FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[10]Dining-room.[11]How beautiful! How lovely![12]Doll.

[10]Dining-room.

[11]How beautiful! How lovely!

[12]Doll.

NEW EXPERIENCES

"Levantese!Levantese!" came José's voice to Francisco's ear, just as the latter was lassoing a llama he had been pursuing on the back of an ostrich.

Francisco rubbed his eyes and woke from his dream to a babel of voices, and the train was not in motion. Where could he be?

As he rubbed his sleepy eyes again his uncle took him gently by the shoulder.

"Wake yourself, Niño. We are in Rosario; come, follow me."

Francisco followed him through the long hall of the compartment car out into the big station where insistent porters and shouting cab-men made frantic grabs at them and their baggage, only to be beaten off by José, whose languageas he scolded and berated them was not what is known as "polite Spanish."

Selecting a victoria from the long line of waiting ones, they entered, José sitting with the driver, and were soon before the lighted portals of a large hotel.

The building was two stories in height and perfectly square; the second story bed-rooms all opened on to a porch or corridor, which ran completely around and overlooked the central court on the first floor. The entrance was very imposing with marble staircases and marble pillars; and Francisco's sleepy eyes opened wide in astonishment. They were just in time for dinner; already the marble tables in thepatiowere filling with men and women sipping their afterdinner coffee in the cool open air.

As this was Francisco's first dinner in a hotel it might be interesting to know what he ate. Being an Argentine, he always ate several different kinds of meat, and began this meal witha platter of cold meats: tongue, pressed chicken and jellied veal. Second, a vermicelli soup with grated cheese; third, friedpejerey, the most popular fish of the country; fourth, partridge fried in oil; fifth, asparagus with melted butter; sixth, macaroni with tomato and garlic sauce; seventh, roast mutton; eighth, a salad of lettuce and tomatoes; ninth, a sweet jelly in wine sauce; tenth, fruits; and then they adjourned to thepatiofor coffee.

While his uncle smoked and talked with friends, whom he had chanced to meet, Francisco slipped away and José helped him undress for bed, as he was very tired.

He remembered no more after José turned off the electric light until he opened his eyes into the full glare of the sun, the next morning. It was nine o'clock and José was laying out clean linen for him. After a refreshing shower bath, he returned to his room to find his rolls and coffee on a table beside his bed.

"Why, José, I'm not a lady that I must have mycaféin bed!" exclaimed the lad. "Mother and the girls always do that, but I'm a man and I want to have mine in the dining-room with Uncle Juan."

José explained that in hotels one must always take one's morning coffee in one's rooms; and he talked on while Francisco ate and dressed.

"El Coronelwill be busy all of the day and he has placed you in my hands. Rosario, I know like a book, and together we will see it."

"Oh! that will be great fun, José. Where shall we go first?"

"Would you like to see them load the vessels? This city is where much of the wheat of our country is brought to be loaded into the vessels for Europe. The river is so deep here that the largest ocean-going vessels can come up to the docks."

They walked through crowded, busy streets until they came to a high bluff, and from theedge of this they could look down on the very tops of the long rows of steamships below, all being loaded with wheat.

This was just the beginning of the busy season, for the harvest was scarcely under way. In January and February the whole city of Rosario would seem nothing but wheat, wheat, wheat.

Francisco saw all of this with deepest interest; he was beginning to comprehend the resources of his own country.

They sat watching the course of the wheat bags as they shot down the long chutes from the high bluffs to the vessels below, until Francisco's eyes grew tired and even when he closed them he could see long lines of bobbing bags, like yellow mice, chasing one another into the water.

So they walked along the bluff, counting the flags of the different nations displayed on the boats beneath them; English, French, Italian,Dutch, German and a few that Francisco had never seen before.

For a while they watched thelavaderasor washer-women pounding the clothes of the city on the rocks at the edge of the water; and spreading them on the higher rocks behind them to bleach and dry.

Steam laundries are uncommon in South America and all of the washing is done in this manner. Thelavaderascarry the soiled linen from the houses to the river on their heads, balancing huge bundles as easily as though they were trifles, their arms folded across their breasts.

As they stood watching this cleansing process Francisco spied a raft-like boat piled high with small logs tied on securely.

"It looks out of place here, José, among all these enormous freight steamers. What does it carry?"

"Willow, Señorito, and see, there are otherscoming down the river. It goes to Buenos Aires to be made into charcoal, the principal fuel of that city. Great quantities of it are raised above here; it is quick of growth and needs only to be planted so," and José demonstrated by taking a short twig and sticking it into the earth.

"Behold! and in seven years, it is as you see it there on the rafts ready for market. They use the twigs for making Osier baskets. Buthace calor[13]let us go to the cool shadypatioof the hotel and there I will tell you a story of some charcoal burners until the Uncle comes."

But the Colonel reached the hotel before they did, for Francisco must stop to see this thing and that as they sauntered along. The mid-day heat meant little to him while so much of novelty challenged his attention.José was always ready to answer his questions, and he frequently drew the boy's notice to something that would escape any one but a keen observer, and this the Indian was.

The sun was almost in midheaven, and the dailysiestawas beginning in some parts of the city. Workshops were being closed, and under every tree some cart driver had drawn up his horse and stretched himself on the grass under its shade; even the beggars were curled up on the church steps fast asleep.

"Why do some of those ragged beggars wear metal badges, José?"

"They are licensed beggars, Señorito. The city has authorized them to beg, and when you help them you may know you are helping no rogues."

Francisco drew his nose up into a prolonged sniff. "I believe I'm hungry, José. What smells so good?"

"Step here on to this side street and I'll show you."

The street was being torn up to be repaved, and thepeonworkingmen at this noon interval of rest were eating theiralmuerzo. Gathered in little groups, they sat around something that was cooking and emitting odours of stewing meat, potatoes and onions.

"But how are they cooking here in the street?"

"Go closer and you can see," replied José.

Francisco walked to the curb, and looking over their backs into the middle of one circle he saw—the stew cooking in a shovel.

"They buy these things at the market and use their street shovels for stewpans, as you see."

"Ugh! I hope they wash them first," laughed Francisco.

They were now passing the market, an enormous affair covering the best of a large block. But the scene was no longer animated for the chattering and bargaining were beginningto cease; and the merchants, themselves, were nodding over their wares.

Along the curbing were piles of merchandise; here, a stack of peaches, pears, apricots, figs, nectarines, grapes, and plums; there, an array of earthen ware, in curious shapes; here, a stock of readymade clothing, aprons, trousers,ponchos[14]and shoes. The vegetables were heaped high in piles; tomatoes, beans, lettuce, cardon, celery, potatoes, cucumbers, and onions in long ropes, their stems so plaited together with straw that they can be sold by the yard; or, in that country's measure, ametro.[15]

Many of the stalls offered cooked foods; roasted partridges and chickens; pâtes of jellied meats; cleaned and cooked armadillo, whose meat tastes like tender roast pork. The Argentines are very fond of them and they consume thousands every month.

Around the curbing, at one end of the market,stood great carts, with wheels fully eight feet high. These, José told Francisco, were the market carts that brought the produce into the city. They look rude and cumbersome, but carry several tons and often as many as a dozen oxen are hitched to them.

These interested Francisco but José bid him hurry as no doubt his uncle would have breakfasted. Which, indeed, he was doing, for as they entered the hotel Francisco caught sight of him, seated in the long dining-room with several gentlemen; all of them, including the Colonel, in cool looking white linen suits. Francisco joined them and was introduced to the strangers.

They were wealthyestancierosbut not Spaniards. One was an Englishman and the other a North American, owning ranches near Rosario, and they were negotiating with Colonel Lacevera for some pedigreed horses which he owned.

They talked partly in Spanish and partly in English; for like most educated Argentines, the Colonel spoke some English and understood more. Francisco had studied English at school just as he did French, and he was delighted to be able to understand some of their conversation.

Before they parted, the Englishman urged Colonel Lacevera to attend a large sale of cattle and horses which was to take place at hisestanciathe next day, Sunday. Patting Francisco on the head he added:

"Bring the Niño also, he may enjoy it."

So early the following morning José had their horses at the curb of the hotel, saddled and ready for the three league gallop.

Francisco had not ridden often, but his enthusiasm knew no bounds when he saw the Argentine pony that was to be his mount.

The Colonel looked at José meaningly, for he knew that this eagerness would not outlast the long gallop.

At first they rode briskly in the cool morning air. Francisco held on bravely, but the Colonel noticed the firm set of his lips, and that he talked less and less as they rode on.

They were riding through beautiful country. The turf was fresh and green in spots where the old coarse grass had been burned off and the tender young sprouts were coming up through the rich soil. They passed droves of several thousand sheep nibbling peacefully on this succulent new growth. There were shepherds, with here and there a hut made of poles covered with mud; the roof thatched with asparta grass.

Francisco was so tired and his bones began to ache so desperately that he ceased to show any interest in the things they passed. Colonel Lacevera and José exchanged knowing looks, but dared not permit Francisco to see them. When they came to one of these rude huts his uncle said:

"Niño, would you not like to see the inside of one of theseprairie palaces?"

He admired the boy's pluck, but he feared to tax his physical endurance more.

Francisco willingly assented, and they rode up to the door around which a swarm of dirty, half naked children sat on the ground.

José called: "Ola!" and a copper-coloured woman appeared at the door, dressed only in one garment, a dun-coloured chemise.

She was an Indian, and when José spoke to her in her own tongue, asking for a drink, she pointed to the square kerosene tin filled with water, beside which hung a gourd.

She said her husband was out with the sheep; and she had no chairs to offer them, but they might alight and rest.

They stepped into the hut, the door of which was a horse's hide; the floor was the hard earth; a box stood in the middle and served as a table, while bundles of straw in the cornersserved as beds. Instead of chairs there were dried skulls of oxen; their wide, spreading horns serving as arms to these unique seats. Francisco was glad, however, to rest his weary body within their grewsome embrace and he sat thus for half an hour, while José watered the horses and the Colonel talked to the children.

Francisco himself proposed that they start on, but José was obliged to lift him into his saddle. One more league and they were in sight of theestancia, where the sale was to be held.

The house was of the usual Spanish style of architecture, and the many buildings grouped around it gave the place a resemblance to a village.

Señor Stanley met them and "gave" them his house, after the manner of all Spanish hosts, and they entered to wash and rest.

As the Señor Stanley was an Englishman,his house interested Francisco in spite of his weariness. It was fitted with every luxury of a high class English home; the baths being supplied with cool spring water which flowed through them constantly. There were handsomely furnished parlours, a well-filled library and a billiard room. The stables were commodious and sanitary; and the tennis courts and golf links, gardens andpatioswere numerous.

In the corrals they found several hundred men gathered and there was much confusion and noise.

It was Sunday and therefore a holiday spirit pervaded everything, for Sunday is not observed in Argentina as a day of quiet and reverence; it is the day for sports, games and excursions. This sale had been set for Sunday to insure a large attendance.

First, breakfast was served. Under a longarbour, formed by tall eucalyptus trees, the table, fully a hundred feet in length, had been set. At each place was a bunch of flowers and a bottle of native wine.

Despite his aching body, Francisco did full justice to the soup, barbecued meats and fowls, vegetables and fruits that were served. But after he had eaten he crept under the shade of one of the trees to rest.

He fell asleep and slept until his uncle wakened him atmátetime.

"Hello, my boy! Slept through all of this noise? You were certainly exhausted, for such a clatter as there has been. One hundred thousand dollars and many pedigreed animals have changed hands, and it wasn't done quietly either. We will have ourmáteand then ride home in the cool of the evening. Come." And the Colonel helped the stiff jointed, weary boy to his feet.

FOOTNOTES:[13]It makes hot, literally.[14]Blankets.[15]A little over a yard.

[13]It makes hot, literally.

[14]Blankets.

[15]A little over a yard.

ON THE RANCH

"Whatis that you have, Manuel?" cried Francisco, to one of thepeons, five days later, as he sat under an ombú tree in the garden on his uncle'sestancia, playing with some tametierrabirds, that kept the garden clean of worms.

Manuel was one of the housepeonsand he had a queer looking machine with a long snout under his arm.

"Why, this is an ant destroyer, Señorito; would you care to watch me kill ants?"

For answer, Francisco ran eagerly to his side and the two walked toward the peach orchard. Francisco had had five days of rest from his tiresome ride the day of the sale, and he was now ready for any new adventure.

They had arrived at the Tres Arroyas ranch three days before and he had made friends with every one connected with the house and gardens. The heat had been too great to allow of any wider acquaintance, which would have included the gauchos, or cowboys; at least the nearer ones, for the Tres Arroyas ranch was very large, and Francisco never could have known them all. José had told him that one could ride all day from the centre and not reach its boundaries.

"Why do you use that to kill ants?" he asked of Manuel. "Ourservientaat home uses hot water when they get into thepatio."

"Ah, yes, Señorito, but these country ants come in such armies it would take a geyser of boiling water to kill them. Now, we are here in the orchard; you can see how they destroy things."

Curious rivulets of tawny brown ran here and there as far as the eye could reach.

"Last spring these ants fairly cleaned our peach trees of their tender young leaves, and it was only by continuous labour that we exterminated them. Now, look at them! Thick as ever."

"But how can you kill millions of ants with so small a machine?"

"Well, I can't this afternoon. I brought the machine here to place it and get it ready; then early in the morning I will tap on the iron bars of your window and you must follow me."

It was scarcely more than dawn the next morning when Francisco heard the gentle tapping on therejasat his window. He had forgotten his engagement with Manuel, and started up in bewilderment. The sight of thepeonreminded him and he hurried into his garments and was soon with Manuel in the crisp morning air.

"A little more of the sun above the horizonand we would have been too late for to-day," said the swarthy Spaniard, as he busied himself lighting the machine.

"Ants are early risers, and it's only by getting up before they have made their morning toilets that we can manage to make war on them."

Francisco laughed at the idea of an ant bathing and dressing, and bent over on his knees beside Manuel who was scratching a match to light the dry rubbish in the cylindrical can, in one end of which was a small amount of sulphur. He screwed a lid on the other end, inserted the snout into an ant hole and with a pair of bellows he sent the volumes of sulphurous smoke into the labyrinthine passages of the ant houses.

"Look, look," excitedly cried Francisco, as quantities of smoke were seen issuing from many holes, here and there, within a radius of several hundred yards; showing how intricateand many winding are the underground passages of these industrious pests.

"Yes, there won't be many ants getting out to work this morning. But in a short while they will be just as bad as ever."

They went from one part of the orchard to another until the sun was too high, and they were obliged to stop until another morning. Francisco learned, as they walked toward the house, that these ants are the worst pest, excepting the locust, that the farmer has to combat. They particularly delight in carrying away whole beds of strawberries and they often come in armies that swarm over every obstacle in their path.

As they entered the house, Francisco noticed that his uncle had hadcaféand was in his riding breeches ready for a morning gallop.

"May I go with you, Uncle Juan?" cried Francisco.

"Hey! That's spirit for you! Rode yourselfto fragments a few days ago and ready for another trial to-day.Che," clapping his hands as apeonappeared.

"Saddle Barboza for the Señorito,inmediatamente."

Francisco gulped hiscaféand nibbled at a biscuit, but he was too excited to eat more.

When the horses were brought to the door, his eyes gleamed, for he saw that the smaller horse, that was to be his to ride while he was on theestancia, was resplendent in a new saddle, bridle and bit. The servant brought a set of solid silver spurs and smart leather riding boots which he assisted Francisco to put on, and which he told him his uncle had had sent with the saddle and outfit from the city.

The stirrups were of silver, beautifully chased, and the head stall, ornaments for the brow band which covers most of the horse's face, and thepretelbangles that jingled across the horse's breast, were all of the same valuable metal.It was indeed the outfit of a gentleman, and on Barboza, the sleek bay horse, with the neat, light hoof of the prairie steed, it seemed an equipment fit for a prince. His uncle appeared at the mounting block and Francisco kissed him again and again as he thanked him for the lovely gifts.

"Hey! Hey! We can't waste time thus, my boy. I am going over to the west of theestanciato inspect some horse branding that is to take place to-day. Themayor domo[16]will follow me later."

They cantered off across the corral and were soon on the open plains. On and on, over the pastures, some of them red, like battle grounds with the scarletmargaritaor verbena; when again they would reach a huge patch of white ones that looked at a distance like snow.

"What was that, Uncle?" exclaimed Francisco, startled, as a large bird with yellow breastand gray wings screeched across their path, emitting a harsh cry of several syllables.

"That is thebicho-feo."[17]

"Why do they call it ugly bug? It is a bird."

"Because its cry is not unlike those words. Listen again and you will hear how plainly he says it. It is a bird of prey and lives on smaller birds. That bird just fluttering up out of the grass at your left is a scissors bird."

"Oh, I know why. See how its two long tail feathers clip the air like scissors as it flies."

They passed numbers of small gray owls; and once Francisco spied a flock of flamingoes across the water of a small lake. Occasionally they passed a shepherd's hut; but now they were getting on beyond the sheep grazing pastures and great herds of cattle came in sight.

Francisco leaped in his saddle with joy. "Oh! Uncle, are we coming to the cowboys?"

His boyish enthusiasm had pictured them on their native heath so often, and now he was really to see them! He had watched them when they came to the city on holidays and walked along the Paseo de Julio, where the pawn shops, with their tempting offers of silver sheathed knives, gaily stripedponchos, and silver mountedrebenques[18]draw them as honey draws bees; but to see them on the plains,—that was what he wanted!

Group of coyboys"SOON AFTER HIS EAGER QUESTION THEY PASSED A GROUP OF THEM."

He did not have to call on his reserve of patience; indeed, soon after his eager question they passed a group of them, crouched on the ground around a fire of dry thistles, over which hung a can, suspended by wire from a tripod, and which held the water for their morningmáte. They arose to their feet as the Colonel galloped past and greeted him withvivas.

"Do they often use those murderous looking knives on each other, Uncle?" asked Francisco;the sight of their weapons having subdued his zeal somewhat. They were rougher looking men in their working clothes than when they came to the city dressed for a lark.

"Seldom, Niño; unless they are intoxicated. They are not very civilized and they have no education whatever. They fairly live on their horses' backs and cannot be persuaded to do any work that must be done outside their saddles."

They were, indeed, fierce in appearance. Their knee-high boots were made of rawhide; they wore no trousers, but a striped blanket held around the waist with a belt, then brought between the legs and fastened again to the belt in front, formed the covering of the lower part of the body. This is called thechirapaand when walking it gives the wearer a bulky appearance, not unlike a Turk.

As these werepeon gauchos, or low-class cowboys, they were not so picturesque as thegentlemangaucho, who is entirely different in appearance and character.

Themayor domorode up to them within the first hour, and his costume was that of thecaballeroclass or gentlemangaucho.

He also wore thechirapa, but it was over long white cotton trousers, the edges of which were embroidered and finished with hand-made lace. Instead of the rawhide belt of thepeon gaucho, his was a strip of hogskin doubled, the inside forming a pocket, which was stitched into compartments, these being made secure with clasps made of silver coins; from all of this hung a festoon of coins encircling the entire waist. The large clasp in the front was of solid silver, carved to represent the crest of Argentina. Several knives were thrust through his elaborate belt, and his riding whip was of closely braided rawhide, with a heavy silver handle.

Francisco eyed him curiously, but with evidentadmiration. This was more to his liking, and he rode between this gentleman of the Pampas and his soldier uncle with great pride. Almost, he was persuaded to be agaucho, but a side glance at his idolized uncle brought quick repentance to his heart.

How could he be so disloyal to his family traditions! Asoldado,[19]of course, that was his destiny.

FOOTNOTES:[16]Superintendent.[17]Beech-o fay'-o.[18]Riding whips.[19]Soldier.

[16]Superintendent.

[17]Beech-o fay'-o.

[18]Riding whips.

[19]Soldier.

CATTLE BRANDING

Theyreached the western corral about ten o'clock, and found the branding already under way. Several dozenpeon gauchoshad assembled and they had driven the horses to be branded into an enclosure.

"See, Niño, these are all young animals; they have never had the iron on them."

"Why do you brand them, Uncle Juan? Yourestanciais so large surely they could not stray on to a neighbour's ranch; and then thegauchoswatch them carefully?"

"Yes, but there are so many thousands that, despite the best of care, our horses stray away occasionally. Before every yearly round-up, we sendpeonsto all the neighbouring ranches to gather in the strayed ones; and if our brandis on them there is never any question as to their owner. I am gradually having the outskirts of theestanciaenclosed in barbed wire fencing, but it is so many leagues around that it is no easy matter. But look, see how they catch them!"

They were using thebolas, and although Francisco had often seen them in the shop windows, he had never seen them in use. They are an aboriginal device for lassoing cattle and horses. They consist each of three stone balls covered with leather and all attached to long thongs, two of which are longer than the third. The ends of these thongs are attached together and when thegauchouses them he raises his hand holding these ends above his head and whirls them around and around to gather momentum, then opening his hand the weapon flies away to coil itself about the feet of the animal that he wishes to lasso. Thesegauchosare so skilful in the use of thebolasthat their aim is unerring, and although it sometimes bruises the captive's legs, it is a most convenient method for catching a fleet-footed horse or cow.

branding"BLAZED THE LINES OF THE TRES ARROYAS ON ITS HIP"

When thegauchoin the enclosure had caught a horse by this means, he immediately pulled it to the ground. Apeonsat on its neck while another held it by a rope around its fore-legs, and a third blazed the lines of the Tres Arroyas brand on its hip. The mark was in the shape of a horseshoe, inside of which was a cross; and at least ten of these groups were busy all of the time, burning it on the young animals.

"What do you raise these wild horses for, Uncle Juan?" inquired Francisco, who had not missed one single detail of the performance. "They are not fine horses like Barboza here," and he patted his steed's neck affectionately.

"No, they are not, by any means. These wild horses are raised for their hides mainly,although very little of them goes to waste when they are skinned. Look over yonder, near that cluster of mud huts, where the hides are drying in the air and sun."

Francisco's eyes followed the end of the silver riding whip that his uncle used to point with, and saw tier after tier of poles, from which were stretched horsehides to stakes in the ground below.

Turning to Don Carlos, themayor domo, who was near-by, the Colonel inquired the worth of the horses being branded.

"Not less than ten or twelve dollars each," answered the superintendent. "These are very good ones. Does the Señor care to have his breakfast now?"

For some time, Francisco had been feeling pangs of hunger. His hurriedcaféhad not been sufficient nourishment for the long hot ride, and now his hunger was aroused by odours that came to his nostrils like pleasant messengers;yet, he could not see anything cooking.

"Uncle, shall we eat out here with thegauchos?" he asked, wild-eyed.

"Very near them anyhow, but not exactlywiththem. Manuel came ahead of us to prepare ouralmuerzo, which is in process of cooking over yonder behind that clump of willows. Before we eat you shall see thegauchoseat, but I warn you it is not a prepossessing sight.

"Here, Don Carlos, have the men go to their breakfast now, the lad wants to see their table manners."

Don Carlos rode into the corral, spoke a few words and the branding ceased. Each man mounted his own pony, for an Argentine cowboy never walks, be his journey ever so short. With cheers and shouts they galloped toward the mud huts near-by.

Francisco and the Colonel followed at amore dignified pace. They found the men gathered about in groups, squatting on the ground or sitting on ox skulls.

The beef had been quartered and roasted on a spit over a charcoal fire, outside one of the huts. Each man, without ceremony, had "fallen to" and helped himself, by cutting great chunks of the meat from the large piece on the fire.

Holding one end with his teeth and the other with his hand, each man would sever the bite about two inches from his mouth with one of his silver-handled belt knives.

"You see how superfluous are knives, forks and plates," said the Colonel in an undertone to Francisco as they watched this primitive process.

"And now for our own breakfast. I am as hollow as is the wild pumpkin at the end of summer," and he gave a sharp blow to his horse, another to Barboza, and they were offtowards their own waiting meal in the shadow of the willows.

Manuel had killed a small kid soon after reaching the corral, and had roasted it on a spit in its skin over a fire of dry thistles and charcoal. He was basting it with salt water, which he had brought in a bottle. In the coals below were sweet potatoes roasting in their jackets. So tempting were the combined odours of lamb and sweet potatoes that Francisco ran to the little stream to wash himself, in order that he might begin to appease his appetite at once.

"Ineverwas so hungry," said he, as he took the tin plate offered him by Manuel. "I think I could eat with my hands like the cowboys! Do they ever eat anything but meat?"

"Seldom. They care but little for vegetables; not enough to take the trouble of raising a few. Meat andgalletas, the hard biscuit of the Pampas, often three or four months old, isall they have besides theirmáte, that theymusthave always.

"Que esperanza! lad, this lamb is good! It takes me back to other days. Many times on our expeditions into the provinces have I eaten thus."

"Tell me, do tell me of one while we eat and rest," coaxed Francisco.

"There were many, lad," said the Colonel, as he passed his plate back to Manuel for another piece of the smoking, savoury lamb. "I've never told you of the expedition of General Roca into Patagonia. I was commanding a regiment at that time, one of the regiments that became famous because of that remarkable undertaking.

"Patagonia is all of the southern-most part of this continent lying between the Rio[20]Negro and the Straits of Magellan, excepting the narrow strip between the Andes and the PacificOcean, which belongs to Chile. This country is not the barren, unproductive country now that it was before our expedition carried civilization to its wild wastes and reclaimed those vast prairies from the Indians."

"But, Uncle Juan, what right had Argentina to take the land from the Indians of Patagonia? They had lived there for centuries and it was theirs."

"It is a long story, Niño, and I shall give you only the bare outline. You see, Patagonia is a series of vast terraces from the Atlantic Ocean to the foot of the Andes. On these well watered steppes, Patagonian Indians, mainly the Chennas, raised their cattle, allowing them to rove at will. But the winters there are most severe, especially when apamperoblows; so, during the winter months, they drove their immense droves of cattle to the northward into the foothills of the Andes, where it was warmer. During these winter sojourns close to thefrontier of our Republic, they lived by murdering and stealing from our settlements, and the development of our lands was being retarded because these pioneers were obliged to flee to the cities and leave their fields of grain and maize, their vineyards and their cattle to the mercy of the marauders.

"Gradually the outposts of our civilization were creeping closer to Buenos Aires, instead of extending and growing as they should. Do you now see why we were justified in fighting them?"

"Yes, but I didn't know they had made any trouble. I supposed they were peaceful."

"Far from it. At last when Don Nicolas Avellaneda became President, he sent General Roca, who was my general, and the Minister of War, into Patagonia to exterminate these Chennas.

"It was not an easy task, for these Indians are a fierce race, giants in size and strength.Do you know how they came by their name, Patagonians?"

"I have never heard, it must have something to do with their feet as 'patagon' means 'large foot.'"

"That's it exactly. Magellan, the discoverer, saw their footprints in the sand and because of their magnitude, he believed them to be giants, and called them that before he had ever seen them.

"Well, General Roca never knew discouragement, and he set about their defeat by digging great trenches, twenty feet deep and twenty feet wide, while the Indians were up in the mountains with their herds of cattle.

"These trenches he covered with boughs, over which earth was scattered, and when all was ready he sent us back to drive the Chennas toward the ditches.

"It was a terrible price to pay for their cruelty, and I shudder now as I recall that awful day; but nearly all civilization is boughtwith blood, and it certainly ran in torrents then. The Indians, unsuspecting, fell headlong, thousands of them, into the trenches, and the few that were unhurt by the fall or by being crushed in the trenches were made prisoners and distributed among the victorious regiments as servants or soldiers. The women and children were captured and sent to the cities to work.

"Ah! But those ditches! The birds, foxes, and armadillos must have grown fat on the thousands of bodies we left on that plain."

Francisco begged for more, his eyes were ablaze and his cheeks flushed, but the Colonel said:

"No more of fighting, anyhow; but come here by the stream, now that we have finished our meal, and I will tell you of some of the animals I saw in Patagonia."

"Did you ever chase ostriches?" eagerly inquired the boy.

"Yes, yes, several times and it is great sport; and once, for three days, I had only ostrich eggs to eat. You see, we were digging those same trenches and could not spare many of the men for hunting. I was ill and could not eat the army rations, so José brought me ostrich eggs and cooked them as the Indians do—in the red-hot coals."

"And was José with you on that expedition?" exclaimed Francisco.

"Yes, through all my campaigns he has been my body servant. It was José who told us how the Indians catch ostriches; he had heard it when a boy among his tribe of Araucanians."

Francisco clapped his hands in anticipation.

"A circle of fire around a great area was built and the huntsmen remained within this circle. The ostriches and guanacos that were thus imprisoned in the circle of fire were easy prey for they fear fire and ran almost into our arms. Why, what's the matter, Niño?"

The interest had died out of Francisco's eyes and he sat with his hands clasped over his knees.

"Well, Uncle Juan, I'll tell you. I'm disappointed!"

"Disappointed! How?"

"Uncle Juan, I don't think that's fair play or good sport."

"Que esperanza!" exclaimed his uncle, secretly proud of the boy's loyalty to his conviction, but determined to draw him out on the subject.

"And who are you that you may sit in judgment on generals and captains?"

"Oh! I don't think one's rank has anything to do with one's opinions. Uncle, if apeonthinks a thing is not right he must not do that even though the President, himself, commands him; and I don't think hunting animals in that fashion is fair. The little English boy I play with at school is always saying that weSpaniards are not—well, he calls it 'sporty.' That's their English word for it. He says that the Englishmen are the truest sports on earth and that they would never hunt as we do."

"To a certain extent he is right, Francisco. We don't care for the excitement of the chase merely for the excitement as they do; we are less active in our temperament, and prefer to gain our ends with the least expenditure of energy. I want you, above all things, my lad, to be broad-minded, and able to see your own shortcomings, so think this matter out and if you are convinced that we are not right as a people, in our attitude towards sports, or anything else for that matter, formulate your own opinions and then stick to them.

"It is through such men that all nations grow; and the men that are able to see their national deficiencies are the great men, the reformers, and the leaders.

"But in regard to the ostriches. How would you catch them if you had the opportunity?"

"I should do it as the English lad tells me he saw them do it in Chubut Territory; that's part of Patagonia, isn't it, Uncle?"

The Colonel nodded, smoking industriously.

"Well, he says the real way to catch ostriches is with thebolas. He saw his father chase them there and he says they hunt them in an open plain, not in a circle of fire. They give the birds an equal chance with them for their lives, and if the ostrich can't outrun them, then, when they are within throwing distance, they whirl thebolasaround their legs and trip them. He says it is fun to see an ostrich run; it stretches out its long neck and with its awkward long legs kicks up a great cloud of dust behind it. He also told me about seeing guanacos and pumas. Did you ever hunt them, Uncle?"

"Yes, but guanacos are hard to shoot becauseof their keen sense of smell, they can scent a human being over a mile away; but their flesh is delicious, tasting much like venison.

"Have you ever seen the puma skin in the library of my city house?"

"Yes, I have often seen it and one day I measured it; it was over two metros in length. Are those guanaco skins in the dining-room at theestancia—the tawny yellow ones with white spots and such deep soft fur?"

"Yes, and the ostrich robe that your aunt uses in her carriage is made of the breasts of young ostriches; it is as soft as down and marked brown and white. The Patagonian Indian women often wear them for capes, although they are very expensive.

"You know, the ostriches we have here are not the kind that produce the long plumes worn in ladies' hats; these are called the 'rhea' and are an allied species. Speakingof skins, Francisco, I will tell you of one that will interest you. It is a vicuña, and one of the finest I have ever seen. It was presented to your great-grandfather, General Lacevera, by a chief of the Incas, as a vicuña robe is worn only by one of royal blood among the Indians. It saw service as your great-grandfather'sponchoduring his remarkable career, and is now over one hundred years old, yet it is as soft as velvet. Being one of our family heirlooms, it shall be yours, as I have no son."

"That pleases me and I shall be very proud of it."

"As you well may be. Whatever fortunes come to you in life, Niño, remember you are a Lacevera."

Sleep was sweet that night, and Francisco's head was scarcely on his pillow when guanacos, vicuñas and evengauchoswere forgotten in dreamless slumber.

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