After so much excitement Francisco overslept the next morning, and awoke to find that his uncle had ridden to a far corner of the _estancia_ to inspect some of the new fencing; he had left word that he would not return until late that night.
Francisco sat under his favourite ombú tree, watching a _mangangá_, or carpenter bee, that was humming loudly in the foliage above his head and looking like a shining ball of gold among the green leaves. He had received a letter from his mother that morning, and he was a bit homesick.
"El Señorito is _triste_. No?" It was José's voice behind him.
Francisco brushed away a tear that had stolen down his cheek, and turned to greet the Indian with a smile. "I was wishing to see Elena, but it won't be long now; and I shall hate to leave this lovely place, too. But one can't have everything one wants, all at the same time, can one, José?"
"No, Señorito, but we always have _one_ happiness; have you noticed it? There never comes a time when we haven't one, at least. Now I've one just now, and I am going to share it with you. It will take away your sadness."
"No, but it's better. Now listen, and I will tell you about it.
"While the _gauchos_ were dancing and making merry over your birthday, last night, some miserable robbers got into the horse corrals and stole all the horses' tails."
"Yes, you see that's partly what we raise wild horses for; their skins and their tails. South American horsehair for mattresses is famous all over the world, and it brings good prices. Now, these thieves make their living by visiting the different _estancias_ and helping themselves to the horses' tails.
"Word came to your uncle, just before he left, that when one hundred of his horses were driven out of the Corral De Oeste this morning, they hadn't a single tail among them. So he has offered one hundred _pesos_ to the one, or ones, who can catch these thieves. Would you like to try?"
Had José asked him if he would like to swing on to the new moon by his toes Francisco could not have been more startled.
"Try--! Why José, you can't be in earnest!"
"_Como no?_" grinned the Indian cheerfully.
"But José, wouldn't they shoot us, and, anyhow, I know you are jesting when you ask _if I_ would care to try. You,--you are a strong man, even if you are getting old, and I heard the _peon_ children down by the huts say that there was no man for leagues and leagues around that could wrestle as you do; that you learned how from a Japanese soldier years ago in Chile. And I know you can shoot; but I would just be in the way."