At last some horses were seen tied out near some little "talditos," or coverings made of branches, but all was quiet; it was very hot, and the thieves were sleeping. He and the Negro Largo then returned to the police, without disturbing the sleepers. Turnor wanted the "comisario"

to charge right up on horseback, but being an infantry officer, he preferred to do so on foot. So after approaching a little nearer he ordered his men to dismount and form line, and himself heading them with drawn sword, charged up to the place where the horses were tied. Owing, however, to the noise caused by dismounting, etc., the outlaws, hearing what was going on, made a bolt into the thick wood, so that only the horses, saddles, etc., were captured. He further mentioned that he and the Negro Largo were not in the charge, but behind a tree watching.

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

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

It was getting late when we turned in, but as Turnor wished to make an early start on the morrow, I had already told Correo to get some coffee the first thing. Fortunately, he was always an early riser. The morning was fine, and the sun had but lately risen, when my visitor and his man mounted their horses and started on their way, the latter leading the spare horse, so that either could change to it as they went along.

During the afternoon Margarito arrived with a note to say that we were to have a "para rodeo" of the cattle on Sat.u.r.day as usual, and a general gathering up of the horses on the Wednesday following. I therefore lost no time in advising our native neighbours, and getting them to come and help us. To make this doubly sure I rode next morning to pay a visit to two or three of the princ.i.p.al ones in person. Both the soldiers accompanied me with their lances, and the Blanco device on their hats and the white banner flying. When I arrived at the first native house I saw at once that I was about to make an impression. I thought the dogs barked if anything louder than usual as we sat on our horses calling out "Ave Maria," the usual form of salutation. For the moment no one appeared, but I saw signs of first one and then another woman or child peeping out through a window and so on. Then the front door was opened, and the master of the house appeared bare-headed, and with a bow desiring me to dismount. Whereupon I did so, and went into the house, the two soldiers meanwhile holding my horse outside. I delivered my message, and we discussed the war, and I was invited to have some refreshment, which I declined. When I thought sufficient time had elapsed I got up to leave, being accompanied outside by apparently the whole family. I then walked solemnly to my horse, mounted and signed to the two soldiers to move on, and altogether I flattered myself that I made a very dignified departure. The same mode of procedure took place at two other houses, each with the same satisfactory result. The fact was, we were getting very short of horses in our neighbourhood, and as hardly any of these people, friendly as they might appear on the surface, would have at all objected to coming inside our camp and picking up and carrying off any stray horse which, having been left there, would otherwise have proved useful to us, I thought it a good opportunity to let them know that, up at the Cerro I was in a position of some authority, and therefore not to be trifled with. On the Sat.u.r.day the two soldiers went with us to the "para rodeo" of the cattle; "Napoleon" enjoyed himself greatly, and all went well.

Wednesday morning was fine, and we were all early on the move. I rode the rosillo, who was in excellent form, while the two soldiers and the Indians were mounted on horses which had been left by pa.s.sing soldiers.

As we got the troop up towards the "rodeo" a portion of them tried their utmost to break back, but the rosillo was quite equal to the occasion; he was indeed a good little horse, and his speed and energy soon succeeded in rounding them up and forcing them to rejoin the others, so that we managed to get them all shut up in the stone "manga" with less difficulty than I had expected. Our native neighbours duly turned up, fires were lighted, and we were able to mark quite a fair number of foals. We also picked out about a dozen stray riding horses from among the troop, which had probably been left by soldiers as they pa.s.sed along. These we divided between the Cerro and La Concordia, attaching them to the tropillas, in order that so long as they remained to us they might be made useful, and earn their living for the time being. Don Frederico was mounted on his rosillo allazan (chestnut roan), otherwise known as his war-horse; but Jennings no longer rode his usual dark grey, for it had been taken by soldiers about a month previously, so he was compelled to bestride a rather ancient-looking bay horse, which was also in but poor condition, instead.

At the beginning of March the two soldiers were recalled to Colla. When they bid us adieu they both thanked me for the pleasant time at the Cerro, and when they departed took with them our good wishes. Towards the end of the month, Charles Bent turned up quite unexpectedly. His relatives outside had been unfortunate, and had lost a lot of stock, both sheep and cattle, during the war, and his idea was to make his way to Monte Video later on, for he seemed to have a hope that the war would soon be over. He had lost his race-horse not very long after the disastrous affair at the Cerro, now getting on for a year and a half ago, and he rode up on an old "Bayo Negro," or dark cream, with a black mane and tail, which had been left by soldiers, and seemed to be of very little account. I was glad to see him again, for I always liked him.

Moreover, he did not look very well; he was never really strong, so I asked him to stay on a bit at the Cerro, as we had ample room, and I knew he would be glad to help in any work which had to be done. With the exception of the rosillo, we were entirely dependent upon what I might call outside horses, for we had now scarcely one of our own mark left.

The bay colt old Juan had tamed, was still with us, but he had managed to sprain his shoulder rather badly, so was for the time being of no use.

We had a room at the Cerro with a strong brick floor, which had at one time been used for stores, and I had this arranged for the rosillo, so that in case of necessity he could be shut up there at night. Generally, when the weather was fine, I could have him tied up in the courtyard, but when the nights got cold and he was unable to feed there, I knew it would be difficult to keep him in good condition. As it turned out, I found that the shelter from wind and rain, together with a small but regular allowance of maize, greatly contributed to his welfare. When I next saw Don Frederico I spoke to him about Charles Bent, and he said he should be very glad for him to stay on at the Cerro for he knew he would always willingly lend a hand at any work which might be going. He said he thought he would be much better there than if he were to go into Monte Video at present, as it was generally believed by those who knew, that before very long the Blancos intended to try and besiege the city, and if they should do so would probably succeed. During the next three weeks we had a good deal of sheep-working on hand, as the flocks from the puestos were being pa.s.sed through the sheepyards, both at the Cerro and at La Concordia. Ramonou was really a great help; he was obedient and good at his work, and gave satisfaction all round. Bent had left his sheep dog, "Bob," with his relations. He told me it was some time since he had heard of Royd, but he believed he had sustained many losses with his stock at his friend's place near San Jose, and that he either had sailed or was about to sail for England. At this I was not surprised, for he never seemed to me well suited to camp life. He was naturally somewhat despondent, and there was no denying he had been very hard hit at the Sierras de Mal Abrigo.

Correo seemed now to have recovered his health and spirits, and to enjoy preparing our simple menu. He was always willing and attentive; indeed, since his arrival at the Cerro, everything inside the house had gone on quite comfortably.

Some three weeks pa.s.sed and nothing happened except the ordinary routine of estancia work. During this time either Bent or I had been accustomed to go up on to the flat (azotea) roof once or twice daily with the gla.s.s, so as to have a good look round. The Cerro stood high, so that from its roof we could overlook the greater part of the estancia. This was a distinct advantage in times like the present, for it not only let us know anything that might be going on among the stock, but also allowed us time to prepare beforehand for any soldiers who might ride up to the house with the intention of causing us trouble. One afternoon Bent and I were up on the "azotea" together, having a look round with the gla.s.s. It was just about two-thirty when suddenly we saw some twenty soldiers coming our way from the East, at an angle which would make them pa.s.s to the front of the Cerro, about half a mile distant. We could, moreover, see they were Colorados, for the red banner was clearly flying from their lances. At the same time a troop of Blancos appeared, coming up from the Pa.s.s of the Pichinango, so that the two parties came into collision just about the place where Tio Benigno's deserted puesto still stood. We could see it all perfectly. They galloped furiously one toward the other two or three times, but seemed always to manage to avoid close contact. They fired their guns and revolvers, some of the shots at any rate being hurriedly let off into the air. Then the Reds made a bolt, and thereupon the Blancos, seeing this, galloped furiously after them, with their lances. One of the Reds was wounded by a shot, for we saw his arm hang useless by his side as he rode away. Another got a lance wound in his back, which was apparently more serious, as he fell from his horse after the Reds got a little further away, and had to be picked up by his comrades. So the Blancos remained masters of the situation, and after the Colorados had disappeared, they pa.s.sed the Cerro at a gallop, about a quarter of a mile distant, following a northerly direction, as if they were making for Guaycoru, and we were all very glad to see both lots clear out. Some ten days later we were both up on the "azotea,"

about an hour before sundown. After taking a look round, I said to Bent, "Do you see that point of cattle feeding almost at the same place where the Blancos and Colorados met? And can you see a dark lump on the ground, a little way removed, just on the far side of them? If I am not mistaken that is a matrero, out 'bombiando.' You know what that means, 'looking for and marking down a young heifer, so that he and his companions can come and kill it at night,' and there will be a moon to-night up to twelve o'clock, you know!" "I believe you are right,"

replied Bent. "Have a look through the gla.s.s. I fancy you will find that animal standing alone a little further away to be a horse saddled, and he is probably hobbled as well." Taking the telescope, I soon saw this to be the case. "I will give that fellow a bit of a fright," I said, at once going down into the courtyard, where I had the rosillo ready saddled. It took but a moment to lead him out through the small door, jump on his back, and gallop off. I had not got more than half way, when the matrero, who must have seen me coming, ran to his horse, mounted, and made off towards the woods of the Pichinango as quickly as he could.

The rosillo was going strong, and I should certainly have overtaken him, when an unfortunate thing happened. The ground was very rough and uneven, with numerous pieces of pointed rock rising up above it in every direction. The horse unluckily caught his off fore foot on one of these, and as he was going fast, it tripped him up, and he came down a regular cropper, rolling right over. I, of course, came down with him, having my revolver tightly held in my right hand, fully loaded, the trigger at half c.o.c.k. When I fell it somehow got jammed between me and the hard ground, with the end of the barrel against my chest, slightly bruising the flesh. Fortunately, it did not explode! It was a Colt's muzzle loader, and I felt grateful to them for its reliability and their excellent workmanship. I remounted, and continued the chase, but the delay gave the man too much of a lead, and I only arrived in time to see him enter the woods and disappear. Bent seemed quite glad to see me return without any further mishap, and when I explained to him how I came to have the tumble, which he had been able to see with the telescope from the house, he remarked, "That revolver of yours is indeed worth more than anything it may have cost, old man!" This pleased me, for as a matter of fact, I had bought it second-hand, when I was at the Sierras de Mal Abrigo, upon its eminent firm of maker's reputation, knowing otherwise but little about it. Bent and I then got up the "tamberos" to their rodeo. They were now well in hand, and went up easily. As we returned, Justiniano was bringing up the southdowns, to shut them in for the night; I looked them over, and saw them safely inside their yard. Correo was always pretty punctual with supper when we were at home, for he was glad when work was over and he could retire to rest. Afterwards we had a quiet talk and a smoke, and both went early to bed.

A week later we were both on the "azotea" about four o'clock in the afternoon. A Mr. Fenton, who had formerly stayed a good deal at the Cerro, had left his "moro," or blue-grey horse behind him when he went away, attached to one of the tropillas. The horse was not there when I came, having detached himself, and joined up with the "saino manada," or troop of mares and foals. We had not been looking round long when I noticed a horse coming at pretty nearly full speed in the direction of the Cerro, with two soldiers in full pursuit. "I believe it is Fenton's 'moro,'" I said to Bent, "and what is more those two fellows are going to have him." Just then the "moro" pa.s.sed, some three hundred yards distant, in front of the house. One soldier flung his "boleadores," but as it happened they fell short. The second thereupon immediately increased his speed, and flung his with such accuracy that they twisted themselves round the "moro's" hind legs, and soon brought him to a standstill. The soldiers then slipped a halter over his head, loosed the "boleadores" from his hind legs, and led him off with them, riding in the direction of the Pichinango Pa.s.s.

The "boleadores," or "bolas," as they are often called, are a very effective weapon in the hands of a skilled horseman who is well mounted.

They are chiefly used to capture horses and wild mares in the open camp, and are a very important part of a "Gaucho's" equipment. They are made of twisted strands of raw horse-hide. There are three thongs united together at a common centre, each about a yard in length. At the other end of each thong is a leaden ball, covered with hide. The horseman holds one ball in his right hand while he swings the two others quickly round his head. He then lets go the ball he had in his hand, so that the three go whirling swiftly forward in a circle, and their weight and impetus causes the thongs to twist themselves round the hind legs of any horse at which they may be aimed, which, chiefly owing to the speed at which it is moving, soon finds itself with its hind legs tied up together, and so falls helpless to the ground.

Much smaller b.a.l.l.s fastened together in the same manner, with quite thin thongs, are used by the natives to capture the wild ostrich.

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 pa.s.sed, 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 circ.u.mstances 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 Jose, 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 Pa.s.s 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 Cana 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 pa.s.sed, 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 pa.s.sed 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 Canada 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 la.s.so 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 pa.s.sed 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 la.s.so 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 pa.s.s. 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 Pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sing, 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 Cana 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 Mate 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 pa.s.sing 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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.semble all the provincial governours and to ratify the Fundamental Agreement of January, 1831, as the basis of the Const.i.tution of the Argentine Confederation. He further told us that he himself was present at the death of Urguiza, when he was a.s.sa.s.sinated 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 Jose by a route which led them nearer to the estuary of La Plata, and I could not help fearing lest in their pa.s.sing 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 gra.s.s, 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 Jose; 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sumed power, and the whole country quickly settled down, as was the custom of a South American republic under similar circ.u.mstances.

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 Jose 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 Cana. 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 pa.s.sing on to San Jose, 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.

PART III.

LA ESTANCIA ESPERANZA.

We rode quietly along, for we had about twelve and a half leagues in front of us, until we reached our journey's end. "Napoleon" appeared quite happy; not the least upset by the prospect of a change in his surroundings. I had brought some cold meat and biscuit, and a little coffee and sugar, so that we might enjoy a light meal between eleven and twelve o'clock, and also let the horses rest and graze for a while. We made a little fire by the side of the track, and then sat down until our coffee got warm. After that, we made good progress, so that we arrived at La Esperanza about three o'clock in the afternoon, where I received a very kind welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Jardine, who were at home at the time. When I had unsaddled, the former told me to turn my three horses into a large paddock, enclosed with wire fencing, where he said they would be all right. Justiniano, however, kept his grey, and tethered him out for the night, so that he could then get it early next morning, when he was to return to the Cerro. Mr. Jardine's house was both roomy and comfortable. It stood facing a picturesque river, less than half a mile distant, with woods on either bank. In front was a wide verandah, which also went further back in the middle, thus dividing the house, as it were, into two wings, united at the back by bedrooms, which lay behind.

As you entered Mr. and Mrs. Jardine's apartments were on the right, and a large dining-room, with a kitchen and sundry outbuildings attached, lay to the left. Quite at the far end of the house to the right stood a high tower, with a comfortable sitting-room below, and a bedroom above.

Beyond this again was a flower garden, with numerous fruit trees, and this joined on to another garden at the back, where both flowers and vegetables abundantly flourished. In front of the verandah, looking towards the river, was a wide open s.p.a.ce. A brick house, with its roof of red tiles, a storehouse, and an office stood fairly removed on the right, while further away in front was a "galpon," or woolshed, with ranchos for employees adjoining, but these latter were at the same time so situate as not in any way to incommode the house itself, neither did they shut off the view of the woods and river beyond. Mr. James Jardine, or Don Diego, as he was mostly called, was a thin spare man, of middle height, and something over forty years of age. He was a great sportsman, and devoted to shooting; indeed, during the winter months he occupied himself in scarcely any other way. He really took but little interest in the work of the estancia, as he left this to his managing partner, Mr.

Alexander Maclean, otherwise known as Don Alejandro, who, at the time of my arrival, was away in Monte Video, but was expected to return in about a fortnight. Mrs. Jardine was not very strong; she usually had her sister, Miss Denman, living with her, who, at the time I came, was away on a visit. There were two little boys, one five years old, called Peter, and the other two and a half, whose name was John. They were altogether a very happy family, greatly preferring the freedom of the camp to the conventions of town life.

The Estancia Esperanza comprised somewhere about eleven thousand acres, but within this area were included three or four "banyados," or small lakes, and a certain amount of land, which was often covered with water during wet weather, but affording at the same time very useful pasturage. There were twelve hundred head of cattle, and a "manada" of mares and colts, beside something over thirteen thousand sheep. These were distributed at five puestos, more or less two thousand and five hundred at each, while perhaps five hundred fed at the estancia itself.

Both cattle and sheep were each under the charge of a "capataz," or foreman, who carried on all work connected with them, the sheep being under the superintendence of a Scotchman, named John Gordon, and the cattle and horses of a native, who would then be more than fifty years of age. His name was Ramon Duran, a first-rate camp man, who knew his business thoroughly. Owing to the war, which had so recently ended, the estancia was short of riding horses. Mr. Jardine was much surprised when I told him I had succeeded in saving mine, for he had nearly had to part with the only horse he ever really cared to ride, a good-looking "rosillo alazan," or chestnut roan; indeed, he said it was more good luck than any care and management on his part which had enabled him to keep him. Meanwhile, all was well, he said, which ended well. Spring was now coming on, and September came in fine and warm. I went for a ride round the estancia, and came back along the bank of the river. It was pleasant riding here, and I could well imagine that later on in the summer the flowering creepers would be very beautiful. As I pa.s.sed, it was drawing on to sunset; I noted the cry of a "carpincho," or water-pig, whom I had suddenly disturbed, while the shrill call of the "pteru-pteru," or plover, made itself heard on the plain beyond; and a flight of water-fowl, among whom I noticed a white egret crane, came quickly swooping down at the side of some marshy land, mostly covered with reeds, where doubtless they had their home. When I again reached the house I was glad to find my box and portmanteau had arrived, a cartman who was returning to La Esperanza having come across them at the Hotel Oriental in San Jose, and brought them along in his cart.

"Napoleon" had already found a corner in the verandah, underneath the tower, in which to sleep. He was a very good-tempered dog, and I had no fear that he would be at all likely in any way to alarm the children.

Next morning I walked down to the corral, to see the riding horses brought up, a good many of which had evidently been left by soldiers during the war. During the next couple of weeks the flocks from the puestos were being pa.s.sed through the sheepyards at the estancia; the lambs had to be marked, and various matters attended to. I also went to my first "para rodeo" of the cattle. We had horses tied up the night before, and made an early start. I rode my rosillo, and went with Ramon Duran to the far end of the estancia, looking towards the river Plate.

It was a beautiful morning, and the air was delightful as we galloped along. I soon perceived the cattle were well in hand. They came up very well to the "rodeo," and were easy to keep there. The first fortnight in October proved very fine and warm. Meanwhile, Miss Denman had returned, as also had Mr. Alexander Maclean, from Monte Video. I found him to be a big, burly, and apparently good-natured looking Scotchman. He proposed that I should take charge of the accounts, and also lend a hand in the ordinary routine work of the estancia. He took me into the office and shewed me the books, explaining how they had been kept. I had hitherto been occupying one of the bedrooms opening on the garden, which lay behind the house, but I now moved up into the bedroom above the tower.

This was very agreeable, for there was a splendid look-out from either of the two windows, and I could imagine what it would appear on some clear night in summer, when a full moon was shining, the heat of the day over, and you could gaze far and wide in every direction, beyond lake and wood, and river, away to the distant horizon, which alone would appear to end the undulating plains of Uruguay. There was a very nice American wagonette at the estancia. It had four wheels, and was fitted with a pole, and drawn by a pair of small bay horses, with flowing manes and tails. Their brown harness was both light and strong, with bra.s.s mountings, so that altogether it was really a very pretty turn-out. A young Scotchman, who acted as coachman, sat in front, while those inside sat facing each other behind. When the weather permitted, Mrs. Jardine much enjoyed a drive down to Beatty's puesto, which was at the far end of the estancia, and she liked to take her sister and the children with her. Accordingly, one afternoon, they all made a start, inviting me to go with them. So I mounted "Carnival," whom I happened to have caught up, and "Napoleon" went with us. There were one or two wide tracks leading from La Esperanza, on either side of it, which had developed into quite respectable roads for driving on. Partly from having been beaten down by carts, and partly from the nature of the soil, they seemed to have caked down quite hard and firm, so that ruts and bad places were few, and the carriage was able to pa.s.s smoothly and easily along. Mrs. Beatty was a nice woman, with an engaging manner. She had two children, Susan, a little girl of nine, and David, a fine little fellow of five. She had unfortunately lost her eldest boy, who would now have been about fourteen, a little more than a year ago, owing to an accident with a horse, which had kicked him and seriously hurt him internally. This was a great grief to his mother; his name was Robert, and he had come out with his parents from Scotland. Mrs. Beatty welcomed us warmly when we arrived. It made quite a small picnic for the children, for she always insisted on their staying to have tea and some of the nice little Scotch cakes she made. So we took the horses out of the carriage, and tied them up under the "euremada," for the sun was now getting to be quite hot after mid-day. Beatty himself was a quiet, rather solemn-looking man, with a red complexion, and sandy-coloured hair. It was pleasant as we returned in the late afternoon, and as we pa.s.sed along, we saw one of the blue silver foxes some distance ahead of us, already come out of his lair, preparing for an evening stroll. We made too much noise for him, however, and he soon made off, followed in full chase by "Napoleon," but naturally to no purpose. The sun was fast declining when we reached the estancia; however, I was pleased to hear both the ladies and children tell Mr. Jardine, who was in the verandah, they had enjoyed their drive, and had all of them spent a very pleasant afternoon. The next morning we had a heavy thunderstorm, with sharp and continuous flashes of lightning, which lasted upwards of an hour, and was then followed by torrential rain. This went on the greater part of the day.

Shearing began on the tenth of November. There was only a small gang of six professional shearers employed. The remainder were made up of natives living in the neighbourhood, of which there were a good many, who not only could shear well, but had been accustomed to come year after year. The "galpon" was not nearly so large as that at the Cerro, in fact the room available was if anything too restricted for the number of sheep which had to be shorn. More time, therefore, was needed to complete the business. On November 20th a spell of bad weather set in which caused delay, as the sheep naturally were wet and could not easily be got dry again. However, a week later it cleared up, and after that work progressed satisfactorily. The shearers were very quiet, and orderly, and although they did not shear very fast, they did their work well. The month of December, however, was half through before the shearing was completed, and the shearers, having received the money due to them, finally took their departure. No festivities took place, as was so often customary at the end of shearing, but it was generally understood that a race or something of the kind would be held later on, probably on one of the days between Christmas and the New Year. John Gordon, the "capataz" of the sheep, had a nice bay horse, about five years old, belonging to himself, which had been born and grown up, and also been tamed on the estancia. His owner considered him to be something of a racer; indeed, had so high an opinion of him, I really believed him to think he would easily run away from anything likely to be put against him. When some talk was taking place about having a race one evening at dinner, I said I should not mind matching my old "saino"

against Gordon's bay, provided the distance was anything over a mile.

Don Alejandro told Gordon what I had said, and he was quite willing to ride his horse against mine, and as it happened we were both just about an equal weight. I had seen the bay several times, a good-looking horse, with a white star on his forehead, and two white hind fetlocks, and I reflected I had probably made a mistake in putting my "saino" against him. However, as the race was only to be for prizes given by Mr. Jardine and Don Alejandro, and there was to be no betting between Gordon and myself, nor indeed did I intend to bet with anyone else, I did not see any harm would be done, and if it gave any pleasure to the people on the estancia to see a bit of a gallop, all I had to say was I hoped they would enjoy the amus.e.m.e.nt of it, and that the best horse would win. The time being so short, it was obvious nothing could be done in regard to training either horse, beyond giving him half a dozen gallops or so, just to clear his wind; and it was agreed that both horses should run the race as they were, without giving them any maize or special preparation. The "saino" had improved a good bit in condition since he came to La Esperanza. A rest had done him good, especially as to his forelegs, which I felt sure had been a bit shaken. He had also got his summer coat, and this added to his appearance. We now knew the distance was to be a mile and a quarter, on the track leading from the estancia towards Beatty's puesto, and the finish was to end as close to the _former_ as possible. I caught the "saino" up for three hours every day, and gave him a brush over, and saw to his feet, taking him out for a gentle canter, and every other day I gave him a gallop on the course, but not at full speed; in fact, I only put him to this twice until the day of the race arrived, and then for not more than a quarter of a mile at a time. Gordon did much the same with his bay, only while I rode my horse late in the afternoon, he rode his early in the morning, when no-one was much about to see how he performed. New Year's Day was appointed for the race to be run, at three o'clock in the afternoon, the day being, of course, a holiday. There was a pretty general feeling at the estancia that the bay horse would win, and the odds were greatly in his favour. I knew, of course, that bets would be made on the race. I never knew a race in South America when they were not, but beyond the prizes that were given, I myself, as I have before mentioned, did not stand to win anything. These were to be an excellent English saddle and bridle complete, and a breech-loading revolver, of a good make, with a box containing a hundred cartridges to fit. New Year's Day proved fine and still; the sun shone from a blue sky, interspersed here and there with light "cirrus" cloud, but the air was fresh and cool, so it was not too hot; just the day, indeed, for everyone to enjoy a holiday. News of the race, of course, got about, and I was told that some natives who were interested in racing were coming to look on, probably inspired by curiosity to see how the Englishmen managed it. As Gordon and I rode quietly down, soon after half-past two o'clock, to the starting point, there seemed quite a little crowd gathering where the finish was to take place. Two friends of Gordon came with us to see us off. The start was quickly made, neither horse giving the s