He bought the place for
$90,000 and sold it for over double. He was a thorough campman, but so
mean. One cold winter 500 cows died of starvation; rather than sell them
at a low price he let them starve. The last thing he said was, he was
"going to New Zealand to marry an ugly lady, but she has plenty of
money." His countrymen called him a disgrace to his country and the
meanest in the Argentine.
Then a kind friend found me a place on a well-known estancia in the same
province. The manager, the second-manager, and the book-keeper were all
Irish, born in the country. I had a good horse, which I rode fifty miles
to the estancia.
The second told me to have my food with the peons (men), which was
rather disheartening. I tried to eat in the kitchen, but the French cook
kicked me out, and for ten months I fed with the peons; they were very
good fellows. The second and the book-keeper had meals together. The
second-manager did no work: up at half-past eight, he went to the train,
had a drink at the shop, then came back for dinner, slept until
tea-time, then went to see the train pass again and have another drink,
and came back at all hours. He had been there fourteen years and was
only getting a hundred a month.
The chief work was loading cattle and sheep for the big freezing
factories.
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