even before he haddismounted.
"We were really getting anxious about you."
"And supper's all ready," I added.
"Ah, that's the way. I confess I'm hungry. I gave you two days' startfrom Santa Cruz station, and so you see I've overtaken you, and I onlyslept one night on the Pampas."
"Weren't you afraid, sir, the pumas would eat you?"
"No, they don't like _live_ meat; but now, young fellows, I'm not goingto be `sir'-ed. We can't live together free and easy if we stand onceremony. We are all equal on the Pampas."
"But there is a cacique or chief among the Ishmaelites?"
"Yes; but a cacique holds a kind of sinecure office. He is partly chiefand partly magistrate, gives himself a great many airs; and the womenoften laugh at him behind his back. I'll be cacique if you like, butnot `Sir.'"
"Well," said Peter, "I'll be bound we won't laugh at you behind yourback."
As he spoke, Peter divested the horse of saddle and bridle, as nimbly asif he had been brought up in a stable all his life. It quite took me bysurprise.
The saddle is a mere bundle of wood and skins, covered with rugs andgear. It is not uncomfortable to ride on once you are acquainted withit; but although we had been a few days on the Pampas, and had ridden asneatly as we could, we were still tired and exceedingly sore. Thebridle is also of guanaco skin, and the bit of wood and thong.Nevertheless these hardy horses of the plains are well used to suchprimitive harness.
There is one fault with the saddle, which we soon found out: unless itbe particularly well girt it has a disagreeable habit of wheeling to oneside just when you are at a pleasant canter, or gallop perhaps, and soemptying you out.
"Here," cried Peter, stuffing the gear into my arms, "take hold of that,Greenie, and look lively; the cacique is hungry."
"I'm not Greenie," I said; "if I was, Peter, old man, I'd pull yourears."
"Oh, you're not Greenie! Well, Jack, then, you shouldn't be so like himin the moonlight. I'm going to put a black spot on one of your noses,so that I can tell t'other from which. Then I suppose I'd forget whichI put the black spot on."
"Better not try it on me," I said.
The horse was loose now and free, and with a happy nicker he wenttrotting off to quench his thirst in the stream, previously to havinghis supper.
"Come on, boys, I'm starving. Good Ossian. Ah! you can be friendlyenough now. Where is your _kau_ [tent], Peter?"
"My cow, _mon ami_?"
"Yes, your kau."
"We haven't got a cow. We have some condensed milk."
Castizo laughed.
"Why," he explained, "a kau is a toldo, or tent."
"Well, Cacique, I've heard of people, when overtaken by a blizzard onthe North American prairies, killing a horse, disembowelling it, thengetting inside and hauling the hole in after them; but it's the firsttime I ever heard of a cow being used as a tent. We live to learn.Here's the cow, _mon ami_. Will you walk inside, Senor Cacique?"
"Ah!" cried Castizo, rubbing his hands gleefully.
"Here's a blaze of light and glory! Here's comfort; here's luxury!"
Then, even before he shook hands with Jill and Ritchie, Castizo mustelevate his palms like a Spanish girl dancing, cock his head a little onone side, and smilingly sing a verse of a song which caused his eyes tosparkle with merriment, and made those laugh who listened to him.
"We're glad to see you," said Jill.
"_Right_ glad to see you," said Ritchie.
"I know you all are, boys. Thought I would lose myself, I suppose. Ah,no! I have been too long on the plains, and in forests, mountains, andwildernesses, to do that. My good Pedro here knows me."
"Master likes to be alone--much," said Pedro, a dark-haired, black-eyed,black-bearded, sturdy little Chilian.
This man's face was preternaturally white. No sunshine ever scorchedhim brown, or even red; but perhaps the darkness of his hair brought outthe pallor more. He had a pleasant smile, and two rows of teeth aswhite as a young puppy's.
Lawlor was not far away; and with him also Castizo shook hands. Soequality was established.
Our tent was not of guanaco skins, like that of the Indians whoaccompanied us on this expedition. We had a canvas marquee of smalldimensions, but most comfortable, and so neatly made that it could packtogether into a load for one horse, poles and all.
Castizo had been a Patagonian traveller for years. At first, he toldus, he "herded" with the Indians under their tents of skin, and livedquite as they did, with the exception of the drinking of rum; but hesoon found it better to import a little civilisation into his mode oflife. So he did; and I advise any one who meditates going to thePatagonian Pampas to do the same.
Here we were in our handsome tent, with every comfort before and aroundus which it is capable of transporting into the wilderness.
The table was a piece of canvas spread on the ground in the middle ofthe tent. Candles--real candles--burned in the centre, stuck in arudely formed sconce of wood, which in its turn was stuck through thecanvas into the ground. Our seats were our huge, gown-like guanacomantles, which by and by would serve us for blankets, when we lay downto sleep on our couches of withered grass.
Our dishes and plates were all of tin, easily packed and easily carried,and we had knives and forks. Had our table been a raised wooden one, itwould have groaned, not so much with the variety of good things, butwith their solidness and substantiality. Here were steak of guanaco,and stew of horseflesh--one of our pack animals had broken a leg the daybefore, and we were wise to make use of him--and here were roast ducks.Cakes we had, too, made of flour which had been half-roasted before itleft Valparaiso. These cakes were made by Pedro, who was our veryexcellent cook. I think there must have been something else in them aswell as flour. However they were very nice, and tasted and lookedsomewhat like a happy combination of Scotch haggis, Australian damper,and Irish scone.
We had no beer to drink; we had no wine; but we had _yerba mate_, whichcombines the invigorating qualities of both, with all the soothing,calming influence of a cup of good coffee or tea.
It is a kind of tea made of the dried leaves of the Paraguayan ilex, andis infused and drunk just as tea is; though the Patagonian Indians andhunters usually drink it through tubes pierced with little holes, sothat they can have the infusion without the powder or leaves.
"Well, boys," said Castizo, whose English, by the way, wasirreproachable, "we've made a fairly good start. And your captain, withhis adorable little wife--what an amiable creature she is--will benearly half-way home by this time. Are you sorry you haven't gone withthem to see the mother?"
"Ah!" I said, "I know mother well: she will be pleased to hear we areenjoying ourselves, and learning something at the same time. Won't she,Jill?"
"Assuredly; and so will aunt."
"Well," said Castizo, with a laugh, "as to learning something, there isno doubt about that. You will learn to be men. The Pampas is the bestschool in the world."
"Whose sentry-go is it to-night?" said Peter.
"Mine, I believe," said Jill, looking at his watch; "I go on in half anhour. Then Lawlor."
"That's right," said Lawlor.
In less than an hour, we were all curled up in our toldo or kau, wrappedin our good guanaco robes, and fast asleep.
Out in the moonlight, however, Jill, with his rifle at the shoulder,paced steadily to and fro on sentry, and not very far off, leaningagainst one of the posts of the great skin tent, stood a Patagonian,also on duty. He looked a noble savage, erect and stately, and tallenough in his robe of skin to have passed for a veritable giant. Lyingcarelessly across his left arm, its point upwards, and gaily decoratedwith ostrich feathers, was his spear. A formidable weapon is thisPatagonian spear, of immense length and strength, and tipped with aknife of stoutest steel. A swordsman has little chance against soterrible an instrument of warfare, for your giant antagonist can strikehome long before you can get near enough to do execution. If veryactive and you
can succeed in parrying one blow, you _may_ seize theinstrument, and rush in and slay your man; but, as the Scotch put it,"What would he be doing all this time?" He will not wait till you getquietly up to him, depend upon it. So I say that the best fencer thatever switched a foil is not a match for a Patagonian spearsman.
The Patagonians who formed part of our present camp were good fellowsall. They were hired by Castizo, some at Puento Arenas, and some from atribe stationed at or near Santa Cruz. Those from the former place, ourcacique--as we may as well now call Castizo--had taken north with him inhis yacht to Santa Cruz, and altogether our Indians numbered
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