They could not speak to each other. The Irishman slept on the floor
every night, and poured kerosene all over him to keep insects away. One
day he poisoned five pigs, giving them the dip-water to drink. He had
few clothes. He would turn them inside out, and often had three pairs of
trousers and two shirts on.
One day the Boss was out: the men were taming some wild colts in the
corral. I took French leave and went. I got on five. None had had a
saddle on before or even been handled. We lassoed them, pulled them down
and put on the bridle. Then five men held a long rope and one put on the
native saddle, with stirrups big enough to get your toes in. Then they
tied a red handkerchief round my head. I mounted gently but quickly.
Then the rope was taken off and away the colt went as fast as possible,
with one man on each side to shove you either way, all the time bucking
and plunging. I did not fall, but one stirrup broke. One laid down and
would not move. It tried to bite everyone. When they go fast and buck at
the same time it is very hard to stick on.
On the 25th of May, the great holiday in this country, I went to an
estancia to see some friends. On my way back we had to cross a deep
river. The coachman drove across, but one wheel went into a big hole and
the jerk sent me out on my head, where the wheel passed over my hair,
missing my head by inches.
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