By the time he was eight years old, Julio was a famous little
equestrian. "To horse, peoncito," his grandfather would cry, and away
they would race, streaking like lightning across the fields, midst
thousands and thousands of horned herds. The "peoncito," proud of his
title, obeyed the master in everything, and so learned to whirl the
lasso over the steers, leaving them bound and conquered. Upon making
his pony take a deep ditch or creep along the edge of the cliffs, he
sometimes fell under his mount, but clambered up gamely.
"Ah, fine cowboy!" exclaimed the grandfather bursting with pride in his
exploits. "Here are five dollars for you to give a handkerchief to some
china."
The old man, in his increasing mental confusion, did not gauge his gifts
exactly with the lad's years; and the infantile horseman, while keeping
the money, was wondering what china was referred to, and why he should
make her a present.
Desnoyers finally had to drag his son away from the baleful teachings
of his grandfather. It was simply useless to have masters come to the
house, or to send Julio to the country school. Madariaga would always
steal his grandson away, and then they would scour the plains together.
So when the boy was eleven years old, his father placed him in a big
school in the Capital.
The grandfather then turned his attention to Julio's three-year-old
sister, exhibiting her before him as he had her brother, as he took her
from ranch to ranch.
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