The truth must be spoken: the breakfast was no great affair; yet it was very well served. While we were eating, I caught a glimpse of one of the girls by peeping through a half-opened door; and her pleasant face, lighted up by great black eyes, made me think that what was hidden ought to harmonize well with what could be seen.
I took my leave of Señora Andrea at eleven; for we had agreed to go out to see Don Ignacio in the pastures, where they were making a roundup, and at the same time to go for a plunge in the Amaime.
Emigdio mounted the colt, first taking the precaution to blind the animal’s eyes with a handkerchief. The big colt bucked savagely, his tail between his legs; but his rider simply cried out, “There you go with your tricks,” and gave him two sounding cuts with his Palmyra whip. Thereupon, after the horse had given two or three wild leaps, which did not so much as move Emigdio in his saddle, I mounted, and we set out.
As we were riding towards the scene of the roundup, about half a league from the house, my companion, when he had taken advantage of the first level spot to turn and rein in his horse, entered into a long conversation with me. He unbosomed himself of all he knew about the matrimonial intentions entertained by Carlos. “And what do you say about it?” asked he, finally.
I contrived to avoid giving a direct reply, and he went on: “Well, it can’t be denied, Carlos is an industrious fellow. As soon as he finds out that he can’t be a farmer till he throws away his gloves and umbrella, he will get on well. He still makes fun of me for using the lasso, making fences, and breaking mules; but he will have to come to it himself yet. Haven’t you seen him?”
“No.”
“Well, you will. Will you believe me, he will not take a bath in the river when the sun is hot, and will not ride a horse without a saddle; all so as not to get sunburnt or dirty his hands. Still he’s a gentleman, that’s a fact; only a week ago he got me out of a scrape by lending me a couple of hundred to buy young bulls with. Of course he knows I’m good for it, but that’s what I call being a friend in need. Now, about his marriage, I’ll tell you something if you won’t be angry.”
“Tell it, man; say whatever you wish.”
“In your family they live in great luxury; and I imagine that a girl brought up in silks and satins, as they say in the stories, would have to be treated in a very particular manner.”
He gave a great laugh, and continued: “I say this because that Don Jerónimo, Carlos’s father, is a terribly rough fellow, and biting as a chili sauce. My father can’t bear the sight of him since they got into a lawsuit over boundary lines, and I don’t know what all. Whenever my father comes home at night from meeting the man, we have to give him fomentations of herbs and brandy slings.”
We had reached the place of the roundup. In the middle of the corral, under the shade of guásimo, through the cloud of dust raised by the moving cattle, I discovered Don Ignacio. He approached to greet me. He was riding a lamentable bay nag, caparisoned with a saddle whose dilapidation bespoke its merits. The slight form of the rich landowner was decked out as follows: jaguar-skin leggings, much worn; silver spurs with jingling rowels; a jacket of coarse sacking, and a very cottony wool cloak; crowning all, an enormous jipijapa hat—as they call it when the wearer is riding at a gallop; under its shade, the tiny nose and little blue eyes of Don Ignacio had the same appearance as the projecting beak, and the bits of glass for pupils, in the head of a stuffed paletón.
I gave him my father’s message about the cattle.
“Very well,” he said. “Our young stock couldn’t be better; they stand up well. Won’t you come in and amuse yourself a minute?”
Emigdio’s eyes could see nothing but the group of vaqueros within the corral.
“Hi there!” he shouted; “be careful with that lariat. Back, back!”
I thanked Don Ignacio, but excused myself. He continued: “Never mind, I understand. In Bogotá they are afraid of the sun or a fierce bull; that’s the reason boys in college there simply waste themselves. If you don’t believe it, just look at that nice boy of Don Chomo’s; at seven of the morning I have met him with his head tied up in a handkerchief so that you see only one eye—and with a sun-umbrella; yet you, it seems, don’t use those articles.”
Just then came a shout from the vaquero who was putting the gleaming brand to the shoulders of the bulls stretched out and hobbled in the corral: “Another, another!” After each shout there was a bellow, and then Don Ignacio would cut a little notch with his knife in the guásimo branch which served him for a whip.
As there was some danger from the animals when let up, Don Ignacio, after bidding me goodbye, withdrew to a safe place in a little adjoining enclosure.
The part of the river chosen by Emigdio was the best place to be found in the whole Amaime for a bath at that time of year, especially at that time of day. Guabos churimos over whose flowers thousands of insects were hovering furnished us dense shade and leafy couches on which to lay our cloaks. On the bottom of the deep pool at our feet we could distinguish the smallest pebble, and silvered sardines playing about. Farther down the stream, upon the rocks sticking out of the water, were blue and white herons watching for fish, or
