Chapter 6

Between these two extreme classes of racing in this country are the English camp race-meetings, which are held by all the larger polo clubs once or twice a year. Being of rare occurrence, and as some, if not all, of the faces are open to members of other clubs, these are among the chief social gatherings in camp life: in many cases there is a small polo tournament attached, as it is the best opportunity for those who come from a distance, and could not come twice. Therefore it usually means a two or three days' holiday, and often a dance, or some entertainment in the evenings. Old friends exchange reminiscences, and new acquaintances are formed; while the ladies also make the best of the opportunity to put on their smartest frocks and hats.

The races themselves, too, are the source of considerable talk and excitement: both horses and jockeys are well known by sight or reputation to the chief part of the company, and any "dark horse" or new arrival, is inspected with care and anxiety by his rivals.

The class of horse entered varies between the three-quarter bred and the "criollo" with no pretence to breeding at all, who often carries off the short polo pony sprints. Occasionally there may be a thoroughbred entered who has been found wanting at Palermo or Hurlingham, but these are few and not always successful, as the longest races do not often exceed about a mile and a-half. As the weights correspond to steeplechase weights at home the jockeys are practically always amateurs, and a large percentage of "owners up" is always found. Young mayor-domos who have never ridden at a meeting before often find themselves ranged alongside of Grand National riders at the start, and some amusing incidents have occurred, though there is some very good amateur riding to be seen as well.

The betting is on a smaller scale generally than at the native meeting, and is often conducted by someone setting up as a public bookmaker; at other times a "sport" is formed after the fashion of Palermo. Also the auction of all entries before the start of the races in the American way is a great favourite; the total receipts for each race are divided proportionately between those who bought the winner and "placed" horses.

There is opportunity for a little horse-dealing too, and many good polo ponies to send home or play in the tournaments have been picked up in this way. The shorter races for ponies under polo height give an opportunity to the polo player, and the mayor-domo who cannot train his ponies for longer distances, to try the mettle of their mounts against outside and purer blood.

Nowadays most of the entries are trained to some extent, though not many go to regular training establishments. To have a reasonable chance of running well in the longer races, however, it is necessary to have your mounts in stable exercised regularly and fed on corn. It is only quite lately, however, that even so much training has been adopted at all generally. In the old pioneer days of English estancias, when these clubs were formed, they raced ponies taken straight off grass and kept fit by riding the regular rounds of camp and stock.

There are many tales of the great "rags" that happened in those days, and curious incidents of racing, too. On one occasion a winner of a polo pony race was objected to as over height. The measurement was to be taken after the end of the meeting; and it must be remembered that all ponies out in the camp are unshod. The man who had come in second went round to the stables before the measuring and noticed in the winner's stall a number of large pieces of hoof recently chopped off. The pony passed with an inch off his forefeet and nothing was said, though it had been obviously over height. That evening at bridge the owner happened to win considerably from the man who had lodged the complaint, who, when the score was to be settled, threw down some pieces of hoof on the table saying, "Take back your dirty chips."

Nowadays, of course, things are not quite so rough and ready, and most of the clubs are affiliated, and run under Hurlingham or the Jockey Club rules, so that good sport and good feeling prevail. In fact the camp man looks forward to these occasions as the best bits of sport and amusement that he will get during the year.

SUNDAYS IN CAMP.

SUNDAYS IN CAMP.

In no place is Sunday more looked forward to and enjoyed than in camp. Holidays on the estancia come but seldom, and were it not for the welcome break that gives the campman a day of rest every week, his life would be a round of work, and probably make him the proverbial "dull boy." All the busy working-days are so filled with the various duties that when evening comes and dinner is over the tired worker has little inclination for reading or any other relaxation, the thought of that early bell which rouses him before sunrise makes him take advantage of every hour's sleep he can. At an hour when the townman is thinking of beginning the evening's amusement at theatre or concert, the campman is sleeping the sound sleep that fresh air combined with hard work never denies. But on one evening an exception is made to these early hours, and that is Saturday. With the pleasant feeling of a week's work completed and the morrow's rest before them, our campmen begin their weekly holiday by an extra hour or two at billiards or music, or perhaps a rubber of bridge, turning in with a fervid "Thank goodness, to-morrow's Sunday." Then the pleasure of waking at the usual hour (4 a.m. or even earlier in summer) and remembering that it is the blessed Day of Rest, and having time to enjoy the extra hours, then the luxury of dressing at one's leisure, choosing the collar and most becoming tie and adjusting them with care, and coming out in spotless white duck or smart riding breeches, ready to enjoy whatever sport is in season; tennis is mostly played all the year round; and when birds are plentiful a shoot on the lagunas attracts the sportsman, the "bag" making a welcome variety to the dinner table; snipe, partridge, hares, and many varieties of duck are common in a season that has not been too dry. Then, to those lucky ones who have a polo club within reach, Sunday during the winter season is a day of real enjoyment.

The game, which in England can only be played by men of means, can on the estancia be enjoyed by all at little expense, the useful little Argentine horses being easily trained to the game. Sometimes one finds a few enterprising golfers who, with not a little trouble, make a few "greens" and do a couple of rounds just to keep their hand in, but it is not a general camp game. It will be seen, however, that the Day of Rest is not one of idleness, but rather a healthful and beneficial change of exercise.

Church service enters but seldom into the camp Sunday--such privileges are rare, although now camp parsons are more numerous than a few years ago--but at best one can only count on one or two services a year. When a Church service _is_ held he would be a carping critic indeed who is not satisfied and pleased with the earnest attention with which the service is followed and the vigorous singing of hymns and chants in which all the boys join so lustily; it is a reminder of Home to them, and the familiar service is thoroughly enjoyed.

The Day of Rest, so essential to one's well-being, seems to come round with such surprising rapidity that we may say truly it proves that estancia life, with its long hours of hard work, so far from being monotonous or wearisome, is a happy life. Where time flies past quickly it means it passes happily, and amongst the most pleasant of the days we spend in this land of sunshine we must count the Sundays in camp.

THE SERVANT PROBLEM IN ARGENTINA.

THE SERVANT PROBLEM IN ARGENTINA.

We often hear complaints from friends at home about the trouble they experience over obtaining and keeping good servants, and there is no doubt that the servant problem is a serious one in England, and is getting worse every year; but it pales into insignificance when compared with the trials and tribulations of those who live in the Argentine and have to keep house.

From all one hears, those living in Buenos Aires and the larger towns have a terrible time of it with their servants, especially if they are not overburdened with the good things of this world in the shape of hard cash; but my experiences have been confined to the camp, so that of the town side of the question I cannot speak.

I have been three years in the province of Cordoba, and all the servants I have met with except one were Argentines from the foothills of the Cordoba Sierras.

They were without exception quite untrained as far as the English idea goes, and the first thing to do with them was usually to teach them the primitive ideas of cleanliness. The first servant I had was an ancient female named Andrea, about forty years old, and it proved quite impossible to get her to see the necessity of keeping anything in the kitchen clean, as she seemed imbued with the idea that it was great waste of time washing saucepans and frying-pans, as they would only get dirty again when next used, and the most she could be persuaded to do was to rub them round inside with a bit of old newspaper or a handful of grass. Needless to say, after a time I got tired of these methods, and so we parted.

My next servant, Angelina, was one of the best I had, as she was clean, which was a great consideration, and also she was quick to learn and soon picked up the rudiments of cooking according to our ideas; her great failing, however, was that she was anything but honest, and could not refrain from petty pilfering; and another drawback to her was her objection to wearing shoes or stockings in the hot weather; in spite of being constantly told that she must not appear without them, she would insist in doing so, and this was a continual cause of trouble.

After getting rid of No. 2 our real troubles began, and we had eight changes in ten months. At the time we were living in wooden huts about two miles from a village which was a summer resort for rich people from Buenos Aires, and this caused a dearth of servants during the summer months, as the place was full from the beginning of December to the end of March, and people who came up for the summer and rented houses usually were willing to pay anything to get servants, with the result that we outside would get none, or only the cast-off ones. Nos. 3 and 4 stayed but a short time. My fifth attempt was a terrible girl, too dirty for words; and though apparently willing to learn, too utterly lacking in intelligence to ever learn anything. She used to get herself into the most awful grimy condition, and one incident during her time with me is worth mentioning. I had with great difficulty one day got her to understand that a wood floor could not be properly cleaned with a grass broom dipped in cold water and just swished about over it, and, by going down on my knees with a scrubbing brush and hot water and soap, and giving a practical demonstration of how a floor should be washed, had started her away to clean it, and judged that I might safely leave her, to attend to the other household duties in the kitchen. I must tell you that the day previously I had given her a practical lesson in black-leading a stove by doing it myself while she looked on. Well, after an hour in the kitchen I returned to see how she was getting on, when I found to my great pleasure that not content with scrubbing the floor, she had also attacked the stove with hot water, soap, and scrubbing brush, with the result that my hard work of the previous day was all undone and the whole room well sprinkled with black specks and the stove a mass of rust. Two weeks of similar experiences finished our acquaintance, and she gave place to No. 6. After I had spent three weeks teaching No. 6 cooking, she quietly informed me that she was leaving at the end of the week to take up a place as cook in Rosario, as she now knew enough cooking for the position; so I had not only wasted all my time in teaching her, but had paid her into the bargain for learning enough to leave me.

The next servant, No. 7, Alexandrina, was, I think, the worst. She was a Spaniard from Barcelona. She was an awful individual, and would insist on wearing clothes of so light and scanty a nature that she was not decent to have about the house; also, whenever we happened to have a joke of any sort to laugh over at meals, she used immediately to come in from the kitchen to see what was going on, and I had the greatest difficulty to get her to return to the kitchen. I had to get rid of her, because her moral reputation was anything but good, and two days in the week she refused to get out of bed, and told me to do my own dirty work, as she was ill; so at the end of two weeks she had to go. No. 8, Maria, was a girl direct from the sierras, and was very stupid and silly, and did not a single thing. One day I was buying vegetables, and she asked me why I wanted to buy roots, and when I told her they were to eat, she said even poor people could afford to buy meat, and she would not eat them. One day I took this girl out with me to do some shopping, and called on some people who had a piano. It was twilight, and someone was playing the piano, and she rushed in the room and out again, with her face very white, and said someone was beating a big, black animal in the corner of the room, and it was screaming dreadfully with the pain. This girl's mother was a very talkative old lady, and would insist on coming with three children every day and taking up her position in the kitchen, and when once she commenced to talk, one could not get away from her. At the end of the month she came for the girl's pay, and wanted me to pay her more money, which I was not willing to do, as I had been unable to teach her much; so she asked if her daughter might go away for the day and night, as she had to bath. This I was only too willing to agree to, and let her go; but they returned in the middle of the night, and removed all her belongings. After a few days I managed to get No. 9, who was a widow with two children: but she only stayed two weeks. Our tenth and last attempt was made with No. 4 once more, as she was again able to come to us. She stayed two months, when we went away for four weeks' holiday. A week after our return I paid her in full for the month, though she had never been near the house all that time, and she promptly said she could not stay with us any longer, and left. We nearly got to No. 11, as we engaged a girl to come at $20 a month to start with, and she was to come the next morning at eight o'clock to begin work. She arrived at 10 a.m., and informed me that, as we had paid our last servant $25 the month, she could not come for less. I was so sick and tired of my experiences that this finished me, and I decided to do without any servant. Since then, for the last year, I have done the work myself.

POLICE OF A BYGONE DAY.

POLICE OF A BYGONE DAY.

Yes, times have changed since I went to San Cristobal just twenty years ago. For then the English were pioneers, so to speak; not in a country of savagery, but of semi-savagery, a very different and much worse matter. I wonder is A.J., the Chief of Police, still to the fore? Ye gods, how that man tried to break my heart, and how nearly he succeeded! I was a Mayor-domo then, and G. was my boss, standing in the place of the owners to me. The boss had a mortal dread of the police and their powers, seen and unseen. So that when the worthy Chief of Police suddenly decided to add the trade of butchering to his many lucrative businesses, I received orders to sell him cows at twenty-five per cent. less price than I sold to any of his competitors. Thus, whereas I was selling them at twenty dollars paper, then worth about one pound per head, I had to sell him at fifteen shillings, with the inevitable result that he almost immediately became master of the situation and the entire local market became his, enabling him to charge what he liked for meat, while I was forbidden to raise the price of the cows sold him.

Insatiable in his greed, he began to ask for cattle twice a week, always taking from ten to twenty animals, until one day, after exceptionally wet weather, I protested that it was not possible to round up the stock in the then state of the camp and destroy so much grass for a small bunch of cows. Unlucky thought and ill-judged protest! For when he urged that the inhabitants of the town were starving, and that a small point of half-breed heifers would do to go on with, I received orders to let him part out from our best herd. Twenty fine half-bred Herefords did he pick while I almost shed tears of blood, though all the time, of course, I had to show a smiling face.

This sort of thing had been going on for some time, when one of the boundary riders told me that the fence between the town and one of our nearest paddocks had been cut during the night.

"Then mend it up," said I.

"Sir, it is mended already."

Not a week had passed before the same man brought me the same report. So I determined to "parar rodeo" (round up the cattle) immediately, and count them. Twenty heifers short in one square league, and in less than a month! This thing had to stop. I told the Capataz to take the boundary rider off that beat, without telling him why, and then the Capataz and I patrolled the fence night after night for a week, during which it was never cut.

We put a new boundary rider on, and three mornings later he came to see me bright and early, saying that not only had the fence been cut, but that there were distinct traces of cattle having passed out recently.

After assuring myself that there was no doubt about the matter, for I found the hoof marks of what I calculated to be not less than twenty animals, I went post haste to my friend the Chief of Police, never doubting that after all the favours shown him he would prove a friend in need. I was young then.

"You don't say so, Don Ernesto!" said his podgy, putty-faced little Highness. "Where was it? When was------ By heavens, somebody shall suffer for this! Just let me or any of my soldiers catch the thieves, and not one of them shall reach Santa Fé alive. Now, I'll tell you what. Just leave it to me, and don't you worry nor think any more about the matter, much less mention it to a soul. In less than two days I'll have the thief or thieves here in the stocks."

I told him plainly that that was not my programme, and that, whatever he did, I was not going to leave that fence unpatrolled until I could move the stock out of the paddock.

"Then this is what we'll do, Don Ernesto. You shall be one of us. You come and dine with me at six o'clock this evening, and afterwards we'll go out with the sergeant and five or six men and catch 'em."

It was about the equinox, if I remember rightly--the springtime, when everything is lovely and lovable: the camp flowers all in bloom, the aroma of the trees burdening the air with delicious perfume, the fresh verdure and plenty of grass, the powerful, stout-hearted bounding of the horse (no longer "poor") beneath one, and, above all, the great issue expected of the business in hand, the most important business to me in the world at the time--all these combined spelled but one word, "Hope!"

Carbine in hand, Colt in holster, I arrived at his residence. There he was, sitting at the door of his corner house, whence he could look down three streets at once. How like a spider, I thought.

His welcome was cordial, but he seemed to smile at my eagerness, and told me that he never dined before eight.

"But let us sit here in the cool of the evening," said he, handing out a chair for me to sit by him on the footpath, "and let us take some refreshment to while away the time. But, tell me, where did you say that the fence was cut? But did you really see signs that cattle had passed? Preposterous! The sons of guns shall suffer for this. Eh well, I'm glad of it in a way--glad to have a little work, and perhaps a little excitement. It doesn't do to have a too orderly district, for the Governor and his satellites in Santa Fé imagine I'm lazy and not looking after my business if they hear of no commotions. That black fellow you sent me the other day, Don Ernesto--the fellow that was molesting a mad woman in the camp--- I've got him seventeen years in the line for that. I wish you would send me a few more, for hardly a letter comes from Santa Fé in which I am not asked to send in recruits, so hard up are they for Provincial soldiers."

Just then a poor Italian colonist came up, hat in hand. He, too, and all his class were pioneers in those days, and God knows what they suffered.

"Well, what d'ye want?" asked my companion.

"Sir," said the wretched man, stuttering in his nervousness, "one of my bullocks has been stolen, and I know the thief. I have been to the Justice of the Peace, and he told me to bring the thief to him; but, sir, the th-thief refuses to come."

"_Bueno_! Ten dollars, and ten dollars _down_," roared the majesty of law.

"But, sir,----"

"No! But me no buts! Ten dollars at once, or I'll call the sergeant to lock you up until you can get it."

I could see that the poor fellow's heart was breaking as he drew the money from his pocket and handed it over. Smilingly the bully turned to me and said, as his victim walked slowly away, "I'll bet you that that man doesn't come around to molest me again. I'll guarantee to you, Don Ernesto, that there isn't a district in the whole province where so few appeals for justice are made."

At last it was dinner-time, and, being ushered into a dirty room with a brick floor, dim light and grimy tablecloth, I seated myself at the table with my host, his secretary, the doctor, and a clerk. The dinner was in the usual native style of those days: ribs of beef roasted on the gridiron, beef and pumpkin boiled together, to finish up with "caldo," which is simply the water in which the beef and vegetables have been boiled, with a good thick coating of grease.

No sooner had we begun dinner than it was noticed that we had no wine.

"No wine! How's this? What d'ye mean?" as he angrily turned to the sergeant who was waiting.

"If you please, sir, So-and-so and So-and-so," mentioning the name of a local firm of storekeepers, "say that they can supply no more wine until they can get some of their accounts settled."

"How dare you bring me such a message as that! Take the corporal with a couple of men and bring a half-barrel at once--in less than three minutes, or I'll know the reason why."

The barrel was brought, and, with a bit and brace, quickly tapped, and the wine set flowing round the table.

The dinner dragged on and on, until I thought he meant us to sit there all night. Ten o'clock came, half-past, and then eleven. Then I began to smell a rat. I kept on urging the necessity for action, but it became more and more evident that the Chief was fooling. He pressed wine upon all and upon me in particular, while he drank little himself, although he pretended otherwise. At last, I could stand it no longer, and got up in no very good humour to go.

"No, but stop, Don Ernesto! Where are you going? Sit down again. The horses are not saddled yet: not even caught up. Sit down and have patience and we'll all go with you in good time."