Chapter VI: Part II: El Cerro Del Pichinango (2)

I allowed him to finish without interruption, and then I mounted my horse and rode home to the Cerro, pondering on the many vicissitudes which it seemed possible might happen to the unwary during life in war-time in a South American republic. Nothing had happened during my absence. We got the "tamberos" up to their rodeo, and kept them there awhile, and when I got back the little flock of southdowns were about ready to be shut up in their sheepyard for the night. I looked them over to see that they were all right, and then I went up on to the flat roof of the house to have a good look round with the glass, and so see if all was quiet. The sun meanwhile was about to set, and it was not long before the light began to fade, and one more day had passed and was gone. When next I saw Don Frederico he discussed the situation, and said he thought it would be wise to sell a certain number of the "capones," or wether sheep, which were now in good condition, and also to get a tropero, or buyer of cattle of good position to come and purchase as many "novillos," or bullocks, as we could get him to take, as by so doing we should not only lessen the stock we had to look after on the estancia, but it would do away with the risk of losing them. The "capones" chiefly fed together in one flock near La Concordia, with a certain number in two of the other flocks, so there need be no delay in having them parted out so soon as we could arrange with a purchaser. So he decided to attend to this within the next day or two. Meanwhile, if I heard of anyone likely to purchase up in my direction, I was to let him know. He also said he would write to one or two of the troperos, who had been accustomed to buy novillos from us, informing them that we had a good number for sale, and asking them whether they would be able to make up a troop. It was not long before two buyers of sheep applied at La Concordia. A day was fixed for parting them out, and I went down early with two of the Indians to help to pass the flock through the sheepyards. The purchasers happened to be friends, so agreed to part both together on the same day, and divide the sheep between them afterwards. Altogether they took between six and seven hundred, and after they had finished we helped them over the Pass of the Rosario, facing the Swiss Colony, where they intended to shut them up for the night, before continuing their journey to the town of Colla, where one of them resided. During the following week we passed the other two flocks through the sheepyards at the Cerro, drafting out all the capones and sending them down to the flock at La Concordia to replace the sheep there which had been already sold.

Early in the following week, a little before eleven o'clock, a tropero arrived at the Cerro, and enquired if he could see Don Frederico, as he wanted to buy some "novillos." I had been out early on horseback, and had not long returned, and was just about to have some breakfast. I told him that he was at La Concordia, at the other end of the estancia, and invited him to come inside and join me, which he seemed pleased to do. He had a peon with him with a led horse in addition to the ones they rode, whom I directed to get something to eat in the galpon. The tropero was grandly dressed in full native costume, a beautiful summer poncho, bombachos of very fine black merino, tucked inside long boots, the latter adorned with large silver spurs, and I noticed he was fully armed. He was an agreeable man, evidently well educated, and he told me he had two other men and a tropilla of horses in the neighbourhood who had gone to look at some bullocks at a small native estancia. Breakfast over, I left him to finish his coffee and smoke, while I went out to tell Justiniano to catch me up another horse. I then offered to accompany him as far as La Concordia, so that if Don Frederico happened to be out, I could have him sent for with as little delay as possible. I gathered the tropero wished to make up quite a large troop, en route for Monte Video, and as we had a good many animals to sell, I did my best to make conversation. Fortunately, when we reached La Concordia, we found Don Frederico at home. The tropero's credentials were quite satisfactory to him, as was the price offered. It was therefore agreed that he should part out and purchase all the novillos on the estancia which he thought old enough and in sufficiently good condition to take. We on our part undertook to have all the cattle gathered on the rodeo on Thursday morning, so that he could part out his bullocks, and to help him to the best of our power--payment, as usual, to be made on delivery. The business concluded, the tropero had a glass or two of wine and departed. He said he had plenty of horses with him for his men. I then rode back at once to the Cerro, and sent off one of the Indians to advise our native neighbours and the other round to Laborde, Martin and Marmasola, to inform them at their puestos of what we had arranged, so that they might give help as usual. We tied up horses on Wednesday evening, and made all ready for an early start. I rode "Carnival," the Indians, too, were fairly well mounted. We met the party from La Concordia, Don Frederico riding his rosillo, with two big dogs following him, and Jennings mounted on his dark grey; he seldom rode anything else. The tropero and his men did not take part in gathering the cattle, but joined us at the rodeo, near the Cerro, mounted on their best horses, while the others they had with them were meanwhile feeding not far off, with a boy in attendance, to look after them. The cattle came up well, and just as we got to the rodeo, Pedro Lima arrived with a couple of natives, and also three or four of our neighbours beyond the Cerro turned up, so we had plenty of help to keep the cattle well under control. Don Frederico and the tropero came up to the house for some coffee and a biscuit, but we were soon back again, when the work of parting out the bullocks at once began. A point of tame cattle had meanwhile been brought up to a suitable position a short distance from the herd. These were guarded by Juan, the Indian, with his two nephews to help him. The tropero was mounted on an "oscuro," or black brown horse, and his two men rode one a grey and the other a bay.

He began by riding in among the cattle with one of his men, singling out a suitable bullock, and then the two together, one on either side, ran it out into the point of tame cattle, where it had to remain whether it liked to or not. Then a second bullock was run out, and so on, one after another, until quite a good number were parted. One of the tropero's men now went to help the Indians to guard them, as every now and again one would try to escape, intent on rejoining the main herd, and occasionally a bullock would break loose and make for the open camp, determined to fight hard for liberty. But it was not to be! for the men were well-mounted and knew their business, and the horses knew theirs. They were, of course, faster than the bullocks, and when an animal was desperate, and really refractory the lasso came into play, and he was brought back his energy spent, and having been well bullied about he generally thought it better to keep quiet for the time being. A really good horse for work of this kind must be safe and quick on his legs, and have plenty of courage. Indeed, the best thing the rider can do, if well mounted, is to sit tight and leave as much as he can to his horse, who seemed to know all that was expected of him, and was seldom found to fail.

It was now eleven o'clock, seventy-five bullocks had been parted; each one being counted as it went by two people. So a fire was lighted, and a large "asado," or roast of mutton, put on, a little coffee and sugar, some biscuits, farinha and yerba, for the men's Mate were brought down from the Cerro, and it was not long before breakfast was ready. When up at the house I let "Carnival" go, and saddled up the rosillo, who was now in first-rate condition. Work was resumed with as little delay as possible, and when the tropero announced it was time to stop one hundred and sixty bullocks had been parted. The tropero seemed well satisfied, and so were we. Our next business was to give him every assistance to get the animals outside the boundary of the estancia, where they would be easier to manage than they were on their own camp. Meanwhile we kept the tame animals with the novillos which had been parted, to give them a lead and so render them easier to drive, and we made a start towards the pass of the Rosario, beyond Marmasola's puesto. There being many of us, we had no difficulty in getting them across the pass, and when they had gone a short distance on strange ground we parted out the tame cattle, and I returned with them to the Cerro. Don Frederico and Jennings, also the tropero, rode to La Concordia, to receive payment and give the usual certificate, shewing the mark and number of the animals sold, this document being required for the police. The sun was now declining fast towards the horizon, and we had made a fairly long day. Supper, when it came, was welcome, and the pipe which followed it; and having duly recorded particulars in the log-book, I was not sorry to lock up and get early to bed. Autumn was now past, and it would not be long before winter, with its rain and storm, cold nights and early mornings, would be really upon us. I had three cart-loads of wood brought up from the "monte," where we had some men working. Some of the flocks had to be passed through the sheepyards, and what with attending to one thing and another, I always found the day pretty fully occupied. Ten days later a party of Blanco soldiers rode up and asked if they could have some food, and also fresh horses. They were on their way to the town of Colla, having passed not far from Guaycoru, as they travelled from outside. With them was Colonel Mallada, who had sent back Francisco's pony at Las Sierras de Mal Abrigo. He had a great reputation among the natives as a fighter. When I went out I found him sitting on his horse, surrounded by some twenty soldiers. I invited him to get off and come in and have some breakfast while the soldiers lit a fire at a little distance, and made themselves a roast outside, for, as it happened, we had a whole sheep hanging in the galpon, ready skinned and dressed. I was amused to see the attitude of the Indians when the Colonel passed through into the courtyard. They stood up together on one side, as it were, at attention, with a very solemn expression of countenance, and they evidently looked upon him as a man to be feared rather than loved. He was quite civil during our meal, and told me that a large division of the Blancos were coming down to occupy the province of Colonia, while the main army was now largely concentrated outside, waiting for a favourable opportunity to march in to the province of San Jose, and so on towards the capital itself. He seemed to enjoy a cigarette with his coffee after our meal, and a glass of Canya also met with approval. Meanwhile, I had told Justiniano to get all the horses up into the corral. I had "Carnival" tied up under the ombu tree in the courtyard. The Colonel himself was well-mounted on a good-looking grey, apparently quite fresh. The soldiers caught five of our horses, and left us three tired ones, so we did not get off so badly after all, and I was very glad to think that the rosillo, whose back I had cured, was not among them. They all rode off, apparently satisfied, towards the Pass of the Pichinango, and we were all glad to see them depart. But it made me think, and realise what now might at any time happen, and I determined to have the rosillo caught up and tied in the courtyard oftener than I had done, and to keep a sharp look-out over "Carnival." At two of the puestos the shepherds were each somewhat of a character in their way. They were both of them "bascos," _i.e._, either natives of or having originated from one of the Bay of Biscay provinces in Spain. One of them, whose name was Gaitan, looked after what was known as the "Fine Flock," because it contained the highest strain of Negretti blood. From it were selected the male lambs, which were to be the future rams for the other flocks. He was now no longer in middle age, bent in figure, and slow in his movements. He lived quite alone, doing his own cooking and washing, and he wore remarkably old clothes. He had been for many years on the estancia, getting the usual pay of a puestero, viz., fifteen dollars and thirty-six cents per month (just over L3), together with his allowance of meat and rations, viz., farinha, yerba and salt, which he received monthly. His only luxury was a little tobacco, and he was said to be somewhat of a miser, and to be quite rich. He was usually seen bestriding an old and rather poor horse, but he was a very good shepherd, and except when cooking or eating his meals, or towards evening, when his sheep were drawing home, I never knew him to be long absent from his flock. He was extremely reserved and silent, and I always found it difficult to carry on a conversation with him. His puesto was situate to the north of La Concordia, rather towards the centre of the estancia, and really not very far distant from the former. The other shepherd was called Anjel; he was a much younger man, although he looked older than he really was. He, too, was reserved and silent, and I often wondered if it was the solitary life he led which tended towards this, and whether he would have appeared a somewhat different man if he had been cast among other surroundings. He had neither wife nor child, and like Gaitan, was but a poor rider, and I never saw him on a decent-looking horse. But he had usually a dog with him, and I often saw a cat or two when I visited his puesto, situate close to the river Pichinango, some little distance below the pass. Here the grass was good and plentiful, and his flock, which was rather a large one, did very well. He was a most careful and conscientious shepherd, and a skilled worker in wasca, or raw hide, of which he manufactured reins and headstalls, and whips and hobbles; indeed, everything of the kind a well-equipped horseman would require. Just about this time I did not happen to be very busy, so was able to shoot a few partridge, more correctly described as "quail," which were now in good condition, and made a pleasant variation in diet. There was a little single barrel gun available, which I found very nice to shoot with. I also managed to shoot some of the common deer of the Pampas (Cervus Gampestris) with my rifle, the flesh of which is not very appetising, but the skins were easy to dry and soften, and were not only useful as a covering for my "recado," or native saddle, but also served well as rugs for the floor of the sitting-room. The natives mostly chase the deer on horseback with dogs. There is a very curious peculiarity attaching to the young of this species of deer when not more than three or four days old, when the perfection of its instincts at that tender age seems very wonderful in a ruminant. When the doe with fawn is approached by a horseman, even when accompanied by dogs, she stands perfectly motionless, gazing fixedly at the enemy, with her fawn at her side. Then suddenly, as if at a preconcerted signal, the fawn rushes away from her at its utmost speed and, going to a distance of perhaps six hundred yards, conceals itself in a hollow on the ground, or among the long grass; lying down very close, with head stretched out horizontally, and will thus remain until sought by the dam. When very young it will allow itself to be taken, making no further effort to escape. After the fawn has run away the doe still maintains her statuesque attitude, as if to await the onset. Then, but only when the dogs are close upon her, she too rushes away; but invariably in a direction as nearly opposite to the fawn as possible. At first she runs slowly, with a limping gait, and frequently pausing as if to entice her enemy on, just like a partridge, duck, or plover when driven from its young. But as the dogs begin to press her more closely her speed increases, becoming greater the further she succeeds in leading them from the starting point. Truly a marvellous combination of both instinct and sagacity, and also of maternal love.

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

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

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

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