There was not a dull moment for Francisco during the weeks that followed. Don Carlos, the superintendent, lived in the great house the year through. He was a bachelor and a man of education, so that when the Colonel came each summer he insisted that he keep his usual quarters; for the house was very extensive and the Colonel enjoyed his company at meals and during the long evenings.

Francisco had accompanied Don Carlos on several excursions and once, with a tropilla of horses (eight or ten riding horses driven loose by a peon for fresh mounts on a long journey), they had gone on a journey of five days to a neighbouring estancia to purchase algarroba posts for the extensive fencing that was taking place on the Tres Arroyas ranch. This algarroba wood is like iron and under water is almost imperishable.

They had passed by one small estancia devoted almost exclusively to peanut culture; there were leagues and leagues of them being raised to be shipped to the Mediterranean ports to be made into olive oil. They had their dinner at this estancia and Francisco ate bread made from powdered peanuts mixed with wheat flour and he found it very delicious.

JosÉ had taken him on several fishing excursions, and once they had hunted armadillos with small dogs. Francisco had laughed heartily at the antics of one dog, who had almost caught the horny-plated little animal when it suddenly rolled up into a ball, its back of movable, bony bands enveloping it like an armour, and rolled off a bluff over the river bank, falling fully fifty feet; while the puzzled dog peeped cautiously over the brink to see it unroll itself and with its short legs hastily dig a retreat under the earth.

On Francisco's birthday his uncle had given a fiesta in his honour. There were fireworks and races, and cowboys from all parts of the estancia came in their full cowboy regalia on their best horses to participate. It was very interesting, and then there was a dinner for everybody and after that a dance. Francisco, himself, presented the prizes, and his uncle made a speech.

After so much excitement Francisco overslept the next morning, and awoke to find that his uncle had ridden to a far corner of the estancia to inspect some of the new fencing; he had left word that he would not return until late that night.

Francisco sat under his favourite ombÚ tree, watching a mangangÁ, or carpenter bee, that was humming loudly in the foliage above his head and looking like a shining ball of gold among the green leaves. He had received a letter from his mother that morning, and he was a bit homesick.

"El SeÑorito is triste. No?" It was JosÉ's voice behind him.

Francisco brushed away a tear that had stolen down his cheek, and turned to greet the Indian with a smile. "I was wishing to see Elena, but it won't be long now; and I shall hate to leave this lovely place, too. But one can't have everything one wants, all at the same time, can one, JosÉ?"

"No, SeÑorito, but we always have one happiness; have you noticed it? There never comes a time when we haven't one, at least. Now I've one just now, and I am going to share it with you. It will take away your sadness."

"Is it—is it another fishing trip?"

"No, but it's better. Now listen, and I will tell you about it.

"While the gauchos were dancing and making merry over your birthday, last night, some miserable robbers got into the horse corrals and stole all the horses' tails."

"The horses' tails!" gasped Francisco.

"Yes, you see that's partly what we raise wild horses for; their skins and their tails. South American horsehair for mattresses is famous all over the world, and it brings good prices. Now, these thieves make their living by visiting the different estancias and helping themselves to the horses' tails.

"Word came to your uncle, just before he left, that when one hundred of his horses were driven out of the Corral De Oeste this morning, they hadn't a single tail among them. So he has offered one hundred pesos to the one, or ones, who can catch these thieves. Would you like to try?"

Had JosÉ asked him if he would like to swing on to the new moon by his toes Francisco could not have been more startled.

"Try—! Why JosÉ, you can't be in earnest!"

"Como no?" grinned the Indian cheerfully.

"But JosÉ, wouldn't they shoot us, and, anyhow, I know you are jesting when you ask if I would care to try. You,—you are a strong man, even if you are getting old, and I heard the peon children down by the huts say that there was no man for leagues and leagues around that could wrestle as you do; that you learned how from a Japanese soldier years ago in Chile. And I know you can shoot; but I would just be in the way."

"No, SeÑorito, you wouldn't be in the way. Manuel and I want you to go with us because we need you."

"Need me! Oh, JosÉ!" and Francisco's eyes gleamed brightly. "Do you think Uncle would allow me to go with you?"

"He is not here to say, and we must leave before he returns. But he left you in my care and if I feel sure no harm can befall you, I see no reason why you should not go."

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" shouted the happy boy, dancing around JosÉ and clapping his hands.

"This is the greatest adventure I ever had. To hunt brigands! Why, it's too good to be true. Won't Ricardo grow green with envy when I tell him about it, and won't the little English boy sit with his eyes wide open, while I recount the story to him. He will hush up about his ostriches and guanacos after this," and Francisco sat on the ground hugging his knees, and rocking to and fro gleefully.

"Well, don't clean your turtles till you've tied them, SeÑorito. We may not get them. It's only because I have a clue and a scheme that I am willing to try; for they are pretty clever fellows and they won't be easy to catch. We want to take you for a decoy, and besides, I think you would enjoy it. A Lacevera, even at nine years of age, is no coward."

"A coward, I should say not. Why, JosÉ, I am never afraid. But what is a decoy?"

"A decoy? Well, that's what we used when we caught flamingoes the other night. Do you remember how we put young frogs on the end of a string and then lay low in the grass and waited?"

"But, you can't tie a string to me, JosÉ—and—and—besides I don't be—believe I want to be a decoy. It isn't that I'm not brave; no, indeed, JosÉ—but I think I would rather you would decoy them with something else."

"Leave that to me, SeÑorito, and I promise they won't hurt you. You must have forgotten you are a Lacevera. They shall not gobble you up as the flamingoes did the frogs. Just what would you buy, anyhow, if you got your share of the reward?"

"Buy!—Let me see. There are so many things to buy. But now that I have my lovely saddle and silver stirrups I don't need much for myself. I think I would buy a beautiful parasol, all lace and chiffon, for Guillerma, for young ladies don't care for anything much but clothes. Then I should buy a jewelled fan for MamÁ, and then—well, I believe Elena and I would spend the balance for Carnival as it comes next month. But JosÉ, what did you say about not cleaning your turtles till you had tied them?"

JosÉ laughed and patted him on the back. "True, Don Francisco. But let me tell you our plan, or part of it. I have reason to believe that these two horsetail thieves are taking shelter with some charcoal burners over near the river. These charcoal burners are rough men, who live almost like savages. They injure no one, however, and it is only when they quarrel among themselves that they do any harm. They may not know who these men are, and are allowing them to tarry with them, believing them to be beggars, or gauchos hunting employment.

"I feel sure they are too loyal to the estancia to harbour them if they knew who they were. Now be ready immediately after breakfast, for we must start in time to reach the charcoal kilns before dusk."

It was twelve o'clock, when JosÉ, Manuel and Francisco galloped off in the direction of the river, and it was just mate time when they came in sight of the charcoal kilns and adobe huts near the river's bank.

Gathered about the fires, over which hung boiling water for making the mÁte, were several clusters of these uncouth appearing men. Dirty looking women sat in groups apart, with dozens of dirtier children rolling about on the hard earth at their feet. A pack of dogs ran out to greet them, yelping in front of their horses, until they were called off by their respective owners.

JosÉ and Manuel approached one group, and after greeting and being greeted, asked for boiling water with which to make mate. This was given willingly, and with Francisco they sat down on the ground among the men and began leisurely to sip mate from the gourd that Manuel always carried in his saddle bags.

They talked in friendly fashion with the dirty carboneros, who were as black as the fuel they made. Francisco noticed two men, who were less grimy in appearance and who sat quietly side by side, taking no part in the conversation.

They glanced occasionally at JosÉ and Manuel in a hostile manner, and suspicion seemed to lurk in their attitude towards them. Francisco felt sure these were the thieves, but JosÉ and Manuel took no notice whatever of them and Francisco feared his friends had not seen them.

After mate Francisco asked to see the kilns and JosÉ and Manuel took him over to examine them and explain to him how the willow was made into charcoal. It was quite dark when they returned to the huts and proposed that they return to the casa.

"Can the boy take another long ride in the same day?" asked one of the carboneros, more kindly in manner than the rest. "Is he not exhausted? We have no shelter here, but you are welcome to roll up in your blankets by the fires, for the night wind from the Pampas is cool."

"No, it is moonlight. A thousand 'gracias'[21] for your offer, but the lad is a good rider and we shall be home before midnight;" and bidding them adios, JosÉ and Manuel with Francisco, wondering at their behaviour, started towards the enclosure where the horses had been staked together with several other animals.

And then JosÉ did a thing that made Francisco's eyes fairly start from his head. He deliberately lifted up the stake to which a piebald mare, belonging to one of the thieves, was tethered, and throwing the knotted end of the long bridle across the pommel of his own saddle, rode out at the far end of the enclosure.

As he galloped off, Manuel and Francisco followed and soon they were all abreast, their horses' swift feet brushing the evening dew from the pampas grass as they flew along the level prairie. They rode so fast that the little fellow could not venture a question, it required all of his wits to keep his seat.

They had gone thus for fifteen or twenty minutes when he heard the sound of horses' hoofs away off in the distance.

"Carramba! They are after us," cried Manuel. "Good! Now for the chase. Let your heart be glad, SeÑorito, they have taken the bait."

Still Francisco wondered, he could not yet see through their plans, but excitement made his blood run hot through his veins; and he held on to Barboza's neck and spurred her on to keep the pace.

When a glimpse of water ahead of them, sparkling in the moonlight, told them they were near the river Salinas, a small tributary to the great river they had just left, the men slackened their speed and Francisco was able to get a full breath.

He could hear the soft thud of the pursuing horses' feet on the pampas grass plainer and plainer, and when their own horses were within a few hundred feet of the stream he could hear the men's shouts.

"Are there more than two?" asked JosÉ.

"No, just the two thieves, themselves. Those carboneros would never give us pursuit. It is none of their affair and they seldom meddle. They probably loaned one a horse in place of this one you are leading."

"Or they helped themselves as we did," chuckled the Indian.

They were close to the ford now; in the bright moonlight the middle of the river gleamed and danced; but the two banks were in deep shadow because of the heavy clumps of willows and low growing trees.

The thieves were but a short distance behind them when their horses plunged into the water.

"Heaven be praised! So far—so good," whispered JosÉ to Francisco. "Now do just as I bid you; our time is come."

They crossed the ford and were leaving the water, enveloped in the dense shadows, when JosÉ dropped from his horse and threw the reins into Francisco's hand; Manuel did the same, as JosÉ's voice said in a whisper,

"Ride half a league and wait for us."

And now the boy saw their plan; he was to ride ahead, the hoof beats of the four horses indicating to the pursuers that they were all still fleeing, and JosÉ and Manuel in ambush would have it all their own way.

He spurred his horse to its highest speed; but it seemed to him that his heart-beats would drown the hoof beats, so vigorously was it pounding against his side. It was an anxious interval and to the fleeing boy seemed an eternity; but it was really but half a minute when he heard a sharp cry, and then—a shot. But he rode on, fearing to stop until the half league was covered. He knew the fight was over and that either JosÉ and Manuel were being carried back to the huts beside the big river, or that they would soon overtake him with their prisoners.

Soon a shout came to his ears. It was JosÉ's voice and his mind was relieved. He reined in the horses, which was an easy matter for they were panting, and waited beside a shrine, whose white cross stood like a ghost beside the trail; and soon he saw four figures toiling along, two in front and two behind. The two in the rear were JosÉ and Manuel, and they were holding their pistols close to the heads of the two in front, who walked with the shambling gait of men whose feet were hobbled, as they were, with stout bola thongs; their hands were tied behind them, and as they shuffled unevenly along they were bawling out curses, the like of which Francisco's ears had never heard.

But the boy was so eager to hear about their capture that he paid no attention to the vile language, that at any other time would have made him cringe and tremble.

"Oh! JosÉ—Manuel—Do tell me all about it! How did you get them?"

"Well, you see, we grappled with them so unexpectedly that they had no time to defend themselves; thanks to the little frog on the end of the string," and JosÉ patted the boy on the shoulders encouragingly.

"One of them tried to shoot as he was regaining his feet, just after we dragged them from their horses, and Manuel has a scratch on his thigh, but otherwise, we are all well and doing finely. Manuel will ride on to the casa for help and you and I will remain here to keep these gentlemen company. They are great on talking, just listen to them now. Maybe they will tell us the price of horsehair per kilo—eh, gentlemen?" and the Indian grinned derisively at the cursing men.

"But JosÉ, Manuel is not fit for the saddle; let me go to the house. Please, I beg of you—"

"What! Alone—and at night. Why, the Colonel would say I had risked much should he see you ride in at midnight—alone."

"Uncle? Why uncle Juan is always pleased when I show any bravery; and besides there is nothing else to do. Manuel can't stay with just me here—he is suffering, and he can't ride—so it's the only thing to be done."

"Well, but you will have to ride pretty fast, SeÑorito, and tell them to send the peons immediately. Here, ride the piebald mare. It's yours anyhow, I dare say, or will be. It has been all day in the corral and is fresh, while Barboza is tired."

JosÉ changed the saddle, and Francisco was off towards the casa.

It was nearly two o'clock when Don Carlos awoke the Colonel, who had returned about midnight from his journey.

"Who calls, Colonel? It sounds like the NiÑo's voice."

They were out by the edge of the house corral, as Francisco rode up, and with almost the last breath he seemed to have left in his little body, he shouted,

"We've caught them! We've caught them! They are over by the 'Last Tribute' shrine near the Rio Salinas, and JosÉ and Manuel are waiting for help to bring them here; JosÉ could not bring them alone, and Manuel has a wound."

His uncle was lifting the tired NiÑo from the saddle, but he did not place him on the ground; he carried him close to his heart into the house and laid him on his soft bed. He left him saying he would go with Don Carlos to help rouse the peons, and Francisco heard him blow his nose vigorously as he crossed the patio, and knowing that his Uncle Juan had no cold, he accepted the tribute to his bravery with a proud smile, and was asleep before he knew it.

[21] Thanks.