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Jack the Killer was one of those strange Englishmen frequently to be met with in those days, who had taken to the gaucho's manner of life, when the gaucho had more liberty and was a more lawless being than he is now or can ever be again, unless that vast level area of the pampas should at some future time become dispeopled and go back to what it was down to half a century ago.
This subject has been much in men's minds during the past two or three dreadful years, often reminding me of that shock I received as a boy of fourteen at the old gaucho's bitter story of his soul; I have also again been reminded of the theory in which that younger and greatly- loved brother of mine was able to find comfort.
But the gaucho's work is still unfinished; the horse has yet to be rescued from his dangerous situation; a task, even more difficult than releasing his rider. For all, it is not beyond the skill of Gaspar, nor the strength of his own animal.
When ridden by night the Indian horse and sometimes the same habit is found in the gaucho's animal drops his head lower and lower as the darkness increases, with the danger arising from the presence of innumerable kennels concealed in the grass, until his nose sweeps the surface like a foxhound's.
With this facetious remark, made partly in the indulgence of his usual humour, but as much to raise the spirits of his young companions, he strides off among the odd structures, making direct for the other side of the cemetery, Ludwig and Cypriano following in single file. As they might truly anticipate, the gaucho's conjecture proves to be correct.
There is horse-gear as well the multifarious trappings which appertain to the caparison of a gaucho's steed recado, carona, caronilla, jerga, with Mameluke bitts and spurs of immensely large rowels; for all these are possessed by the higher order of pampas Indians, and notably their chiefs property they have picked up in some plundering expedition, where gauchos themselves have been their victims.
Our third and last schoolmaster His many accomplishments His weakness and final breakdown My important brother Four brothers, unlike in everything except the voice A strange meeting Jack the Killer, his life and character A terrible fight My brother seeks instructions from Jack The gaucho's way of fighting and Jack's contrasted Our sham fight with knives A wound and the result My feeling about Jack and his eyes Bird-lore My two elder brothers' practical joke.
This was considered bad form; for though men were often killed when fighting, the gaucho's idea is that you do not fight with that intention, but rather to set your mark upon and conquer your adversary, and so give yourself fame and glory. Naturally, they were angry with Jack and became anxious to get rid of him, and by and by he gave them an excuse.
The Gaucho's searchlights came on, bathing her quarry in light. It was the Jan Smuts; the name, and the figure-head-bust of the old soldier-philosopher, were plainly visible. Her forward gun had been knocked out, and she was trying to swing about to get a field of fire for her stern-gun. "We're going to give her a rocket-salvo," the voice said. "Watch this, now!"
Soon, however, to re-appear; but now carried under the gaucho's arm. He cries out as he approaches them: "Viva! muchachitos! Give me congratulation, as I intend giving you a good dinner. If we can call charqui flesh, as I suppose we must, then we shall have fish, flesh, and fowl, all the three courses. So we'll dine sumptuously, after all."
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