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 mate, 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.