garnished is one he does not crave.

Riding on ahead one day--I had soon got tired of the monotony of driving,
and preferred the saddle--at a bend of the road I came suddenly upon two
horsemen, who had dismounted and were lying on a patch of sward by the
roadside. Their horses stood near. Both sprang up as I appeared, and quick
as lightning their hands sought the handles of the ugly knives that
depended in sheaths from their girdles. At this moment there was a look in
the swarthy face of each that I can only describe as diabolical. Hatred,
ferocity, and cunning were combined in that glance; but it vanished in a
moment, and the air assumed by them now was one of cringing humility.

'The Gaucho malo,' I said to myself as soon as I saw them. Their horses
were there the nobler animals. Bitted, bridled, and saddled, the latter
were in the manner usual to the country, the saddle looking like a huge
hillock of skins and rags; but rifles were slung alongside, to say nothing
of bolas and lasso. The dress of the men was a kind of nondescript garb.
Shawls round the loins, tucked up between their legs and fastened with a
girdle, did duty as breeches; their feet were encased in _potro_ boots,
made of the hock-skin of horses, while over their half-naked shoulders
hung ponchos of skin, not without a certain amount of wild grace.

Something else as well as his rifle was lashed to the saddle of one of
these desert gipsies, and being new to the country, I could not help
wondering at this--namely, a guitar in a case of skin.

With smiles that I knew were false one now beckoned me to alight, while
the other unslung the instrument and began to tune it. The caravan must
have been fully two miles behind me, so that to some extent I was at the
mercy of these Gauchos, had they meant mischief. This was not their plan
of campaign, however.

Having neighed in recognition of the other horses, my good nag stood as
still as a statue; while, with my eyes upon the men and my hand within
easy distance of my revolver, I listened to their music. One sang while
the other played, and I must confess that the song had a certain
fascination about it, and only the thought that I was far from safe
prevented me from thoroughly enjoying it. I knew, as if by instinct,
however, that the very fingers that were eliciting those sweet sad tones
were itching to clutch my throat, and that the voice that thrilled my
senses could in a moment be changed into a tiger yell,