'Will you ride over with me to the neighbouring village?' asked my friend Senhor Pedro da Silva. 'There is a festa there to-day. And as you are a stranger in the country, you will see some feats of horsemanship quite as clever as can be shewn in the circus rings of old England.'

'With the greatest pleasure,' I replied. 'I have often heard of the wonderful horsemen called Guachos, and desire much to see if the accounts are really true.'

'I think you will not be disappointed. He and his horse are one; sometimes he acts as its tyrant, but more frequently they are friends. From infancy they have scoured over the immense Pampas of South America, frequently amidst violent storms of thunder, wind, and rain. His address and grace on horseback yield neither to your best fox-hunters nor to the American Indian. But here is Antonio with our steeds; let us mount.'

An hour's ride over the dull arid plains of Buenos Ayres, covered with the grass now so much cultivated in our gardens, and admired for its light leathery tufts waving in the wind, brought us to San Joachim, where the people were already collecting in their holiday attire, and exchanging friendly greetings on all sides. The gay striking dresses of the Guachos mingled in every group. The poncho or mantle of cloth, woven in bright coloured stripes, has a hole in the centre through which the head is passed, and falls down to the hips in graceful folds. The nether garment is a combination of bedgown and trousers, bordered by a fringe or even rich lace on these festa days, which varies from two to six inches deep according to the wealth of the wearer. Then to-day the great jack-boots of untanned leather are exchanged for the smartest patent leather, with bright scarlet tops, and enormous spurs at the heels. A wide-brimmed Spanish hat is worn, a purple or yellow handkerchief twisted round it; whilst the belt encircling the waist sparkles with the dollars sewn upon it—often the whole fortune of the owner. His weapons are attached to this girdle, consisting of a formidable knife, a lasso, and a bolas, which may not be so familiar to the English reader as the lasso. There are two balls fastened together by short leathern straps, to which another thong is attached, by which it is thrown; this is whirled violently round the head before propulsion, and entangles itself in the legs of the horse or cow to be captured.

But whilst we are gaily chatting to Senhor Pedro's many friends the games are beginning, and we hasten off to the ground. There we find two lines of mounted Guachos, from ten to twenty on each side, just so far apart as to allow a rider to pass between the ranks; all are on the alert and holding the lasso ready for use. One whom they call Massimo, an evident favourite with the crowd, comes tearing along at a gallop and dashes in between the lines. The first horseman in the ranks throws his lasso at Massimo's horse as he flashes past, but misses, amidst the derisive shouts of those around; then the second, quick as lightning casts his; and so on down the ranks. Presently, however, the horse is lassoed and brought to the ground; and the skilful rider alights uninjured on his feet, smoking his cigarette as coolly as when he started from the post. The dexterity and watchfulness of the men, who can throw the lasso so as to entangle the feet of a horse while going at full speed, are simply wonderful. Another and another followed with varying fortunes; sometimes the first struck down the horse and rider, rarely was it that one escaped altogether. The popularity of the famous chief Rosas was said to be founded on his proficiency in this adroit but cruel art, and no man can be their chief who is not the cleverest among them: renown on horseback is the one great virtue that exalts a man in their eyes; cruelty to their favourite animal does not seem to enter into their thoughts!

But at length they weary of this sport, and move off a little way to vary it with another. Now we seem to have moved back a few hundred years, and find a pastime of the middle ages still lingering among these descendants of the Spaniards, who doubtless introduced it into the New World. In those days it was called the game of the quintain. A pole was firmly planted in the ground, with a cross-bar, to which was hung the figure of a misbelieving Saracen, well armed and holding a large sword. The horseman tilted at full gallop against this puppet; and as it moved lightly on a pivot, unless it were well struck in the breast, it revolved, and the sword smote the assailant on the back amidst the laughter of the crowd. Here in the wild Pampas the trial of skill is greater. A kind of gibbet is erected, to which is hung a finger-ring by a string. The Guacho, instead of the spear of knightly days, holds a weapon more characteristic of his work in the saladero, where the cattle are killed and salted—namely, a skewer. One after another the Guachos gallop at full speed and try to push the skewer into the ring and carry it off. Antonio, Luis, and Melito succeeded admirably; but many a novice failed in the difficult task. Still it was a pretty sight, and enjoyed apparently by both horses and men.

Then came the inevitable horse-races, which are of almost daily occurrence, when associates challenge one another, and they strike off in a moment in a straight line until they disappear in the horizon. In this case, however, a wide straight avenue near the village was chosen for a short, rapid, and often renewed race; a pastime for the idle, and the occasion of ruinous bets. The riders were dressed with the greatest elegance; their horses well chosen from the corral, and covered with silver ornaments. The bridle is of the leather of a foal, finely plaited and mounted with silver; stirrup, bit, and spurs of the same metal. A glittering silver belt, sometimes of a flowery pattern, and of colossal proportions, hangs round the breast, and a silver strap across the forehead. The saddle is a wonderful piece of mechanism, forming the Guacho's 'bed by night and chest of drawers by day;' it is very heavy, and consists of ten parts; skins, carpets, and cow-hides intermingled with other necessaries. Off they go at last from the post, spurring and urging their steeds like modern centaurs, handling them in a manner well worthy of admiration, and with the most perfect elegance. When the winner came in, many a by-stander had lost all his possessions, so mad a race of gamblers are they. As a last resource, they pledge their horse, and expose themselves, if they lose, to the lowest of humiliations—that of going away on foot!

We turned at last towards home, leaving the roystering spirits to finish off their day at the pulperia. This it is which takes the place of the club, the cafÉ, the newsroom, and the home. A cottage, neither more simple nor more luxurious than any other to be found in the Pampas, covered with thatch; the walls of dried mud, or more frequently of rushes sparged with mud; the flooring being of trodden earth; into which the rain penetrates, the sun never enters, and where a hot damp air is the prevailing atmosphere. Before the door stands a row of strong posts, to which the horses of the guests are tied; the new-comer jumps off, and there leaves his steed, saddled and bridled, for many weary hours in the hot sun or pouring rain; whilst he, to use a native expression, 'satisfies his vices' in the pulperia. The door is open to all comers, and great outward politeness reigns within; there is a continual exchange of gallantries, to which the Spanish language easily lends itself; but reason soon loses its sway, and the strangest bets are offered and taken. Sometimes it is between two friends as to who shall first lose blood; when the whole company sally out, knives are drawn between the duellers, and a combat, often much more ridiculous than valiant, ensues!

The following morning, Senhor Pedro proposed that we should ride out and see the Guacho at work and in his home. 'You seem to have been interested in him yesterday,' he said, 'and he belongs to a type that is unique. Notwithstanding the hatred of the original inhabitants towards their invaders, the two races were mixed, and these unions produced the Guacho. Look at his tall figure, bony square face embrowned by the sun, and stiff black hair—there you see the Indian; whilst the Spaniard is in his proud haughty manner, in his vanity, and also in his great sobriety. He drinks water and eats his dried meat without bread, not from contempt for better food, but from a horror of work. To earn his daily food is not so much his aim as to get money to bet with. He will go into the saladero, where, knife in hand, he will kill, skin, and cut up the cattle for salting, and find enjoyment rather than labour in it. He easily gains in a few hours a wage that suffices; and as soon as it is paid, he jumps on his horse and rides off to the pulperia to gamble it away.'

Thus conversing, we reached a hut which could scarcely be surpassed in its misery. Placed alone in the middle of the plain, without any garden or cultivated ground, not a tree to cast a welcome shadow, or a hand to repair the dilapidated walls, it seemed formed to repulse rather than attract the owner. At our approach, the mother came out, surrounded by her children, her complexion approaching the mulatto, for the air of the Pampas quickly destroys the fineness of the skin. It is only in the capital, Buenos Ayres, that handsome Creole types are to be seen, where fine features of an Indian class surpass European beauty, even when the tint is olive. The wife, like the husband, hates work: her only occupation is to boil some water, pour it over matÉ or tea of Paraguay, and drink it through a metal tube. Her children, at the age of three or four, can sit on horseback and gallop over the plain with no other bridle than a cord passed through the horse's mouth. At six they watch the sheep, and at ten are ready to break in the most spirited colts. Only everything they do must be on horseback: they will neither use their arms nor legs.

'Good-morning, Senorita,' said my friend. 'Where shall we find your husband?'

'He is gone, Senhor, to break in some horses for Senhor Melisos; it is not far from here.'

'So much the better. We will ride on and see him at work.'

We reached the place; and the Guacho came out to meet us.

'Will you shew my friend your feat at the gate?' said Senhor Pedro.

'With the greatest pleasure,' answered the flattered Guacho. He jumped on to the top transverse bar which forms the gate of the corral, and calling to another man to open the lower ones and drive out a troop of horses at full gallop, he, with the most astonishing skill, singled one out with his eye, dropped down on to it, and rode off without saddle or bridle at the top of its speed. Soon returning, he proceeded to break a horse that had been previously caught in the plains. The Guacho threw two lassos, one over the neck, the other on the hind-legs. Several men hold the colt tightly whilst he saddles and passes a cord through the mouth of the animal; and when the first paroxysms of fear have passed, the tamer jumps on, and pressing his powerful knees into its sides, the lasso is withdrawn. The horse and rider then start on a furious course, from which they both return exhausted, in the midst of the vivats which resound from every side. All that is now required is for the breaker to ride ten or fifteen leagues, when he gives up the horse to the owner and receives his fee. They are never taught to trot, but have an easy movement; and a man has been known to ride two hundred miles a day without fatigue, and living only on dried meat and matÉ.