Chapter 5

The meat we got was often green and bitter. All the time we had puchero and asado, and an occasional ostrich egg.

Ostriches swarmed everywhere, and it was good sport lassoing them. I found one nest with fifty eggs, laid by different birds. My cooking was rather a failure at first, the smoke was so thick we could not see each other. I was told to cook maize for dinner. I made a big fire, and cooked for three hours, and was then told I had the stallions' maize. Another time it was very dark; our candles, made of old clothes and grease, had run out. I had made some good soup, and put the pot near the table, then, walking by, put my foot in it: the hot grease made me hop, and took the skin off my foot. Our table was an old greasy box; we had no plates, nor forks, just a big knife. Sometimes, coming in very tired from a hard day, we had no strength to chop wood and make a fire; we just went to bed. Many days we only had an asado and maté. Maté I am very fond of--it is so refreshing and sustaining.

My brother was only eight miles away: his section was under alfalfa, and he had a comfortable house. One dark night, going home from his place, I followed a fence until I came to a cross fence. I was going slowly, when, all of a sudden, my horse stopped dead, and I shot over the fence, the bridle and halter came off, and away went my horse, leaving me to continue five miles on foot.

Bizcachas (like a big badger) were numerous. One day we dug a two-metre hole, and next day found eight live ones. They have teeth one and a-half inches long.

Our nearest village was eighteen miles away, where I met some English friends, and played tennis or had some other amusement. I used to start back at 2.30 a.m. to be in time for work. One night I had to cross a big field, without a path or fence for a guide. It was dark, and lightning hard. I made for a light, which I thought was the house. Going for some time, I came to a fence--I was lost. I unsaddled and lay down to sleep, the rain was pouring hard, when I heard a donkey braying, so I shouted, and was answered by a man in a puesto (out-station). The light I saw was a village twelve miles away.

My companion was very slack, and the patrons came up and sacked him.

Then I went to the estancia house for a month, breaking in colts for driving. I felt rather sad at leaving my rough work. It was hard work, but I never had better health.

My Boss then earned $15 per month, and his wife cooked for the men. Now he is one of the richest men in the country.

There was no opening there, so the Boss sent me to a New Zealander who had half a league of camp, all fine stock, good alfalfa and splendid water. He had a big house and I expected I would live well. My first work was to dig up locusts' eggs for a week under a hot sun, with the ground very hard. The Boss was a man of forty-two, very red-faced and extremely rich, but as mean as possible.

Our meals took about six to eight minutes, fast eating; he would watch every mouthful. At tea he would take a lot of milk and give me a little; he finished soon, while I burnt my throat. He allowed me a slice of biscuit for each meal. His cook only got $10 a month.

In the winter we were in bed by six to seven.

His clothes were a disgrace to any peon. He had native trousers that button at the foot, with top boots, no socks, his heel and big toe were sticking out, no vest, only a shirt and an old hat, where the grease of many years was visible.

He was a splendid worker--I have not seen a better one. We used to catch locusts in a big zinc box pulled by two horses; the locusts were put into sacks, and after being left standing for four days, were carted to the village, where he got 10 cents a kilo. The smell in carting these dead locusts was simply terrible. Then I helped pick ten square of maize, which at first took a little skin off my hands. At branding time we lassoed each calf to cut off the horns. I had to sit on their necks, and got smothered in the face with hot blood. The Boss was very proud because his monthly account only came to $12 for four of us: biscuits, sugar, tea, and other things. He sent his clothes once in three months to be washed. He had few friends, no one ever came to visit him, and every Sunday he shut himself in his room. He bought the place for $90,000 and sold it for over double. He was a thorough campman, but so mean. One cold winter 500 cows died of starvation; rather than sell them at a low price he let them starve. The last thing he said was, he was "going to New Zealand to marry an ugly lady, but she has plenty of money." His countrymen called him a disgrace to his country and the meanest in the Argentine.

Then a kind friend found me a place on a well-known estancia in the same province. The manager, the second-manager, and the book-keeper were all Irish, born in the country. I had a good horse, which I rode fifty miles to the estancia.

The second told me to have my food with the peons (men), which was rather disheartening. I tried to eat in the kitchen, but the French cook kicked me out, and for ten months I fed with the peons; they were very good fellows. The second and the book-keeper had meals together. The second-manager did no work: up at half-past eight, he went to the train, had a drink at the shop, then came back for dinner, slept until tea-time, then went to see the train pass again and have another drink, and came back at all hours. He had been there fourteen years and was only getting a hundred a month.

The chief work was loading cattle and sheep for the big freezing factories. The trucks were rotten. One night we finished at 11 p.m., after a hard day's work, three of us unloaded 300 quebracho posts in under three hours. I had a French gardener in my room who did nothing else but spit and talk politics.

The Boss took me to learn shearing. I had to shear, gather the wool, sort it and pack it up. Each man got five cents a sheep, but it was hard work, all done by hand.

Then I cut alfalfa for a fortnight--a nice easy job.

A Catholic priest came to stay for eight days--Mass every day at 7 a.m. and 8 p.m., sometimes three a day. No work at all. Everyone had to go--the book-keeper did not, so he got the sack. I, as a Protestant, went to the sermons, which were very good. It was wonderful; these rough campmen went away quite tamed for a time. The last night the Boss got married at half-past twelve at night to a native lady. Another time, while we were at Mass, someone came to say the gardener was dying--we raced down, the priest in front ready to hear his confession, but when we got there the gardener was calmly smoking his pipe, greatly surprised.

An inspector of locusts stopped all the summer. He did nothing but eat, sleep, and drink whisky. We had locust-killing machines of every description, but we did not kill ten kilos.

The days I enjoyed were when we started out early to part some animals in a herd of over a thousand. At eleven we would have an asado and maté, and give our horses a drink, then finish parting, and get home at half-past seven. The horses look wrecks, and no good, but they work all day--mostly galloping--and are splendid stayers.

The Boss's brother, a very nice man of fifty, married a servant of the Boss, a girl of eighteen.

Great excitement is caused by races. The Boss was keen, and the men talked of nothing else for days. Every Sunday there are races. Once I rode my horse bareback in three races of 200 metres, and won a bottle of beer, a packet of tobacco, and a knife.

Then I was put in charge of fine stock. I had ten Durham bulls, two thoroughbred stallions, one Pecheron, eight rams and twelve pigs. I had a boy under me. I also had to saddle up the Boss's and the Second's horses, and harness the traps. Sometimes I had to wait till eleven at night, very tired, to unsaddle the Second's horse, as he had been making love to the Stationmaster's sister.

The work was very interesting and hard, even on Sundays or feast days, watering, cleaning the animals, and curing any foals that were ill.

I then moved to another room near the stable, with a newly arrived Italian who knew no Spanish nor English, also an Irishman just arrived. They could not speak to each other. The Irishman slept on the floor every night, and poured kerosene all over him to keep insects away. One day he poisoned five pigs, giving them the dip-water to drink. He had few clothes. He would turn them inside out, and often had three pairs of trousers and two shirts on.

One day the Boss was out: the men were taming some wild colts in the corral. I took French leave and went. I got on five. None had had a saddle on before or even been handled. We lassoed them, pulled them down and put on the bridle. Then five men held a long rope and one put on the native saddle, with stirrups big enough to get your toes in. Then they tied a red handkerchief round my head. I mounted gently but quickly. Then the rope was taken off and away the colt went as fast as possible, with one man on each side to shove you either way, all the time bucking and plunging. I did not fall, but one stirrup broke. One laid down and would not move. It tried to bite everyone. When they go fast and buck at the same time it is very hard to stick on.

On the 25th of May, the great holiday in this country, I went to an estancia to see some friends. On my way back we had to cross a deep river. The coachman drove across, but one wheel went into a big hole and the jerk sent me out on my head, where the wheel passed over my hair, missing my head by inches. I was senseless. A crowd of women came and began weeping--they thought I was dead--then I was taken in a procession to the chemist, who sent me to a hospital, where I found my collar bone broken. I did nothing for three weeks.

This estancia is a splendid one for learners, because there is a little of everything. Once I had a month with the threshing machine, sleeping out with the mosquitoes, and getting meat nearly raw for food; but a lot of money can be made from the harvest.

Then, after a few weeks' holiday to England, we came back, and I went down south with my brother to sow alfalfa seed. We had a caravan on wheels, and learned how to plough and sow. We went to a camp race-meeting, where every estancia has its own tent, there is racing all day and dancing at night.

I often look back upon these jolly times. Work was exacted with anything but kindness, but the life was simple and very healthy, and many pleasant reminiscences are talked over when it is my luck to join others around the camp fire before falling to sleep with nothing but a bullock's head as a pillow and a "recado" as a blanket and the glorious, starry sky above one.

THE SOCIAL SIDE OF CAMP LIFE.

To an outsider, life in the camps or country might be considered very slow: the distance between the estancias being so great, the ordinary form of social life is quite impossible; for instance, when one goes to pay a call on a neighbour, even a first call, it means going for the day, starting in the cool of the morning and returning in the evening, and so allowing the horses to have a rest. Of course, if everyone had a motor-car, this might not be necessary; but as yet they are very few and far between. This is no doubt owing to the bad roads; in most districts, after a few hours' rain, the roads are flooded, and what is worse still, "pantanosa" (thick, sticky mud).

Most estancieros keep open house, and are only too pleased when people "drop in," which they do at all times and for any meal, almost without a "by your leave." An estancia house has to be very elastic, and ready to provide, at a moment's notice, board and lodging for unexpected guests. This is quite the nicest way of entertaining one's friends--no fuss of preparation, and, more often than not, a very jolly evening of cards, music, or games.

It is a delightful country for men, a healthy, open-air life, with plenty of hard work and hard riding; each man has from four to six horses allowed him for working purposes, and then, as a rule (talking of the English mayor-domo), he has two or three polo ponies of his own. Sunday is the great day for polo; there is very little time in our busy Argentine even for a practice game during the week, so Sunday means a merry meeting of friends wherever there is a polo club in the district, people going in six or seven leagues (or even more) from one side of the town to meet friends who have come an equal distance from the other side, a thing they might not do for months if it were not for the polo club. Each lady takes her turn in providing tea on these polo Sundays, and there is great competition as to who makes the best cakes, especially as it often falls to the lady herself to make these luxuries.

Wherever there is a polo club the most exciting event of the year is the Spring Race Meeting, two days' racing, often followed by a polo match or tournament with neighbouring clubs, and always as many dances as possible, as it is the only time in the year when enough girls can be collected together; every estancia house has its own party, as many as can be crowded in, including friends from Buenos Aires and Rosario, who delight in these camp meetings, and she is a proud hostess who can count a few girls amongst her party. I may as well add here that girls are almost "non est" in the camp, many districts for leagues and leagues round not being able to boast of one English girl.

Most clubs hold a Gymkhana Meeting in the Autumn, which makes one more excitement in the year: it is a very merry meeting as a rule, with always a dance or two if enough girls can be found. During the Winter season (from April 1st to September 1st) the shooting is very good in most parts, and many good shooting parties are given where there is enough game to make it worth while asking one's friends. The bag consists of partridges, martinetta (similar to the pheasant) and hares (which are not considered worth picking up); when there are a number of guns, dogs are not used, but two men on horseback drag a wire through the grass (several in a line, if a big party), which forces the birds to rise, and the guns walk behind. Peons on horseback, carrying sacks, keep close up to them and pick up the birds as they fall, and close on their heels comes a big brake, into which are emptied the contents of the sacks as they get too heavy. The ladies of the party follow in all sorts and conditions of vehicles, cheering on the shooters and dispensing much-needed refreshments. A shoot is always followed up by a jolly evening, after a hot bath and a good dinner. The men, forgetting how tired they are, are quite ready to sing, dance, or play bridge until the small hours. Another great event not to be forgotten is the visit of the Camp Chaplain: he goes from one district to another holding services, every Sunday in a different place. In a well-populated district he would hold one about every two months, but to some places, where there are next to no English people, he would probably only go about once or twice a year. Church Sunday is quite an event, and again gives one an opportunity of meeting friends from a distance. The parson is very lenient with us as a rule, and does not object to any form of amusement in the afternoon, such as polo, tennis, cricket, football, or golf, and encourages the young men to come to _Church_ (usually a room hired for the occasion) in costumes suitable for such. Our poor Camp Chaplain does not have an easy time; distances are so great that more than half his time is spent on the train.

CARNIVAL IN THE ARGENTINE.

Carnival falls every year during the week before the beginning of Lent. It is a general holiday, and much fun and amusement are crammed into the few days which precede the dull season of fasting.

Carnival is more observed in camp towns than in the bigger cities, where the custom of celebrating it is very much on the wane, and where the law forbids water-throwing and other such damp forms of amusement, which are winked at by the more lenient authorities in local towns.

It is really quite a pretty sight to see a camp town during carnival. The one main street, which does not boast of pavements, and is generally a yard deep in dust, is gaily decorated with bunting and festoons. Small stands are put up every ten yards or so, in which the "caballeros" take up their positions and pelt the "senoritas" with confetti and "serpentinas" (blocks of different coloured paper which look like rolls of tape about 30 or 50 yards long). The elite of the "pueblo" drive round in the procession; ladies, some in the very latest creations, and some in beautiful fancy dresses, parade round in flower and ribbon bedecked carriages. A prize is generally given to the best decorated conveyance, and to the best fancy costume, which causes a lot of competition and jealousy amongst the fair sex.

On an estancia, carnival is celebrated in a much more drastic fashion. On one place, the giddy members of the household have a very rowdy time of it, and make things very lively for the unwary. On one occasion, they determined to give the mayor-domo his share of the general drenching which he had missed; so when he rode in at midday, after a long and busy morning's work in the camp, he was welcomed with a volley of buckets of water, which were emptied over him from the top of the house, where the delinquents had taken up their advantageous position.

Another time a certain young damsel, a guest in the same house, saw from the window her hostess entertaining one of the boys, a fresh arrival from England, who had ridden over from a neighbouring estancia. Prompted by her daring friends she was induced to take up a jug of water, and stealing up behind his chair, emptied the contents of the vessel over the visitor's head, and then bolted; the injured party, after recovering his self-possession, rose to the occasion and gave chase, and after a desperate struggle, and in spite of penitent apologies, she was borne off by her captor and deposited in the first tub he happened to see, which turned out to be a freshly painted rubbish barrel.

There is not much respecting of persons on these occasions, the girls generally combine against the boys, who, as a rule, come off best. The most binding promises are made on both sides, who vow not to throw anything larger than a "globo" (a small balloon filled with water, which bursts when it touches anything solid) or "poms" (leaden squirt full of scent); but in the excitement of the fray which follows all is forgotten, and buckets of water, the garden hose, and even the ducking of some in water troughs, are the final outcome.

The scene after an afternoon or evening's battle is very funny; girls, with their hair lying in dripping masses over their faces and shoulders, their dresses, generally the oldest of thin cotton ones, clinging hopelessly to their wearied forms, present a truly comic sight. When they are all tired of strife, they retire by common consent to the house, where, after discarding their soaking garments and taking a warm bath, they are ready to discuss the glories of the day over a much-wanted dinner.

HORSE-RACING IN THE ARGENTINE.

HORSE-RACING IN THE ARGENTINE.

In this country a great deal more racing goes on than in Europe, and it is not confined to the moneyed classes only. Even the "peones" hold their small meetings and match their grass-fed ponies. Estancieros and mayor-domos have camp race-meetings once or twice yearly at all the larger polo clubs, and at Palermo and Hurlingham every class of society in Buenos Aires may be seen on the stands.

At Palmero race-meetings are held frequently, almost weekly in fact, on Sunday afternoons; and the stands are generally well filled. On days of festival, when there is a special programme, the place is crowded, and these occasions correspond, more or less, with the more important meetings in England.

The course is of earth, and perfectly flat, so that the only thing which interferes with the view is dust. The stands are magnificent and the different grades of society are divided by railings, while at the back of each may be seen the row of offices of the "Sport," which is the betting system of the country.

This consists of tickets, which are sold at a fixed price, with the name of one of the entries. After the race there is a great rush to the offices, made by those who have bought the winner, to collect their winnings, which are the total receipts, minus a small percentage, divided by the number of those who bought the winner. In this way a very hot favourite will pay very little more than the original purchase money, while an outsider who wins will pay his backers perhaps ten, or even twenty times their deposit. There is also private betting, of course, but no public bookmakers.

The horses are of very good quality, though not up to the standard of the classic races in Europe. A number of youngsters are imported yearly from England and the United States, and among them usually some good selling-plate winners, and one or two that have been placed in first-class flat races. The country also produces some excellent horses, and they are improving every year; the stud farms are already well known in Europe as some of the best in the world. Of these, the most important, perhaps, is the "Ojo de Agua," so-called from its famous spring, which waters all the stables as well as dwelling quarters. It is the home of the famous Cyllene, whose offspring we expect to see winning races in the near future; Polar Star, scarcely less known, and Ituzaingo, a native of this country, are his present companions; while the remains of Gay Hermit, Stiletto, Pietermaritzburg, and Kendal, all of whom are well known among turf circles at home, rest beneath its soil. There are several other equally famous stud farms, such as the "San Jacinto," the present home of Val d'Or, who won the Eclipse Stakes from Cicero, the Derby winner of that year; at another, Diamond Jubilee, whose list of victories is long, resided for the latter part of his life.

Nor are the jockeys unworthy of their mounts, and some very fine riding may be witnessed both at Palermo and Hurlingham.

In contrast to these races, run on a well-ordered course, and watched from luxurious stands, are the native "cancha" meetings, held, probably, at some country public-house, and run on a "cancha," consisting of a soft piece of road, or along a fence where there are no holes. The races consist of matches arranged between two ponies, over short distances. The start is made only by agreement of both the jockeys, and thus many hours are wasted in their manoeuvres to get the advantage of one another at the start. If the judges have money on the loser, the race is often given a dead heat, and has to be run again. The pony of most endurance has usually the best chance of winning, though the race itself is short, as his rival may be tired out by repeated false starts. Large sums of money often change hands at these meetings, as the native is a born gambler, and understands this primitive method of racing better than the more complicated systems of the regular course. Owing to this, and to the competitors' efforts to cheat one another, not infrequently knives are drawn during the heated discussion which follows the race.

The ponies are, for the most part, taken straight off the camp, though in some cases they have been fed on maize and trained. They are ridden either bareback or with the native "recado," and catch-weights: as may be gathered from the method, it is usually "owners up."