It was no longer the outcast, the disinherited, the horse patriotic   that any saddle and no one cares: Fabio Carrizo was out, the principle of one sergeant 14, which in 1880 received its absolute low, after ten years of service wherever there was flamed the old flag, sworn beyond the slope of a hill up to St. Louis.

One battalion was my home and it was my school!

Today, when I see it paraded through the streets, always with the military air forces to the tradition of the number, searched in vain for those who tanned face me shivering in the kitchens of the border, and are no longer!

It is only the old time of the miseries suffered in silence, the glorious flag that so often frayed nursed in long hours of anguish and whose face still makes my heart beat like those sayings that, in return for a risky expedition which many of us did not return, was taken to the chaplain said to her his Mass for the repose of those who were there between the windings of the hills, in the village cemetery sad or under the cloak of eternal vegetables desert pampa and mysterious!
 
He had extinguished the last spark of that fire which, starting in the Plaza de la Vicky [38] spread throughout the Republic and was about to relive the times of barbarism and civilization time had died in our country, and aura of peace and progress running from Jujuy to the Straits and from the Andes to the Atlantic.

Fulfilled my service, polishing my mind to where I had been given to do and looking forward to mingling the world of Buenos Aires, which was boiling around me and drew me like always attracts the unknown, I asked my floor and I left the 6 th, as it were, I left home, and it all compliments of my youth, all my conditions of life.