After spending a couple of hours in the pleasant shade, the blue smoke ascending from the rancho before me gave notice of the approaching breakfast hour; so, saddling my horse, I went to make my morning call, the cuckoos hailing my departure with loud mocking shouts and whistling calls, meant to inform all their feathered friends that they had at last succeeded in making their haunt too hot for me.
At the rancho I was received by a somewhat surly-looking young man, with long, intensely black hair and moustache, and who wore in place of a hat a purple cotton handkerchief tied about his head. He did not seem to be over-pleased at my visit, and invited me rather ungraciously to alight if I thought proper. I followed him into the kitchen, where his little brown-skinned wife was preparing breakfast, and I fancied, after seeing her, that her prettiness was the cause of his inhospitable manner towards a stranger. She was singularly pretty, with a seductive, soft brown skin, ripe, pouting lips of a rich purple-red, and when she laughed, which happened very frequently, her teeth glistened like pearls. Her crisp, black hair hung down unbound and disordered, for she looked like a very careless little beauty; but when she saw me enter, she blushed and tossed her tresses away from her shoulders, then carefully felt the pendants dropping from her ears to assure herself that they were safe, or possibly to attract my attention to them. The frequent glances her laughing, dark eyes shot at me soon convinced me that she was one of those charming little wives—charming, that is, when they are the wives of other people—who are not satisfied with a husband’s admiration.
I had timed my arrival well, for the roast lamb over the coals was just assuming a deep golden brown colour, and sending out a most delicious fragrance. During the repast which followed I amused my auditors, and myself, by telling a few innocent lies, and began by saying that I was on my return to Rocha from Montevideo.
The shepherd remarked suspiciously that I was not on the right road.
I answered that I knew it; then proceeded to say that I had met with a misfortune on the previous evening, which in the end had led me out of the right road. I had only been married a few days, I continued, and at this declaration my host looked relieved, while little gipsy suddenly seemed to lose all interest in me.
“My wife,” I said, “set her heart on having a sidesaddle, as she is very fond of riding; so, having business which took me to town, I there purchased one for her, and was returning with it on a led horse—my wife’s horse, unfortunately—when I stopped last evening to get some refreshment at a pulperia on the road. While eating some bread and sausage a tipsy person, who happened to be there, imprudently began to explode some firecrackers, which so terrified the horses tied at the gate that several of them broke loose and escaped. My wife’s horse with the sidesaddle on him escaped with them; then, mounting my own horse, I started in pursuit, but failed to overtake the runaway. Finally it joined a herd of mares, and these, becoming terrified, fled from me, leading me a chase of several leagues, till I lost sight of them in the darkness.”
“If your wife resembles mine in disposition, friend,” said he, with a somewhat sorrowful smile, “you would have continued following that runaway animal with the sidesaddle to the end of the world.”
“I can say this,” I returned gravely, “without a sidesaddle, good or bad, I am not going to present myself before her. I intend inquiring at every house on my way to the Lomas de Rocha till I can hear of one for sale.”
“What will you give for one?” said he, becoming interested.
“That will depend on its condition. If it is as good as new I will give the amount it cost and two dollars profit besides.”
“I know of a sidesaddle that cost ten dollars a year ago, but it has never been used. It belongs to a neighbour three leagues from here, and she would sell it, I believe.”
“Show me the house,” I said, “and I will go directly and offer twelve dollars for it.”
“You speak of Doña Petrona’s sidesaddle, Antonio?” said the little wife. “She would sell it for what it cost—perhaps for eight dollars. Ah, pumpkin-head, why did you not think to make all that profit? Then I could have bought slippers and a thousand things.”
“You are never satisfied, Cleta,” he returned.
