Part 21

On the other hand, a friend of mine was dissatisfied with the policeman he had, and sent the sergeant into the township to exchange him for another. The man returned with a particularly villainous-looking specimen, and when asked where he had got him, explained that the Chief of Police had told him to look among the prisoners for a suitable man, give him a uniform and take him.

"I thought this was the best of them; but they all wanted to come," he concluded ingenuously.

Another commissary in the north of this country flattered himself on his revolver-shooting, and used to perform the feat of shooting the hat off a man's head without hurting him. He was in the local bar one day when a peon entered with a brand new white hat; it was an opportunity not to be missed. Crack--and the man fell with a bullet through his temple instead of his hat.

Did the Comisário stand stricken with remorse, or burst into self-reproach? No. He moved the body with the toe of his boot and remarked: "Carramba, I am getting a very poor shot nowadays."

A story which was told me in the province of Rio Negro, and which was well vouched for, contained serio-comic elements of which I believe the perpetrator, whom I knew personally, quite capable.

An old man who owned a considerable quantity of land, died intestate. A man who lived with him, Garcia by name, had no idea of letting the property go to distant unknown relations, and concocted the following plot (obviously with the connivance of the neighbouring Justice of the Peace, who was a friend of his).

The law allows that a sane man "in articulo mortis," and past the power of speech, may make statements by signs: so when the Justice was summoned to the house, Garcia told him that the man was not yet dead, and wished to make his will.

Garcia seated himself at the foot of the bed, while the Justice at the side addressed questions to the deceased on the following lines:--

"Do you wish me to record your last will and testament?"

The corpse nodded.

"Do you wish your property to pass into your cousins' hands?"

The head moved from side to side.

"Do you intend to make Garcia your sole legatee?"

The deceased nodded several times.

Two witnesses were brought, and the business was settled with commendable promptitude.

I think it was Garcia himself who explained, some time afterwards, that as the dead man wore a full beard and whiskers, it was easy enough to hide the strings passing from his ears and chin to the foot of the bed under the coverings.

In this connection I have since heard that one of the legal ceremonies in a coroner's inquest in Central America is to solemnly ask the deceased who killed him.

To return to the point, however; if such things exist among those in the highest positions of trust it is not surprising to find wholesale chicanery among the lower orders; that they realise their shortcomings is evidenced by the fact that if they wish to impress you with the truth of a statement, they add "palabra de Ingles," i.e., "on the word of an Englishman."

Their Indian descent is answerable for a great deal, the white and black blood being so mixed that it is almost impossible to note the dividing line. Their dusky ancestors were blessed with an extremely limited intelligence, only being able to count up to four. The following incidents were related to me by an old estanciero. He once saw a trainload of Indian prisoners who had had oranges given them throwing the skins against the windows and showing great surprise when they fell inside.

In another instance a woman came with her daughter to place her in domestic service at the estancia, and as the mother did all the talking, the estanciero's wife asked if the daughter could speak Spanish.

"Oh, yes," answered the mother, "but she is barefoot, and would not presume to talk Spanish unless she had shoes on."

This same girl at first insisted on turning up the carpet whenever she entered a room and walking along the boards at the side.

I fear that I have given a black character to the people I work among, but there are lights as well as shades, and I have had many a weary hour's ride wiled away by the philosophy and anecdotes of some peon or small contractor, without mentioning the enjoyment of that hospitality which is a characteristic of the nation.

Beside a camp fire, under the stars, while the maté pot passes from hand to hand, or when huddled under a horse cloth with the rain dousing the last embers, I have found the Correntino, or Santa Fecino, a cheery and uncomplaining companion, who compares well with the recently arrived Englishman, who, under the same circumstances, is generally sleepy or bad tempered.

Treat him well and he will treat you well, but if it is necessary to chasten him for his soul's good, keep your hand a little nearer to your revolver than his is to his knife.

DUST AND OTHER STORMS.

DUST AND OTHER STORMS.

Life in South America has many and varied experiences, though not so uncomfortably exciting perhaps to-day as they were, when more than three years seldom passed without a revolution of some kind, either national or provincial. The year 1893 was marked by two revolutions in Rosario, the first provincial and the second national, with perhaps little more than two months between them. It sounds terribly alarming to hear that a revolution has broken out, and pictures of the French Revolution immediately rise before one, but, fortunately, those of South American cities are not of that calibre; reports and rumours fly about of the terrible things that are going to be done, but these generally end in rumour, and after a few persons, those who have nothing to do with the movement, have been killed, probably by soldiers letting off their rifles up some street just on the chance of hitting something (often that at which they are not aiming), the revolution fizzles out very quickly.