For twenty-four hours, during which time we rested, of course, both for our own sakes and for the sakes of our animals, not one human being crossed our path, or even came within sight of us. And during that time, also, we saw neither bird nor beast, nor any manner of living thing, save only ourselves and our animals.

And then, quite unexpectedly to me, we came upon an oasis in the dreary desert—a little hamlet with mud-walled hovels, but better than those at Ilo, and having patches of cultivated ground enclosed. The natives had reclaimed this piece of land by means of the waters of a moderate-sized stream, and lived in almost as great isolation as if they had been on Robinson Crusoe's island.

They were neither Patriots nor Royalists, and I doubt much whether they knew of the struggle going forward; but they had kind hearts, and gave us a warm welcome, pressing upon us gifts of fruits and vegetables to the limits of their scanty stock. They found ample forage, too, for the weary animals, and we stayed there a matter of three hours to rest Castro's horse, which had shown symptoms of breaking down.

I seized this opportunity to snatch an hour's sleep; but my guide was kept chattering by the natives, who listened with amazement to his news. They knew no Spanish, and could not understand the native patois I spoke; neither could I understand a word of what they said. As for Castro, I suppose no man in South America had the gift of so many Indian dialects.

"After all, lieutenant," exclaimed he, as we took leave of this simple community, "I doubt if these people have not the best of life. They eat, drink, and are at peace, caring no more for a president than for a king."

"And doing nothing for either," I replied, laughing. "How does the horse seem now?"

"I think he will do this journey. But if I'm to ride with the colonel, he will have to provide me with another."

Throughout the evening we rode silently side by side, while all around us was the awful stillness of a dead world. The sun went down, and presently the stars gleamed above us, throwing a ghostly light over the sea of sand.

Midnight found us still riding, and another hour passed before Castro drew rein at the broken track leading from Tacna to Arica. Throwing the reins over his horse's neck, and jumping down, he examined the ground carefully, reading it as skilfully as the student reads a printed book.

To and fro he went, casting off here and there like a hunting-dog, till he was satisfied. Then he returned to me, saying, "Carts have gone by hours since, and the infantry quite recently, but I see no signs of cavalry."

"They would remain till the last minute, so as to deceive La Hera."

"That is so; but the question is, has the colonel stayed with them? It is to him we want to give our information."

"The infantry can tell us."

"We shall waste time if he is in the rear, and time is precious."

"Let us separate. You go forward; I will ride toward Tacna."

"It is dangerous, senor."

"You forget that I have been over this route."

"Well, as you will. If the colonel has not passed, I shall return. Keep to the track; do not wander from it either to right or to left."

"All right, Castro; I will take care."

He vaulted to the saddle, wished me a safe journey, and rode off, while I turned my horse's head in the opposite direction. Fortunately the night was clear, while the dawn was not far off, so that I had a great advantage in steering my way. True, I rode at no great pace, being both afraid and unwilling to spur my jaded beast. Now and again I even dismounted and walked at his head to give him some relief.

It was perhaps about three o'clock in the morning. A heavy fog had arisen, and I was riding with the greatest care, when suddenly I found a musket pointed straight at me, and heard the demand, "Halt, or I fire!"

The man spoke in Spanish, but his accent showed him to be an Indian, and I hoped he was one of Miller's cavalry detachment. Whistling softly, he was at once joined by a second and a third man, the last of whom sharply ordered me to dismount.

At the sound of his voice I laughed aloud, saying, "You post your men well, Jose, but they have not made a great capture this time. Is the colonel here?"

"We are all here," said Jose, giving my hand a grip; "but I thought you had gone to Arica. Is anything wrong?"

"A good deal," I answered, speaking in English, so that the Indians might not understand. "I must see Colonel Miller at once."

"Jump down, then. Leave your horse here, and I will take you to him. Mind where you step; the men are all tucked in and sound asleep."

But for the fog, I could by this time have seen my way clearly; as it was, I could only just distinguish the ponchos enveloping the men's heads. When the fog lifted, the light showed a more curious spectacle than most of you have perhaps ever seen. It was the custom, whenever we halted in a sandy desert, for each man to scoop out for himself a shallow grave. In this he lay, scraping the loose sand over his body for bed-clothes, and leaving his head, wrapped in his poncho, above ground. It was, indeed, a most comfortable and delicious bed, as in those days, or rather nights, I often proved.

The colonel lay buried alive, as it were, like his men; but he slept lightly, and pushing off his sandy bed-clothes at our approach, he struggled to his feet.



"Who is it?" he asked. "Crawford, where is your guide?"

"Gone another way to look for you, colonel."

"Have the brigs left Ilo?"

"Yes; but both Castro and I doubt if they will reach Arica. They are altogether crazy, and as soon as they left the harbour a strong gale from the north, which will drive them out of their course, sprang up."

"You are rather a Job's comforter," laughed the colonel. "I daresay they will arrive all right. Still," he continued, speaking more to himself, "everything depends upon their safe arrival—everything! Jump in, Crawford, and have a nap; I may want you presently."

He went away with Jose, while I got into his bed, pulled the sand over me, and was fast asleep before the two men had gone a dozen yards.

For two whole hours I lay like a log; then a soldier pulled the poncho from my head, saying that the colonel waited for me at breakfast. I rose quickly, made my toilet—not an elaborate proceeding, you may be sure—and waited on the colonel.

"Sit down," said he, laughing; "it's early in the day for banqueting, but we must feast when we can. I hope you are not blessed with too good an appetite?"

"I don't think I should feel greatly tempted to indulge much at present," I replied, with a grimace at the dried meat I was cutting. "Indigestion would only too surely follow."

"Then," said he, and his eyes twinkled with merriment, "we will eat sparingly. I am going straight to Arica, and you will ride with me."

"I am afraid I shall have to get you to find me a fresh horse, as my own has broken down, colonel."

Turning to one of the soldiers near, he said, "Ask Major Videla to send me a good horse at once.—Take your time, Crawford; I am awaiting a messenger from Tacna."

Nearly an hour passed before he was ready, during which time I saddled my fresh mount, transferred my holsters, and had a chat with Jose. He told me they had been compelled to release their prisoners, Santiago among them.

"I had no idea you were so hard pressed," I said.

"If La Hera doesn't blunder," answered Jose, "he can sweep us all into his net. The only thing that saves us now is Miller's skill and reputation. Every one believes he is going to show fight somewhere between this and the coast."

Presently the colonel came along, accompanied by Major Videla, to whom he gave final directions; and then, bidding me follow, rode from the camp. Four miles out we came upon Castro, walking, and leading his horse, which had fallen dead lame.

"Have you been into Arica?" asked Miller.

"No, colonel; but I have learned some news. There are four fine vessels in the roadstead; if you could get them, the troops would be safe."

"Ah!" cried the colonel sharply; and telling Castro to wait for the cavalry, he rode off at a great pace towards Arica. At four o'clock we staggered into the town, and were instantly met by the governor with a sorrowful tale. He had secured the use of three vessels, but the commander of the fourth absolutely refused to be either coaxed or threatened into lending his assistance.

There was not a moment to be lost, and Colonel Miller, with no other attendant than myself, ran down to the beach. There we got on a balsa, or raft, which carried us to a launch, whose crew at once took us alongside a fine North American schooner.

Clambering on deck, we found the master, to whom the colonel applied for the loan of his vessel. The sour old sea-dog turned a deaf ear. The colonel offered a sum of money that would have bought the schooner outright at market value; he would have none of it.

Now, it chanced that some of the crew were Englishmen who had served under Miller in the Chilian War; and though I did not know that, I could plainly see how interested they were in the discussion. The colonel saw it too, and in a few simple but terse and vigorous words he laid the case before them.

This produced a marked effect. The men growled their approbation, and one sturdy fellow exclaimed stoutly, "I'm not going to see a countryman of mine hard pushed without helping him. What's your sentiments, mates?"

"The same!" cried they.—"We'll stand by you, colonel. The Spaniards shan't cut you off if we can help it."

"Thanks, men," replied Colonel Miller, "and I'll treat you fairly. Neither your master nor you shall have cause to complain."

The skipper, however, was not to be appeased. He threw up his command and went ashore with us, leaving the mate to navigate the vessel. It was rather a high-handed proceeding, perhaps, on the colonel's part, but he was saving his troops from an unavailing fight against overwhelming odds.

All that night we worked like slaves. The launches could not come close inshore, so that every one and everything had to be transported to them on balsas. The colonel did not spare himself, and my position procured me the honour of standing beside him knee-deep in surf while he superintended the embarkation.

Most of the sick were got on board one or other of the four vessels, but the worst cases had to remain in hospital. Then nearly a hundred people of the town, who had recently joined the Patriot cause, clamoured for protection, which was, of course, afforded.

In the morning the colonel insisted I should take a rest, but the work continued all day, while from time to time scouts came in with the news that La Hera was advancing at full speed. At length it was all done; only the colonel and I remained to go on board, and we had just reached the launch, when, with a yell and thunder of hoofs, the Royalist cavalry galloped down to the beach.

"Just too late to take their passage," laughed Miller. "What a pity!"

"There's our late prisoner," I cried, standing up in the launch. "Look at the rascal; he is shaking his sword at us, and laughing."

"He's a fine fellow," remarked the colonel. "I don't grudge him his liberty."

Taking off my cap, I waved it vigorously; to which Santiago replied with a salute; and then, as pursuit was impossible, he led his men back into the town.



CHAPTER XII.

A STERN PURSUIT.

As soon as our vessels left the shelter of the bay, they felt the full force of the gale; and but for skilful handling on the part of their crews, would most likely have come to grief. Even as it was, the more timid of the passengers began to think they would have done better in trusting to the mercy of the victorious Spaniards.

"It is lucky for us, lieutenant," exclaimed Castro, "that the brigs did not reach Arica."

"I hope they are safe," I said doubtfully.

"Safe enough by this time," he replied—"at the bottom of the ocean!"

Whether or not he was right in his surmise I cannot say, but from that day to this I never again heard mention of the unfortunate vessels.

After being at sea about a week, on reduced rations both of food and of water, we ran one night into the roadstead of Pisco, landed, and before daylight had made ourselves masters of the town, the Royalists hurriedly retreating.

On board the schooner I had obtained a much-needed rest, but directly my feet touched the shore I was set to work again.

There never was such a man for prompt and instant action as Colonel Miller. As Jose said more than once, he was always packing twenty-four hours' work into twelve, and no one within had ever had a chance to shirk his share.

"We must follow up the enemy—follow them up, and not give them a moment's rest!" said he, almost before the nose of our boat had touched the shore.

First, however, it was necessary to obtain animals, and almost before day broke a dozen parties were dispatched to scour the surrounding district for horses. The Royalists, however, had been beforehand, and it took three days to procure the needful supplies.

Fortunately a woman arrived from Lima with a drove of fifty mules, which our leader instantly pressed into the service, in spite of their lawful owner's protestations. She was a fine, handsome, and remarkable woman, who traded on her own account like a man, and she made a sturdy fight for her property. Directly the mules were seized she bounced into the colonel's room, her eyes ablaze.

"Good-morning, madam," said he courteously.

"It's a bad morning for me," she replied. "Do you know that your men have stolen my mules?"

"Not stolen, madam; only borrowed, by my orders, for the good of the Patriot cause."

"I defy you to keep them!" she cried. "See," and waving & paper, added triumphantly, "that will make you less high and mighty, Senor Englishman!"

The paper was a passport and protection signed by San Martin himself; but it produced no effect on the stubborn colonel.

"I am sorry, madam," he exclaimed, still courteously, "but my men need the mules. They shall be paid for, handsomely, but I must have them."

The woman gasped with astonishment, and pushing the paper close to the colonel's face, cried, "Are you blind? Can't you see General San Martin's name? Don't you know that he can have you shot to-day if he pleases?"

"Not to-day, madam. The swiftest messenger could not get here from Lima to-day; and thanks to your mules, which are really very fine animals, we shall begin to chase the Royalists at dawn."

Luckily she could not see my face as she broke into a torrent of abuse. She had a fine command of the Spanish language, which she used for his benefit, besides throwing in a number of odd phrases picked up from English sailors. And all the while the colonel beamed upon her genially, as if she were paying him the highest compliments. At length she announced, in high-pitched tones, that where her mules went there would she go also; she would not trust them to such a band of thieving scoundrels.

"I am delighted, madam," said the colonel, bowing low; "your society will in some degree atone for the hardships of our journey."

Neither of us thought she would really carry out her threat; but early next morning she appeared mounted on one of her own mules, and attached herself to me.

"Madam," said I gravely, trying to imitate the colonel, "this is a great pleasure for us; but even at the risk of losing your valued company, I must once more point out to you the real nature of this journey. We shall be half starved, besides suffering torments from thirst; we shall be worn out by forced marches, and some of us, no doubt, will fall victims to the Spanish bullets."

"I won't leave my mules," was her only reply.

"But why not sell them to the colonel? he will give you a fair price."

"And what about my profit?" she cried. "Do you know why I came to Pisco?—to buy brandy at eight dollars a jar, which just now I could sell in Lima at eighty! What do you think of that, young man? Why, I should have cleared a handsome fortune by this trip!"

"It is very sad, madam; but soldiers, you know—"

"Soldiers? Bah! Look at them riding on my mules! My mules, mark you! And to think that each of the honest beasts might be carrying four jars of brandy at eight dollars a jar! It's a wicked waste of mule-flesh! Eight from eighty leaves seventy-two; take twelve for expenses, there's still sixty, and four sixties are two hundred and forty—all clear profit from! A dozen of your vagabonds would be dear at the price! Look at that rascally fellow cutting my mule with a whip! I will most certainly have your colonel shot!"

"I think not, madam; you have too tender a heart."

"Yes," said she complacently, "that is the truth. I am not stern enough. But fancy"—and here she went all over her calculations again, winding up with the assertion that we were a set of common thieves and rogues.

By degrees, however, her manner changed: the ill-humour wore off, and she became quite a Patriot, saying she would willingly lose her mules if the Royalists were hunted down.

However, about nine o'clock in the morning I left the good lady to pour her grievances into more sympathetic ears, being ordered to push on with a small detachment of cavalry, guided by Castro. Jose was lucky enough to stay with the main body. Captain Plaza was in command of our party, and he rode with the guide and me. Our course to Ica, the first village on our route, lay over a burning desert of very loose sand, dotted at great intervals by clumps of stunted palms. It was a horrible ride, and when we reached Ica, about four in the afternoon, neither men nor animals could go a step further.

The people received us kindly, provided food and drink, and fresh horses in place of our wearied animals. Then we slept for an hour, and, thus refreshed, resumed the pursuit. I have often wondered since how any of us survived the hardships of the next few days.

Now and again we obtained an hour's rest, but our leader halted only when our animals showed signs of exhaustion. The Spaniards must have suffered as much as, if not more than, ourselves, as occasionally we came upon a dead horse or a dead man, killed by sheer fatigue.

On the third night after leaving lea we had ample proof of their desperate straits. We had left the sandy deserts behind, and were toiling along painfully, sustained only by Castro's assurance that he knew of a capital camping-ground.

"A fine wooded place," said he, "with grass for the horses, and a clear stream of water. You will be tempted to stay there all night, captain."

"Three hours," replied Plaza, "not a moment more. We must be close on their heels now, and I don't mean Santalla to escape if I can help it."

Santalla was a Royalist colonel of whose cruelty I had heard many times. He was a gigantic fellow, of enormous strength; but, according to all accounts, a pitiful coward in spite of his boasting. Indeed, any leader of average bravery would have turned and struck a blow at the handful of tired riders which now pursued him.

"Here we are!" exclaimed Castro presently, and I saw with satisfaction the trees on our left hand to which he pointed. Every bone in my body was racked with pain, my lips were parched, my eyes ached, and for the last hour I had scarcely been able to keep my seat.

Halting his men, Plaza sent me on with the guide to investigate. Leaving our horses, we moved forward swiftly but quietly; there was just the possibility of a trap. The place was almost like an enclosure on a large hacienda, but the fence was composed of trees, and we could hear the plashing waters of a stream.

Inside the ring was an open space, and there, to our astonishment, we beheld some twenty men lying on the grass in all manner of attitudes. Not one made the slightest movement, and at first I thought they must be dead.

"Don't be too sure," whispered Castro, and stooping down he glided noiselessly to the nearest man, while I waited with breathless eagerness.

"Poor beggars!" said he pityingly; "we must have pushed them hard. I don't believe they would waken if a cannon were fired at them!"

This was an exaggeration, but indeed they slept so soundly that our men, surrounding them, took away most of their weapons before they understood what was going on. Binding their arms, we pushed and dragged them close together, and then the captain placed his men round them in a circle. Sentries were stationed at various places on the outer ring, and, much to my disgust, I was told off to visit them during the first hour.

"Keep a sharp lookout," said the captain, "and go round regularly. They are likely to fall asleep if you don't,"—which I did not think at all surprising. However, I had a good drink of water, and dipped my head in the stream, which freshened me somewhat. Then I began what has, perhaps, been the very longest hour in my life. Fortunately I had to walk, and I tried hard to keep my eyes open all the time. As to the captain's "sharp look-out," I concluded he must have been joking.

The hour came to an end at last, and I was free to sleep. I just lay down on the ground, drew my poncho over me, and was sound asleep. I would not have undertaken another hour's duty just then for all the gold ever mined.

The capture of the small Spanish detachment was a benefit to us in one way: it prevented Plaza from moving so early, and gave us all an extra hour's sleep. However, as soon as day broke, he told off half a dozen men to guard the prisoners until the colonel's arrival, and ordered the rest to be ready for starting in ten minutes.

"It's nothing to do with me," remarked Castro, as he and I rode out at the head of the men; "but the captain's overdoing it. He's taking the heart out of his fellows, and just at the last pinch they'll fall to pieces. There's nothing left in them for a dash at the end."

"We shouldn't shine in a cavalry charge," I admitted, laughing and looking at my horse, "unless, indeed, it were under Don Quixote's banner!"

"Well, Crawford," cried the captain, riding up, "something ought to happen soon now. It's a pity we wasted that last hour this morning, though. We must make up for it during the day. One of the prisoners informed me that Santalla cannot be far ahead. I have a good mind to push on with the men on the strongest horses, leaving you to follow. What do you think?"

"I think that you are going fast enough, captain. Both men and horses are fagged now, and it's useless to catch up with Santalla just as we are all dead beat."

"But if we don't go ahead we shan't catch him at all. The colonel did not send us on in front to sit down by the wayside."

"No, captain; but that's just what we shall be doing soon, whether we want to or not. Most of the horses are nearly done for now."

"Then we'll get fresh ones," cried he (which, by the way, there was no possible means of doing), "or continue the pursuit on foot. Do you think if the colonel were in my place he would lag behind?"

Of course I knew he would not, but then Miller was Miller, who had not, to my thinking, his equal in South America. And Plaza wished to imitate his chief, forgetting he did not possess that marvellous personal influence over men which accounted so much for the English colonel's success.

So we pushed on, till, at the end of the third mile or thereabout, a horse sank through sheer weariness to the ground, and had not sufficient strength to rise again.

"Run on with the rest," said the captain to the rider; "we will ride and tie by turns."

The man saluted and came on, but the last I saw of him he was staggering from side to side of the track, as if he had completely lost control of his limbs. After a time another horse fell, giving us another infantry-man, who in a short time was, I daresay, also left behind on the road.

"'Twill be a plain trail for the main body," remarked the guide; for we ourselves were continually passing broken weapons, mules that could not drag their limbs a step further, dead horses, and now and then a Royalist soldier curled up on the track fast asleep.

"Where will Santalla make for?" I asked.

"Arequipa. But I don't think he can reach it. The Indians bar the direct route, and his only way out, as far as I can see, is by taking to the mountains at Copari."

"My horse won't face a hill just now."

Castro smiled, saying, "The pass near Copari is too rugged for horses at any time; the climbing must all be done on foot," and he smiled again at my gesture of despair.

At ten o'clock Plaza was compelled to halt, three-fourths of the men being tired as dogs, while several horses had foundered on the road. He was very excited, having heard from the last Spaniard picked up that Santalla, thoroughly worn out, was barely two hours' march in front.

He glanced wrathfully at his tired troopers. There they lay, five minutes after the order to halt, sleeping like dead men, and for the time being certainly of no greater use.

"Caramba!" cried he, "it makes me wild! Two hours, Crawford! Do you hear? And look at them! The prize will slip through our fingers after all!"

"Hardly that, captain," I murmured sleepily, "as it has never been in our hands."

"Santalla will have to rest as well," remarked the guide, "so the scales will balance."

"But I don't want them to balance!" cried Plaza testily.

To give the captain his due, he was greatly in earnest, and willing to do himself all that he required of his men. He showed this plainly two hours after we had resumed the pursuit, when his horse suddenly dropped from exhaustion. A dozen troopers at once made as if to dismount, but he ordered them to keep their seats.

"No, no," he roared; "I take no advantage!" and he ran on, holding by the stirrup to the nearest horseman.

The fellows cheered him, and I think we got on better for the incident, though the halts became more frequent now, and our numbers lessened, as one man after another dropped exhausted to the ground. Still we were gaining on the runaways, as a disagreeable episode presently made clear.

It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, and we were straggling at no great speed through a narrow valley, when half a dozen bullets from the rocky sides dropped into our midst.

"Ah!" exclaimed Castro, "now the Spaniards are playing the proper game. These fellows have been left to hold us in check while the main body escapes through the Copari Pass."

"Push on there!" roared the captain, who after a spell of riding had just dismounted. There was, indeed, nothing else to be done. We must run the gauntlet, and trust to luck for some of us getting through. The Spaniards were well hidden, and could not be dislodged, unless, which was out of the question, we came to hand-grasps with them. So urging our jaded beasts to a spurt, we quickened the pace, while now and again a groan and a thud told that a bullet had found its mark.

Those who were hit lay where they fell; the most of us reached the open country just in time to see a dozen or fifteen horsemen mount and ride off. Evidently they had the pick of Santalla's animals, as they easily kept their distance, though allowing us to advance within range, when, discharging their muskets, they recommenced the retreat.

Plaza fumed like one distracted at the galling fire, which considerably delayed our advance, though we suffered in the loss of horses rather than of men. He was riding again now, and well in front, with Castro and myself behind him. Suddenly, after a scattering volley, I felt my horse slip, and the next instant the poor beast was sprawling on the ground with a bullet-hole in its chest.

Staggering to my feet, I ran on, but unsteadily, for in truth I was getting very near the end of my strength. However, a husky shout from those in front encouraged me, and I saw that at last we had come fairly upon the runaways.

Just as Castro had foretold, they were taking to a mountain pass, eastward of Copari, and the main body was already toiling up the ascent. Their stores lay about everywhere; horses and mules were abandoned; only a handful of horsemen, constituting the rearguard, preserved any appearance of order. For a time they stoutly held the mouth of the pass, but at length, leaving their animals, they too disappeared.

Plaza went at the entrance like a bull at a gate, Castro followed, and I toiled after them with the men. Up we went, some cheering, but the majority with closed lips, saving their breath. In our fatigued state the climb was fearfully distressing: men sank to the ground gasping, or fell while trying to grasp the overhanging rocks with nerveless fingers.

As for me, though straining every nerve, I could not keep pace with the leaders. My eyes smarted and ached; my head seemed to spin round; more than once I should have fallen but for a friendly hand. Presently I heard Plaza cheer; but he was out of sight, and the sound seemed to come from a long distance. Then I was placed gently against a rock by a soldier, who pushed on after the rest.

Had I been hit? I really did not know. There was blood on my hands, but they had been gashed by the jagged rocks. But hit or not, I must do my best to keep up; so trying to steady myself, I took another step forward. The pass was filled with strange sounds and with strange shapes too. Large birds hovered over my head, men and animals stood in my path; I had to dodge here and there in order to find a way through.

Suddenly a man placed his arm round my waist, and saying, "You must lie down, lieutenant," carried me a little distance, and then placed me on the ground.

"No, no," I murmured drowsily; "the captain is calling! Don't you hear the captain calling?"

"Yes," said he: "the Spaniards have escaped, and the captain has sounded a halt."

I did not know then that the man was tricking me for my own good, so I answered innocently, "Thank goodness! Now we shall have a little rest. Waken me when they return."

"Never fear, sir," said he; "I will waken you," and even before he turned away I had lost all knowledge of the situation.



CHAPTER XIII.

HOME AGAIN.

Several days passed before I could recognize any one or anything, and then I found myself lying in bed in a strange room, but with Jose sitting near me. He rubbed his hands together and smiled when my eyes opened, but he would not talk beyond saying that we were back in Ica.

I felt weak, but in no pain; and in a day or two was able to dress, and with Jose's help to go for a stroll in the town. Several acquaintances congratulated me on my recovery; but not seeing Captain Plaza, I asked Jose if he had been hurt.

"Oh no," he answered, with a smile; "the captain is sound in everything but temper. Santalla spoiled that by getting clear off. You won't forget that charming little trip in a hurry, Jack!"

"Oh, it was simply awful! I wouldn't go through it again to be made commander-in-chief. I wonder it didn't kill me."

"It did kill some, and knocked you all out except Plaza and the guide. There was precious little difficulty in finding the route you had taken. One of the troopers showed me where you were. 'The lieutenant is a bit light-headed; said he; 'so I put him in a corner out of harm's way. I told him the captain had stopped the pursuit.'"

"I remember something about it. I was tired out before my horse got hit, and the climb up the pass finished me."

"You weren't the only one to get knocked up. However, the colonel obtained a light cart, and we brought you all back to Ica."

"So we had our trouble for nothing?"

"Not exactly. Santalla escaped, but he left all his stores behind, and nearly a hundred of his men were captured. Most of them, I think, were very glad of it. We couldn't get them to keep their eyes open, they were so sleepy."

"What did the colonel say?"

"Oh, he laughed, and chaffed Plaza a bit, but I think he was very well satisfied. Now we had better turn back."

I offered no objection, as even the short distance we had walked had fatigued me wonderfully. By degrees, however, my strength returned, and at the end of another week I was able to resume my duties.

The colonel, as usual, was extremely busy, having to keep in order all the affairs of a huge district. Though my services were very welcome, he would not let me do too much, saying kindly, "Take it easy, my lad. One mustn't spur the willing horse. We are not chasing Santalla just at present."

"Thank goodness!" I exclaimed. "One can have too much of that sport." And the colonel indulged in one of his merry laughs.

The town at this time was very quiet. There were no Spanish troops within many miles; our own men, through decent food and careful nursing, were rapidly recovering from the effects of their long forced marches; and fierce bands of our guerillas guarded the mountain passes. As far as our particular district was concerned, the war seemed to be over.

One night as I sat making a fair copy of a proclamation, the colonel, looking up suddenly, exclaimed, "Crawford, would you like to go to Lima?"

"To Lima, sir?" and I let the pen fall in my eagerness; "why, I'd give anything to go there!"

"Well, you can go for nothing, my boy, in a day or two. Of course you know our friends have been for some time now in possession of the capital, and that San Martin is Protector of Peru?"

"Yes, sir, though I think 'tis but an empty title until the Royalists are thoroughly beaten."

"All in good time," said he pleasantly. "That will come some day. We shall be masters of Callao shortly; which will be a great step forward. I have received news this afternoon which impels me to make the journey to Lima; so if you think you're strong enough—"

"I'm sure I am," I cried eagerly. "I haven't an ache or pain in my whole body now, and—"

"All right!" interrupted the colonel; "I'll take you. Now finish your copying, and don't fling the ink all over the place; it's wasteful."

It was not only wasteful, but it gave me extra work, the copy being so smeared and blotted that I had to write it again on a fresh sheet.

"Lima in a day or two!" I said softly to myself as my pen drove along the paper. The words sounded like sweetest music to me, and I hummed them to myself over and over again. I pictured the dear old home, the park, the pony I had ridden so often, the silvery pond, and the boats I had fashioned to sail on its waters.

But above and beyond all I saw my mother, with eyes aglint and face suffused with joy. The vision was so real that I stopped in my writing to view it more closely. And when the colonel presently gave me leave for the remainder of the day, I rushed off to find Jose, hardly knowing whether I ran or flew.

"What is it, Jack?" he exclaimed. "Has Captain Plaza promised to take you on another trip?"

He laughed at his own joke, and I laughed too, being in the humour to see fun in anything.

"You aren't far out, Jose," I replied, slapping him on the shoulder out of pure good humour. "I am going on a trip, but not with Plaza!"

"Then it must be with the colonel."

"Right this time. But where are we going, Jose? can you tell me that, eh? No, you'll never guess, so I will tell you. To Lima, my boy! what do you think of that?"

"I think that your mother will be very pleased to see you."

"Fancy seeing her again, Jose, after all these weary months!"

"She will hardly know you," said he. "You have grown so tall and strong and manly. You are the image of what your father was at your age, Jack. Are all the troops to be moved up?"

"I think not. As far as I know, the colonel's only paying a flying visit to the capital. Why are you laughing?"

"Because I'm rather doubtful of that. If Miller goes to Lima, it's a proof there are hard knocks about. And high time too! According to the talk, the war should have been done with long ago."

Next day the colonel made his arrangements, and on the following morning he set out, leaving Major Videla in charge of the district. Rather to my surprise, Jose formed one of the party, which consisted only of us three.

Under some circumstances the journey would have been tedious; but Colonel Miller was very agreeable, and told us many interesting stories of his adventurous career. Thus the time passed pleasantly enough, and on the evening of September 11, 1821, we arrived in the neighbourhood of Lima.

The capital, as I have said, was in possession of the Patriots; but a Royalist garrison still held Callao, and the Royalist general, Canterac, with a small army, had just swooped down from the mountains to help his friends. Our soldiers were chiefly stationed between the two towns; but the citizens of Lima had armed themselves, and swaggered about talking of the great deeds they were about to perform.

The colonel, aware of my anxiety, agreed that I should pay a visit to my mother at once.

"I must see General San Martin," said he. "He may give me a post here, and if so, I will send for you. But you have earned a few days' rest, and I shall not omit to mention you favourably to the protector."

As soon as he had gone, Jose and I rode on quickly. My heart beat fast, and my hands trembled so that I had to use both in holding the reins.

"I suppose it is all right, Jose," I remarked as we drew near the house. "I suppose there is nothing wrong?"

"No, no," replied he; "why should there be? You are nervous, my boy, that's all. Cheer up; in a short time you will be in your mother's arms."

At the outer gate I drew back, leaving Jose to accost the janitor, who greeted him heartily. Then in silence we rode through the park to the courtyard, and in response to our knocking Antonio appeared.

On seeing me the old man would have screamed with delight, but I checked him, saying softly, "Hush, Antonio; tell me quickly of your mistress, my mother. Is she well?"

"In health, senor, but sad. Ah, the house has been very lonely for many a long day!"

"Go you, Jose," said I, "and prepare her."

"Joy never kills," answered he, laughing; "but perhaps it will be as well for me to go in first."

I waited a few moments, and then dismounting, walked softly towards the entrance. What would she say? what would she do? My heart almost ceased beating as I stood in the shadow listening. The door was wide open, and a stream of light came from the spacious hall.

Suddenly I heard a quick step, and then my mother's voice crying, "Juan! my Juan! where are you?" And running forward, I threw myself joyfully into her arms. She kissed me repeatedly, and then hand in hand we went inside.

"Mother!" I cried, "mother!" and for a long time that was the only word spoken. We sat down side by side, and her beautiful eyes, dimmed by very joy, looked into mine. She pressed my hand, smoothed my cheeks, and brushed back the hair from my forehead, murmuring softly, "Juan, my Juan!"

I think, perhaps, that great happiness, like great grief, kills speech. At least it was so with us, and we were content to sit there silently gazing into each loved face.

At length the good old major-domo, knocking timidly at the door, announced that supper was served, when my mother with a sigh suffered me to leave her for a few minutes, in order to make myself more presentable for the table.

I would have had Jose sit down with us, but he disappeared, and perhaps after all it was as well. My mother made only a pretence at eating, and sat with her eyes fixed on me, as though fearful I should in some mysterious way suddenly disappear.

After supper we returned to the drawing-room, where I related my adventures, telling her the story of the shipwreck, of my rescue and imprisonment in the fort, of my marvellous escape, and all the various incidents which had happened since I left home. Of Santiago's information concerning my father I said nothing, though I longed greatly to do so.

"I think General Barejo wished you well," she exclaimed after a pause. "He is not of our way of thinking, but he has a kind heart, and he was a true friend to me before these troubles came upon us."

"Was he ever friendly with father?" I asked.

"He respected him much, though he thought him greatly mistaken. You see, their ideas were altogether opposed, but in private life each esteemed the other."

Presently, remembering that the Royalists no longer held Lima, I said, "What has become of little Rosa? I hope our people have not disturbed her, though it must be lonely for her living in that great house alone. Could she not have come to you?"

"There was no need," and my mother's lips curled scornfully; "she is safe enough with her father."

"With her father?" I echoed, in astonishment. "How can he take a delicate child like that into a rough camp?"

"His house is not a rough camp, Juan!"

The truth did not strike me at first, so I said innocently, "Oh, has he been wounded and obtained permission to be nursed at home? Is he seriously hurt?"

"He is quite well, I believe, and is one of us."

"Felipe Montilla turned Patriot?" I cried in amazement.

Now let me not be misunderstood. I honestly believed our cause just. In my small way I had ventured my life for the independence of Peru, and was quite ready to venture it again. But this man had boasted his loyalty to the Spanish king, had fought under his flag, had taken high rank in his army! He had accepted from him both honours and broad lands, and then at the first reverse in his fortunes had slunk away like a whipped cur.

"A fig for such Patriots!" cried I hotly. "Were I San Martin, he should be whipped back to the men he has deserted. Give me a loyal friend or a stout enemy, I care not which; but these jellyfish—bah! they are an abomination."

"You are young, my boy, and not quite wise enough to understand these things. Is it not to Don Felipe's credit that he should openly confess his mistake?"

"And save his estates into the bargain," said I wrathfully. "Let the Spaniards get the upper hand, and you will find him back in their ranks quickly enough."

"A man must follow the guiding of his conscience, even if it lead to his advantage," remarked my mother quietly. "But if you are indignant with Don Felipe, you will be equally delighted with Rosa. She is still Loyalist to the core, and makes no secret of it. She told San Martin the other day that he was a busybody, meddling in affairs that did not concern him, and that the people of Peru could settle their disputes without his interference."

"Bravo, Rosa!" I cried, with a laugh; "there is nothing like speaking one's mind. I'll wager San Martin prefers the girl to her father. Have you seen the general?"

"Yes; he paid me a friendly visit on purpose to show his admiration for your dear father. He is a most remarkable man."

It was not until the evening drew to a close that my mother spoke of what lay nearest her heart—our plans for the future. She admitted with a sigh that I must in honour offer my services to San Martin. I was still young, but there were many boys fighting in the ranks, and some had already sacrificed their lives for the cause.

"It is hard to let you go again," said she, pressing me fondly to her, "and yet I must. God grant that the war may soon be brought to an end!"

"Amen to that!" I exclaimed fervently. "Fighting is not to my liking, but I cannot stand idly by while others risk their lives for my benefit."

"No," said my mother, kissing me good-night; "you must do your duty, my boy. Your father would have wished it."

A few minutes later I went to my room, and was just closing the door when Jose appeared. He looked hot and flushed, and I asked where he had been.

"To the camp," said he, with a laugh, "to see what's going on. I thought the colonel must have had some special news. Unless San Martin holds his hand, the Spaniards are lost. They can't stay at Callao, as there isn't food even for the garrison; they aren't strong enough to take Lima: they must retreat or starve."

"Well?" I exclaimed questioningly.

"Why, don't you see, directly they begin to retreat we shall crush them. Already nearly two hundred of their men have deserted."

"More deserters? Why, we shall soon be able to form a battalion of turncoats for Don Felipe to lead!"

It was now Jose's turn to look astonished, and his expression of amazement was so ludicrous that I laughed outright.

"What a poltroon!" he cried contemptuously. "But I'll see you get no harm by this right-about face. He is mistaken if he thinks his treachery will give him a hold on your estates."

"A hold on my estates, Jose? What do you mean?"

"Oh," said he, "I have not cared to speak of it, but I must now." And he proceeded to inform me that all my father's property had passed into the possession of Don Felipe Montilla.

"But," I exclaimed, striving to appear calm, "that will be set aside now. San Martin will never allow our property to be confiscated because my father died for the Patriot cause."

"Montilla is a fox, Jack, and has made a good bargain for himself, no doubt. I expect he obtained the general's written promise to confirm him in all his estates. And if so," he concluded gloomily, "yours form part of them."

"He shall not keep them," I cried angrily, "whatever San Martin has promised!"

"No; but we must not quarrel openly until the Spaniards are done with. Montilla has influence, and no doubt San Martin finds him useful. But don't take it to heart, Jack; we will defeat him in the end."

"If we don't," said I grimly, "it will be because the son has followed the father. And that reminds me, do you think Montilla knows what actually happened to my father? It always seemed strange to me that Rosa should learn of that affair so quickly."

"You don't suspect—"

"That he had a hand in his death? No, hardly that, though he is mean-spirited enough for it. But it struck me that, being high in the viceroy's favour, he probably knew what was going on."

"That is possible at least."

"Probable, I should say. However, to-morrow I intend putting the question to him."

"Do you mean that you are going to interview him on the subject?"

"Why not? There can be no harm in asking a straightforward question."

"Mind you don't lose your temper, my boy. It's dangerous work rousing a venomous snake until its poison bag is extracted."

"Never fear, Jose. I have learned how to take care of myself during the last few months. Thanks to you and the colonel, I have done some hard practising. And now turn in. It will seem strange to sleep in one's own bed again, won't it?"

"Make the most of it," advised he laughingly. "It may be a long time before you have another chance."

I felt very tired, and yet it was long before I fell asleep. I was angry at Montilla's double-dealing, sorry for Rosa, my old playmate, and agitated by a thousand vague doubts and suspicions.

In the morning I rose very little refreshed, had a simple breakfast in my room, and went to find Jose. He had already returned from an early visit to the camp, and brought word that matters were still in the same state. The Spaniards remained sheltered under the guns of the fortress, and San Martin, knowing their provisions were almost exhausted, would not attack.

Presently we were joined by my mother, who made Jose happy by praising him for his care of me. Then we took a stroll round the grounds, looked in at my workshop, where my half-painted boat still lay, and paid a visit to the lake.

After a while I asked Jose to have my horse saddled, saying, "Excuse me, mother, for a short time, please. You know the colonel may send for me at any moment, and I should like to see Rosa once more."

This was only partly the truth, but I could not speak of my principal motive, for as yet, acting under Jose's advice, I had made no mention of Santiago's queer story. It would have been cruel to raise hopes that might have no actual foundation.



CHAPTER XIV

FRIEND OR FOE!

I have before said that Don Felipe was our nearest neighbour; the grounds of his house, indeed, joined our own, and I might easily have gone there on foot. Perhaps it was a touch of pride which induced me to go on horseback, as I was a good rider, and young enough to feel a certain satisfaction in my appearance.

I had grown beyond the recollection of the gatekeeper, who admitted me to the courtyard with a show of deference, saying that both his master and young mistress were at home. Rosa's mother had been dead for some years.

Don Felipe had numerous servants, and to one of them I threw the reins, telling him to mind my horse. Then going to the door, I inquired for Don Felipe.

The major-domo was showing me to a small room, when a girl, merrily humming a popular Royalist song, came tripping along the corridor. Suddenly she stopped, looked hard at me, and then came forward again, saying, "Juan! Surely you are Juan Crawford?"

I have sometimes laughed since at my stupidity, yet there might be found some excuse for it. During my absence from Lima I had often thought of my little playmate, but it had never occurred to me that time would change her as well as myself. And now, instead of the merry child with whom I had romped and played, there appeared a beautiful girl at whom I gazed in wonder.

"Are you not Juan Crawford?" she asked again, speaking softly.

"Yes," said I, "I am Juan; but you, senorita?"

Her face rippled with merry laughter; but pouting her lips, she said,—

"What a poor compliment to your old friend, Juan! Surely you have not forgotten Rosa!"

"Nay, that have I not; I have forgotten nothing. But you are so changed, Rosa—so different!"

"So are you; but I knew you at once. When did you come home? Have you come to see me?"

"Yes, and your father as well. I have some business with him."

"Oh!" cried she, tossing her head and frowning, "of course you and he are on the same side. My father is a Patriot now, and cries, 'Down with the king!' I suppose your meddlesome general has sent you with a message."

I did not undeceive her; and while the servant carried my name to his master, we entered one of the rooms and continued our conversation. I saw she was troubled; yet with great skill and grace she put me at ease, and led me to talk of what had happened during the last two years.

"What a fire-eater you are, Juan!" she cried banteringly. "I am quite afraid of you. But what a fine sword you have! Ah, if I were only a boy! Can you guess what I would do?"

"No," I replied, with a shake of the head. "No one can guess what a girl will do."

"But I said a boy."

"Ah! that would be altogether different."

"I will tell you then," she said, standing up and speaking very earnestly. "I would get a sword and pistols and join the king's friends. I would be a loyal Spanish cavalier, Juan, if I were the only one in Peru!"

"Then it is lucky you are a girl, Rosa, or you would soon be killed. I would not harm the king, even if he were here instead of being in Spain, thousands of miles away; but I have no love for those who rule in his name."

"No," said she, casting down her eyes, and I thought her voice sounded sad; "you have suffered at their hands. But it is not the king's fault, Juan; he would have seen you righted."

"It is a long way from Peru to Spain," said I, trying to speak carelessly, "and it seems as if in these days one must right one's own wrongs."

After that we sat speaking very little, each afraid lest the talk should drift into an awkward channel, for I felt sure that she knew how her father had robbed us of our estates.

On the return of the servant she whispered earnestly, "My father has changed greatly. I am sure he is unhappy. If he should appear cross and irritable, you will bear with him, won't you, Juan?"

"I will do my best, Rosa. But why should he be angry with me? I am only going to ask him a question."

Don Felipe was truly much altered. His dark hair was plentifully sprinkled with silver; there were deep lines in his forehead and around his lips; his eyes had become shifty, and there was a look of cunning in them. He gave me just one swift, searching glance, and then looked away. It was an awkward meeting, and I hardly knew what to say. Fortunately Don Felipe took the lead.

"You have grown almost out of knowledge, my young friend; and I notice you have obtained military rank," said he, with a covert sneer.

"I have the honour to be a lieutenant in the army to which we both belong, senor," I replied.

He winced at that, and his eyes glowed angrily.

"If you have brought me a message from your general," said he, "will you at once deliver it? I am very busy just now."

"I will not take up more than five minutes of your valuable time, senor. My errand is an important one, though at present it has nothing to do with General San Martin."

Again he glanced at me sharply, and I thought he seemed slightly nervous.

"I must ask you to be quick with it," he said coldly.

"I only desire to ask you about the death of my father. I am sure you will give me all the information in your power, as he died for the independence of Peru, which to-day both you and I are trying to secure."

At that he started up, his eyes blazing, his hand on his sword.

"Do you think I killed your father?" he roared furiously. "He died through his own fault. I warned him again and again that the time was not ripe, but he paid no heed to me."

"Are you not mistaken?" I asked. "According to the Indians' account, he was slain while trying to prevent them from rising."

"Then the government was deceived. No good can be done by digging up the dead past, but you shall hear all that I know of the story. At that time there were three parties in the country. One section, led by your father, resolved upon armed insurrection; another, composed of Royalists, determined that nothing should be changed; the third, to which I belonged, endeavoured to obtain reform by moderate means. I need not say that your father was a marked man. One day the viceroy received word that he had started for the mountains in order to rouse the Indians to revolt, and, to prevent mischief, it was arranged that he should be placed in prison. As you may know, he refused to submit quietly, and, unfortunately, was shot in the fight which ensued."

"Was his body brought back to Lima?"

"I never heard so. Most probably it was left on the mountains. I was sorry for him; but he was a headstrong man, and would not listen to reason."

"That was foolish of him," I remarked quietly. "Had he waited till the proper time to declare his real opinions, he would not have lost his life, nor my mother her property. It is possible, indeed, that our estates would have been largely added to."

"The estates were confiscated, it is true," said Don Felipe slowly, "but they fell into friendly hands." Then, in quite a kindly tone, he added, "You feel bitter against me, Juan—I see it in your face. Perhaps it is natural; yet you really have no reason to do so. I must not say more now, but all will come right in the end."

"So I intend," said I stoutly, yet feeling rather mystified.

The man's sudden change of manner puzzled me. After all, I was only a boy, with little ability and no training to seek for things lying beneath the surface. And Montilla seeing the state of my mind, played upon it with consummate skill.

I cannot truthfully say that he made any definite promise, but this was the impression I received:—Knowing that all my father's property was forfeit to the law, he had exerted his influence to secure it. At that time he thought the trouble would be settled without fighting, and intended in a year or two to restore the estates. When the war broke out, he endeavoured to bring the viceroy over to the cause of reform, but finding that impossible, was compelled reluctantly to join the Patriots. Of course, in the matter of the estates, nothing could be done now till the war was over.

"Thus," said he cheerfully, "the future is safe. If the Patriots win, we can have the confiscation revoked; while, on the other hand, I count so many friends among the moderate Royalists that the viceroy would hardly care to thwart me."

"In any case," said I bluntly, though with no wish to vex him, "the Indians will see that I am not wronged!"

"Trust me," he answered, his voice sounding now like the purring of a cat; "Felipe Montilla never makes mistakes."

I had a stinging reply on my lips, but refraining from giving it utterance, I bade him farewell.

"Come again, Juan," said he, "if the general can spare you!" And though not overburdened with wits, I had a sense of being laughed at.

I was joined in the corridor by Rosa, who wanted to know why I was going so soon.

"I really must," I answered, smiling. "I have spent no time with my mother yet, and I may be sent for at any moment."

"But this will not be good-bye?"

"On the contrary, I hope to see you often. Your father has given me the kindest of invitations."

At this she opened her eyes wide; but quickly recovering herself, she smiled pleasantly, and accompanied me to the hall. As I rode by, she was standing at a window waving her hand.

I had much to think of during the short ride home, but I got little satisfaction from my thoughts. Nothing had been gained by my visit to Montilla, and his story only went to confirm the truth of the reports of my father's death. As to my faith in his startling promises, it grew weaker with every step my horse took.

I said nothing to my mother; but Jose, to whom I related all that had passed, laughed loudly.

"The cunning old fox!" cried he; "he hasn't his equal for craft in Peru! You will see that, whoever sinks, Don Felipe Montilla will swim."

"Not at my expense," I exclaimed, "while I have strength to raise an arm."

The rest of that day I spent with my mother, forcing myself to forget that any trouble existed in the world. It was only a brief spell of happiness, but we enjoyed every second of it, and by nightfall my mother's face had lost some of its sadness, and her eyes shone brightly as in the olden days.

Early next morning an order was brought to me to rejoin Colonel Miller, as it was arranged that, for a time at least, Jose should remain behind to look after the affairs of the hacienda. The servants assembled in the courtyard to see me off, and my mother came to the hall door. There she embraced me, and stood smiling bravely as I mounted. Whatever sorrow she felt was locked up tightly in her own breast.

Accompanied by the man who had brought the order, I rode briskly to Mirones, the headquarters of the Patriot army, and about a mile from Callao.

The colonel was with San Martin and a group of officers, watching the enemy's movements; but he turned to me at once, saying, "General, this is Lieutenant Crawford, of whom I spoke."

San Martin, the Protector of Peru, was a tall man with black hair, bushy whiskers, and a deep olive complexion. He had black, piercing eyes, fringed by long lashes and overhung by heavy brows and a high, straight forehead. He was strong and muscular, with an erect, military carriage. He looked every inch a soldier, and one, moreover, with an iron will that nothing could bend. His voice was harsh and unmusical, but he spoke in a kindly, simple, and unaffected manner.

"Colonel Miller has told me many things of you, lieutenant," said he, "and all to your credit. I am glad to know that the son of Don Eduardo Crawford is following so well in his father's steps."

"Thank you, general," I replied, bowing low.

"I understand," he continued, "that Colonel Miller wishes to keep you with him. It is certainly an honourable post; but I fancy you are likely to get many hard knocks," he concluded, with a laugh.

"He has had a strong taste of the service, general," observed Miller, with a merry smile.—"Are you willing to stay with me, Crawford?"

"Yes, certainly, sir, with the general's permission."

"Very well," said San Martin. "And, by the way, colonel, let him have on hour's sleep now and again,"—a little joke at which the group of officers, knowing the Englishman's habits, laughed heartily.

The general presently rode off to his quarters, the officers went to their several duties, and I accompanied Colonel Miller to that part of the field in which his men were stationed. He had been appointed to the command of a column seven hundred strong, which was held in readiness to move at any moment. The officers were unknown to me, but they seemed pleasant, genial fellows, and in a short time I felt quite at home with them. The younger ones were grumbling because San Martin did not at once attack the enemy, saying that Canterac would slip away to the mountains in the night.

"Then his army will break up of its own accord," remarked a grizzled major. "He can't take his guns, and his troops are starving. Hundreds will throw down their weapons on finding us close at their heels."

"Better have a straight fight and have done with it," grumbled a youngster. "There's no fun playing at hide-and-seek in the hills."

"Should you live to be a man," said the major reprovingly, "you won't talk in such a light-hearted way of a battle." And the boy's face flushed at the laugh which greeted the remark.

"Don't be too sarcastic, Gamarra," cried another. "The youngster's right in the main. If Canterac escapes, the war may drag on for months, and will cost thousands of lives. The mountains will kill more than a pitched battle would."

"Canterac can't escape if we follow him up properly," said the major, "and Colonel Miller seems the man to do that."

"That is so; but he can't move without orders; and there's more than one man in high places who will prefer Lima to a pursuit."

Thus they talked during the afternoon, and early in the evening Colonel Miller ordered that every one not on duty should turn in at once; which we took to be a sign that something was going to happen shortly.

At ten o'clock the column was roused. The men assembled silently, and a whisper went round that Canterac had begun his retreat. For more than an hour we awaited fresh orders, the colonel on horseback fuming impatiently, until at last the word came to march.

"An hour thrown away," muttered the colonel angrily. "Canterac will laugh in our faces."

To our disgust, we found that the column was attached to the main army, and that we had to move step by step to the will of the chief. I knew very little about military tactics, but it was a strange kind of pursuit, and made me think of a tortoise chasing a hare.

"I wonder what Captain Plaza would think of this performance?" said the colonel, rather bitterly, as we jogged along. "This isn't the way he took you after Santalla, eh?"

"Indeed no, colonel!" I replied, laughing. "The captain would have had us on the other side of Lima by now."

"It's like a funeral procession," he muttered impatiently; "and if they don't mind, 'twill be a funeral procession in reality. We shall be burying the independence of Peru."

The ridiculous part of it was that our column had been formed of all the light companies on purpose to swoop down on the foe. As far as I could judge, the swoop was much like that of a hawk whose wings had been carefully tied to its body.

However, we tramped along throughout the night, halting at daybreak without getting a glimpse of the exulting Canterac.

"Never mind," exclaimed the colonel, who hated to look on the dark side of things; "we may catch them during the day."

In this he was disappointed, as we proceeded in the same leisurely manner, just as if we were out for a quiet stroll on a summer's day. Several times Miller rode off to the staff, but on each occasion he returned looking more dissatisfied than before.

The men wondered, and at each halt the officers talked pretty freely among themselves, giving their opinions with refreshing vigour.

"Canterac has the start of us now," said one, "and we shall never overtake him. We had the game in our hands, and have simply thrown it away."

The grizzled major remained optimistic, saying, "You may depend that San Martin has some scheme in his head." But the rest of us were doubtful.

"If I had an enemy in a trap, my scheme would be to keep him there and not to let him walk out through an open door," laughed a young captain. "The war might have been finished to-day; now it's likely to go on for another twelvemonth."

"Well," remarked one of his comrades, "it's a comfort to think we shan't kill ourselves through over-exertion."

By degrees we pushed on to a place about nine leagues east of Lima, where it seemed as if the lumbering machine had broken down altogether. It was evening when we arrived and halted; the men ate the last morsel of their scanty rations; the chief officers, though no one could imagine what they found to discuss, held a conference, and presently it leaked out that the pursuit had been abandoned.

"I don't profess to understand it," exclaimed Major Gamarra, "but you will find that there's some grand scheme in the air."

"Ah!" interrupted another officer, in a sarcastic tone, "and no doubt it will stay there; most of these precious schemes do. What I should like to see would be a little common sense."

"Would you recognize it if you saw it?" put in the major quick as lightning; and all the others laughed.

"Perhaps not. I've had little opportunity of renewing my acquaintance with it since San Martin came to Peru."

This was a dangerous remark, as we were a very mixed crowd. Some had come from Buenos Ayres with San Martin; others were Chilians who had fought with him throughout the Chilian War; several, like myself, were natives of Peru; while two or three were Englishmen.

Fortunately, before the dispute had had time to become hot, the colonel returned from the conference, and joined us at the fire.

"I don't know, gentlemen, that anything is likely to happen," said he; "but we may as well enjoy a night's rest while we can," and wrapping his cloak around him, he lay down, setting an example which most of us followed.



CHAPTER XV.

WE CATCH A TARTAR.

When I awoke at six o'clock in the morning, most of the officers and men were still sleeping, but the colonel had disappeared. There was nothing to be done beyond feeding and grooming my horse, which I always made a point of doing myself. As to my own breakfast, my haversack was empty, and I think there was hardly a pound of meat to be found among the whole column.

After a short time the men were roused, and just after seven o'clock we saw the colonel come tearing along on horseback, as if pursued by a cavalry division. Evidently he was in a great hurry, and his face was wreathed in smiles.

"Good-morning, gentlemen," he cried. "You will be glad to hear my news: we move in an hour's time. The general has only a scanty stock of provisions, but there is sufficient to provide your men with breakfast.—Crawford, hunt up Lieutenant-Colonel O'Brien, and ask him to come to me at once."

O'Brien was a famous Irishman who had served with San Martin all through the Chilian War. He was a fine fellow, standing six feet six inches high, and well proportioned. Every one loved him for his winning ways, his ready smile, his perfect honesty, and his absolute fearlessness.

"Colonel Miller?" said he, on hearing my message. "Faith, I'll come instantly." And we rode back together.

"You're prompt, O'Brien," exclaimed the colonel, laughing; "Have you had enough of this slow-time business?"

"More than enough, colonel. What are your fellows looking so pleased about?"

"First, the prospect of a breakfast; and then—"

"You've badgered the general into giving you a free hand!"

"Not quite that; but I have permission to push on. I fear it's too late. Canterac is a fine soldier, and will be ready for us now; but I am going to see if he has left any weak places. Would you care to come with me?"

"You're just a jewel, colonel," exclaimed the big Irishman enthusiastically, "and I'm eternally devoted to you. When do we start?"

"Directly after breakfast. Will you take some with me?"

"That will I, colonel, and I'm as charmed with the second invitation as the first. I dined with the general the day we left Mirones, and haven't had a decent meal since."

The colonel laughed, saying, "I'm afraid I can't say much for the quality of our food."

"Never mind the quality, colonel; I think more of quantity just at present."

"Well, that's on a par with the quality."

This did not sound very promising; but we managed to satisfy our hunger, and the men, having eaten their scanty rations, were drawn up ready for the start. At nine o'clock we left the camp, and a rapid march brought us to the village of Macas, which the enemy had just abandoned. Here, to our great delight, we discovered a number of sheep dressed and ready for cooking; so, for once in a way, we enjoyed a really good meal, while cracking many jokes at the Spaniards' expense. Then having rested, we pushed on to the foot of the mountains, where the men bivouacked, being too tired to drag themselves any further.

I was just preparing to off-saddle when the colonel said, "Crawford, if you aren't too tired, you can come with me. I am going just a little way up the mountain."

"Very good, sir," I answered, climbing into the saddle again, but wishing that he had taken it into his head to sleep instead.

"I should like to find out where Canterac is. He is quite clever enough to set a very ugly trap for us."

It was dark now, and the road was difficult; but we rode cautiously, listening for sounds, and keeping our eyes well open. At the end of perhaps half a mile the colonel suddenly stopped, and said in a whisper, "Some one is coming towards us."

The position was very awkward. We were on a narrow road with no hiding-place at hand, and must either retreat rapidly or plump ourselves right into the arms of the strangers. In another minute we had no choice at all, as several dusky figures loomed up before us. Fortunately Colonel Miller favoured the practice of taking the bull by the horns, and levelling his pistol, he cried in a stern voice, "Halt! Who are you?"

Taken by surprise, the men stopped, and we heard one of them say, "No, no; he's no Spaniard. I can tell by his speech."

"Quite right," cried the colonel. "I'm an English officer in the Patriot army. Who are you? Make haste; we don't want to stay here all night."

"We're deserters from General Canterac's army," replied one boldly, "and want to give ourselves up."

"Then you're just right. We will return with you to the camp, or the sentries might shoot you.—Crawford, turn your horse round so that they can pass between us.—Now, my good fellows, march, and I hope for your own sakes that you've given a true account of yourselves."

Thus we journeyed back to the camp, where, beside a good fire, Colonel Miller examined the prisoners. From them we learned that General Canterac had halted in a strong position halfway up the mountain; upon which I could see, by his restlessness, that the colonel was eager to resume the pursuit at once. A glance at his wearied men, however, showed him the folly of such an enterprise.

"No," said he at last; "they couldn't stand it." Which was quite true.

Having given the strangers into the charge of the guard, we unsaddled our horses, wrapped ourselves up, and lay down near the fire. Two seconds later we were fast asleep. At daybreak we were moving again, and I fancy the colonel felt glad he had not attempted to lead his men up the mountains in the darkness of night. The road was simply horrible, and the pass might have been defended by a score of resolute men against an army. Halfway up we received a check. O'Brien, going forward with a handful of men, got in touch with the enemy, who immediately turned about and threatened to overwhelm us by a sudden attack.

Under some leaders we should most certainly have come to grief; but the colonel's cheery, smiling face kept the men at their posts. Drawing them up in a strong position, he awaited the attack calmly.

"If you try to run away, my lads," he said pleasantly, "the Spaniards will make mincemeat of you; so it is wisest to stand firm."

We watched three battalions come down from the height and halt just beyond musket-range.

"I don't believe they're going to attack, after all!" exclaimed O'Brien excitedly.

"Not until we move," answered the colonel, "and then they'll fall on us tooth and nail. I expect they are just gaining time while the main body gets away. It's aggravating, too, because they have the whip hand of us. We aren't strong enough to turn them out."

O'Brien shook his head, saying, "If the provisions would last, we might stand here staring at each other till doomsday."

Darkness found the position unchanged, while numerous watch-fires gleamed fitfully through the gloom.

"I wonder," said the colonel thoughtfully, "if Canterac intends keeping his men there all night? Those fires may be just a blind; he's quite equal to a dodge of that sort."

"Let me find out," said O'Brien.—"Crawford, do you feel in trim for a stroll?"

"Oh, thanks! it's very kind of you to think of me."

"Don't mention it, my dear fellow! It's a weakness of mine to remember my friends.—We'll be back in an hour, colonel.—Take off your sword, Crawford; we must trust to our pistols. Are you ready? Come along, then."

Passing our outposts, we began to climb warily, keeping a keen lookout, and taking care to make no unnecessary noise. It was possible—indeed I thought probable—that we should meet the enemy stealing down to surprise our camp by a night attack. However, we kept steadily on our way, and had nearly reached the outer ring of fires, when, clutching O'Brien by the arm, I dragged him bodily to the ground.

"What's the matter?" he asked quietly.

"A sentry! Listen! He's talking to some one."

We lay quite still, trying to hear what was said; but in this we were disappointed, and presently the two men separated, each walking slowly in opposite directions.

"Now's our chance!" whispered O'Brien; and crawling on hands and knees, we passed quietly between the two. Several yards away was a big fire, and a number of men had gathered round it, where they could easily be seen.

"Then they haven't bolted, after all!" said O'Brien, in surprise.

"It doesn't look like it; but don't let us be too sure. You stay in this hollow while I investigate. You are not a good performer on all-fours."

"No," said he, chuckling, and I was afraid that, in spite of our danger, he would laugh aloud; "this is a sort of circus trick not taught at our school. Can you judge where to find me again?"

"Easily, if they don't let the fires out;" and I crawled further into the camp, and in the direction of a second fire. It looked very comfortable, but no one was there to take advantage of it, and the third and fourth I visited were equally deserted.

The trick was plain enough now. After lighting the fires, the three battalions had marched off, leaving just sufficient men to tend them, and to act as sentries. The sight of a soldier crossing the camp to throw fresh fuel on one of the fires changed suspicion into certainty, and I hastened back to O'Brien with my information.

"That's an old dodge," said he, "but a good one. It almost always pays in this part of the world. Now let us get back and tell the colonel."

Cautiously we crawled back, waited nearly an hour for a favourable chance to dodge the sentries, and then hurried down the pass.

"Thanks," exclaimed the colonel, on hearing our report. "We can afford now to let the men have a couple of hours' sleep; they need it."

"And I daresay some of the officers will lie down, if you press them," laughed O'Brien.—"What do you say, Crawford?"

"Well, the colonel need not press me much," I replied.

"Good boy! I'm pleased you're so willing to do as you're told."

"Well, he has certainly earned a rest," observed Miller. "But we are moving sharp at daybreak, remember."

"There's nothing strange in that," said I sleepily; "the wonder would be if we didn't." At which the colonel and O'Brien laughed heartily.

Next day we marched into the village of Puruchuco, on the eastern side of the mountain, and about six miles distant from the small town of Huamantanga, where the Royalists had halted. Owing to the difficulty of obtaining food, Colonel Miller now sent most of our infantry back to Macas; the Indians were thrown forward to act as a screen in front; while the rest of us bivouacked in some meadows near the village. The next day the colonel and I rode to within five hundred yards of Huamantanga, where we saw the enemy formed up in marching order.

"What restless fellows they are!" I exclaimed laughingly; "they're on the move again!"

"Yes; but this time, unless I'm much mistaken, they are moving backwards. Ride round to the right, warn the Indians to be ready for an attack, and rejoin me at Puruchuco."

I had barely reached the village when the colonel's suspicions were verified. Two thousand of the enemy, all picked men, as we afterwards discovered, rapidly descended the heights, drove the Indians back by sheer strength of numbers, and at last sent them flying pell-mell to seek safety in some of the numerous ravines. We had barely three hundred regular soldiers, many of whom were young boys, and scarcely one had ever smelt powder in a real fight. But Miller was a host in himself, and though the odds were so desperate, I did not despair of victory.

O'Brien, with a picked detachment of infantry, occupied a strong position, and began firing as soon as the assailants came within range. The cavalry and the remainder of the infantry were posted lower down the mountain side.

"Aim low, lads," said the colonel, "and don't waste your ammunition. If they reach you, give them a taste of the steel."

The flight of the Indians left us a great deal exposed, and in danger of being surrounded; but O'Brien had placed his men on a rocky platform, from which they kept one detachment in check. Meanwhile, in our own quarter the fight raged furiously. A large body of Spaniards, slipping past O'Brien, came on again and again. We beat them back, but they gave us no rest. Our men began to fall, and once I saw a shade of anxiety flit across the colonel's face. It was gone in less than a second, but it confirmed my opinion that we could not hold our ground.

For the most part, we contented ourselves with repelling the enemy's attacks; but twice our leader flung himself against their dragoons at the head of his cavalry. We broke them easily, but could not pursue, and the experiment cost us a dozen in killed and wounded.

"This won't do," said he. "They will eat us up.—Crawford, tell O'Brien to retire on us slowly. I intend to retreat.—Captain Prieto, get your men posted in that ravine to the left, and hold it until you are told to withdraw."

I did not hear the captain's reply, being on my way to deliver the colonel's order. I had left my horse behind, but even so, the journey was distinctly unpleasant, as my body was a prominent target for dozens of muskets.

"Warm work, Crawford!" exclaimed O'Brien. "I think the colonel is right. We've caught a tartar this time, and no mistake.—Steady, my lads! we'll make them fight for every yard."

I stayed with the detachment, helping to carry a wounded man. The cheering Spaniards pressed us closely; if they could break through our cordon, Miller's men were doomed. But we returned shot for shot, and stopped their occasional rushes by steel. Every moment of delay gave our brave fellows further down the pass a better chance of escape.

"Well done, O'Brien!" cried the colonel, as we joined him where he stood with a few horsemen.—"Steady, my lads! Captain Prieto holds the pass. Don't lose your heads, and we shall come out all right."

At the ravine the horsemen halted, while the infantry continued the retreat; first O'Brien's men, and afterwards those who had held the pass under Captain Prieto. This was the fiercest part of the struggle. The fighting was at hand-grips now, and I wondered we were not swept away headlong.

"Stand firm, my lads, stand firm; it's your only chance!" sang out Miller cheerfully, and his eyes brightened with the passing minutes, as he knew that the bulk of his command was rapidly getting out of danger.

For half an hour we held the narrow way with sword and pistol, and then a body of Spaniards, who unseen by us had worked round to the right, appeared lower down the pass.

"We must cut our way through, and at once!" cried our leader. "About face, lads, and into them. Ride hard, and strike hard."

We were in a trap now, and the only way to get out was by smashing the door. The colonel led, the troopers followed as best they could, while O'Brien and I remained in the rear to help to check the rush of the enemy's main body. There was a flash of swords, the sound of pistol-shots, an outburst of mocking laughter from the enemy, a "Viva!" from our own men, a vigorous "Hurrah!" from the colonel, and then we were through!

"Go on, my lads!" cried the colonel, dropping to the rear. "Your comrades are at the foot of the mountain.—A narrow shave, O'Brien!"

"Yes! and we aren't clear yet," replied the Irishman, turning in his saddle to glance behind. "There would be more chance for us if we could bring down that tall fellow who is leading."

Whiz! whiz! The bullets were buzzing about our ears now, too close to be comfortable, and but for our horses, we must soon have been killed or captured. At any other time I would not have ridden down that mountain side at a foot pace. It was a succession of steep descents, which made one dizzy to look at; and how my animal managed to keep its feet I could not understand.

"Push on!" cried the colonel suddenly, "and tell Prieto to line the mouth of the pass, in case these fellows chase us all the way."

He and O'Brien had stopped, intending to try the effect of a shot or two, and in another minute I was out of sight. Fifty yards further down the road forked, and fancying the branch to the right looked the easier, I turned into it.

"It may take a little longer to reach the bottom," I thought, "but it's a far less dangerous way. I wonder if the others will think to turn down here."

It often happens that we come to grief when feeling most secure, and it was so with me now. I was riding at a swift gallop, and perhaps with less care than was necessary, when all at once my horse stumbled, failed to recover itself, and fell heavily. Fortunately it lay still, and I was able to drag myself free, feeling dazed and bewildered. Here was a pretty pickle! What could I do? In any case the colonel would reach the bottom first, and the retreat would be continued without me.

Getting up, I tried to help the animal to its feet; but the poor thing either could not or would not move. It was clear that I must leave it, and though hating to do so, I walked a few paces down the narrow path. The fall had shaken me considerably. My head ached, and I had much ado to grope my way along. Three several times in the course of a short distance I stumbled, and the third time fell heavily to the ground, twisting my left foot underneath me. I tried to rise, but could not. Now, what should I do? I dared not call for help, lest the Spaniards should hear me. For two hours I lay thus, wondering what would become of me. The noise of the shouting and firing had now died away; the enemy had probably returned to their stronghold. Not a sound broke the stillness, and the gloom of evening began to envelop the path.

It was now only that I realized fully my frightful danger. Unless some one passed that way by accident, I should die of hunger and exposure! The idea nerved me to a fresh effort. Rising painfully, and steadying myself here and there by the rocks, I limped a short distance, though every step wrung from me a cry of agony. Several times I stopped to rest, and to wipe the sweat from my brow; twice in less than five minutes I was obliged to sit down, and at last the pain in my foot became so excruciating that I could struggle no further.

"It's no good!" I exclaimed; "I must stay here till the morning, at least." And finding a kind of recess in the rocks, I crept in. Then it occurred to me to take off my boot; so opening my knife, I hacked at the leather till I succeeded in getting my foot free.

This, after the first sudden rush of pain, was a great comfort. I felt easier and brighter, and lay down to sleep in a happier frame of mind, intending to make a fresh start as soon as daylight appeared.



CHAPTER XVI.

GLORIOUS NEWS.

Many times during the night the pain and the cold wakened me; but I contrived to get some sleep, for which I fell much better in the morning. To my dismay, however, I found it impossible to walk; my ankle had swollen considerably, and the pain of putting my foot to the ground made me cry out in anguish.

Yet, unless I wished to starve, something I must do. Unbuckling my sword, and hiding it in the recess, I began to crawl along, trailing my injured foot carefully. It was slow work, and I felt faint and dizzy, not only from my hurts, but also from want of food.

Feeling sure that the Spaniards had by this time retired, I ventured to call for help, though little expecting to obtain it. I cried aloud, both in Spanish and in the native patois, but received no answer. Again I crawled on, but now even move slowly than at first; and when I again tried to shout, my voice seemed weak and quavering. My strength was nearly exhausted, when suddenly, and rather to my astonishment, I caught sight of a man peering at me curiously from behind a rock. He was evidently a Spaniard, and an ugly customer. He wore a long beard, a half-healed scar disfigured one side of his face, and on his head was jauntily set a small cap decked with gay-coloured ribbons. On his coming forward I saw that he was dressed in the most grotesque manner, and heavily armed.

"By St. Philip," I muttered softly, "I should have done better to give myself up to the soldiers! Surely this fellow is the prince of ruffians."

He stood a moment, leaning on his gun and regarding me with curiosity.

"I don't know who you are," said I irritably, "but if you have a spark of human sympathy, you will give me what help you can."

"Are you hurt?" he asked; and the cool tone in which he spoke made me angry beyond measure.

Then he drew a step nearer, saying, "Perhaps the senor will give me his pistols; the mountain air makes one suspicious."

"Take them," I cried, "and anything else you desire; but get me some food and drink, and I will pay you well."

"Ah," exclaimed the fellow, with renewed interest, "the senor has money on him! I had better mind that also. There are lawless people in the mountains," and he grinned knowingly at me.

"I have no money here," I answered, "but I will pay you well to get me carried to Lima."

"That is a long way," he observed cautiously. "No doubt the senor has rings or some articles of jewellery?"

"I don't possess a single valuable except this," said I, producing the silver key, "and that I must not part with."

On seeing the key the fellow's manner changed instantly.

"How did you get that?" he asked. "Are you one of us?"

The question could hardly be considered a compliment, but it assured me both of safety and of good treatment.

"If you belong to the Order of the Silver Key," I remarked, "and recognize the authority of Raymon Sorillo, all is well. He is my friend, and will give me shelter."

"The chief is in the mountains, senor, and not far off. I will get help, and take you to him. Meanwhile, eat a little coca; it will keep up your strength. I shall not be long gone."

"Thanks," said I, taking some of the coca, and chuckling to myself at this unexpected stroke of good fortune.

The fellow was as good as his word. He returned shortly with three Indians, armed like himself, and dressed in the same grotesque way. They were all sturdy fellows, and two of them, raising me gently from the ground, carried me in their arms with the greatest ease.

Every step took me farther from the main track, and into a wilder part of the mountains, till at last my bearers stopped in a romantic ravine. There were several huts dotted about in an irregular ring, but most of the men were in the open, seated round a blazing fire.

Three-fourths of the band were pure Indians, some were mulattoes, while a few were Spaniards of the lowest type. They looked what they were, bandits and outlaws, and I must say that my acquaintance of the morning was not the most villainous of them. They formed a striking company, quite in keeping with the gloomy grandeur of their home, shut in on every side by overhanging rocks and towering mountains.

"Who is that?" suddenly roared a deep voice, and I saw the gigantic leader stride from the ring of men. Approaching us, he looked me full in the face.

"A stranger?" cried he. "Why have you brought him here?"

"I must have changed much since we last met," I interposed. "But if you don't remember me, you will doubtless remember the present you gave me," and I showed him the silver key.

He looked at me again, and this time with a gleam of recognition.

"I know you now!" he cried.—"Make way there. Room for an honoured guest—room for the son of Don Eduardo!"

The name carried no meaning to the Spanish brigands; but the Indians received it with a great shout, for they knew how greatly my father had suffered in his efforts to make their lives easier. They would have pressed round me to touch my hand, but the chief waved them back, saying I wanted food and rest. They made a space beside the fire, and Sorillo himself attended to my injuries.

"No bones broken," said he, after making an examination with as much skill as a surgeon. "We have only to reduce this swelling of the ankle. You can make yourself comfortable for a fortnight, at least. Now you must have some food, and then we'll talk."

Now, I have no wish to give you a false impression of Raymon Sorillo. He was a wild, lawless man, who had passed his life in fighting against the Spanish government. He had extraordinary courage and ability, and no man of his band was ever known to question an order issued by him. He had himself founded the Order of the Silver Key, and it was always my father's opinion that, but for the coming of San Martin, he would in time have transformed Peru into an Indian kingdom. I am at least certain that his ambition tended in that direction.

When the war broke out, numerous desperadoes flocked to him, and he was held responsible for many acts of cruelty. Whether he was deserving of blame I cannot say. Jose held him to be cruel, and he generally had that reputation. Perhaps it was only a case of giving a dog a bad name. However that may be, it is certain he had a high opinion of my father, and for his sake was exceedingly kind to me. But for him I might have lain long enough in the Spanish fortress, or perished in the sandy coast deserts. Another service he did, which we only heard of afterwards, and then by accident, was the guarding of my mother. From the time of my escape till the withdrawal of the Royalists from Lima, several of his men, unknown to her, kept ward over the hacienda. They had received strict orders to protect its mistress against every danger, even at the risk of their lives. In case of anything occurring, one was to rouse the natives belonging to the order in Lima, while another rode post-haste to the chief.