treats of a gaucho youth.

from these gauchos colonel marchbanks learned that his troops had been seen searching for him by the eldest son, pizarro, and that handsome youth professed himself willing to guide the party to the place where the soldiers were likely to be found. without delay, therefore, they resumed their journey after supper, and that night encamped on the open plain.

while the party was busy making arrangements for the night, pedro sauntered to the top of a neighbouring knoll to have what he styled a look round.

it was a clear moonlight night, and lawrence, recognising the figure of the guide, followed him.

“pedro,” he said, on overtaking him, “how is it possible that pizarro can guide us to where the troops are, seeing that it is some time since he saw them, and he did not know in what direction they meant to travel? besides, they may have changed their intentions and their route several times.”

“you forget, senhor, that troops leave a broad trail, and you do not yet, i see, fully appreciate the wonderful powers of some gauchos in tracking out men. this pizarro, although so young, is already celebrated in that way.”

“you know him, then? why, you seem to know everybody!”

“i know every one of note,” replied the guide, “for my travels have been extensive, and my memory is pretty strong. let me give you one or two instances of pizarro’s powers. i was in this part of the country two years ago. having occasion to pass this way, i fell in with pizarro, and we travelled together a short time. one forenoon we were riding over the plains, when he stopped suddenly, pointed to a footprint, and said, ‘that is the little grey horse that was stolen from my father three years ago!’ ‘are you sure?’ said i, almost laughing at him. ‘sure!’ said he, ‘of course i am; moreover, i’m certain that the horse passed here not more than half an hour ago.’ ‘let’s follow it up, then,’ said i, more in jest than earnest. but we did follow it up, and recovered the little grey horse that same evening.”

“a wonderful power of observation indeed, as well as memory,” said lawrence, looking with increased interest at the young gaucho, who could be seen, by the light of the neighbouring camp-fire, moving about in a graceful, free and easy manner, assisting in the preparation of supper.

“it was pretty well in its way,” returned pedro, “but he did a sharper thing than that last year. a gold escort was attacked somewhere in the west, and the robbers, after killing most of the men, escaped with the bags of gold. the authorities being very anxious to trace out and punish the robbers, offered a high reward for any useful information as to their whereabouts. now it chanced that pizarro was moving about the country at that time, and, hearing of the adventure and the reward, kept his eyes open and his wits about him a little more sharply than usual—though he does that pretty well at all times by nature. one day he saw a little child leading a mule laden with raw hides along a narrow path. this is a common enough sight, in no way calculated to attract particular attention; nevertheless it did attract the attention of pizarro. i don’t pretend to understand the workings of a gaucho’s mind. perhaps it was the extreme smallness of the child that struck him, causing him to think that as no father or mother would risk such a little thing with the charge of a loaded mule without a special reason, it would be as well to find out what that special reason might be. perhaps it was something else. anyhow, suspicion being awakened, he followed the mule for a short distance, and soon observed that it stepped as if it carried a much heavier weight than a mere pack of hides. at once the stolen gold flashed into pizarro’s mind. he stopped the mule, cut the bandages off the hides, and there, concealed among them, found the stolen bags!”

“after that,” said lawrence, “i have no doubt whatever that he will soon find the troops.”

“neither have i,” returned pedro; “but pizarro, and men like him, can do much more than i have told you. by a flight of birds they can tell of an approaching band of men before they are in sight, and by the cloud of dust they make when they appear they can form a close estimate of their numbers. when the indian hordes are about to make a raid, gauchos are warned of it by the ostriches and llamas and other timid beasts of the pampas all travelling in one direction, and in many other ways that seem little short of miraculous they act the part of wilderness-detectives.”

while continuing their journey next day, lawrence resolved to have a chat with the gaucho youth. riding up alongside, he saluted him, and received a reply and a graceful bow that would have done credit to a spanish grandee. he discovered ere long that the young man’s mind, like his body, had been cast in a noble mould, and that, although ignorant of almost everything beyond his own wild plains, he was deeply imbued with reverence for truth and justice in all the relations of life. indeed, his sense of these attributes of god was so strong that the constant violation of them by those around him roused in him occasional bursts of hot indignation, as lawrence very soon found when he touched on a recent revolution which had taken place in the province of san juan.

“are the troops we search for sent out to aid the government of mendoza?” demanded pizarro, turning an earnest and frowning glance on his companion.

“i believe not,” answered lawrence; “at least i have not heard the colonel talk of such an object; but i am not in his confidence, and know nothing of his plans.”

pizarro made no rejoinder, and lawrence, seeing by the continued frown that the youth’s spirit was somewhat stirred, sought for further information by asking about mendoza.

“do you not know,” said the gaucho, with increased vehemence, and a good deal of fine action, “that the people of san juan have deposed their governor, because he is a bad man?”

“i had not heard of it,” said lawrence, “but what has that to do with mendoza?”

“you shall hear, senhor. the governor of san juan is dishonest. he is bad in every way, and in league with the priests to rob the people. his insolence became so great lately that, as i have said, the people arose, asserted their rights, and deposed him. then the government of mendoza sent troops to reinstate the governor of san juan; but they have not yet succeeded! what right,” continued the youth, with grand indignation,—“what right has the government of mendoza to interfere? is not the province of san juan as free to elect its own governor as the province of mendoza? have its men not brains enough to work out their own affairs?—ay, and they have arms strong enough to defend their rights, as the troops shall find when they try to force on the people a governor of whom they do not approve.”

lawrence felt at once that he was in the presence of one of those strong, untameable spirits, of which the world has all too few, whose love of truth and fair-play becomes, as it were, a master-passion, and around whom cluster not only many of the world’s good men, but—unfortunately for the success of the good cause—also multitudes of the lower dregs of the world’s wickedness, not because these dregs sympathise with truth and justice, but simply because truth-lovers are sometimes unavoidably arrayed against “the powers that be.”

“i don’t know the merits of the case to which you refer,” said lawrence, “but i have the strongest sympathy with those who fight or suffer in the cause of fair-play—for those who wish to ‘do to others as they would have others do to them.’ do the people of san luis sympathise with those of san juan?”

“i know not, senhor, i have never been to san luis.”

as the town referred to lay at a comparatively short distance from the other, lawrence was much surprised by this reply, but his surprise was still further increased when he found that the handsome gaucho had never seen any of the towns in regard to which his sense of justice had been so strongly stirred!

“where were you born, pizarro?” he asked.

“in the hut where you found me, senhor.”

“and you have never been to mendoza or san juan?”

“no, senhor, i have never seen a town or a village—never gone beyond the plains where we now ride.”

“how old are you, pizarro?”

“i do not know, senhor.”

as the youth said this with a slightly confused look, lawrence forbore to put any more personal questions, and confined his conversation to general topics; but he could not help wondering at this specimen of grand and apparently noble manhood, who could neither read nor write, who knew next to nothing of the great world beyond his own pampas, and who had not even seen a collection of huts sufficiently large to merit the name of village. he could, however, admirably discern the signs of the wilderness around him, as he showed by suddenly pointing to the sky and exclaiming—

“see! there is a lion!”

“lions have not wings, pizarro,” said lawrence, with a smile, as he looked upward; “but i see, very high in the air, a flock of vultures.”

“just so, senhor, and you observe that they do not move, but are hovering over one spot?”

“yes, i see that; what then?”

“a lion is there, senhor, devouring the carcass from which he has driven the vultures away.”

in a short time the correctness of the youth’s observation was proved by the party coming upon, and driving away, a puma which had previously disturbed the vultures at their banquet on the carcass of an unfortunate ox.

the next morning pizarro’s capacity for tracking the wilderness was proved by the party coming on the broad trail of the troops. soon afterwards they discovered the men themselves taking their midday siesta.

not long after that the united party came within scent of the atlantic, and on the afternoon of the same day galloped into the town of buenos ayres.