His Coverlet Is The Firmament Of
Heaven, The Southern Cross And Other Constellations, Unseen By
Dwellers In The Northern Hemisphere,
Seeming to keep watch over him;
or in the colder season his poncho, which I have already described.
Around his
Couch flit the fireflies, resembling so many stars of
earth with their strangely radiant lights. The brightness of one,
when held near the face of my watch, made light enough to enable me
to ascertain the hour, even on the darkest night.
The Gaucho with his horse is at home anywhere. When on a journey he
will stop for the evening meal beside the dry bones of some dead
animal. With these and grass he will make a fire and cook the meat he
carries hanging behind him on the saddle. I have known an animal
killed and the meat cooked with its own bones, but this is not usual.
Dry bones burn better, and thistle-stalks better still. He will then
lie down on mother earth with the horse-cloth under him and the
saddle for a pillow. When travelling with these men I have known
them, without any comment, stretch themselves on the ground, even
though the rain was falling, and soon be in dreamland. After having
passed a wretched night myself, I have asked them, "How did you
sleep?" "Muy Bien, Senor" (Very good, sir), has been the invariable
answer. They would often growl much, however, over the wet saddle-
cloths, for these soon cause a horse's back to become sore.
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