The man often shouted to me to spur him.

When I remonstrated that it was a pity, for the horse was quite exhausted, he cried out, "Why not ?--never mind--spur him--it is MY horse." I had then some difficulty in making him comprehend that it was for the horse's sake, and not on his account, that I did not choose to use my spurs.

He exclaimed, with a look of great surprise, "Ah, Don Carlos, que cosa!" It was clear that such an idea had never before entered his head.
The Gauchos are well known to be perfect riders.

The idea of being thrown, let the horse do what it likes; never enters their head.
Their criterion of a good rider is, a man who can manage an untamed colt, or who, if his horse falls, alights on his own feet, or can perform other such exploits.

I have heard of a man betting that he would throw his horse down twenty times, and that nineteen times he would not fall himself.