Content with the wild excitement of his daily round of duty
and recreation, with his meal of dried beef and cassava-cake, washed
down, it is likely, with a gourdful of _guarapo_, a species of rum, in
comparison with which the New England beverage is innocent and weak, and
with the occasional recurrence of some such turbulent festival as that
of the branding, he cares nothing for the future, and bestows no thought
upon the past. The Llanero may be called a happy man.
II.
EL ARAUSENSE.
Two years more than half a century ago there lived a Creole trader of
some wealth in the little town of Araure, in the province of Barinas,
upon the outskirts of the Llanos. Don Jose had a stalwart son, aged
about sixteen, whom he had trained to active usefulness amid the
monotonous ease of the torrid little municipality. Young Jose Antonio
had received, it is true, only a scanty education, but he could sign
his name, could verify a calculation, and had a shrewd, quick head for
business. The doctors-of-law, tolerably numerous even in little Araure,
pronounced him born for a jurist, and he was a godsend to the litigious
natives of the Captain-Generalcy. The hide-and-tallow merchants nodded
knowingly, as he passed them in the street with a good-humored _Adios_,
and predicted great fortunes for the lad as a future man-of-business.
The Cura thought it a pity that he should prefer the society of the
dusky beauties of Araure to the more hallowed enjoyments of preparation
for a priestly life.
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