Reconquista on a hot summer's day is one of the dirtiest places on this
earth, which is saying a good deal. One drives through streets two feet
deep in light sandy dust, which hangs in clouds all over the town. There
is an excellent hotel in the centre of the town, built on typical
Spanish plans with fine large open patios, which are filled with
splendid tropical plants and ferns. Having washed off the dust of three
days' travel from our weary persons, and having changed into more
suitable travelling gear, we sat down to an excellent spread.
In the cool of the evening we made a tour of the town, being most
interested in the cigar factories, where we bought excellent smokes for
$2 a hundred, all hand-made from pure tobacco leaf by the brown-hued
lasses of Reconquista.
The rest of the evening we spent in unpacking our native saddles, and
preparing everything for our long horseback journey--not having
forgotten to see that our tropilla of fifteen grey ponies were fit and
ready to make an early start next morning.
Three a.m. next morning found us out in the "corrales" having our ponies
allotted to us by the capataz--we found the tropilla on "ronda"--that
is, in a corner with a lasso tied across in front of them, the height of
their chests, and all facing outwards.
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