and I slowly and sorrowfully wended our way home, closely followed by the native peon, for Bent had returned to his puesto so soon as the interment was finally completed. Nothing much happened during the next few days. We had a gathering together of the cattle, but we were short-handed, and when we got them up to the rodeo we were compelled to conclude that a good many of them were missing. One morning, about nine o'clock, a dozen Government soldiers rode up, each with a red band round his hat and the red banner flying from their lances. They were not too civil, and merely said they were taking up horses and men. Our native peon was away among the rocks, looking for two of our riding horses, which were missing. Pedro, the cook, had retired to a dark corner of the kitchen. Our other horses were feeding at some distance from the house, but they asked for them to be brought up into the corral, so that they might take what they required. So we sent off the native boy to bring them in. Fortunately, "Carnival" and Royd's two horses happened to be feeding alone much further away, so they did not come up with the others, and the soldiers never saw them. They ended by taking five, including the pampa, previously mentioned, and they left us two in very poor condition. It was rather a trial to see them go off, but the soldiers gave us no choice in the matter, so we could not do otherwise than let them go. They also asked for some meat, and taking with them the greater part of a sheep which was hanging in the galpon, they rode off in the direction of Guaycoru, and we were pleased to see them depart without causing us further trouble.

On the Monday following, Royd rode over to stay until the end of the week with some friends who had an estancia a few miles on our side of the town of San Jose. Nothing happened during his absence until Friday, when Bent rode up about eight o'clock in the morning, looking much perturbed. Fortunately, his friend had been staying with him at the puesto as he so often did, for he told me that during the night not only had about two-thirds of his flock been driven off and could not be found anywhere in the morning, but that the puesto itself had been attacked just after midnight by four men, all apparently fully armed. They had doubtless expected Bent to be alone, but his dog "Bob" was sleeping at the foot of his bed, and woke him up from sleep by his growling, and so gave the alarm.

The puesto was a long, narrow building, built mostly of wood, thickly plastered inside and out with mud, the inside being well whitewashed throughout. The roof was thatched with a reed called "paja," much used for the purpose, for it kept the house both warm in winter, and cool in summer, and was an excellent protection against heavy rain. The front door stood close up towards one end of the building, facing West. Inside were two rooms, each with a window facing East, divided by a wall, so as to make a living-room, into which you entered, with a sleeping-room beyond. This latter had also an extra piece built on to it at right angles, so as to give more sleeping accommodation, one of the walls of which overlooked the front door. In the middle of this wall, about four feet from the ground was a small wooden frame about eighteen inches square which had been put in the wall for the purpose of ventilation, and inside this was a moveable shutter which slid easily sideways, secured by a small iron hook to keep it in its place. Both frame and shutter were somewhat discoloured, so they were not easily noticed, appearing more or less the same as the mud wall outside. The moon was almost full, every now and again shaded over by light cloud, which came slowly sailing up from the south, although there was really but little wind.

The flock had gone quietly to rest on the large bare open space, where they usually passed the night, perhaps one hundred and fifty yards distant from the front door of the building. Bent had taken a look at them between nine and ten o'clock, before retiring to rest, when they appeared quite still, and everything quiet. It would be about two o'clock in the morning, when "Bob" began to growl in low but savage tones, which awoke Bent and his friend, who soon got into their clothes and had hold of their revolvers, which were always kept loaded. Meanwhile, Bent thought he could hear low voices outside the front door, so with great presence of mind he pushed the table which stood in the middle of the sitting-room up against it, and the chairs also, thus forming a sort of barricade. Leaving his friend to press the table inside against the front door as hard as he could, and also "Bob," who was then barking violently. Bent hurried round to the wooden shutter in his friend's bedroom wall, already mentioned, and drew it quietly back without making any noise. Looking through it he saw four men fully armed trying to force open the front door. He could also see their horses standing saddled near the outside kitchen only a few yards away. He promptly fired full at the nearest man, who forthwith uttered a loud cry, apparently wounded. He then fired two more shots in quick succession, but after the first shot the men made for their horses in great confusion, mounted them, and hurriedly rode away.

The two horses which were missing a week ago had not yet turned up, so I sent out the boy to have a good look round among the rocks, and if possible to find them, for I feared lest they had been stolen, which ultimately proved to be the case, for we never saw them again. Leaving the native peon at the house to look after the sheep, I started with Bent to go to the puesto, so that we might try if we could hear anything of all the sheep he told me were missing. His friend appeared glad to see us, for he had received rather a shock, and did not much like, after all that had happened, being there by himself. When we came to count up the sheep we found the number remaining to be barely six hundred some nine hundred having disappeared, which was indeed a heavy loss. Poor Bent seemed very sad about it, and well he might be! We could only conclude that the four men who attacked the puesto must have had accomplices, who drove off the sheep earlier in the night without causing much disturbance, by first turning them off the bare place where the flock was resting across the ground where they were accustomed to feed, before finally driving them off, as they appeared to have done. In so doing the strongest and best sheep would naturally go in front, while those which were weaker and less valuable would be the ones to stay behind. Seeing that four armed men had attacked the puesto, it seemed probable that at least an equal number had carried off the sheep. The fact that there was so much rocky and broken country in the neighbourhood of the estancia, and not very far away, made it all the more difficult to obtain any clue as to the route the thieves might have taken. The ground was hard, and we could find no trace of where the stolen sheep had passed.

Having done all we could in this direction, Bent and I separated, each of us riding round to two or three of the neighbours whom we knew, to make them aware of what had happened. Late in the afternoon I called at the pulperia at Guaycoru, hoping I might perhaps hear something there--but all the owner could tell me was he had heard a rumour that Mamerto Gomez, the man I had once spoken to at his house, had been seen three days previously with half a dozen other men entering the rocks, fully armed, from the opposite side, but for what purpose or whether they were in any way connected with the carrying off of the sheep, it was impossible to say! It was easy to surmise they were up to no good, but this was of course merely conjecture, and I completely failed to learn anything which might lead to the recovery of the large number of sheep which were missing. Royd was to come home the next afternoon, and I knew what a blow this would be to him, when he came to hear of his loss. I had "Carnival" tied up that night, and sunrise saw me in the saddle on my way to the puesto, to consult with Bent as to what we could do further, with a view to obtaining some reliable information if possible by the time Royd would return. When I got there Bent had heard nothing, although he had communicated with more than one traveller riding towards the road along which the diligence passed. We arranged the direction in which Bent should search during the day, and I took the opposite one, and made a long round, calling up anywhere I thought it possible I might hear anything. By mid-day, I found myself not very far from the pulperia at Guaycoru, so stopped there, and arranged with the owner to send over a messenger at once to the estancia should he hear anything which would help us. I then rode back to the puesto to consult once more with Bent, who by this time--it was now two o'clock--had returned from his search, without having obtained any information, although he had questioned at least a dozen people since I left him in the morning. It was all very trying and disappointing. There seemed nothing for it but to return to the estancia to meet Royd when he got home, and tell him what had happened.

It was nearly four o'clock when I arrived, and about half an hour later Royd turned up, having much enjoyed his little outing. He brought a young English boy, about fifteen, with him, tall for his age, with broad shoulders, and an upright figure. His name was Frank Tryon, but he was generally known as "Francisco." He was an excellent rider, and fond of horses and dogs, especially of the pretty "alazan," or chestnut pony he was riding when he arrived, with its flowing mane and tail, of which it was easy to see he was really very proud.

I helped them to unsaddle, and told the cook to get some coffee ready, as they told me they had breakfast as they came along. Royd then sat down in an easy chair and began to smoke. "Well, Royd," I said, "I am very glad to see you back. I have just come down from Bent's puesto. It was attacked by thieves on Thursday night, and two-thirds of the sheep were stolen. Bent and I have searched in every direction both yesterday and to-day, and we can learn nothing whatever about them." "Goodness gracious! that is indeed bad luck," replied Royd, "but I am glad poor Bent got off all right; it must have given him a great shock. I hope his friend was with him so that he would not be alone." I then told him all that had happened, and also what I had heard about Mamerto Gomez and his men having been seen entering the sierras. "It is not unlikely he may be the real cause of it all," said Royd. "I fully expect that fellow had a hand in it, for I believe him to be a regular scoundrel, in spite of his suave manner and grand appearance." Certainly Royd bore his misfortune with more fortitude than I expected, for the loss was indeed a heavy one. The late afternoon was now drawing on, and I sent the native boy to bring up the "tropilla," which happened to be feeding not far away, up into the corral, so that we might collar Francisco's pony to the tropilla mare, and we then let them all out again to feed for the night. After dinner we talked the whole affair over before going to bed, without, however, coming to any conclusion as to what prospect there was of our ever again hearing of the missing sheep. Early on Monday morning, leaving Francisco at the house, who said he would keep an eye on the sheep, Royd and I rode over to the puesto, where Bent had nothing whatever to report. He had managed to interview during Sunday some half dozen horsemen who were riding along within reach of him, but could obtain nothing in the way of information. Royd and I both took a long turn round in opposite directions, each returning to the puesto about three o'clock; but it was all in vain: we could learn nothing which would help us from anybody. We again held a consultation, and Royd determined that for the present Bent should stay on at the puesto and have his friend with him, maintaining as strict a watch as possible over the sheep which remained. Later, if we failed to hear anything of the ones that had been stolen, the only thing to do would be for Bent to come down with his sheep to the estancia, and join them on to those which were there. As by leaving the puesto he would not only be safer and more secure himself, but he could then look after all the sheep remaining on the estancia by keeping them together in one flock.

The autumn of the Southern year was now well advanced, and there was still plenty of grass within reasonable reach of the estancia house--but meanwhile we only thought of this plan as being one suitable for the near future. Royd and I then rode home, having had a fairly long day. Everything seemed quiet as we followed along the narrow track which wound itself like a snake among the big masses of grey rock. Suddenly Napoleon, who was with us, started off as if in pursuit of something, and I took out my revolver and followed him up. Reaching an open space quite hidden from the track, I came upon the remains of a young cow, the best joints of the meat having evidently been cut up and taken away with the hide on them, while the animal was still warm; indeed, it was plain the cow had only been recently killed. I called to Royd who was only a little way behind me to come and look. It certainly looked as if thieves were not very far off, and in view of recent events it did not tend to make either of us feel very comfortable. Probably one of the grey foxes often to be seen as evening approached had been visiting the remains, and Napoleon had caught scent of it, which attracted his attention. When we got home we found Francisco quite happy, and he and I took a turn round and brought up the riding horses, shutting them up for the night in the stone "manga," instead of leaving them out to feed as usual. We also saw to our guns and ammunition. All this gave us food for reflection, and we sat up talking and smoking until quite late.

Towards the end of the week we made up our minds to have another gathering together of the cattle. Francisco looked forward to this with much pleasure, as he was anxious to see how his chestnut would acquit himself among the rocks, which were quite new to him. We tied up horses over night, and were on the move just after dawn. It was a beautiful morning, the sun rose in a clear sky, the herald of a fine day. I and the native peon went together to quite the far end of the camp. Royd and Francisco taking a position a little nearer home The cattle appeared to be coming up well, nor did any so far as we knew succeed in breaking back. When, however, we got them up to the rodeo and made a count, at least two hundred and fifty animals seemed missing. The native peon and boy with the aid of Francisco, kept them there, not allowing them to go back to their feeding ground until twelve o'clock. Meanwhile, Royd and I went back over the ground again to try and discover if any, and if so how many, might have escaped us. However, we failed to find them in any direction. That being so the only conclusion we could come to was that a large number of the herd, certainly more than two hundred had disappeared, and in all probability been stolen. This was by no means a pleasant conclusion. Poor Royd was very depressed, and as we sat by the fire that evening, turned to me and said, "If this sort of thing goes on it will be about time for me to clear out." I tried to comfort him as well as I could, although I did not feel at all happy in my own mind; far from it. "Suppose we have another gathering up in a week's time, we can see what happens then," I said. Meanwhile I will be about on horseback as much as I can among the rocks, and I will see if I can find a clue to the mystery. "Thank you!" replied Royd, "we will wait and see if more of them come up to the rodeo in a week's time." But before the day came I could see the matter was constantly weighing on his mind, nor did I at all wonder, and I really felt very sorry for him. Next morning we were up betimes, and all went to the corral to catch up horses for the day. There was a very pretty "dorodilla," or bay filly in the tropilla, with a black mane and tail, about two years old. This Royd proposed to give as a present to Francisco, as he said it would make a nice companion for his chestnut. This pleased him greatly, and he soon began to talk of catching it up and leading it about with a halter and rein if only it was sufficiently tame to allow this to be done. The following days I spent among the sierras, and I could not disguise from myself that the various groups of cattle when I saw them feeding, and I recollected what they used to look like seemed certainly smaller; indeed, several animals I knew and therefore quite expected to see I never managed to see at all. All seemed quiet, however, nor did they show any evidence of having been recently disturbed. I was riding home on Friday evening later than usual for it was close upon sunset, when I thought I heard voices. I immediately stopped and listened carefully. A light breeze rustling from where the sound came seemed to bring it nearer, and I judged it could not be more than one hundred and fifty yards distant. There happened to be an open space close to where I was, some twenty paces long by ten wide. It had a narrow entrance, and was quite surrounded and shut in by the high rocks. I knew well where it was, having been there before. So I dismounted and led my horse through this narrow entrance into the open space, where he was completely hidden from view, and hobbled him and tied him up. I then came out, and carefully concealing myself, stole along on foot in the direction from which I had heard the voices. I easily obtained sufficient cover, and had not advanced at all far when I saw four men, all armed, about sixty paces from me. One of them was Mamerto Gomez, the man I had seen at the pulperia; I recognised him at once, and he seemed to be directing the others, as if they were arranging some plan or other. I listened attentively, hoping I might perhaps hear some mention of the stolen sheep, but what with the subdued tone in which they conversed and the fact that I did not know much Spanish, I failed to make out what they were saying. Their horses stood saddled near them, and I noticed they wore the red device round their black felt hats. I remained perfectly still for quite ten minutes, well sheltered from their view by a large piece of rock, where I could see but could not be seen. At the end of that time they suddenly mounted their horses and rode away in the opposite direction to where I was hid, and I must allow I did not feel very sorry to see them depart. I then went back to my horse, and at once rode home. Royd also had just returned, and was unsaddling near the front door. He had been round to ask three or four of our neighbours to help us to gather up our cattle on the Monday morning following. He thought, perhaps, if we had more horsemen we might make a more successful "para rodeo" than we had done before.

I told him my little adventure, and what I had seen, and he shook his head. "That fellow Mamerto is at the bottom of all this trouble, I do believe," he said, "and I do wish you had been able to hear distinctly what those thieves were planning and talking about."

Only the first sign of dawn was appearing on Monday morning when we saddled up our horses and rode silently in among the grey rocks. Francisco did not go with us, but he joined us later at the rodeo. I had the furthest to go, quite to the end of the estancia, near Guaycoru. Bent came from his side, and four of our neighbours each fell into line at the place appointed. So this time we mustered a fairly strong force, and none of the cattle had any chance of breaking back. But by the time we had got them outside the sierras, and even before I could see them gathered together at close quarters, I felt sure in my own mind that quite a third of the herd was missing. Thanks to our neighbours' assistance we were able to make a correct count, and this we did twice over, so as to be sure we were correct. There were only four hundred and sixty-five animals, not counting a dozen very small calves, whereas there ought to have been over seven hundred at least. Anyway, making every possible allowance, there were certainly more than two hundred missing; not far different from what we had made them out to be ten days ago. There was no accounting in any way where the missing animals could be, so we had to accept the inevitable and conclude they must have been driven off, probably during the night, and stolen. They seemed just to have vanished in the same way as did the sheep. One misfortune so quickly following the other caused Royd to feel his loss very acutely, and it naturally made him despondent and down-hearted. I tried my best to cheer him up, but with little success. One day we succeeded in running the troop of mares and colts up into the stone enclosure. They were swift of foot, knew every turn and twist of the rocks, and so long as they kept inside the sierras it was difficult for anyone to get hold of them. When once in the corral it was a different matter. A chestnut colt, with a white star on his forehead, smaller and younger than "Carnival" was easily lassoed, and afterwards tied up to a post, from which to no purpose he made strenuous efforts to get loose. He had to remain where he was during the night, and next morning we collared him to a tame mare, so that he could easily be got hold of when wanted. A couple of mornings later, when the riding horses were brought up to the corral, Francisco's bay filly was missing, and, after a long search, was found, minus its skin, which was but of small value. Why it had been killed was a mystery, until some time afterwards it became known that a near neighbour was making a set of horse-gear of raw cowhide and mares hide; and as this set was a very particular one it required all the hide to be of the same colour. So the maker, having run out of mare's hide, searched round in the neighbourhood until he found an animal to suit him, which happened to be Francisco's filly. The latter was greatly distressed by his potrilla coming to so premature an end, but there it lay dead, so there was nothing more to be done. This shews the small amount of respect there was for property in those days in the country districts of the Republic. Immediately following this little event, Colonel Pinto Mallada who held an important position in the Department, arrived with two hundred and fifty soldiers and encamped near the estancia for a couple of days. He sent his adjutant up to say he would require a supply of meat for his men to eat, but that orders had been given them not to take any horses. Consequently, those we wanted to save were brought up to feed within easy distance of the house, as Mallada's orders were generally obeyed.

Francisco happened to be left alone at the estancia with Pedro the cook, and when he went out to see if the horses were all right, he noticed that his chestnut pony was missing. So he went down on an old brown horse he was riding to the Colonel's tent, situate under a tree, but he was not allowed to see him, as he was taking his "siesta." However, his sergeant, whom he interviewed, said he was to come later. The Colonel, who was a stern half Indian, was much feared; he spoke little, and had but little mercy for his enemies. So Francisco returned to the house and went down again to see him later on. He found him sitting sucking "mate," while the sergeant stood beside him combing carefully for him his long hair, which hung down almost to his shoulders. Francisco told the Colonel his pony had gone, whereupon the latter directed his sergeant to take him round the encampment, as the soldiers were scattered in different places in lots of eight or ten together. No pony could be found, so Francisco and the sergeant returned to see the Colonel, who then said if the pony was not in the encampment some men he had sent away must have taken it, but that Francisco need not fear, as he should have his pony back again.

Thereupon Francisco once again returned to the house very sorry not to have found his pony--but still hoping for the best. Sure enough in three days a soldier rode up with the chestnut pony, apparently none the worse for his enforced absence.

This shews the Colonel had a certain kind of feeling about him, although at the same time he had little regard for the lives of those who happened to oppose his wishes. I believe in the end, a long time afterwards, he was shot in Rosario, during some political trouble. Early in the next week I rode over to what was known as the "Swiss Colony," some fourteen miles distant from us in more or less a Southerly direction. There was a pulperia there where the diligence which came out from Monte Video stopped, and often brought us letters--which usually came to hand sooner or later, as opportunity offered. However, just now Royd was expecting some, and as a few small purchases were also required I saddled up poor Henriquez's chestnut, and taking a pair of saddle-bags with me, made a start. He was a good little horse, the morning was bright and fine, and I enjoyed my ride as I galloped along over the rolling country in front of me. I just pulled up at Saballa's pulperia as I passed to hear if there was any news. But everything was quiet, and no soldiers seemed to be about. Just about a mile distant from the pass over the river Rosario, leading to the Swiss Colony, I overtook Mr. Frederick Dampier, owner of the Estancia del Pichinango. He also was on his way to Quincke's pulperia, so we rode on together. He asked me a good deal about Royd, and how he was getting on, etc, and he looked very serious when I related to him all that had happened. "I doubt if you will ever see either those sheep or cattle again," he said. "I expect there is a regular gang of thieves located inside the sierras, with Mamerto Gomez as their leader."

"I hope they won't take it into their heads to come our way; it would not be the first time such a thing has happened; although, fortunately, there is no secure hiding place for them in the day-time here, like there is inside the sierras."

When we got to the pulperia I found three letters, two for Royd and one for me. I soon completed my small purchases, and half an hour later was ready to start on my return journey. Mr. Dampier was also returning by the same way we had come, so we rode on together. When we had got through the pass, he turned to me and said, "I wonder if you would care to go and take charge up at the Cerro. It is where my partner lived before he returned to England, a little more than a year ago. You might find yourself fairly comfortable there; anyway, you would have plenty of room, and you could assist me in the management of the estancia." This proposal certainly took me somewhat by surprise, for I had only been about nine months in the country, but I thanked him, and said I would see what Royd thought about it when I got back, and let him know without unnecessary delay. We then parted company, just about in the same place where we had met in the morning. The chestnut was going well, the sun, now past the meridian, was shining brightly, the air was fresh and cool, and my ride was a pleasant one. I thought a good deal as I rode along about what Mr. Dampier had said to me, and the more I thought of it the better I liked the idea of what he had proposed. The only difficulty was that if Royd was going to have continued trouble at the rocks, I did not wish to leave him, as it were, in the lurch.

Now that the war had definitely broken out, it seemed to me that if I went to the "Cerro," it would certainly be an experience, and there would probably prove to be a fair amount of excitement as well. It was just after two o'clock when I reached the estancia. Royd had ridden out, and did not return until towards sunset. I unsaddled the chestnut and let him go. He at once trotted off to find his friends and enjoy a quiet feed. He knew they would not be very far away. Meanwhile Pedro got me some food and coffee, and I sat down and read my letter, which had come from England, over again, and smoked a quiet pipe. When Royd returned I handed him his letters and showed him my purchases, which he found satisfactory. He had been out among the sierras, and had taken a turn round to see a native neighbour, where doubtless he had discussed the situation, and why so many cattle were missing when we got them up to the rodeo. Perhaps his native friend had given him comfort, for he seemed in better spirits than usual. I said nothing to him until we had finished dinner and were sitting smoking by the fire in the dining room; for winter was coming on, and the evenings began to be chilly. Then I told him how I had met Mr. Dampier, and what he had said to me. He looked up rather amused. "I think if I were you I should go," he said. "Mr. Dampier is an exceedingly nice man, and I feel sure you will get on very well with him; and you will be sure to gain a lot of experience at a large estancia like the Pichinango." "But what about the trouble in the rocks," I replied. "I should not like to leave you without seeing you through; that is if I can be of any help to you." "Well," said Royd, "I have been thinking things over this afternoon. I can bring Bent and the remaining sheep down, and join them on to the flock we already have here. He can then look after them all together. Curiously enough, one of the letters you brought me is from my friends, with whom I stayed the other day, who have their estancia on this side of San Jose. They propose, if things get worse over here, I should take what cattle and sheep I may have to their camp, and join up with them. They have more land, you know, than they really want, and it could carry comfortably more stock than I am likely to have remaining here. At any rate, the idea seems worth considering, for if this war continues, it might perhaps turn out to be the best thing to do." "Well," I said, "we will sleep over it all, and then if you are still in the same mind I will see about accepting Mr. Dampier's offer." Next morning, we had just finished our coffee and were walking down to the corral to catch our horses as usual. "Well, Royd, what do you think about it this morning?" I said. "Are you still of the same opinion about my going to the 'Cerro'?" "Yes, I am," he said. "I think it would be a great pity for you to refuse the offer. I have got some letters to write, and as the diligence will be passing Quincke's in a couple of days on its way back to San Jose, I will send the native peon over with them early to-morrow morning. I will finish the letters first, and then you and I can ride over to the puesto and see Bent."

"That being so," I replied, "I think I cannot do better than write a letter to Mr. Dampier, accepting his proposal, and tell him I will go over to the 'Cerro' on Wednesday in next week. The peon could leave my letter at Mr. Dampier's house as he passes by."

"So be it," said Royd, "and I sincerely wish you all luck and prosperity in the new departure." So I wrote my letter while I was waiting for Royd, thanking Mr. Dampier for what he had said to me, accepting his offer, and saying I would go over to the "Cerro" on Wednesday morning in the following week. All appeared quiet as Royd and I rode among the rocks to the puesto. Here and there we passed a few cattle, a silver fox we disturbed ran in front of us for a hundred yards or so, and then dodged round the corner of a rock, where he probably had his lair. We noticed the smell of a skunk a little further along. He, too, had been out and about for his morning exercise. Silence reigned everywhere, broken only by the shrill cry of the "pteru-pteru," or plover, a cry we were so accustomed to hear that we hardly noticed it. When we arrived we found Bent all right, having just come to his house to see about some breakfast. The sheep were quietly feeding a little distance away. There was no news. He had heard nothing; nor had he seen anyone just lately. His friend had gone away for a few hours to see a native he knew up towards Guaycoru.