Argentina from a British Point of View eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 238 pages of information about Argentina from a British Point of View.

Argentina from a British Point of View eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 238 pages of information about Argentina from a British Point of View.

It was after twelve when at last we made a start.  There were the Chief, the sergeant, a corporal, four men, and myself.  We rode slowly in a northerly direction until we came to a small gate in the fence, of which I had the key.  All the way thither the Chief, while commending me for my forethought in bringing arms, had been impressing upon me the importance of not using them, no matter what happened, “Because, you see, you are not an arm of the law, and if you were to shoot anyone, I should be obliged to arrest you and send you to Santa Fe.”

When we got through the fence, what was my surprise when the Chief said, “Bueno, Don Ernesto, you and I have had a long day.  What I propose is that you and I off-saddle and doss down here, while the sergeant and men patrol with muffled bits and spurs at a short distance from the fence.  Then the moment they hear anything they can come and let us know!”

In vain I protested that this was not my idea at all, and that I too wanted to do the patrolling, but when he told a man to take the saddle off my horse and shake down a bed for me, I thought it wiser to acquiesce, or, at least, appear to do so.  I shall never forget that night.  How we talked and talked and talked as we lay beneath the brilliant stars, I, boiling with rage and anxiety under my assumed tranquillity, while he, doubtless, was as much annoyed at having to keep me in conversation.  It must have been nearly four o’clock when I told him that I really must sleep.  “Bueno,” said he, as he rolled over on his side, “hasta manana.”

In five minutes he was snoring.  Even so, I did not dare to move, for fear that he might be foxing.  About an hour passed, during which he moved, coughed, expectorated, and had other signs of conscious animation, much to my disgust, until at last I thought the snoring sounded too genuine to be shammed, so I crept towards him and whispered in his ear that I thought I heard sounds of movement.  But his snoring was rhythmic and swinish, so I gathered up my saddle and gear and stole over to my horse, which was picketed some yards off, and proceeded to saddle him up.  In doing so, my stirrups somehow clashed and thought it was all up, for what a fool I should look if he woke and discovered me.  But it was all right:  the music continued.

I led the horse for some little distance, then mounting, I rode him down alongside the fence for about a mile until I came to a fresh gap in it.

Horror!  Even though it was but what my suspicions had depicted, the realisation came as a shock to me.  “The—!  The—!” To repeat my expressions would edify no one.

Guided by the signal-lights at the station, I moved along at a smart trot and soon recognised the quick tramping of animals ahead.  Then I drew back, and as the day was just breaking, I drew round to the west side of the cavalcade, so that I might see without being seen.  Yes, sure enough, there were six military chacots outlined against the great sky and a troop of animals ahead of them.

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Argentina from a British Point of View from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.