PART I. (continued 2)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Royd told Bent he thought he had better come down with the sheep to the estancia, leaving the puesto for the time being unoccupied. This seemed to please him rather than otherwise, and it was settled he should come down with his belongings on the following Monday, and Royd promised to send up the native peon to help him to drive the sheep. Anything he had to leave behind could remain in the house, which he could lock up, bringing the key away with him, and whatever there was could be sent for later. I also told Bent about Mr. Dampier's offer to me, at which he seemed somewhat amused, although his good manners prevented him saying all that was perhaps passing through his mind. Royd and I then rode round by the pulperia at Guaycoru to see if by chance we could hear anything which might afford us a clue as to what had become of our missing cattle; or indeed, of the stolen sheep. Early next morning the native peon rode off with Royd's letters for the Swiss Colony, and I gave him mine to deliver at Mr. Dampier's house as he passed. On the Monday following he and Francisco made an early start to go and help to bring down the sheep from the puesto. The latter rode his chestnut pony and hoped to enjoy the ride.

The sheep travelled down well. Bent brought his two horses with him, riding one and leading the other as a pack-horse with his things. "Bob," of course, followed, greatly interested, behind the sheep; indeed, he seemed to enjoy the excitement of making the move. "Napoleon" gave him an affectionate welcome, for they had always been friends. On the Tuesday I put together my things. Royd kindly said he would send the native peon with me, who could lead the extra horse which was to carry them, and then bring him back afterwards. Anything I could not take was put into a big box, which was to be sent to Saballa's pulperia by the first cart which might pass, whence I could easily get it brought on to the "Cerro." I took my Colts revolver and all my cartridges with me, also my "Service" rifle, which I had given to me just as I was leaving England, and I found I could pack all I was likely to need for the present quite easily in two large bundles, which could be fixed on either side of the "recado," on the led horse. The peon took a large pair of saddle-bags for me on the horse he rode, and I had a smaller pair on mine. Wednesday morning, June 15th, proved fine, the sun shining in a clear sky. So I bid adieu to Royd and Bent and Francisco, and with many good wishes from them all, mounted "Carnival," accompanied by Napoleon, and duly followed the native peon who, with the pack-horse behind him, had already made a start. And so I bid adieu not without regret to "Las Sierras de Mal Abrigo," for I had been very happy there, and as I passed along my way it seemed to me, at any rate for the time being, a step into the great unknown. When we arrived at the "Cerro del Pichinango" I was received by an Englishman called Robinson, who acted as cook and general caretaker inside the house. He soon got me some food and coffee ready, and he also found something to eat for the man who had come with me. There were three peones, or out-door servants about; an uncle, and two of his nephews. They were natives of Uruguay, but by parentage were Indians of the Pampas, which also showed very clearly in their countenances. I wrote a message to Royd on a piece of paper, which I gave to the peon for him, just to say I had arrived all right. Meantime I had unsaddled "Carnival," and tied him up in a grass-covered court or enclosure, surrounded by a high stone wall, where there were also several trees and two large iron gates at the bottom, which were usually kept locked. The house itself certainly looked imposing. It was built the whole width of the upper end of the court, and was divided into two parts by a high stone archway, the front of which stood level with the court, while the back led direct into the large "galpon," or wool-shed, which was joined to the house its full length behind, with two large openings on its outer side, closed by wide wooden doors, both ends being quite shut in. The house had nine rooms, large and small; four on one side of the open archway, which was shut off from the galpon by a door in the centre, and five on the other. Each had a large window overlooking the court, protected outside by thick iron bars. First came the kitchen, with a door leading direct into the open, and a bedroom above, for the cook; then, the dining room, with two large windows opening on the court; next, a small room, with a little iron stove called the gun-room, and next again a bedroom; each having a window looking on the court. This bedroom had also a door opening into the stone archway. On the other side of this were five rooms, all leading one into another; but the fourth had a door opening on the court; while the fifth room was called the visitors' room, and had a large high window in the middle of the end of the house, which gave abundance of light, although it, too, was heavily barred. This room was comfortably furnished, while from the others on this side of the archway the furniture had been mostly removed, one of them being at this time used as a storeroom.

The whole house was an "azotea," having one long flat roof throughout, all round which was a low battlemented parapet with open spaces, between where you could place firearms for self-defence in the event of a siege or an attack from outside. Out of the dining room was an inside passage and ladder leading to the roof, which was removable, having a small shelter or covering built over it at the top. The roof itself was carefully tiled and cemented, collecting all the rain-water which fell upon it, and carrying it through pipes into the large Alhibi, or reservoir, carefully tiled, which stood in the middle of the court. Here the water remained quite cool in summer, an ample supply being collected during the rainy weather, sufficient to last the whole year.

There were no wells or springs, for the house stood high on an eminence overlooking the surrounding country, the ground all round being of a rocky nature, the surface soil in places having scarcely any depth at all; indeed, nowhere near the house was it at all suitable for either crops or cultivation.

During the afternoon I had one of the tropillas of horses brought up into the corral, and we collared "Carnival" to a nice little grey mare, so that he could go out to feed with the other horses. But he could not escape back again to the rocks, as he certainly would have done had he been left loose. The mare, however, seemed very considerate and good to him, and he afterwards became quite fond of her. Napoleon, too, seemed to settle down easily into his new surroundings, and it was not long before he obtained control over the three or four mongrels who barked at him on his arrival. I took a little walk round the establishment during the afternoon, and had a look over a small flock of "southdowns" which fed near the house, and were shut up into their sheep yard at night, surrounded by a stone wall. They were now feeding with their faces towards home, and were generally looked after by one of the Indian boys.

As I walked along through the long grass, a brace of partridges got up close to me, and flew away straight in front of me. Had I taken a gun with me they would have been an easy shot. Behind the "Cerro" the country seemed to roll away into distance, like the waves of the sea, so characteristic of the Pampas of South America.

As I returned I climbed up to the top of the group of rocks just behind the house itself, enclosed by a stone wall not by any means in good condition. From there the country on one side appeared rocky and broken, with a valley running down at right angles, where apparently stone had been got out of a kind of quarry, near which I could see two or three stone erections, which might be either huts or temporary shelters. Far in the distance were woods which seemed to border a river. This I found to be the river Pichinango, which was the boundary of the estate on that side.

I had some dinner at sundown, and then enjoyed a quiet pipe, and thought over the events of the day. Later, I fixed up my things in the bedroom joining the archway, in the corner of which latter I placed an old wool-bag I found lying about, for Napoleon to sleep on, and I too went to bed, asking the cook to be sure and call me in good time in the morning. I slept soundly, and the air felt fresh and keen when I went out into the courtyard not long after sunrise, where I was affectionately greeted by Napoleon, who seemed very pleased to see me again. The Indians were already sitting round their fire in the galpon, sucking Matè, and Robinson was busy in his kitchen, preparing the early coffee. The first thing I did was to have the horses belonging to the "Cerro" brought up into the corral, so that I might look them over. They were a mixed lot, some seventy in all, and varied greatly in colour and appearance. But this was only to be expected, and there were some useful horses among them.

A little before eleven, Don Frederico Dampier rode up from his house, "La Concordia," situate at the other end of the estancia. I saw him coming so went out a little way to meet him. His well-knit but spare figure looked remarkably well on horseback. We first took a turn outside, and Don Frederico pointed out certain things which needed attention. We then went inside, and he gave me the keys of two large cupboards which contained linen and household necessaries. He also gave me a book called the "log-book," in which I was to write down anything which happened, and also the work which was done each day, as it passed. By this time, Robinson had got ready some breakfast for us, after which we mounted our horses and rode round a troop of cattle called the "tamberos," or tame animals; supposed to come up to their "rodeo" every day before sundown. However, as a matter of fact, they were quite as wild as the larger herd, and it was some little time before I got them well under control. We then went on to two of the puestos, each in charge of a puestero, or shepherd, who looked after his flock of something under three thousand sheep. The first puesto we came to was in charge of a "basco" named Laborde, who had emigrated, while yet young, to Uruguay, from the Spanish shores of the Bay of Biscay. He was a fresh-coloured, good-tempered looking man, still in middle life, and he seemed cheerful and comfortable with his wife and three children round him. He gave us many particulars about his flock; how they were getting on, etc. He had been with them most of the morning; had just ridden home to get something to eat, and was going out to give them a turn towards home a little later on. He said he had not been troubled by soldiers, although he had noticed small detachments passing towards the Sierras, but they had not come near either the flock or his puesto. We then rode on to the second, kept also by a basco, called Martin, the number of sheep being more or less the same as the one previously visited. Martin was a fine, robust, good-looking man, in the prime of life; very alert and intelligent, and apparently well-versed in the ways of estancia life. We passed alongside his flock as they were quietly feeding; and we looked over three large points of cattle, and also some mares and colts as I accompanied Don Frederico a little further on his way home.

I then bid him farewell and rode back direct to the Cerro, and with one of the Indians got the tamberos, before-mentioned, up to their rodeo in the afternoon, keeping them there about three-quarters of an hour as a matter of discipline, and then as the sun fell towards the horizon on the late autumn afternoon the little flock of Southdown sheep drew towards home, to be shut in their sheepyard for the night. So I took the opportunity of looking them carefully over, and making a correct count of them; they were just over three hundred, so that I might the more easily become aware, if by ill-luck any should be missing.

The old cook, Robinson, had gone through some exciting experiences in his earlier life. When little more than a boy he sailed for the Southern seas in one of "Green's" whaling ships, fitted out for a three years' cruise beyond Cape Horn, in pursuit of the sperm whale. This was then a very profitable occupation. From captain to cabin-boy, everyone had a share in the results of the voyage, and when the good ship returned, fully loaded with her valuable cargo of sperm oil, she had a great welcome from her owner, who often went down to greet her arrival in Plymouth Sound. Eventually he rose to be a first-class hand aboard; indeed, it was his office to throw the harpoon, as he stood upright in the bow of the boat, into the whale, an act requiring not only courage, but also great judgment and skill. It was only upon rare occasions that the old man could be induced to talk of his sea-faring days. A kind of gloom always seemed to lie behind them all, and it was but by a mere chance that I happened later to find out what it meant. Like so many of the sea-faring class with him drink was the trouble, and after a bout of it he would sometimes fall into a kind of delirium, talking incessantly to himself, yet hardly aware of what he was saying. It seems he had been wrecked on the northern coast of New Zealand in the days of long ago, and there he had lived with a Maori tribe, and had wedded a Maori spouse. Then came a war with a neighbouring tribe, who proved victorious, and he saw his wife tomahawked before his eyes, while he himself was unable to render her any assistance.

Following this, he fled into the bush, where he subsisted on fern-root, and anything else he could obtain, until by great good fortune he managed to signal and attract the attention of a passing vessel, who lowered a boat and took him off.

He then worked his way back to England, and afterwards went out to the Falkland Islands Company, at Port Stanley.

Finally, he came over to Uruguay, drifted to the "Cerro del Pichinango" during the war of "Oribé," where he had remained ever since. So long as all went well, he was attentive to duty inside the house; clean and tidy in preparing the meals; indeed, never happier than when fully employed with his scrubbing brush and an ample supply of soap and water. One of his great pleasures was to hoist the Union Jack on the small standard on the top of the azotea on feast-days and holidays, when he would again lower it at sunset, the same as he would have done on board ship. His failing compelled me to keep all Caña, or white rum, under lock and key, although I was instructed to deal him out his daily allowance twice during the day; when the sun got over the fore-yard, as he was wont to express it, and at sundown. Outside he chiefly employed himself in chopping and splitting up wood for the stove in the kitchen, with his two axes, of which he took great care, and of which he was apparently very proud.

We happened to have a spell of fine weather during the first few days after I arrived at the "Cerro," so I was enabled to see things generally better than I could otherwise have done.