Another time it was very dark; our candles, made of old clothes and
grease, had run out. I had made some good soup, and put the pot near the
table, then, walking by, put my foot in it: the hot grease made me hop,
and took the skin off my foot. Our table was an old greasy box; we had
no plates, nor forks, just a big knife. Sometimes, coming in very tired
from a hard day, we had no strength to chop wood and make a fire; we
just went to bed. Many days we only had an asado and mate. Mate I am
very fond of--it is so refreshing and sustaining.
My brother was only eight miles away: his section was under alfalfa, and
he had a comfortable house. One dark night, going home from his place, I
followed a fence until I came to a cross fence. I was going slowly,
when, all of a sudden, my horse stopped dead, and I shot over the fence,
the bridle and halter came off, and away went my horse, leaving me to
continue five miles on foot.
Bizcachas (like a big badger) were numerous. One day we dug a two-metre
hole, and next day found eight live ones. They have teeth one and a-half
inches long.
Our nearest village was eighteen miles away, where I met some English
friends, and played tennis or had some other amusement. I used to start
back at 2.30 a.m.
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