.. -*- encoding: utf-8 -*-

.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 42953
   :PG.Title: The Motor Scout
   :PG.Released: 2013-06-15
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: Herbert Strang
   :MARCREL.ill: Cyrus Cuneo
   :DC.Title: The Motor Scout
              A Story of Adventure in South America
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1913
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

===============
THE MOTOR SCOUT
===============

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      :alt: Cover

      Cover

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   .. _`THE GOBERNADOR RIDES`:

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      :alt: THE GOBERNADOR RIDES

      THE GOBERNADOR RIDES

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      THE MOTOR SCOUT

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      *A STORY OF ADVENTURE IN SOUTH AMERICA*

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      BY

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      HERBERT STRANG

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      *ILLUSTRATED BY CYRUS CUNEO*

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      LONDON
      HENRY FROWDE
      HODDER AND STOUGHTON
      1913  

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      RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED,
      BRUNSWICK STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S.E.,
      AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.

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   CONTENTS

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CHAPTER THE FIRST
   `BOMBASTES FURIOSO`_

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CHAPTER THE SECOND
   `COMINGS AND GOINGS`_

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CHAPTER THE THIRD
   `BENEVOLENCES`_

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CHAPTER THE FOURTH
   `GAS`_

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CHAPTER THE FIFTH
   `PARDO DISMISSES HIMSELF`_

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CHAPTER THE SIXTH
   `TIM IS HELD TO RANSOM`_

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CHAPTER THE SEVENTH
   `THE PREFECT MOVES`_

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CHAPTER THE EIGHTH
   `SUSPENSE`_

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CHAPTER THE NINTH
   `FLIGHT TO THE HILLS`_

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CHAPTER THE TENTH
   `CINCINNATUS O'HAGAN`_

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CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH
   `THE MOTOR-CYCLE`_

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CHAPTER THE TWELFTH
   `FREE WHEEL`_

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CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH
   `A COMMISSION`_

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CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH
   `HIS FATHER'S HOUSE`_

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CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH
   `THE RAID ON SAN ROSARIO`_

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CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH
   `A SIEGE AND A SORTIE`_

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CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH
   `IN POSSESSION`_

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CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH
   `THE ORDER OF THE NASTURTIUM`_

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CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH
   `PARDO SCORES A TRICK`_

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CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH
   `PARDO LOSES A TRICK`_

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CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST
   `RUN TO EARTH`_

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CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND
   `A PUNCTURE`_

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CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD
   `A LEAP FOR LIFE`_

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CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH
   `FROM DAN TO BEERSHEBA`_

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CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH
   `THE RAVINE`_

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CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH
   `HANDSOME ACKNOWLEDGMENTS`_

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   LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

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`THE GOBERNADOR RIDES`_ (*see page* `10`_) . . . *Frontispiece*

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`CAPTURED BY BRIGANDS`_

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`HORSEMEN ON THE TRACK`_

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`TIM LEADS A CHARGE`_

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`THE HOLE IN THE FLOOR`_

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`A CHECK AT THE CAVE`_

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`MAP`_

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.. _`BOMBASTES FURIOSO`:

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   CHAPTER I


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   BOMBASTES FURIOSO

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One hot sultry afternoon in June, the
population of the little town of San Rosario
in the Peruvian Andes was struck with
sudden amazement at the sight of a
motor-bicycle clattering its way through the main
street with some risk to the dogs, poultry,
and small boys who had been lazily disporting
themselves there.  It was not the bicycle
itself that evoked their wonder: that was
an object familiar enough.  Nor was it the
youth seated in the saddle, and steering it
deftly past all obstacles.  It was a second
figure, mounted uneasily on the carrier
behind: a rotund and portly figure, which
shook and quivered with the vibration of
the machine as it jolted over the ill-paved
road, maintaining its equilibrium with
obvious difficulty.  Children and women
shrieked; the men leaning against the walls
took their cigars from their lips and gasped;
and the noise of the engine was almost
smothered by the mingled din of barking
dogs and screaming fowls.  It was the
figure of the gobernador himself: land-owner,
chief magistrate, and father of a family.

.. _`10`:

The wondering populace might have
supposed that the gentleman had taken
leave of his senses--for surely no one of his
mature years and serious responsibilities
would have risked so much if he had been
sane--had it not been plain to them that
he was in desperate distress.  His head was
bare; his swarthy cheeks were shining with
perspiration; his eyes rolled with fright;
and his fat hands were clasped about the
waist of the boy in the saddle with the
convulsive grip of a man clinging for dear life.
The face of the boy was, on the contrary,
beaming with delight.  His lips were parted
in a wide smile; his blue eyes were dancing;
and his mop of tow-coloured hair waved
joyously in the breeze that the motion of
the vehicle created.

The street filled, and soon there was a
mingled crowd pouring in full cry behind
the bicycle.  There were young fellows in
black coats and spotless collars--the
well-to-do Peruvian is something of a dandy;
men in white ducks and Panama hats;
ladies in mantillas; Indians in
bright-coloured ponchos; rough-clad muleteers;
bare-legged Indian children.  The rider
waved his hand and grinned at a stripling
who ran, pen in hand, from an office, to
see the cause of the uproar, and smilingly
watched the bicycle as it bowled along
over the cobbles of the plaza, with much
clamorous outcry from the hooter, finally
coming to rest before a large house there.
The perspiring passenger having descended
from his uneasy perch, the rider dismounted
and offered his arm as a support to the
magistrate, whose legs, cramped by their
unwonted strain, moved very stiffly as he
approached his door.

Young Tim O'Hagan and his motor-bicycle
had been for some time the talk of San
Rosario.  Tim was sixteen, but he was
called "Young Tim" to distinguish him
from his father, and also, perhaps, in the
spirit of kindly tolerance with which elders
sometimes regard their high-spirited juniors.
Young Tim had always been what his father's
English friends called a "pickle," and old
Biddy Flanagan, the family maidservant,
a "broth of a boy."  As a small boy he had
been in frequent scrapes, and a cause of
bewilderment and trouble to the grave
householders of the town.  More than once
they had politely complained to Mr. O'Hagan
of his escapades: scrambling over their roofs,
hunting for lost balls in their gardens without
much regard for their carefully tended
flower-beds, and engaging in many other nimble
exercises which are natural enough to an
English--or Irish--boy, but are rare with the less
active Latins.  Thrashings and admonitions
were equally ineffective; he would promise
not to repeat a certain offence, and keep
his word, but only to break out in a new
direction.  Mr. O'Hagan at last despaired
of further correction, and yielded to his
wife's advice, to leave Tim to the sobering
hand of time.

As he grew older Tim became less
mischievous, without losing his wild spirits and
love of frolic.  To see him coast down the
hills on his free-wheel bicycle with no hold
upon the handle-bar filled the Peruvian
boys with fear and amazement.  And when,
on his sixteenth birthday, his father
surrendered to his importunities, and presented
him with a motor-bicycle, there were not
wanting many who foretold that young Tim
would sooner or later break his neck.  Tim
laughed at them.  He had come through his
most daring exploits without any hurt more
serious than scratches and bruises; and
being very clear-headed and possessed of
iron nerves he was accustomed to scoff at
the warnings of timid people.

In spite of his prankishness, there was no
more popular person in San Rosario.
Nobody could dislike the boy with his fair
Irish face, his honest eyes twinkling with
fun, and the shaggy head that scorned hats
and defied sunstroke.  The Peruvian ladies
would have made a pet of him if he would
have allowed them; and their husbands,
in a country where everybody, man, woman,
and child, smokes, often made him presents
of cigars, which he accepted gratefully, and
dutifully handed over to his father.

His was the only motor-bicycle in the
province, an object of a fearful awe to the
young Peruvians.  A crowd of these would
surround him as he prepared to mount, and
scatter with shrieks when they heard the
clatter of the engine.  Elderly ladies crossed
themselves and drew their mantillas closer
as they saw him flashing by, and the authorities
of San Rosario were thinking of framing
a bye-law for the protection of the
inhabitants from furious driving.  But they were
slow to move; to-morrow would do; and
Biddy Flanagan declared that no action
would be taken until the gossoon had killed
somebody dead.

On this June day, Tim had left home
early in the afternoon for a twenty-mile
trip into the hills.  He was returning, and
had just run down a steep and winding
declivity which joined the highroad to San
Juan, the provincial capital, when he caught
sight of the gobernador, Señor José Fagasta,
ambling ahead on his mule in the homeward
direction.  In half a minute he overtook the
magistrate, and being always very sociably
inclined, and having a certain liking for the
large good-tempered gentleman, he stopped
his machine, dismounted, and after a salutation
in Spanish stepped on beside the rider,
not finding it easy to keep pace with the
mule's rapid march.

The gobernador was returning from the
capital to his own little township, and it
was not long before he confided to the boy
the object and result of his visit.

"Brigands, my young friend," he said amiably.

"Are they caught, señor?" asked Tim.

"No, no; but they soon will be, the rascals!"

Tim pricked up his ears.  Of late the
so-called brigands had been very troublesome.
They swept down from their unknown lairs
in the mountains, falling unawares on some
remote hacienda, and waylaying the trains
of pack-mules on the roads.  Tim, like many
another honest boy, felt a sneaking
admiration for these lawless adventurers, and was
not wholly displeased that they had hitherto
defied all attempts to track them and bring
them to book.  Besides, they were "against
the government"; and there were many
good Peruvians who had reason to abhor
the officials under whose exactions they were
then suffering.

"What is going to be done, señor?" he asked.

"What am *I* going to do, you should have
said," replied the magistrate.  "You will
see, my boy.  They sent for me to-day at
San Juan, and I have had a long consultation
with his excellency the Prefect.  'Señor
Doctor,' said he, 'you are the man to catch
these ruffians.  I leave it to you.'"

There was an accent of pride in the
gobernador's tone, and he looked at Tim
with the air of a man demanding admiration.

"Why do they call you doctor, señor?"
asked Tim.  "You don't attend us."

"No, my son.  I am a Doctor of Laws
of San Marcos University.  Yes, they have
confidence in me," he continued.  "And
the brigands will soon have me to reckon
with."  He touched significantly the butt of
his revolver.  "I will hunt them down; I
will catch them; I shall have no mercy on
them, and they will find that such villainy
is not to be allowed to go unpunished within
twenty miles of Señor Doctor José Fagasta.
I am a man of peace; nobody could be more
mild and humane; but when I see the
beneficent laws of our republic transgressed
and defied, then I remember that I am chief
magistrate; I become severe; I may even
be called terrible."

"What will you do with them?" asked
Tim, impressed by the gobernador's vigorous
words, and fascinated by the shining weapon
that peeped out of his pocket, and the long
sword that dangled from his belt.

"They shall be shot, my boy.  Not without
trial, no; we shall be just even to the
most villainous desperado.  We shall catch
them, and bring them in irons to the town.
We shall give them a fair trial, and condemn
them: that goes without saying; then we
shall place them blindfolded in the plaza,
and----"

"Shoot them!" added Tim, as the magistrate
paused mysteriously.

Señor José nodded with official gravity,
and for a little there was silence between the
two, Tim conjuring up the anticipated scene,
and wondering what the sensations of a man
about to be shot must be.

.. _`CAPTURED BY BRIGANDS`:

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   :alt: CAPTURED BY BRIGANDS

   CAPTURED BY BRIGANDS

Suddenly, from behind a cluster of rocks
at their left hand, there sprang into the road
four men, who without a moment's warning
flung themselves on the travellers.  Two
seized Tim, the other two dragged the
gobernador from his mule, and in a trice
had him on the ground at their feet.  The
attack was so sudden and unexpected that
there had not been time even to cry out;
but now the gobernador raised his voice in
horrified protest, and Tim regained his wits
and took stock of the situation.  The men
were attired in ragged tunics and breeches,
with sashes about their waists, and feathered
hats of varied hue.  They were swarthy
wild-eyed fellows; mestizos--men of mixed
Spanish and Indian blood; and Tim knew
at a glance that they must be members of
the very gang of outlaws whom the
magistrate had so valorously undertaken to
extirpate.  They began to talk to one another
rapidly in a jargon which Tim, familiar as
he was with Spanish, could not understand.
But the upshot of their consultation was seen
in a minute.  One of the men who held
the lad brought his face close to his, and said:

"You go home!  We have nothing to
do with you.  Take your machine and go."

Tim glanced at the gobernador, who lay
motionless in the hands of his captors,
mingling protests, threats, and offers of
money.  The brigand cursed, and declared
that the boy had better take his chance of
escaping before they changed their mind.
It was clear that nothing could be done for
the gobernador; the brigands had him at
their mercy; and Tim considered that there
was nothing to be gained by remaining.
Indeed, it must be confessed that he was a
good deal afraid of these ferocious-looking
fellows, and desired nothing better than to
escape from their clutches.  So he caught
the handle-bar, ran a few feet with his
bicycle, then sprang to the saddle, and in a
few seconds was riding at full speed along
the road.

At first he was conscious of nothing but
relief and joy at his own lucky escape.  But
he had not ridden far before he began to
think of the gobernador.  His conscience
pricked him.  He felt like a deserter.  He
owed nothing, it was true, to Señor Fagasta,
who, while genial enough in private life, had
always struck Tim as a ridiculous, pompous
kind of person in his public capacity.  But
it seemed rather mean to ride away and
leave the magistrate to his fate.  There
was not time to reach the town and bring
back help; he could not himself do anything
for the gobernador; and he began to wonder
what the brigands would do with him.
Perhaps they would rob him of what valuables
he had, and let him go.  Surely they would
not hurt him!  But when Tim remembered
stories of the lengths to which these outlaws
sometimes went he grew more and more uneasy.

After a few minutes he slowed down,
considered for a little, then dismounted and
pushed his bicycle into a thick clump of
bushes, where it was well hidden.  He durst
not ride back, for though his machine was
furnished with a silencer, it did not run so
quietly as not to be heard.  He had made
up his mind to retrace his path on foot, and
see for himself what had happened.  It
was a long tramp uphill in the heat, and it
took him nearly an hour to walk the distance
which on the cycle he had covered in six or
seven minutes.  Fortunately the track wound
so frequently that he ran no risk of being
seen by the brigands.

As he approached the spot, he moved
slowly and warily, peeping from behind
bushes along straight stretches of the track,
and glancing up into the hills to right and
left.  On reaching the scene of the capture
he found that it was deserted.  Nobody
was in sight.  He looked this way and that,
and stooped to the ground to see if he could
discover by their footmarks the direction in
which the brigands had gone.  But the
ground was hard; he could scarcely discern
the tracks of his own tyres.  A trained scout
might perhaps have noticed some slight
indication, but Tim had had no such training.

"They've hauled him away," he thought,
and there flashed into his mind recollections
of fairy stories, in which ogres had carried
human beings to their dens to make a meal
of them.  Tim had a vivid imagination.

He was on the point of returning when a
sudden loud buzzing struck his ear.  He
listened: it was like the sound made by
swarms of insects in the forest.  And yet
it was different--hoarser, less musical.
Somehow it reminded Tim of the gobernador's
speeches on great occasions in the plaza,
He left the path, still on his guard, and
scouted to the right among the trees, from
which the humming seemed to come.  And
guiding himself by the sound, he presently
started back when he saw Señor Fagasta
himself, bound upright to a trunk,
bare-headed, his mouth gagged.

The humming became very violent when
Tim appeared.  He noticed that the
gobernador had managed to shift the gag a little.
None of the brigands being in sight, he ran
to the tree, removed the gag altogether, slit
the cords about the señor's limbs, and was
immediately embarrassed by two stout arms
flung around him, and two hot lips pressing
kisses on one cheek after the other.

"Oh, I say!" he exclaimed, wriggling.
"Steady on, señor."

"Ah, my dear friend!  My preserver!
my deliverer!"  Here there was another
hug, but Tim evaded the kiss.  "Tell me!"
whispered the gobernador, "have those
wretches gone away?"

"Indeed they have," said Tim.  "You
had better come away too."

"But they have taken my mule!  I am
not accustomed to walking.  I shall faint:
I shall be seized with apoplexy."

"I have left my cycle two or three miles
away, señor.  If you can manage to walk to
that you can mount behind me, and we'll
be home in no time."

"Yes, I will do so.  Assist me with your
arm.  I am on thorns until I am on the
machine; till then I am not safe.  Hasten,
my son.  I have not walked a mile for twenty
years, though in my youth--but no matter:
I will do my best."

They set off, Tim linking arms with the
gobernador, who marched down the track
with the rolling gait of a sailor.  Every now
and then he stopped to rest and recover
breath, and as at these moments he showed
signs of repeating his embraces, Tim edged
away until he was ready to start again.

"Ah, my preserver!" said the gobernador
once, "you have laid a debt upon me which
a lifetime of gratitude will not liquidate."

"Indeed it's nothing at all," said Tim.
"You would have done the same for me."

"That is true; I certainly would; the
blood of a long line of hidalgos runs in my
veins.  In Spain I might call myself Don
José de Fagasta; in republics, alas! there
is no aristocracy.  But hasten, my son;
I am not safe until I reach the machine."

Tim thought from the gobernador's manner
that the current of noble blood must by this
time have become a pretty thin trickle.
But he kept that reflection to himself.

Señor Fagasta mounted behind Tim, proclaiming
himself safe.  But the rapid motion
of the cycle down the steep and rugged track
filled him with alarms of another kind.  In
vain he implored Tim to drive more slowly
the boy replied that he would not be secure
until he reached the town, and terrified him
with apprehension of sunstroke.  It must
be confessed that the spirit of mischief was
now fully awake in Tim.  Every sigh, every
ejaculation of the stout gentleman behind
him gave him a thrill of joy.  As they
approached the town the gobernador, mindful
of his dignity, begged Tim to stop and let
him finish the journey on foot.  But Tim
could not resist the temptation to career
through the street and set the magistrate
down at his own door; he relished the idea
of the wonder and excitement he would create.

"It's hardly worth while to set you down
now, señor," he said.  "You'll be home in
less than a minute.  Hold tight!"

As Señor Fagasta entered his house, he
turned to Tim.

"My son," he said in a confidential tone,
"no doubt you will be asked to explain this
strange occurrence.  Do not reveal the cause.
I do not command you as gobernador of this
town; I ask as one gentleman of another."

"I must tell my father, señor," said Tim.

"Certainly; your father's discretion is
perfect.  Not a word to any one else, then?"

"Very well, señor.  But won't people
ask you too?"

"Undoubtedly.  The doings of their
magistrate are intensely interesting to the
citizens of San Rosario.  I shall explain to
them that I felt an urgent need, a positive
passion, to try for myself the qualities and
speed--yes, I may say speed--of your motor-bicycle."

"And your hat blew off in the wind.  I
see, señor," said Tim with twinkling eyes.
"And now, of course, you will send the police
after the brigands."

"I shall never forget that I am gobernador
of San Rosario.  Good-bye, my son."





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.. _`COMINGS AND GOINGS`:

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   CHAPTER II


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   COMINGS AND GOINGS

.. vspace:: 2

Tim rode on through the town, soon left
the last house behind him, and came into
the open country.  A rough track led
northward to Mr. O'Hagan's hacienda, three miles
away.  Several years before, Mr. O'Hagan
had bought his estate, consisting of some
thousands of acres, at a very low price, and
planted it partly with coffee, partly with
sugar.  His workers were Cholos (the native
Indians) and Japanese.  The cost of living
and of labour being low, and the soil very
fertile, the plantations had in a short time
brought him wealth.  The chief drawback
was difficulty of transport.  San Rosario
was in a remote province between the Andes
and the forests, far from railways and from
good roads.  There were steep hills almost
all round the town, crossed only by rough
paths over which goods were carried on the
backs of mules.  Some of the planters had
tried to introduce wheeled vehicles; but the
customs of the country proved too strong
for them, and the arriero or muleteer,
dirty, cheerful, hard-working and
incorrigibly unpunctual, remained the common
carrier.

On first leaving the gobernador, Tim was
glowing with pleasure and pride in his feat.
But as he neared his home, his spirits
gradually sank.  He did not much relish the
coming explanations with his father.
Mr. O'Hagan was by no means strict with his
only son as a general rule, but he was apt
to look darkly on escapades which involved
the townsfolk.  By the time Tim came to
the house he was in quite a sober frame of mind.

The dwelling was a long, one-storied
building of adobe and wood, constructed
in Peruvian style.  The entrance hall led
into a patio--a sort of courtyard open to
the sky, with palms and boxes of flowers
around the walls.  To the right of this were
the drawing-room and study.  Beyond was
another patio with a well in the centre,
and a veranda looking on the garden.  On
the other side were the dining-room and
bedrooms, and a small room used by
Mr. O'Hagan as an office.  Then came the
servants' patio, the kitchen and servants'
bedrooms, and at the end of the house a
large enclosure, part vegetable garden, part
poultry run.

Tim placed his bicycle in its shed behind
the house, and entered, resolved to "get it
over."  He hoped to see his mother in the
patio; she was often a very convenient
buffer between him and his father; but she
was not there, and he remembered that this
was the time of her afternoon nap.  He went
on until he reached the office, where
Mr. O'Hagan and a Peruvian clerk were at work.

Mr. O'Hagan threw a rapid glance at
the boy as he entered, and was relieved
to see no cuts, bruises, or other signs of
accident.

"Had a good ride, Tim?" he said.

"Pretty good," replied Tim somewhat
gloomily.  "I saved Señor Fagasta's life."

"What's that you say?  I suppose you
overtook him and didn't run him down, eh?"

"It wasn't exactly that," said Tim.  "I
did overtake him on his mule; he'd been
to San Juan; but we were pounced on by
four rough-looking fellows he called brigands.
They let me off, and I walked back and found
the gobernador tied to a tree.  I brought
him in on my machine."

"You don't tell me so!  This is very
vexing; I wish it hadn't happened."

"But, Father, you wouldn't have left the
old gentleman to die!"

"How do you know he'd have died?"
said Mr. O'Hagan testily.  "The fellows
probably only wanted to squeeze a ransom
out of him.  Upon my word, Tim, you're a
great trouble to me, with your machine.
You know how careful I am to keep out of
local squabbles, and yet you've run
head-first into one."

"Really, I couldn't help it, Father."

"I suppose you couldn't, but it's a pity.
You've made an enemy of the Mollendists,
and in this country they may be our
governors next week.  You'll cost me a pretty
penny.  Still, you couldn't help it; only
don't let it occur again."

Tim heaved a sigh of relief.

"You'd have laughed if you'd seen him,"
he said.  "We came through the street in
fine style.  He was perched on the carrier,
clinging on for dear life, and all the people
shouting like anything."

"You don't mean to say you brought him
right through the street?"

"Indeed I did."

"Why on earth did you do that?"

"It was such fun, Father.  I really
couldn't help it."

"And don't you know you must never
be funny with a Peruvian?  He has no
sense of fun, especially when the fun is at
his expense.  You're terribly thoughtless.
You ought to have dropped the gobernador
before you came to the town.  However!"

Mr. O'Hagan did not continue his rebuke.
In his mind's eye he saw the recent scene,
and remembered the time when he himself
might have yielded to the temptation to
which Tim had succumbed.  Years before,
when quite a young man, just arrived from
home, he had thrown himself with Irish
impetuosity into the struggle between Peru
and Chile; and having been a lieutenant of
volunteers when living in London, he had
made use of his military knowledge in his
new domicile.  He had been given a
commission in the Peruvian cavalry, and had
led many a daring sortie, many a gallant
charge.  With those reckless feats still clear
in his memory, he could not bear hardly on
the boy who so much resembled him.  "You
can't put old heads on young shoulders,"
he thought; "but I was a fool to buy him
that motor-cycle."

The conversation between father and son
had, of course, been carried on in English.
The Peruvian clerk, bending over his books,
listened attentively, but could understand
only a word or two here and there.  What
little he picked up whetted his curiosity,
and by and by, when he found an opportunity
of speaking to Tim alone, he tried to pump
him.  But Tim did not like Miguel Pardo.
He could scarcely have told why; it was an
instinctive feeling which did not need
explanation.  When the young Peruvian began
to ply him with questions in Spanish,
perfectly polite, but yet, as Tim thought, rather
too pressing, he gave short and vague
answers.  Pardo saw that he was being
fenced with, and presently desisted, breaking
off the conversation with a smile.

A little later, when the O'Hagans were
having tea in the patio, Pardo spent the last
few minutes before closing work for the day
in writing a letter.  Then, locking up his
books, he left the house by the servants'
entrance and, instead of going to the huts
half a mile away, in which Mr. O'Hagan's
employees lodged, he set off for the town.

He had not gone far when he was met-by
Nicolas Romaña, the young Peruvian who
was storekeeper and general factotum of the
estate.  The two men were always so
excessively polite to each other that Mr. O'Hagan
shrewdly guessed them to be hostile at
heart.  They never quarrelled; but it was
impossible to be in their company long
without feeling that at any moment sparks
might fly.

"Ah, señor," said Romaña, on meeting
Pardo, "you are about to take the air?
Let me give you a friendly warning: beware
of a storm.  I just now heard rumblings of
thunder."

"Many thanks, señor," replied Pardo.
"I shall not go far afield.  Perhaps to the
town.  San Rosario is not Lima, unluckily.
There I should have a friend's house at every
few yards to give me shelter."

This, as Romaña very well knew, was a
mere boast, an assumption of superiority:
every Peruvian wishes to be regarded as a
native of Lima.

"How strange we never met there!" he
said politely.  "I myself was born at Lima,
and lived there fully twenty years."

"What a loss to me!" said Pardo.  "I
bid you good-evening."

He swept off his hat and passed on.

Romaña stood looking after him in some
surprise.  It was an unusually abrupt ending
of the conversation.  Ordinarily the
bandying of words would have been kept up for
several minutes.  What was the reason of
Pardo's haste?  He was walking very
quickly, too, as if he had an errand of
importance.

A man who has weighty secrets himself
is very apt to suspect others of harbouring
secrets also.  This may perhaps explain why
Romaña, instead of proceeding on his way
to the hacienda, turned about, and dogged
Pardo to the outskirts of the town.  There
the clerk entered a small house--a chacara
belonging to one of the Indian agriculturists
of the neighbourhood.  In a few minutes
he returned, passed unsuspiciously the clump
of bush behind which Romaña was spying,
and retraced the road homeward.

Romaña remained on the watch.  Presently
an Indian came out of the house, went to
his corral hard by, caught and saddled a
horse, and rode off, not towards San Rosario,
but along a bridle-path that ran westward
and led into the high road to San Juan.

The watcher felt that he had not come in
vain.  Instead of returning to the hacienda,
he walked rapidly into the town, and showed
signs of pleasure on meeting, near the plaza,
a thin, wiry man of about sixty years of age,
with whom he entered into earnest conversation.
A few minutes later this man might
have been seen riding quickly out of the
town, on the same road as that which the
Indian had struck perhaps half an hour before.

Next morning, when the workers were busy
about the plantation, and Mr. O'Hagan was
engaged with Pardo in the office, Romaña
strolled to an orange orchard a quarter of a
mile southward from the house.  After
waiting there impatiently for nearly an hour, he
was joined by the man with whom he had
conversed in San Rosario on the previous
evening.

"Well, caballero?" said Romaña eagerly.

"I followed him, señor, into San Juan."

"Where did he go?"

"To the Prefect's house."

"Good!" said Romaña with satisfaction.
"Is there any news?"

"None, señor.  The gobernador gives out
that he very much enjoyed his ride."

Romaña smiled.

"Very well, caballero.  Go back and keep
eyes and ears open."

They parted, and Romaña returned to his work.





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.. _`BENEVOLENCES`:

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   CHAPTER III


.. class:: center large

   BENEVOLENCES

.. vspace:: 2

Señor José Fagasta was seated in a deep
chair on the balcony of his house overlooking
the plaza.  It was a hot afternoon, and he
had exchanged his black coat for a loose
jacket of white alpaca.  An awning and his
broad-brimmed Panama hat gave shelter
from the sun.  At his side was a small table,
with a glass and a decanter.  Between his
lips there was a long cigar.  It had gone out:
the gobernador was asleep.

He was suddenly roused by the sound of
cheering up the street.  Rubbing his eyes,
and taking automatically a pull at his
extinguished cigar, he let out a smothered
ejaculation, struggled to his feet, and hastened into
the house.  The cause of these abrupt
movements was the appearance of a party of
horsemen trotting into the plaza at the
upper end--the Prefect of the province,
accompanied by a small escort.

The gobernador hurried to his dressing-room,
threw off his jacket, and was struggling
into his frock coat when he was summoned
to attend the Prefect below.  He durst not
delay.  He held the Prefect in awe, as was
only natural, seeing that it was the Prefect
who had appointed him to his office, at the
cost of a very considerable fee.  In his haste
and perturbation he forgot that he wore a
Panama, and was only reminded of it when
the Prefect, who was just entering the hall as
Señor Fagasta came to the foot of the staircase,
looked with stern disapproval over his head.

"A thousand pardons, señor," said the
confused gobernador.  "I was taking a
brief siesta, and did not expect to be honoured
by a visit from your excellency."

He swept off his hat, bowed his head
before his superior, and politely invited him
to a seat in the patio.

The Prefect, a tall sharp-featured man of
about forty years, with keen black eyes over
which bushy eyebrows met, and a heavy
moustache twisted into long points, accepted
the chair, laying his three-cornered hat on
a table.  His manner made the gobernador uneasy.

"An extraordinary rumour has reached
me, señor doctor," said the Prefect, "that
you were seen yesterday in a very undignified
position, unworthy of your office, riding on
a motor-cycle behind the young Inglés."

"It is true, señor," said the gobernador.
"I had never experienced that novel mode
of locomotion, and I assure your excellency
that I shall never try it again."

"Such conduct, señor, is calculated to
bring your responsible office into contempt.
It cannot be overlooked: you are dismissed."

For a moment the gobernador's emotion
rendered him speechless.  He thought of the
many good English sovereigns with which
he had bought his office, and the terrible
eclipse of all his importance in the town.
Then he pulled himself together: perhaps
if the Prefect knew all he would have mercy.

"Your excellency," he said humbly, "I
admit that my conduct may seem wanting
in dignity; but I beg that you will hear my
explanation.  I was returning from my
interview with you, full of zeal for the duty
with which you had entrusted me, when I
was seized by four villainous brigands in the
hills.  They bound me to a tree, and but
for the courageous intervention of the young
Inglés, who mounted me on his machine
and brought me home, I should probably
either not be alive to-day, or be a much poorer
man than I am.  Not that I am rich," he
added hastily.  "In these circumstances I
trust that your excellency will have the
goodness to overlook my unintentional
delinquency."

"That is impossible, señor.  Your dismissal
is registered.  It cannot be rescinded.
Still, as a special act of grace, in
consideration of your zeal, I may authorise your
reappointment."

"Your kindness overwhelms me, señor,"
said the grateful gobernador, unaware how
truly he spoke.

"But there is a condition, señor," the
Prefect continued.  "I am hard pressed
for funds to carry on my campaign against
the brigands.  Your zeal is such that you
will not refuse to make a small contribution
on behalf of the cause--say £500.  I shall
then have the greatest pleasure in reinstating
you as gobernador of this town."

Señor Fagasta writhed.  He knew that
protest was useless.  He must pay, or be
disgraced.  How much of his contribution
would go to support the cause, and how
much into the Prefect's own pocket, he could
only suspect.  The interview soon came to
an end, and the Prefect left the house richer
by £500.

The idlers who had gathered outside
cheered him again as he remounted.  They
expected to see him ride back to San Juan.
To their surprise he struck into the rough
track northward, which led only to the
hacienda of Mr. O'Hagan, to another that
lay some few miles beyond, and then to
the hills.  Evidently the Prefect's visit was
of more than usual importance.

.. _`Map`:

.. figure:: images/img-036.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: Map

   Map

Half an hour later the Prefect reined up
at the door of Mr. O'Hagan's house.  The
family were at tea in the patio.  On seeing
his visitor through the open door,
Mr. O'Hagan rose with a muttered exclamation
of annoyance, and went to greet him.  He
was forestalled by Pardo, who had run from
the office and was holding the horseman's
stirrup.  Mr. O'Hagan felt that he could do
no other than invite the Prefect to drink a
cup of tea, and that gentleman was soon
seated in the patio, stirring his cup, and
talking to Mrs. O'Hagan in the charming manner
for which he had a name among ladies.

"I wish to thank your son, señor and
señora," he said presently, "on behalf of
the government, for his spirited action
yesterday in the cause of law and order.
There, my boy," he went on, taking a
sol--equivalent to a florin--from his pocket,
"accept that as a token of my high consideration."

Tim looked at his father.

"Pardon me, señor," said Mr. O'Hagan,
swallowing his irritation, "your generosity
is quite unnecessary.  My son needs no reward."

"That is very high-minded," said the
Prefect, pocketing the coin.  "He will allow
me to shake him by the hand and compliment
him on his courage and resource?"

Tim gave him a limp hand: it was not
so bad as the gobernador's hug and kiss.

"I am glad to be able to number you and
your family, señor," the Prefect continued,
"among my declared adherents."

"Don't make a mistake, señor," said
Mr. O'Hagan quickly.  "My son had no political
motive in his action.  It was a mere impulse
of humanity."

"The cause of the government is the cause
of humanity," said the Prefect impressively.
"The brigands represent anarchy.  Brigandage
is chaos.  I am determined to stamp it
out.  My action is in the true interests of
all law-abiding citizens, and especially of
such enterprises as yours, which depend on
the reign of law for their prosperity."

At this point, after an almost imperceptible
sign from Mr. O'Hagan, his wife rose and went
with Tim into the drawing-room.  The Prefect
gallantly opened the door for her, and bowed
with extreme deference: he was the pink of
politeness.  Then he returned to his chair.
Mr. O'Hagan guessed what was coming.  A
few years before this, the Prefect, by bribery
and intrigue, had ousted his predecessor in
office, one Señor Mollendo, and had since
maintained his position by corruption, and
by levying forced loans on such of the
wealthy men as had not the courage to
resist him.  The public taxes were already
sufficiently heavy; but the province was so
remote from Lima that its prefect was
practically a dictator, and appeals to the
central government would have been fruitless.

Señor Mollendo, knowing that his life was
hardly safe, had taken refuge in the hilly
district in the heart of the province, and was
there joined by his partisans, who grew
gradually in number as the Prefect's
exactions increased.  These Mollendists were
what we should call a political party in
opposition: in Peru the government termed
them brigands.  It was natural enough that
they should include among their number
many lawless irreconcilables of the true
brigand type; and opposition which would
in England take the form of public meetings
and demonstrations found expression here
in raids and robberies.  Mr. O'Hagan had
been several times approached indirectly for
contributions to the Prefect's war fund, but
he had always refused to comply.

"As I was saying, señor," the Prefect
resumed, lighting the cigar Mr. O'Hagan
offered, "your security depends on the
supremacy of law.  That being the case,
and my treasury being in temporary need
of funds, I have every confidence in inviting
you to subscribe a small sum--say £1000--to
a loan for the more active prosecution of
the work of suppressing the brigands which
we all have at heart."

"I am a man of few words, señor," said
Mr. O'Hagan.  "I have bought my land; I
pay my legal taxes, which are heavy enough;
and I am entitled to the protection of
government.  My people are contented; I
have had no trouble with them; the people
you call brigands have not molested me;
if they do I shall claim your protection, but
I don't anticipate anything of the kind.  I
must therefore decline your invitation."

"I beg you not to be hasty, señor.  Your
security may yet be rudely shocked: no
man can call himself safe while the brigands
are at large; and I should be very much
distressed if you were to suffer loss through
the unfortunate penury of the government.
A contribution of £1000--merely by way of
loan--would probably prevent a much greater loss."

"Not one peseta, señor," said Mr. O'Hagan
bluntly.  "I must beg you to believe that
that is final."

The Prefect smiled blandly.

"Ah! you Inglésas!" he said.

"I'm an Irishman, señor: that's worse."

"Well, señor, I must thank you for your
hospitality and take my leave.  I wish you
every success, and a large share of the
sunlight of prosperity.  I only regret that
by your reluctance to support me you are
helping to let loose the forces of lawlessness
and giving hostages to brigandage--in fact,
breeding worms that will eat into the tissues
of industrial enterprise.  I bid you good-day,
señor."

Mr. O'Hagan was not impressed by the
Prefect's picturesque language.  Tall talk
is the foible of Peruvians.  But after he had
seen the last of his visitor, he returned to the
house in a state of intense irritation.  His
wife was awaiting him in the patio.

"He wants to bleed me," he said angrily:
"demanded a trifle of £1000.  This country
is a hot-bed of corruption.  And I wish that
motor-cycle were at the bottom of the sea."

"Why, dear," said Mrs. O'Hagan placably,
"what has that to do with it?"

"It gives the fellow an excuse for saying
that I'm on the side of the Mollendists.
Why do you let me spoil that boy, Rose?"

Mrs. O'Hagan smiled, remembering that
she had begged her husband to wait until
Tim was a little older before giving him the
motor-cycle.  Wisely she did not remind
him of that, but simply said:

"Don't worry, dear.  Things mayn't be
so bad as you think....  And Tim is not
*really* spoilt, you know."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`GAS`:

.. class:: center medium

   CHAPTER IV


.. class:: center large

   GAS

.. vspace:: 2

Next day Tim went into the town on an
errand for his mother.  He was looking at
the window of the only book-shop, when he
felt a touch on his sleeve.  Looking round,
he saw Alfonso, the gobernador's son, a
sallow, weedy boy of about his own age,
whom he had often vainly tried to induce
to have a game at cricket in a field behind
Mr. O'Hagan's house.  He did not think
much of Alfonso, who always called him señor!

"Follow me, señor," said the boy mysteriously,
"but don't let people know."

He moved off at once.  Tim might have
thought that he was being enticed away
for a practical joke of some kind, only he
remembered that the Peruvians never played
practical jokes except in carnival time.
"I may as well go," he said to himself; so,
pushing his hands into his pockets, he
sauntered after Alfonso Fagasta.  Several
persons gave him pleasant greetings, and he
stopped once or twice to exchange a word,
always keeping his eye on Alfonso.

The Peruvian boy walked past the church
in the plaza, and turned into a narrow street,
or rather lane, bounded on one side by the
wall of the presbytery, on the other by a
high wall enclosing a garden.  Tim knew
the place well; indeed, in days gone by he
had sometimes scaled the garden wall in
quest of ripe plums or peaches.  He followed
Alfonso for some distance, until he came to
the rear of the enclosure, where there was
a dense plantation extending up the slope
of a hill.  Here Alfonso made signs to him
to wait, and disappeared through a wicket
gate into his father's garden.

"Why couldn't he tell me where to
come?" thought Tim impatiently.  "What's
the silly secret?"

He climbed a tree by way of passing the
time, and presently, from his leafy bower,
he saw the gobernador open the wicket
gate, glance cautiously round, and then
come swiftly towards the plantation.  He
looked this way and that, and gave a jump
when Tim called out, just above his head:

"Here I am, señor doctor."

"Ha! my young friend, come down,"
said the gobernador.

Tim dropped at his feet.

"I have something to say to you,"
continued the gobernador hurriedly.
"Pardon me for not receiving you in my
house with the respect due to my preserver,
but there are reasons...."  He nodded
with an air of mystery.  Then he went on
in nervous haste: "Tell your good father
to be on his guard to-night.  See that
everything is secure.  He must be careful
not to arouse suspicion among his staff.
Few are to be trusted in these disturbed
times.  If he sleeps at all, let him sleep
with one eye open."

"What's going to happen, señor?" asked Tim.

"I say no more.  Perhaps I have said
too much.  But I owe you so much
gratitude----"

"Don't mention it, señor," said Tim,
backing.  "Thanks for your warning."

"Do not breathe my name to any one
but your father," said the gobernador
anxiously.  "I must go.  Next time I see
you I hope it will be at my front door,
with open arms."

"I hope it won't," thought Tim.  He
shook hands with the flurried gentleman,
who, with another cautious look around,
returned to the gate and slipped through
into his garden.

Tim was very thoughtful as he walked
home.  Such a warning in Spanish America
was not to be disregarded, and he could
not help connecting it with the Prefect's
visit, the object of which he had learnt from
his mother.  He had a lively imagination.
Such a man as the Prefect was not likely to
accept amiably the snub administered by
Mr. O'Hagan.  He might use other means
than persuasion to enforce his will.

He wanted money.  To-morrow was
pay-day at the hacienda, and there was a
large sum in the safe.  San Rosario had
no bank.  The branch of a Lima bank
at San Juan had shut its doors on the
accession of the present Prefect to office:
the managers feared that their floating
assets would be attached by the new official,
ostensibly for public purposes.  Since then
the employers of labour had had to be their
own bankers, drawing cash at intervals from
Lima by well-armed convoys.  There could
be little doubt that the gobernador had
somehow got wind of a plot to rob
Mr. O'Hagan on the coming night.

Tim wondered what his father would do
to defeat the attempt.  How would the
burglars go to work?  The safe was kept
in the office.  The key was on Mr. O'Hagan's
bunch.  To reach the office the robbers
would have to pass through one or other of
the patios.  The middle patio had French
doors opening on the garden.  They were
always locked and bolted at night, like the
main door and the servants' entrance.  It
would be difficult to enter without making
a noise, unless the servants were in league
with the burglars.  Tim thought of each of
them in turn, and felt sure that all were
trustworthy.

All at once a brilliant idea struck him.
His father was rather vexed with him--or
with the motor-cycle, which amounted to
the same thing; what a score it would be
if he could deal with this matter himself,
without his father knowing anything about
it!  He chuckled with delight as he imagined
himself telling at the breakfast-table, as
calmly as though it were an everyday
matter, how he had defeated an attempted
burglary.  But how was it to be done?
Mr. O'Hagan was a light sleeper; a slight noise
would disturb him, and Tim was at a loss
for any means of routing the burglars silently.

He thought of wire entanglements; but
he could not erect them without his father's
knowledge.  He thought of a booby-trap;
but that was bound to make a noise.  He
had almost reached home before a plan
occurred to him; it pleased him so much
that he laughed.  There was a large quantity
of ammonia solution in the house, kept for
household purposes and for use with the
refrigerator which was a domestic necessity
in this tropical climate.  Tim had only
recently left school in England, so that his
knowledge of chemistry had not yet evaporated.
If he heated some of this liquid, and
led the vapour into the patio at the critical
moment, the fumes would be obnoxious
enough, he thought, to choke off any rash
intruders.

As soon as he got home, he took into
consultation an old mestizo named Andrea,
who was gardener and odd man, a family
servant of many years' standing.  Andrea
was rather troubled, and advised that the
warning should be given to Mr. O'Hagan;
but few could resist Tim's persuasiveness,
and the old man at length consented to
assist his young master.

Tim's bedroom was next to the office.
At the bottom of the wall next to the patio
there was a grating which could be removed.
That night, when all the rest had retired,
Andrea brought to Tim's room a large oil-can
with a narrow neck, containing a quantity
of the ammonia solution.  Tim had already
provided himself with a short length of
garden hose, with a nozzle at the end.
Drawing the rubber tubing over the neck of
the can, he placed the nozzle end in the hole
from which the grating had been removed,
in such a way that when the cock was turned
it would allow the fumes to enter the patio
within a few inches of the office door.
Having lighted a large spirit-lamp beneath the
oil-can, he set a chair against the door, on
which he could mount to reach a ventilator
above, opening on to the patio, and sat
down on his bed, quivering with excitement,
to wait for the expected attack.

Hours passed, and he grew fidgety.  Every
now and then he got on the chair, and peeped
through the ventilator.  All was dark and
silent.

"I don't believe they're coming," he
whispered disconsolately to Andrea.

"So much the better, señorito," said the
old man.

But Tim did not agree with that; he
did not want to be disappointed of his fun.

At last he heard a slight sound from
without.  Jumping on the chair, he peered
through the ventilator.  He could see
nothing, but he guessed by the sounds that
the putty was being scraped from one of
the glass panes of the French door.  Presently
he dimly saw several dark, shadowy forms
pass from side to side.  The men were
removing the pane.  One after another the
intruders stepped quietly across the patio
towards the office door.  Just as they reached
it Tim slipped off the chair, stooped to the
floor, and noiselessly turned on the cock of
the nozzle.

For a few seconds there was no effect.  He
heard the slight click of a key as it was
inserted in the lock of the office door.  But
then, as the ammonia fumes began to diffuse,
there was a sniff, a stifled cough, and a
whispered exclamation.  Presently there
were louder coughs, long-drawn gasps, and
the men, in the effort to repress these fatal
sounds, choked and spluttered violently,
until, half-blinded, half-suffocated, they
turned away, cursing with what breath was
left to them, and tumbled over one another
in a rush for the door.

At the same moment the door of Mr. O'Hagan's
room was flung violently open,
and that gentleman, roused by the noise,
rushed into the patio in his pyjamas, a gun
in his hand.  Seeing that the pane was
removed, he ran to the door, and sent a
charge of duck-shot after the dark figures
scampering over the garden-beds.  The
sound of firing roused all the household, and
the affrighted servants came flocking into
the patio.

"What's this confounded smell?" gasped
Mr. O'Hagan, turning when the marauders
had vanished into the night.  There was a
chorus of coughs from the servants.

Tim had turned off the stream of gas, and
now opened his door; he felt very much
annoyed with the burglars; why had they
made such a silly row?

"One of your tricks, Tim?" said
Mr. O'Hagan.  He gasped again.  "Ammonia,
begore!"

"It is, Father," said Tim meekly.

"What on earth do you mean by disturbing
the whole household in this way? ... Get
back to bed," he cried in Spanish to the
servants; "all's well now....  Now, sir,
just explain this tomfoolery."

"May I come into your room?" asked
Tim, anxious that old Andrea should not
get into trouble.

"You may, and apologise to your poor
mother for disturbing her rest.  Now, what
have you to say for yourself?  Were those
fellows outside friends of yours, in the plot
too?  If so, you're responsible for the
murder or maiming of some of them."

"Indeed they're not.  They are burglars,
and I spoilt their game with ammonia."

"Burglars, eh?  But how did you know
they were coming?  You must have made
preparations?"

"I did.  Old Fagasta told me to look out
for them to-night, and I did so."

"Indeed now!  What did the gobernador
know about it, then?"

"He didn't tell me.  He only asked me
to tell you to be on your guard to-night."

"Why didn't you do so, then?"

"I thought I would make them scoot
myself, and not disturb you.  Who could
know the donkeys would make such a silly row!"

Mr. O'Hagan's mouth twitched at his
son's indignant tone.

"Well, Tim," he said, "sure 'twas very
considerate of you, but next time you are
asked to give me a message, give it.  And no
more tricks of this kind, mind ye.  We don't
wish to be blown up one night."

"I dished them, anyway."

"I don't deny it.  But 'twas lucky the
noise woke me; for a few pellets in their
carcasses will be a more enduring lesson than
a stink.  Now, to bed!"

When Tim had gone, Mr. O'Hagan said to
his wife:

"The Prefect has made his first move, Rose."

"Tim was quite upset, poor boy!" replied
Mrs. O'Hagan.





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.. _`PARDO DISMISSES HIMSELF`:

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   CHAPTER V


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   PARDO DISMISSES HIMSELF

.. vspace:: 2

"I am going into the town," said Mr. O'Hagan
at breakfast next morning.  "Last
night's affair must not be passed over.  I
shall lay a formal complaint before Señor
Fagasta.  It won't be any good, but it
would never do to take no notice.  When
Pardo comes, Tim, tell him that he must
get the ledger posted to-day; he is rather
behind.  And if any of the people are curious
about the shots last night--they must have
heard them--don't answer any questions.
I have already told the servants to hold their
tongues."

Setting off on horseback, he rode straight
to the gobernador's house.  He noticed that
the magistrate greeted him nervously.  When
the usual civilities had been exchanged, he
said:

"I have to report, señor, that an attempt
was made last night to break into my
house, and to ask that you will do what you
can to discover the villains and bring them
to justice."

"This is very distressing, señor," said the
gobernador.  "It will give the town a bad
name, especially as it happened the day after
the visit of our illustrious Prefect."

"Yes, that is decidedly unfortunate,"
remarked Mr. O'Hagan ironically.

"I will of course do what I can with the
few police at my disposal," the gobernador
continued.  "Had it happened on the night
before, I should have been better able to
deal with the matter, for the Prefect left a
few of his escort of gendarmes behind.
They were quartered on me; but they
departed yesterday evening.  Perhaps you
will give me full particulars, which I will
draw up in proper form."

Mr. O'Hagan related the circumstances,
which the gobernador wrote down with
great deliberateness and solemnity.  While
he was doing this, Mr. O'Hagan had time
to put two and two together.  He had little
doubt that the attack had been made by
men left behind for that purpose by the
Prefect, and guessed that the gobernador
had learnt or suspected their design from
something they had let fall while quartered
in his house.

The report having been drawn up, Señor
Fagasta gravely stamped it with the official
seal, and said:

"Be assured I will do what I can, señor.
I trust that the señora and your excellent
son are well?"

"Quite, señor, thank you," said Mr. O'Hagan.

Neither had mentioned the incident of
the bicycle or the warning given by the
gobernador, from whose manner Mr. O'Hagan
judged that he did not wish those matters
to be alluded to.  On his side, he felt that
it would be indiscreet and probably useless
to press the magistrate for particulars of
what he knew or suspected.  He had done
a good turn in giving the warning, no doubt
risking the vengeance of the Prefect if his
action should come to that worthy's knowledge.

Taking leave of the gobernador, Mr. O'Hagan
rode home and went straight to
the office.  It was empty.  He called to
Tim, who was practising with an air-gun
at a target set up at the end of the lawn.

"Where's Pardo?" he asked.

"He hasn't turned up, Father.  He sent
a kid over to say that he's grieved to the
heart at not being able to attend to his
duties, owing to a painful attack of lumbago.
I don't like the chap, Father."

"Because he's got lumbago?"

"No; because I think he's a bit of a fraud.
Last time he stayed away it was a sore heel,
you remember; but I happened to see him
picking oranges in the evening when the
men had gone home, and he walked well
enough."

"You didn't mention it to me."

"Well, his heel might have been sore, and
I didn't want to meddle, especially as you
think a good deal of him, Father."

"I do.  He's the best book-keeper I ever
had.  I'll get your mother to send him some
turpentine: that'll put him to rights."

In the course of the day Romaña was
despatched by Mrs. O'Hagan with a bottle
of turpentine for the sick man.  Pardo was
not to be seen.  The old half-breed woman
who looked after him told Romaña that her
master had not risen that day, complaining
of pains and stiffness in his back.

"Has he sent for the doctor?" he asked.

"Not yet.  He says it is a chill, and will
soon pass."

"The mistress has sent some stuff to cure
him.  The instruction is to rub it into the
skin very thoroughly.  Take it to Señor
Pardo, and ask if I can do anything for him."

The old woman went off with the bottle.
Romaña had noticed Pardo's coat lying over
the back of a chair.  As soon as he was
alone, he lifted the coat, cast a rapid but
searching glance over it, and laid it on the
chair again.

"Many thanks, señor," came Pardo's
voice from the inner room.  "Thank the
gracious lady for me, and say that I hope to
return to my beloved duty in a day or two."

"Is the pain very severe, señor?" asked
Romaña sympathetically.

"Not so severe as the stiffness, señor.
Take care that you don't take a chill."

"Thanks, my friend.  I myself am always
careful of the night air.  Good-day; I will
give the mistress your message."

Romaña hurried back to the house, and
sought his master in the office.

"Well, how is the invalid?" asked
Mr. O'Hagan.  "Did you see him?"

"No, señor: he was keeping his bed.  I
would suggest that you should send your
own doctor to him."

"That's not necessary, surely.  A good
rubbing is all that he needs for lumbago."

"If it is lumbago!" said the man.  "Will
you give me a moment, señor?"

"Of course," replied Mr. O'Hagan, laying
down his pen.  "What is it?"

He leant back in his chair, frowning a little.
A most unsuspicious man himself, he was
annoyed at Romaña's suggestion of malingering,
coming on top of the doubts hinted by Tim.

"On the day when the señor gobernador
rode on the bicycle," said Romaña, "Señor
Pardo sent a letter to his excellency the
Prefect."

"What of that? and how do you know?"
asked Mr. O'Hagan sharply.

"I saw his Cholo messenger ride away
with it to San Juan, señor, and a friend
reported to me that the Cholo took it to the
Prefect's house.  As you know, the Prefect
came to San Rosario two days after, and
visited the gobernador.  He then rode here.
Señor Pardo held his stirrup while he
dismounted.  He returned to San Juan, but
left some of his gendarmes behind.  Then
came the matter of last night.  To-day
Señor Pardo is not to be seen."

"What are you driving at?" asked Mr. O'Hagan
irritably.

"Have patience, señor.  I have been ten
years in your service, and you have no
complaint against me?"

"That is true, but I don't like this air of
mystery and suspicion.  Say plainly what
you have in your mind."

"I have just seen Señor Pardo's coat--the
one he was wearing yesterday: there
were several little black holes in the back.
I think if you send your doctor to him, you
will find that he suffers not from lumbago
but from shot wounds."

Mr. O'Hagan stared in amazement.

"You suggest that he was among those
villains who tried to break in last night?"
he asked.

"I do, señor."

"And that the Prefect was concerned in it?"

"The Prefect's gendarmes, señor.  As for
the Prefect himself!..."

He shrugged expressively.

"And that Señor Pardo is in the Prefect's pay?"

"That is my belief, señor."

"Romaña, are you a spy?"

"Señor, I am a Mollendist," replied the
man with dignity.

Mr. O'Hagan was much perturbed.  He
was loth to believe that Pardo was a traitor,
but the chain of events as linked together
by Romaña was unpleasantly consistent.
Perhaps what troubled him most of all was
the discovery that, careful as he had been to
hold aloof from local dissensions, two of his
servants were mixed up in them, on opposite
sides.  It was now easier to understand the
mutual antagonism between the two men,
of which, though veiled by the outward forms
of civility, he had always been conscious.

"You have told no one else what you
suspect?" he said, after a few moments'
deliberation.

"Nobody, señor."

"Then take care not to do so.  I believe
that you mean well, but I hope to find you
mistaken.  We shall see."

When Romaña had gone, Mr. O'Hagan
sought his wife and told her everything.

"I have never liked Pardo," she said,
"though I can't say why.  Perhaps it
would be as well to ask Dr. Pereira to see him."

"I prefer not to.  I shall put it to the
fellow direct when he comes back to work.
One thing is certain: Romaña must go.
I can't have a Mollendist about the place.
If it became known, the Prefect would make
it another reason for worrying me, or worse."

"Won't you write to the British consul
at Lima?"

"I'm afraid that would be useless.  He's
too far away to be able to do anything.
We're in a desperately awkward position,
Rose.  The Prefect will have his knife in
me, and young Tim has certainly offended
the Mollendists by releasing the gobernador.
Whatever they meant to do with him, they
will be furious at being baulked by a
youngster.  When I send my next convoy to the
capital, I think you and the boy had better
go too.  You'll be out of harm's way there."

"Indeed I will do nothing of the kind,
Tim.  I will not leave you.  And I can't
believe that there's any danger to a British
subject here.  Write to the consul at once,
dear; it's just as well to be beforehand with
trouble."

"I will do so.  Say nothing to Tim,
by the way.  He'd only worry."

Three days afterwards Pardo returned.
He looked rather pale, and after greeting
his employer launched out into a voluble
description of his sufferings.

"But the gracious lady's lotion worked
wonders, señor," he said.

"Rather painful, isn't it?" said Mr. O'Hagan,
noticing with misgiving that the
man wore a new coat.

"Not at all, señor.  Its application was
most soothing.  It is a most excellent remedy."

Mr. O'Hagan remembered how, when
suffering from lumbago himself, the friction
with turpentine had left his back sore and
smarting for days.

"Sit down, Pardo," he said.  "I've something
to say to you."

The man sat down awkwardly on his
chair, smiling amiably.

"You remember the night of the attempted
robbery," Mr. O'Hagan went on.  "No
doubt my shots disturbed you."

"Not at all, señor.  I slept the sleep of
the just."

"How often do you correspond with the
Prefect?"

The sudden question obviously took Pardo
aback.  He looked uncomfortable, but
recovered himself in a moment, and said with
a feeble smile:

"A humble clerk and book-keeper does
not correspond with so important a person
as his excellency, señor."

"Nevertheless, you sent a letter to his
excellency a few days ago.  He visited me
two days after, and left a party of his
gendarmes in the town when he returned to
San Juan.  I have reason to suspect that
they were concerned in the attempt to rob
me.  How did they know that at that
precise moment I had a large sum of money
in my safe?"

"These are very strange questions, señor,"
said Pardo.  His manner was quiet and
restrained, but Mr. O'Hagan, intently
watching him, noticed a look of fear in his eyes.

"They are," he said.  "Here's another:
where is your old coat?  I mean the coat
you were wearing last time you were here.
It was nearly new."

Pardo started to his feet.

"Señor, this is intolerable," he cried.
"I don't know what you mean, but your
questions are an insult to a perfect
gentleman."  (Every Peruvian is a perfect
gentleman.)  "You will please to accept my
resignation."

"Very well, Pardo: perhaps it is best."  He
handed him his week's wages.

"And let me tell you this, Señor Inglés,"
cried the man furiously as he pocketed the
money: "a Peruvian gentleman does not
take lightly such insults to his honour.  You
will repent this.  You will feel the weight of
my just anger.  You treat me like a dog:
dogs can bite.  I will not accept your money."

He took it from his pocket and threw it on
the floor.  "You shall learn what it is to
insult a perfect gentleman."

Snatching up his hat, he swept it round in
ironical salutation, and flung out of the room.





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.. _`TIM IS HELD TO RANSOM`:

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   CHAPTER VI


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   TIM IS HELD TO RANSOM

.. vspace:: 2

Tim had many acquaintances but few
friends among the youth of San Rosario and
the neighbourhood.  He often felt the lack
of a chum of his own age, and looked forward
eagerly to the time, now drawing very near,
when he would return to England and enter
an engineering college.  His most intimate
friend in Peru was a young fellow, two or
three years older than himself, named Felipe
Durand, who lived on his father's hacienda,
about twelve miles north of the town.  Durand
had been educated in England, and being a
very fair batsman, he sometimes joined Tim
in getting up a cricket match between
elevens of the Japanese workers.

On the day after Pardo's dismissal, Tim
rode out to Durand's house to arrange for
a match in the following week.  The path
was only a rough track; it was indeed not
a public thoroughfare at all, but was
maintained by Señor Durand and Mr. O'Hagan
for their own convenience.  Much of it ran
through woods, and on each side the ground
rose gradually to a considerable height.

Tim met nobody on the way, but within a
few miles of the hacienda he noticed a group
of men at the edge of the wood some little
distance from the path.  Thinking that they
were peons of Señor Durand he gave them only
a fleeting glance and passed by.  He reached
his friend's house about twenty minutes
after starting, and discussed the proposed
match in a little summer-house, over a dish
of fruit and a glass of lemonade.

"I say, O'Hagan," said young Durand,
after arrangements had been made, "I wish
I had seen your performance with the
gobernador.  It must have been great sport."

The two boys always used English when
together.

"Indeed, it was good fun," said Tim.
"The pater was in a bit of a fizz: he thinks
the Mollendists won't like it."

"I dare say not.  He should do as my
governor does."

"What's that?"

"Pay up.  My father gives them a regular
subscription."

"That's rather dangerous, isn't it?  The
Prefect would drop on him if he knew."

"The Prefect has dropped on him as it is.
He has borrowed a good deal that he'll never
pay back.  My father grumbles, of course;
but he likes a quiet life, and would rather
pay than be worried.  He subscribes to the
Mollendists' funds for the same reason;
they leave him alone.  He says that old
Mollendo will get the better of the Prefect
one of these days, and as the old chap is
fairly honest he won't be sorry.  Your pater
had better do the same."

"I'm sure he won't.  He says corruption
is the curse of this country, and he won't
have anything to do with either of the
parties."

"That's very honourable and British, but
it won't pay....  Have those robbers been
caught yet?"

"They have not.  D'you know, I believe
our man Pardo had a hand with them; the
pater gave him the sack yesterday.  He
resigned, but only to avoid a sacking.  I'm
not sorry....  Well, you'll come over on
Monday, then.  It's a holiday, so we'll make
a day of it."

Tim had ridden only a few miles on his
homeward way when he was brought to a
sudden check.  The path was blocked by a
tree which had apparently fallen since he
passed a couple of hours before.  He
dismounted, resting his bicycle against the
trunk.  The tree was obviously too heavy
to be lifted, and he was looking for a way
round it when a number of men rushed at
him from the bushes on each side of the
track, and in a few seconds he was a prisoner.
Among his captors he saw one of the brigands
who had snapped up the gobernador.

"You will not get away this time, Señor
Inglés," said the man, laughing.  "You will
please to come with us."

Tim was helpless.  He could only put the
best face on it.  The men led him along the
track northward, in the direction of Durand's
house, two following with the bicycle.  As
they neared the house, they struck into the
woods on the left, not returning to the track
until they were some distance beyond, at a
wooden bridge over a ravine.  The district
to the north had a bad name.  It was the
immemorial haunt of outlaws, whether
revolutionist or criminal.  The outlawed criminal
was invariably a revolutionist; though among
the revolutionists there were many, like their
leader, Mollendo himself, who were quite
respectable members of society.

After a few miles the country became very
wild and rugged.  The men in charge of the
bicycle grumbled at their laborious task;
they were not used to wheeling so heavy and
cumbersome an object, and in the rougher
places it was difficult to balance.  Every
minute Tim expected to see the machine
escape from their hands, topple over, and
dash itself to pieces on the rocky declivity.

The track became steeper and steeper.
It wound this way and that, a rough wall of
rock rising high on the left hand; on the
right long slopes and sheer descents, crossed
by yawning gullies, stretching downwards for
hundreds of feet.  Now and then white
gull-like mountain birds flew screaming in
front of the party; hundreds of squirrels were
disporting on the rocky ramparts, darting
among the trees that clothed the ravines when
they saw the intruders upon their solitudes.
They marched on for hours, covering,
perhaps, a mile and a half an hour, until
night threw its purple shade upon the hills.
Then they halted in a narrow glen.  The
leader of the party gave Tim the option of
being tied up or passing his word not to
attempt escape.

"You are Inglés," he said.  "I can trust
your word."

Tim did not appreciate the compliment;
but since it was quite clear that he could not
escape with his bicycle, he gave his word,
looking as pleasant as he could.  The men
bivouacked, making a supper of parched
maize, which they took from their wallets,
and weak spirits from their flasks.  They
offered Tim a share of their provisions; he
accepted the maize, but declined the spirits,
longing for a draught of water.

He spent a very uncomfortable night.
The rocky ground cut into his light summer
clothes, which afforded but a poor defence
against the cold of this upland region.  He
slept fitfully, wondering in the wakeful
intervals what was going to happen to him,
and thinking of the distress his parents must
suffer at his absence.  "Durand was right,"
he thought.  "When I get free I'll ask Father
to give these Mollendists a subscription.
But I bet he won't."

The march was resumed in the morning.
The track still ascended, until it reached a
ridge, from which Tim caught glimpses on
the other side of a river meandering far
below between wooded banks.  In front
the ridge rose gradually.  In about three
hours the party, passing between two tall
rocks like gate-pillars on either side of the
track, found themselves suddenly in an
encampment of considerable size.  Two or
three hundred men were assembled in a sort
of courtyard surrounded by tumble-down
buildings of unworked stone.  Tim knew
at a glance that he was in the ruins of an
ancient Inca fortification, castle, or
observation plaza, built by that vanished race on a
hill-top which had probably been flattened
artificially.  The men were encamped on
two sides of the enclosure; on the other two
sides a number of horses were hobbled.

Tim had no time to take in more details
of the scene.  The arrival of his captors was
hailed with shouts, and he was led through
the excited throng to an angle of the
courtyard, where, in a little recess, a Peruvian
between fifty and sixty years of age, and of
benevolent aspect, was reclining on rugs
before a slab that served as a table.

"Señor," said the leader of the party,
"this is the young Inglés who released the
man Fagasta."

Señor Mollendo rose and made a courtly
salutation.

"Good-morning, Señor Inglés," he said.
"I have heard of you and your respected
father.  It gives me the greatest pain to see
you in your present unhappy plight."

"You can relieve your pain at once by
releasing me, señor," said Tim boldly.

Mollendo gave him an indulgent smile.

"I have to consider the claims of justice,
my young friend.  See how the case stands.
You were taken with the man Fagasta, the
hireling of the usurping Prefect.  You were
released, but with rank ingratitude returned
and set free the gobernador, the agent of
the odious dictator, the man who had been
heard to boast of his intention to root out
the friends of liberty from this oppressed
region.  Your offence could scarcely be more
serious.  It is dangerous for a foreigner to
interfere in our domestic affairs; especially
is it unbecoming in an Englishman, a citizen
of that glorious land of freedom, a lover of
liberty and of equal laws, to associate
himself with the agents of a corrupt and
shameless tyranny.  It is necessary to signalise
the abhorrence with which such action must
be viewed by all right-thinking men.  You
shall be a recipient of such poor hospitality
as I can extend to you until your unworthy
conduct is redeemed by the payment of
£250, and the engine by means of which you
effected your reprehensible intervention on
behalf of the oppressor will be confiscated to
the use of the patriots."

Tim was quite unused to having such
eloquence hurled at him.  His head master
had contented himself with a few sharp
words and half a dozen swishes--infinitely
preferable to such a lot of "jaw."  He
felt overwhelmed, and had nothing to say.
"Jolly cheek!" he thought, "asking £250.
I wish he may get it."

His parole was demanded again, and he
was strictly forbidden to stray beyond the
limits of the enclosure.  He was given a
dinner consisting of mutton boiled with
vegetables, and toasted maize, with water
from a stream, almost dried up by the
summer heat, that flowed into the broader
river below.  Mollendo offered him a Manilla
cigar, which he put in his pocket.

He was allowed to roam about the
encampment.  So well placed that one might
approach within a few yards without discovering
it, it overlooked the surrounding country
for hundreds of square miles.  On the east
he could see the track by which he had come,
winding east and south-east through the
hills.  On the west a few steps cut in the
rock led to what had once been an Inca road,
running into the path that led southward to
the highway to San Juan.  Southward flowed
the hill-stream, through a rough and
precipitous gully.  To the north the ground
rose steeply to inaccessible snow-capped peaks.

Tim passed a restless and unhappy day.
He supposed that Mollendo had sent one
of his men to demand the ransom from his
father; but no information was given him.
The only mitigation of his captivity was
afforded by the brigands' experiments with
the motor-cycle.  None of them was able
to ride it; few were anxious to try.  They
were good horsemen, no doubt; but Tim
soon came to the conclusion that they would
never make motor-cyclists.  He watched
with amusement their first attempts in the
middle of the courtyard.  One man tried
to mount the bicycle when stationary, and
became violently angry at each failure to
maintain his balance.  Then he got two of
his comrades to support him, one on each
side, and thrust at the handles.  No
movement resulting, his supporters pushed the
machine for a few yards, then let it go.  It
toppled over, and the rider's leg being
crushed between the cycle and the ground,
he swore bitterly, and retired to digest his
discomfiture.

Señor Mollendo looked on at all this
with much disappointment.  The confiscated
machine, apparently, was not to be so
valuable an acquisition as he had supposed.
He smiled with pleasure, however, when
the machine was set in motion by a series
of accidents.  While one man was in the
saddle; held up on both sides, another
happened to discover the petrol tap, and
turned it on.  The supporters pushed the
bicycle for a few feet, the engine began to
fire, and the rider chancing to move the
throttle switch, the machine started forward
with a suddenness that caused the two men
at the sides to lose their grip.  There were
shouts of delight from the onlookers; but
the rider was so much amazed at his own
inadvertent skill that he lost his head, and
could neither stop nor steer his unmanageable
steed.  Only by sprinting across the
courtyard at full speed did Tim save man
and cycle from being dashed disastrously
against the stone wall.

After this the machine was left severely
alone, until Tim, weary for want of something
to do, offered to instruct the men in its
manipulation.  This won Señor Mollendo's
warm approval, and Tim spent several hours
of that day and the next in teaching the
younger members of the party how to ride.
They had no personal feeling against him;
and with the prospect of their lean treasury
being increased by £250 on his account,
they began to regard him with even more
kindliness than his willingness and good
temper had already won.

On the third day the messenger sent by
Señor Mollendo to claim the ransom,
returned, bringing with him not merely the
money, but a rumour of the manner in
which the midnight raiders had been
received at Mr. O'Hagan's house.  That they
were part of the Prefect's escort was an
open secret.  Mollendo called Tim to him
and asked if the story was true.  Tim saw
no reason to conceal anything, and gave a
full description of what had happened, only
suppressing the fact that his information
had come from the gobernador.

"You showed remarkable ingenuity, my
young friend," said Mollendo, greatly tickled
by the picture of the spluttering crew
stumbling out into the darkness.  "I quite
understand why your good father should consider
you worth £250.  He has sent the money;
you are free.  And as a mark of my appreciation
of your service to the cause of liberty
by discommoding the usurper's minions,
I have much pleasure in returning"--("How
much?" wondered Tim in excitement)--"your
motor-cycle.  Four of my
supporters will assist you to the path below.
When you meet your father, convey to him
my salutations, and assure him that the
money will be put to a good use in upholding
the flag of freedom."

He shook hands warmly, bowed with his
hat to his breast, and with a polite *a reveder*,
the Spanish equivalent of *au revoir*, he
ended Tim's captivity.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE PREFECT MOVES`:

.. class:: center medium

   CHAPTER VII


.. class:: center large

   THE PREFECT MOVES

.. vspace:: 2

Tim's adventure caused Mr. O'Hagan to
change his mind about dismissing Romaña.
To do so might be a new cause of offence to
the sensitive patriots.

"You have already proved a very dear
son," he said, with a humorous twinkle that
disguised his real feeling.

"Durand says that his pater gives old
Mollendo a regular subscription to keep him
quiet," said Tim.

"Blackmail!  He will soon get tired of that."

"I don't suppose what he has paid comes
to £250."

"Ah! but he hasn't given his boy a
motor-cycle!  Young Durand came over
to-day to play cricket, and seemed vastly
tickled when I told him where you were."

"I could have boxed his ears," said Mrs. O'Hagan
indignantly.  "It was no laughing
matter to me."

"Will I challenge him, Mother?" said
Tim quizzingly.  "I am going to ride over
to-morrow to tell him all about it, and if
you like----"

"Don't tease your mother," Mr. O'Hagan
interposed.  "She insisted on my sending
the money at once, or I declare I would
have been inclined to let you have a week
of it."

The kidnapping of the young Inglés
created much indignation and resentment
among the people of San Rosario.  The
majority of them, having little to lose, were
staunch supporters of the Prefect, and when
next day they saw a dozen gendarmes ride
into the town, they supposed them to be
only the advanced guard of a force sent from
the capital to begin the long-expected
operations against the brigands.  Some, however,
viewed the soldiers with alarm.  To the
substantial citizens, a visit of the Prefect's
gendarmes usually spelt trouble.  Every
man whose secret sympathies were with
the Mollendists trembled in his shoes;
even those who were conscious of innocence
shivered if their worldly substance was large
enough to be worth the attention of the
Prefect and his harpies.  Many, among them
the gobernador, were greatly relieved when
the gendarmes, instead of dismounting,
halted only to refresh themselves in the
saddle at one of the albergos, then rode
through the town and along the track
leading to Mr. O'Hagan's house.

Arriving there, the leader sprang from his
horse, and strode with clanking spurs to the
door, which stood open.  The others formed
up in line along the front of the house.  To
the servant who came in answer to the
officer's summons, he explained that he
wished to see the señor haciendado.
Mr. O'Hagan left the office, where he had been
alone, and invited his visitor into the patio.

"I regret, señor," said the officer,
declining to be seated, "that I have come on
a very disagreeable errand."  He took a
paper from his pocket.  "You see here a
warrant, signed by his excellency the Prefect,
and sealed with the provincial seal, authorising
the arrest of yourself and your son."

"On what charge, señor?" asked Mr. O'Hagan quietly.

"On the charge of furthering and abetting
the treasonable designs of one Carlos
Mollendo, who is stirring up sedition.  It
is useless to resist, señor; I have a sufficient
body of troopers outside.  I demand that
you surrender yourself and your son to justice."

"I will come with you," said Mr. O'Hagan,
"under protest.  You will please to note
that I am a British citizen.  My son is not
at home."

"Where is he?"

"That I must leave you to find out."

The officer at once called in a man to
search the house, himself keeping guard
over Mr. O'Hagan in the patio.  The
gendarme found Mrs. O'Hagan coming from
the servants' quarters.  He bowed respectfully,
and asked her to go to the drawing-room
and remain there.

"I am going to the patio, to my husband,"
replied the lady stoutly.  "Stand out of
my way, please."

The man tugged his moustache, stood
aside, and then went on to complete his
search.  The half-minute's delay had allowed
Romaña, whom his mistress had just quitted,
to slip out of the house and into a shrubbery,
whence he made his way swiftly in the
direction of Señor Durand's estate.

He met Tim returning, half-way between
Durand's house and the cross-roads.

"Stop, señorito," he called; "I have a
message from the gracious lady."

"What is it?" asked Tim, jumping off
his machine.

"The señora bids you come with me,"
said Romaña.  "Gendarmes have ridden
to arrest the señor and you, and the mistress
sent me to take you to a place of safety."

"I won't go.  I will join Father," said
Tim at once, preparing to ride off.  Romaña
detained him.

"I beg you to do as the señora wishes," he
said.  "What is the use of your going to
prison, too?  There is more chance for
every one if you are free.  You will do
better to remain in hiding until we see what
is intended towards the señor.  I have friends
in San Rosario and the capital; we
Mollendists have our spies, like the Prefect.
The señor will no doubt be taken to San
Juan.  Nothing will be done immediately.
The Prefect is always very careful to cloak
his misdeeds under the forms of law."

"I'll go back to Señor Durand's, then."

"That is unwise, señorito.  The gendarmes
may come there to look for you, and then
Señor Durand himself will be in danger.  I
know a better place, and if you will come
with me----"

"Very well, then; but I don't like it.
What is to become of Mother?"

"The señora will be quite safe: the Prefect
is always very polite to the ladies," said
Romaña.

Romaña mounted behind Tim, and they
rode back to the cross-roads, then turned to
the right into a track that was fairly level
for some distance, then ascended gradually.
Nearly nine miles from the cross-roads it
wound round a steep cliff.  On one side a
sheer wall of rock rose to a great height; on
the other a wooded precipice fell away to
an equal depth.  A small waterfall plunged
from the heights above, forming a stream
across the path, and flowing as a second
waterfall over the edge of the precipice.
At this point the hill-side was covered with
scrub, amid which one large tree formed
a conspicuous object.  Stepping-stones were
laid across the stream, and a few large slabs
were let into the steep bank above the path
on the farther side.

Here they dismounted and made their way
along the bed of the stream towards the
waterfall.  Then they turned to the right, and
proceeded over more large flat slabs leading
into the scrub, Romaña remarking that their
footsteps would leave no traces on the stones.
On reaching the large tree before mentioned,
they found themselves at the mouth of a
cavern concealed by the foliage and the
scrub.  A projection of the cliff on the right
hid the entrance of the cavern from observation
by any one on the upper portion of the path.

It had been a task of no little difficulty
to haul the cycle up the stream, and both
were very hot and tired when they reached
the cave.  Drawing aside the screen of
foliage, Romaña whispered the word Libertad.
There was no answer.  He led Tim inside.

"That is our password," he said with a
smile.  "If I had failed to give it I might
have been shot.  But there is no one here
now.  Only three men know of this place.
Here you will be quite safe.  You are now
a Mollendist," he added, chuckling.

"Have you set a trap for me, Romaña?"
said Tim indignantly.

"No, no; all that I mean is that now the
señor your father is a prisoner he must be
a Mollendist.  All the Prefect's enemies are."

While speaking he had lit a lamp, by whose
light Tim saw an earthen roof, walls, and
floor; two or three stools; a three-legged
table; a large cupboard in which were kept,
as Romaña told him, food that would not
spoil, and a few mugs; a large can for holding
water, and two long boxes containing rugs
which might serve on occasion as beds.

"Is there no other entrance?" Tim asked.

"Come and see."

Romaña led him for some distance into
the cave, which bent away to the left.  The
air was very damp and mouldy, and Tim
felt that he would not care to make too long
a stay in so fusty a place.  Presently he
heard a gurgle and splash of water, and the
light of the lamp which Romaña carried fell
on an oblong slab of stone standing upright
before them, about three feet in height.
Romaña took hold of the upper part of it,
and lowered the stone to the ground.  Then
Tim saw the waterfall within two or three
feet of them.  They were slightly above the
bottom of it; about twelve feet of the cliff
face separated them from the spot where
the waterfall became a stream.  Romaña
explained that the other entrance of the
cavern was some forty yards away.

"Now, señorito, you will remain here until
I discover what is to be done.  You are
not afraid?"

"What is there to be afraid of?  Only
the damp, so far as I can see.  It may give
me lumbago!"

"That is better than duck-shot," said
Romaña, smiling.  "I shall not have time
to explain to my comrades, but if any one
comes, he will give the password, and you
will answer Salvatore.  You may trust any
follower of Señor Mollendo.  The path is
open to you; none uses it except our own
people; but do not stray far in case you are
seen by an enemy.  I will return as soon as
may be."

"Can't your people make a raid and rescue
my father?" asked Tim.  "They ought to
do something for the money they have got
out of him."

"I fear we are not strong enough at the
present time," answered Romaña.  "But
be assured that Señor Mollendo will do
anything that is possible.  He holds the
señor in high respect."

Tim grunted.  He did not think much of
a respect that bled a man to the extent of
£250.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`SUSPENSE`:

.. class:: center medium

   CHAPTER VIII


.. class:: center large

   SUSPENSE

.. vspace:: 2

Romaña did not return to Mr. O'Hagan's
house.  He guessed that every member of
the household would be under suspicion;
and though his part with the Mollendists
was not known, Pardo, if he came on the
scene, would not hesitate to trump up a
charge against him.  So he hung about until
nightfall, and then slipped into the town
and took shelter with Pedro Galdos, the
agent who had dogged Pardo's messenger
to San Juan.

Galdos was a strange illustration of the
irony of circumstances in Spanish America.
At one time, under another name, he had
been sub-prefect of a provincial town; but
he lost his office with a change of government,
and drifted into poverty.  He now earned
a scanty livelihood by selling lottery tickets
and doing any odd jobs that came his way.
No one in San Rosario had known him in
his official career; none would have
suspected that the thin, shabby, down-at-heel
old man who haunted the street-corners,
pestering folks to buy his grimy lottery
tickets, had formerly held a post of authority.
As agent and spy of the Mollendists he was
quite trustworthy.  Since his dismissal he
was always against the government; and
his services were at the disposal of any
opponent of the present prefect, whether
Mollendo or another.

He lived alone in a little two-roomed
mud cottage at the east end of the town.
Here Romaña sought a temporary lodging.
Galdos already had some news for him.
Mr. O'Hagan had not been taken to the
capital, but was imprisoned in the town jail.

"I will tell you why, señor," said the old
man.  "The Prefect wishes to manage things
quietly.  There is too much sunlight in
San Juan!  The Señor Inglés has many
friends and a few compatriots there, and
they would agitate if the thing were known.
The Prefect's own party would be uneasy,
for it is no light matter to oppress an Inglés;
the British Government would say hard
things at Lima, and the Prefect might find
himself in hot water.  He is a hotheaded,
reckless imbecile; but some of his
supporters are more prudent, and they would
hesitate to provoke the anger of the
government.  But here, in this out-of-the-way
town, many things can be done without
making a noise.  The Prefect has many
creatures who will do just as he bids them.
He needs much money; his troops are
clamouring for arrears of pay, and he lacks
arms and ammunition for the campaign he
is meditating against our party.  The Señor
Inglés is known to be wealthy; that is his
crime."

"What will the Prefect do with him?"
asked Romaña.

"Who knows?" replied Galdos with a
shrug.  "We shall see.  There was trouble
at the hacienda to-day.  When the Japanese
workers heard that the caballero was
arrested, they marched to the house and
threatened mischief to the gendarmes.  It
was only the intervention of the señora
that prevented a fight.  She pled with the
people to go back to their work for the
señor's sake.  The Inglésa is a clever woman.
Where is the boy?"

"He is in a safe place, where he will
remain until we know what is to be done.
If the worst happens he must take refuge
with Señor Mollendo until we can convey
him and his mother to Lima.  I shall go
back to him to-morrow."

.. vspace:: 2

Meanwhile Tim had eaten his supper--a
tin of beans which he found in the
cupboard--and made himself as snug as possible
among the rugs in one of the box beds.
He was not frightened, but he would not
have denied that he felt miserable.  For a
long time he lay wakeful, wondering how
far the Prefect's tyranny might go, and
taking a good deal of unnecessary blame
to himself for having wished for a
motor-bicycle.  The machine, of course, was no
more the cause of recent events than a
ball of worsted is the cause of a kitten's
playfulness.  Just as a kitten's native energy
makes the ball the occasion of leaps and
gambols; so the Prefect had seized on Tim's
adventure with the gobernador as a pretext
for squeezing the gobernador himself, and
for venting his spite on the man who would
not be squeezed.

Romaña came back on the following
afternoon.  The news he brought was not
calculated to lighten Tim's heaviness.
Mr. O'Hagan was closely confined; gendarmes
were flocking into the town, to overawe
any who might be disaffected, Romaña
supposed.  He left again at dusk, begging
Tim to be patient.

Next day his information was even more
serious.  The Prefect had arrived,
accompanied by a number of officers, and it was
rumoured that the prisoner was to be tried
by court-martial.  The ordinary process of
law was evidently too slow for the dictator;
it left, perhaps, too many loopholes for
escape.  With a court composed of his own
particular tools he might depend on the
proceedings being short and swift.

"But it is utterly illegal to try a civilian
by court-martial in time of peace," Tim
protested.

"The Prefect makes his own law," said
Romaña.  "He has proclaimed martial law
in the town."

"He means Father to be condemned;
what will the sentence be?  A big fine?"

"Probably, with a term of imprisonment
also," replied Romaña.  In his heart of
hearts he expected a much more terrible
punishment.  The Prefect would not be
satisfied with a fine, however large; nor
with a term of imprisonment, however long.
Nor would he even stop at confiscating
Mr. O'Hagan's property, and let him go.
There is only one safe way in which tyranny
can walk, and that is a road stained with
blood.  But Romaña did not impart his
anticipations to Tim; there was no need to
wring his young heart before the time.

He durst not go into the town next
day, but waited in the wood for Galdos to
bring him news of the trial.  It confirmed
his gloomiest forebodings.  Pardo was the
principal witness against his master.  He
repeated authentic fragments of Mr. O'Hagan's
talk, which, harmless enough in
themselves, might be construed as treasonable
by prejudiced minds.  He swore, falsely,
that he had heard his master declare that
he would not pay the taxes, which were
mere extortion.  He declared that the £250
which Mr. O'Hagan had sent to Mollendo
was not a ransom, but a contribution to the
brigands' funds.  Similar testimony was
given by two former servants of the prisoner.
Mr. O'Hagan's denials were scouted.  He
was not allowed to employ counsel, and in
two hours the sorry farce was over.  He
was found guilty, condemned to forfeit his
estate and to be shot in the plaza, three
days later.

Romaña shrank from conveying this heavy
tidings to the boy awaiting his return in
the cavern.  But there was no help for it.
He walked back slowly, and broke the news
as gently as he could.

Tim was at first utterly overwhelmed.
In his most despondent moments he had
never looked for anything so bad as this.
When his stupor passed, he cried out that he
must go to his mother; that he would himself
seek the Prefect, and plead with him to
annul the sentence; that he must and would
do something, he knew not what.

"It would be useless, señorito," said
Romaña sadly.  "You would yourself be
arrested; you might suffer the same fate;
then the gracious lady would be doubly
bereaved, left without a protector, and that
would embitter your father's last moments."

"But I can't sit still and do nothing,"
cried Tim, walking up and down in his
misery.  "Suppose it were your father!
Won't your Mollendists do something?
There's a lot of them; wouldn't Señor
Mollendo lead them to the town if I begged
and prayed him?"

"He is not strong enough," answered
Romaña.  "The town is full of gendarmes.
I don't know the caballero's plans, but he
cannot alter them for a foreigner."

"He will only send his men to pounce on
solitary travellers like the gobernador," said
Tim bitterly.

"Remember, señorito, that he is himself
outlawed, in hiding.  The men you saw in
his camp are not numerous enough; they
are ill-armed.  There are a crowd of
gendarmes and several troops of mercenaries
already in the town, and another thousand
men can be summoned from San Juan, and
would arrive within a few hours."

"But I could get our Japs to join.  They
would fight like demons for my father."

"What arms have they?" said Romaña
patiently.  "It is useless, señorito.  But
there are three days.  Perhaps the Prefect
will think better of it.  No doubt he is
uneasy at not having captured you; he will
never feel safe while you are at large; and
he may delay the extreme step.  We must
hope for the best."

As he became calmer Tim recognised the
force of all that Romaña had said, and his
own helplessness.  He could but wait and hope.

Very early next morning they were
standing near the mouth of the cavern.  Romaña
was about to go again into the wood a few
miles nearer the town, to receive any further
information that Galdos might have for him.

"Ask him to go to my mother, and
bring word how she is," Tim was saying.

"Look, señorito; what is that?" said
Romaña suddenly, pointing down the track
in the direction of the town.  A mounted
party of four was approaching, too far off
for the individuals of which it was composed
to be distinguished.

.. _`HORSEMEN ON THE TRACK`:

.. figure:: images/img-090.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: HORSEMEN ON THE TRACK

   HORSEMEN ON THE TRACK

"They are after me!" said Tim at once.

"Back, señorito!" cried Romaña, drawing
him behind the screen of foliage, through
which they peered anxiously at the advancing
party.

"There is a lady!" said Romaña presently.
"They are riding very fast."

"Is it Mother?" said Tim.  "I believe
it is!  And, Romaña, look; I believe it's
Father too!  Isn't it?  Isn't it?"

"For Dios, señorito!" exclaimed Romaña,
"you are right!  It is the señor himself.
He has escaped!  Praise to our Lady and
Sant Iago!  Come!  Let us meet them."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`FLIGHT TO THE HILLS`:

.. class:: center medium

   CHAPTER IX


.. class:: center large

   FLIGHT TO THE HILLS

.. vspace:: 2

Tim could hardly contain himself.  He
raced along the bed of the stream, leapt across
the stepping-stones, and bounded down the
rocky track with small concern for his
limbs.  When he came in sight of the party
he snatched off his hat and waved it wildly
in the air.  Romaña followed less swiftly
and with more circumspection.  He was
smiling at his thoughts.

"First the son, then the father--both
Mollendists!"

That was the happy consummation to
which he flattered himself events were
leading.

"Ah, Tim!" said Mr. O'Hagan as they
met.  "We were one too many for the
Prefect, you see.  Your mother was the one,
bless her!  But she must tell you all about
it herself by and by.  The first thing is to
secure ourselves.  Many thanks, Romaña.
Now, are we going right for that camp of
yours?"

"Straight on, señor," said Romaña.  "You
will presently come to the river.  The path
runs alongside it for several miles; then it
diverges to the right, and meets the path
that goes past Señor Durand's hacienda.
The two paths become one.  Keep straight
on.  The señor capitan will welcome you."

"But aren't you coming too, to make the
introductions?"

"The señorito and I will follow.  We must
fetch the machine."

"I can't leave Tim," said Mrs. O'Hagan.

"What's the path like?" cried Tim.
"Can I ride, Romaña?"

"For some distance, yes.  There are steep
places after the paths join."

"There are indeed," said Tim.  "That's
where the brigands--your friends, I mean--had
to haul the cycle.  A very stiff job too.
Mother, ride on with Father.  I'll catch you
in no time.  I'll mount Romaña behind me:
he's lighter than the gobernador!"

"You're quite sure you'll catch us?"
said Mrs. O'Hagan anxiously.

"Quite, so don't worry.  Oh! you don't
know how jolly glad I am to see you."

The other two members of the party,
Andrea and another house servant, rode on
with their master and mistress, while Tim
and Romaña returned to the cave for the
cycle.  They had a good deal of difficulty
in hoisting it up from the bed of the stream
on to the path, but when they were once
there, they soon made up on the riders,
and went on all together at a rapid pace.

"Shall we run ahead and warn Señor
Mollendo?" asked Tim presently.

"No: stay with us," said Mrs. O'Hagan.
"I don't want to lose sight of you."

"Better not, señorito," added Romaña.
"We must be careful as we approach the
place where the paths join.  If the escape
has been discovered, and they are pursuing,
they will come by the other path: it is
shorter.  Why did you choose this one, señor?"

"It was recommended to us by that
ragged old man who sells lottery tickets.
Is he a friend of yours?"

"He is a caballero, señor," replied Romaña
with dignity.  "Señor Galdos was once a
sub-prefect."

"Was he indeed?  He has been a very
good friend to us, and I hope we may be able
to reward him some day.  How much
farther is it?  The path is becoming very rough."

"It is several miles, señor; but if all is
well when we come to the junction of paths,
there will be no need to hurry for the rest of
the way."

Soon after this the path diverged from the
stream, which wound away to the westward.
Romaña now recommended that the party
should ride slowly, while he himself scouted
ahead on foot.  The track here was too rough
for the motor-cycle to gain anything in point
of speed.

"When you come to a large stone, señor,
which I will place in the middle of the track,"
said Romaña, "then halt.  It will be no
more than a mile from the forked path, and
you will do better to go no farther until I
return to you, lest the clatter of hoofs should
be heard."

He went on and disappeared.  About two
miles farther on the riders came to the
arranged signal.  They halted, the men
dismounted, and Tim, leaning against the flank
of his mother's horse, and clasping her hand,
begged her to tell him how the escape had
been contrived.

"You had heard the result of the trial?"
she asked.

Tim nodded.

"Were you there, Mother?"

"I was not.  I thought it best for your
father's sake to keep out of the town.
Yesterday afternoon that wretch Pardo came
and took possession of our house.  He showed
me a document authorising him to work the
estate on behalf of the government----"

"Which means the Prefect, of course,"
Mr. O'Hagan put in.

"Then the wretched creature politely
turned me out.  I told him that he was in
rather too much of a hurry; he might at
least have had the decency to wait until
all was over.  But of course I didn't squabble
with the worthless fellow.  I packed up a
few things, got my horse--he allowed me
that!--and rode with Andrea and Juan
into the town.  Dr. Pereira was brave
enough to take me in.  No doubt the Prefect
will make him pay for it."

"Was the Prefect still in the town?"
asked Tim.

"He had gone back to San Juan, leaving
Captain Pierola to carry out the sentence.
I had made up my mind to see your father
for the last time, and when it was dark
Señora Pereira lent me a dress and a mantilla,
and the doctor escorted me to the
gobernador's house.  Of course, his permission
had to be got.  He was very much distressed,
poor man; he is terribly afraid of the
Prefect: but he promised to admit me to the
prison for a quarter of an hour to-morrow
night.  I asked him whether he couldn't
let my husband escape, but he went nearly
frantic at the idea.

"I was very much upset, as you may
imagine.  On the way back Dr. Pereira
noticed a man following us.  At first he paid
no attention, but by and by got angry, and
turned round upon the man, and asked him
what he meant by it.  'Go on, señor
doctor,' said the man.  'Do not notice me,
but let me quietly into your house presently.'
We went on, and I had only just taken off
my borrowed things when the doctor brought
the man to my room.  It was the little old
man who sells lottery tickets.  He told me
that if I would give him £200 he would set
your father free.  'How?' I said.  'It
will be better to ask no questions,' he said.
I had no money----"

"The gendarmes stripped the safe when
they arrested me," said Mr. O'Hagan.

"But I had brought my jewel-case,"
his wife went on.  "I suppose I showed my
doubts in my face, for the old man said,
'The señora can trust me,' and, looking at
him, I felt that I could.  I put my jewel-case
in his hands and told him to take what was
necessary, quite expecting that he would take
everything.  But he examined the things
as if he knew something about them, and
selected my pearl necklace and two bracelets.
'The señora will not like parting with
them,' he said, 'but there is no other
way.'  I told him he might have everything if he
would save my husband, and he seemed quite
hurt.  Then he told me that I must not go
to bed, but be ready to leave the house at
any moment.  He kissed my hand in the
most courtly way and was gone.

"About two o'clock he came again.  'All
is ready,' he said: 'come with me.'  You
may imagine what a state I was in.  I
followed him through the dark streets until
we came out into the country, and there I
found your father and the two men waiting
for me with a spare horse.  The old man
told us the way to come, and here we are.
I love that dear old man."

"He bribed the jailers, I suppose--jolly
old soul!" said Tim.

"The Prefect's own methods," said
Mr. O'Hagan.  "I'm afraid the gobernador will
have a bad time of it.  He was responsible
for me."

"And won't the jailers suffer, too?"
asked Tim.

"They decamped at once, you may be
sure," replied his father.  "But here's
Romaña back again.  He's in a hurry."

Romaña was running down the path.

"We cannot go on, señor," he said.  "I
crept as close as I dared to the fork, and
caught sight of some men among the trees
beyond.  I don't know who they are, but
it is not safe to proceed."

"What are we to do, then?"

"We must go back until we come to the
river.  The water is very low, and we can
walk up along the sand at the edge.
Presently we shall come to a stream that flows
down the hill-side from near Señor Mollendo's
camp.  We can climb up there.  It is very
steep and rocky, but it is the only way."

"Very well: lead on."

On reaching the river, the party scrambled
down the bank to the bottom.  In times of
rain the torrent had deposited large quantities
of sand in the bed, which the shrinking of the
channel in the summer had left bare and dry.
On this firm floor, level as a billiard table,
but ascending in a gentle plane, progress was
easy; but when they reached the stream
of which Romaña had spoken, and had to
strike up the hill-side, they found themselves
in difficulties.  They had to dismount and
lead the horses over great ledges of quartz,
polished to a dangerous slipperiness by the
action of sand and water, and round huge
boulders, that offered, at first sight,
insuperable obstacles.  Difficult as the way was for
the horses, it was doubly so for the motorcycle,
which had to be carried for many yards
at a time, and hauled up and over sharp-edged
rocks that threatened damage to its
tyres.  Many times they had to stop and
rest.  It was now midday, and very hot,
and Mr. O'Hagan's party, having had no
food since the night before, were hungry as
well as tired.

"Plucky little woman!" said Mr. O'Hagan
at one of these halts, to his wife who sat
beside him on a ledge of rock.

"Just think of Tim spending nights by
himself in a cave!" said Mrs. O'Hagan.
"How horrid for him!"

"Boys like that sort of thing," returned her
husband with a smile.  "Don't they, Tim?"

"If there's another fellow with them,"
said Tim.  "There's no fun in camping-out
alone.  I wish I'd thought to bring some
grub.  Mother must be famished!"

"I confess I hope Señor Mollendo will have
*something* for us," said Mrs. O'Hagan.  "Going
long without food is bad for a growing boy."

"I can eat anything," said Tim, "but
I'm afraid you won't like their grub."

"My dear boy, I would rather eat parched
peas with Señor Mollendo than sit down to a
banquet with the Prefect....  Hark!  What's that?"

She clutched her husband's arm at the
sound of rifle-shots far to the east.

"We had better get on, I think," said
Mr. O'Hagan, rising.  "Where's Romaña?"

"He has gone ahead to warn Señor
Mollendo of our coming," said Andrea.  "He
will come back to help with the machine."

An hour later the whole party, hot,
exhausted, and hungry, entered the enclosure
which Tim had described to his parents.
The assembled Mollendists greeted them
with loud vivas, and Señor Mollendo's face
beamed as he came forward, hat in hand, to
meet them.

"Welcome to my little castle, señor,
señora," he said, with the air of a potentate.
"I rejoice in the circumstances which have
given me the honour of entertaining such
distinguished guests."

"I don't," said Mr. O'Hagan bluntly,
"though I thank you for your hospitality,
señor.  Do you know what is the dearest
wish of my heart at the present moment?"

"If it is anything I can do----"

"A glass of wine for my wife, and then
dinner, señor.  Your guests, I should think,
never reach you without an appetite."





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.. _`CINCINNATUS O'HAGAN`:

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   CHAPTER X


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   CINCINNATUS O'HAGAN

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"I have an apology to make to you,
señor," said Mollendo, as they sat at dinner
in his own little four-square apartment.
"I perceive that I was under a misapprehension
when I ordered the arrest of your
son.  I can never sufficiently lament my
indiscretion, and beg that you will accept
the expression of my profound regret."

"I quite understand, señor," said Mr. O'Hagan,
reflecting that the indiscretion had
cost him £250.  "You party men find it
difficult to understand that an action may
be dictated by other than party considerations.
My son helped Señor Fagasta because
he's a man, not because he's gobernador."

"His action does honour to his humanity
as well as his courage," said the courtly
host.  "In these circumstances I feel that
it is inconsistent with the honour of a
caballero to take advantage of a mistake,
and I beg therefore that you will accept
restitution of the sum of money which I
demanded of you, but to which I had no
just claim."

"Your suggestion is only what I should
have expected from a caballero of your
reputation, señor," said Mr. O'Hagan,
politely adopting Mollendo's formality of
speech.  Mollendo bowed.  "But in the
circumstances I cannot do better than leave
the money in your hands.  And let me say
that I thoroughly approve of the use to
which you will put it."

"My dear!" ejaculated Mrs. O'Hagan in English.

"I am going the whole hog now," replied
her husband quietly.

She pressed her lips together, and listened
nervously as the conversation was resumed.

"I have made up my mind definitely to
take sides with you," continued Mr. O'Hagan.
"Hitherto I have held aloof, as you know;
but I have always sympathised with your
aims.  You stand for political honesty and
good government.  That is a motive that
appeals to me as a citizen.  Personally, I
have a strong inducement to support you;
the Prefect has stripped me of my estate.
If you succeed, I shall retrieve my fortunes;
and in assisting you I shall not only consult
my own interests, but do something, I
believe, for the good of the country in which
I have lived for so many years."

"A thousand thanks, señor," said
Mollendo, his eyes beaming as he clasped
Mr. O'Hagan's hand.  "I rejoice in your
generosity, and hail the approaching triumph of
our cause.  I remember how, in the brave
days of old, the Roman Cincinnatus was
called from his farm to assume command of
the national forces; and how, within the
space of sixteen days, he put the enemy
to utter rout and confusion.  You, señor,
shall be our Cincinnatus.  Caballeros," he
cried, rising and addressing the motley
throng in the courtyard, "the Señor Inglés
is one of us.  He espouses the cause of
liberty; he will strike with us against the
tyrant.  I call upon you to acclaim our
honoured guest with hearty vivas, and to
drain your copitas to the caballero who will
lead us to success."

Thundering cheers broke from the men,
and they were only too eager to fill
their cups and drink the health of the
Señor Inglés and confusion to the dictator.
Romaña smiled as he sat with Andrea and
Juan at a little distance from his master.
What he had hoped had come to pass; the
señor was now a Mollendist.  Tim also
smiled, for a different reason.

"How do you like Cincinnatus O'Hagan?"
he whispered slily in his mother's ear.

But Mrs. O'Hagan's sense of humour was
at the present moment clouded by anxiety
and misgiving.

"'Tis perfectly horrid," she said.

Mollendo had, in fact, jumped eagerly at
the chance of securing Mr. O'Hagan as an
active associate.  He was himself well
advanced in years; and though very popular
with his followers, on whom he exercised a
magnetic influence by his personal courage
and his oratorical gifts, he had no military
qualities or experience, and was conscious of
his own defects as a leader.  Mr. O'Hagan,
on the other hand, as he well knew, had won
a great repute as a soldier in the stormy
days of the Chilian war.  His advice in
matters of strategy and tactics would be
invaluable.  He would bring to the cause just
those factors of success in which hitherto it
had been lacking, and for the first time
Mollendo saw the gleam of coming triumph.
Mrs. O'Hagan suffered many pangs as the
conversation proceeded.  The two men were
settling the basis of their alliance.  Mollendo
was to retain the nominal command; the
practical control of the movements of his
little force was to be in the hands of
Mr. O'Hagan.  The good lady saw that her
husband was back in the days of his youth.
He always threw himself heart and soul
into whatsoever he took up, and he
discussed matters now with all the fire and
eager enthusiasm of a boy.  His wife was
troubled; and when she noticed with what
rapt attention Tim followed the talk, she
made up her mind to drop a word of caution later.

In the midst of the conversation a man
came hurriedly into the courtyard, and
walking straight up to his leader saluted
and said:

"Señor, I have news."

"What is it, Cristobal?"

"We were watching on the hills, señor,
when we saw two parties drawing near, the
larger on the eastern track, the smaller on
the western.  We hastened down to the
fork, intending to give battle to them both;
but suddenly we saw the smaller party halt;
from it a man came forward, but presently
hastened back again, and all his company
retreated and disappeared.  At the fork we
met the others, and gave them so warm a
reception that they withdrew towards the
town.  We followed them, but they did
not halt, so we returned to the fork, and
there our people are still posted."

"That is well, my son.  The smaller
party consisted of the Señor Inglés and his
family whom you see here.  They are now
supporters of our cause.  Carry that news
to our men; it will encourage them.  The
señor was a great captain in the army of
Peru years ago....  Will the señora excuse
us for a few moments?" he asked, when
the man had gone.

"You want to talk secrets, I suppose,"
said Mrs. O'Hagan; "but unless my husband
objects, I should prefer to know all your
arrangements.  Tim," she added in English,
"I am not to be kept in the dark.  I do not
like your turning yourself into a brigand,
but I see your mind is made up.  Only
don't do anything without telling me."

"Señor, my wife and I have no secrets,"
said Mr. O'Hagan.  "You may speak quite freely."

"What I had to say concerns the señora
herself," said Mollendo.  "This is no place
for a lady; nor should she be subjected
to the fatigues and dangers that we shall
have to encounter.  My wife lives peacefully
in a remote corner of the country some
fifty miles from here in the hills, and
if the señora will deign to accept her
hospitality----"

"Not at all, señor; I remain with my
husband and son," said Mrs. O'Hagan firmly.

"Perhaps the señor will command
otherwise," suggested Mollendo, who was not
accustomed to domestic opposition.

From that moment Mrs. O'Hagan was
his determined enemy.  Mr. O'Hagan
hurriedly explained that he would discuss
the matter with his wife in private.  He
found an opportunity of doing so later in
the day, when a corner of the ruins had
been prepared for their accommodation.  He
pointed out that she would be unable to
make the long and rapid marches which
irregular warfare entailed.  Her presence,
and the necessity of protecting her, would
be a source of weakness, possibly of disaster.
Mrs. O'Hagan recognised this, and after a
time reluctantly agreed to accept Señora
Mollendo's hospitality.

"But I must take Tim with me," she said.

Mr. O'Hagan stroked his chin.

"The boy won't like that," he remarked.

"It will be for his good," she replied.
"Surely you admit that fighting with these
desperadoes is not fit work for a boy of his age."

"As to that, there are many here no
older.  Age doesn't count in these matters.
He is perfectly healthy; he may be very
useful to me, and the experience will be
invaluable to him."

"Am I to lose both of you?" cried the
lady, much troubled.  "If it were for our
own country I might endure it, like many
another poor woman; but to think of you
throwing away your lives for this miserable
country--oh! it is too much."

Mr. O'Hagan was inclined to yield the
point; but while he was still hesitating, his
wife, dashing the tears from her eyes,
suddenly forestalled him.

"I am an idiot," she said.  "Of course
the boy would eat his heart out away from
you.  I mustn't look on the black side.
But do take care of him, won't you, Tim?"

And so it was settled that young Tim
should remain with his father.

Next day Señor Mollendo provided an
escort of half a dozen men, with whom
Mrs. O'Hagan set off for the long ride into
the hills.  Mr. O'Hagan and Tim on
horseback, each having a carbine, accompanied
the party, having decided to go half the
way.  They left the camp at its northern
side, and followed the track downward for
several miles until it crossed the river by
a narrow stone bridge.  Then their course
led to the north-west, the path rising steadily
as it approached the spurs of the Andes.
Progress was very slow; the day was already
far advanced when they reached a little hut
on the hill-side, about halfway to their
destination, where Señor Mollendo was
accustomed to break his journey when going to
and fro between the camp and his home.
Here they passed the night.  In the morning
Mrs. O'Hagan took leave of her husband
and son, who watched her party until it
disappeared along the winding track, then
silently sprang to their saddles and rode
in the opposite direction.

They had come within a few miles of the
stone bridge over the river when they caught
sight simultaneously of a number of
horsemen strung out along the path far ahead,
and riding towards them.  Mr. O'Hagan
felt the lack of one of the prime necessities
of a soldier--a field-glass.

"We must hide up until we see who they
are," he said to Tim.  "They don't know
how to order a march, at any rate."

The hill-side provided many convenient
nooks for hiding and taking a look-out.
But only a few minutes had passed when
Tim, from behind his rock, called:

"It's old Mollendo, Father."

"Take care you don't call him that in
the hearing of his men.  It would be a deadly
insult.  Better call him 'excellency.'  I
wonder what has happened."

They returned to the track, and trotted
downhill to meet the horsemen.  There was
about them an air of depression which did
not escape Mr. O'Hagan.  The explanation
confirmed his foreboding.

"Good-day, señor," said Mollendo, with
a graceful salutation as they met.  "I
grieve to say that you behold me a fugitive."

"What, excellency!  Has the usurper
taken the field at last?"

"It seems so, señor general."  (Tim
grinned as these complimentary titles
passed.)  "We were surprised at dawn by
large numbers of the enemy who had
advanced along the route by which you came
to my camp.  My sentries were, I fear,
overcome by somnolence.  The attack was
so sudden that I had no time to form my
ranks; but in the half light some of us were
able to make our escape--some on horseback,
others on foot.  We are scattered to
the four winds; all our stores are lost; it is
a sad inauguration of our new alliance."

"Courage, excellency!" said Mr. O'Hagan.
"We must consider how to retrieve this
mishap.  Are you pursued?"

"Not for the last five miles, señor."

"Then we will halt here, and wait for
our men to rejoin us.  No doubt some of
them will come dropping in by and by.
Let us ride forward, excellency, and choose
a position."

Meanwhile Tim, seeing Romaña among
the score of men who accompanied Mollendo,
rode up to him with an eager question.

"Where is my cycle?"

"There was not time to bring it, señorito;
but I managed to hide it under a heap of
brushwood collected for the fires."

"They'll find it!" said Tim, his face falling.

"Perhaps we shall recapture the camp
first.  It was all I could do."

Tim thanked him, but felt that the chance
of recovering his cycle was small indeed.





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.. _`THE MOTOR-CYCLE`:

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   CHAPTER XI


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   THE MOTOR-CYCLE

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Mr. O'Hagan was surprised at the rapidity
with which this offensive movement had been
executed.  It was a bold stroke on the part
of the enemy to make their way across
the hills during the hours of darkness, and
showed that they had among them a vigorous
and enterprising leader.  Its effect upon the
fortunes of the Mollendists was likely to be
serious.  The success of their cause depended
on the extent to which they could enlist
active support among the disaffected.  They
had many sympathisers in San Rosario and
the capital, but the most of these were too
timid or too cautious to carry their sympathy
into action.  A great success would no doubt
bring an influx of recruits; but a set-back
such as this would not only discourage
recruiting, but also dishearten those who
had already taken up arms.  Defeat breeds
desertion.

The outlook was very gloomy.  But
Mr. O'Hagan was a man whose energies were
stimulated by adversity.  He had been wont
to say that his plantation was too successful:
he was growing soft.  The present situation
was a challenge to the qualities that had
lain dormant in him since he hung up his
sword at the close of the Chilian war.

Mollendo expected that some of the
fugitives from the camp would in course of
time make their way to the hut in the
hills which Mr. O'Hagan had just left.
There he always kept a small supply of
provisions.  It was therefore decided to
return thither.  Several mounted men joined
them on the march, and within a few hours
after reaching the hut the party was
augmented by about two score, several of
them wounded.  These were attended by
a medical student who had thrown in his
lot with the Mollendists.  There was great
despondency among the little force.  Some
were disposed to continue their flight and
even to abandon the cause; but Mr. O'Hagan
set himself to rally them, appealing to their
courage as caballeros and hidalgos, a compliment
which especially flattered the mestizos
among them.

Mr. O'Hagan was too old a campaigner
to run any risks with a small force demoralised
by their recent reverse.  His first concern
was to restore their morale.  The great
difficulty was provisions.  The small supply
in the hut would soon be exhausted, and
in the inhospitable hills there was no chance
of obtaining any food except wild fruit
from the bushes.  The river swarmed with
fish, however, and Mr. O'Hagan, to give the
men employment, set some of them to weave
a seine net out of the creeping plants that
flourished along the banks.  With this
primitive implement they caught a good number
of fish.

Meanwhile he sent out half a dozen men
to bring in any more fugitives whom they
might meet, and Romaña with another man
to discover what the enemy were doing.
When these scouts returned late at night,
they reported that the main body of the
enemy had withdrawn southward, either to
San Rosario or to San Juan.  They were
partly gendarmes, the mounted police of
the province, partly the irregular troops
which the Prefect attached to his cause by
the hope of plunder.  The camp was still
occupied, but Romaña had not been able
to ascertain by how many.

One of the last comers among the fugitives
declared that he had seen the Prefect
himself in the action.  This seemed doubtful
to Mr. O'Hagan, but Mollendo assured him
that it was not at all improbable.  The
Prefect was a man of great, if spasmodic,
energy, and of much personal courage and
resource.  In Spanish America no man could
arrive at his position of virtual dictator
without such qualities.  He must have
guessed that his escaped prisoner had taken
refuge in the Mollendist camp, and having
so much at stake had himself led the attack
upon it, instead of leaving it to the
gobernador, of whose prowess he had a mean
opinion, by no means unjustified.  Indeed,
Señor Fagasta was in disgrace.  The Prefect
had accused him of conniving at the
prisoner's escape, and put him under arrest
in his own house--a prelude to another
demand for money.

It seemed strange that the greater part of
the Prefect's force should have been
withdrawn so soon after the capture of the camp.
Mollendo suggested that he was anxious not
to be absent too long from San Juan.  He
had many enemies there, secret if not
active; and if he allowed himself to be lured
into the wilds he might return from a successful
campaign only to find himself, as it were,
locked out of his own house.  No doubt he
reckoned on the demoralising effect of his
sudden swoop to break up the Mollendist
party, and had left a portion of his force to
harry the remnant at their leisure.

The position was discussed between
Mollendo and Mr. O'Hagan in the hut.  Tim
was close at hand, giving eager attention to
all that his elders said.

"I am much to blame for allowing the
enemy to surprise me," said Mollendo bitterly.
"I ought to have guarded my back door
more diligently, but I was relying on the
gobernador's known want of enterprise.
He boasts of what he is going to do, but I
have never known him to do anything."

"Don't take it to heart, excellency," said
Mr. O'Hagan.  "You were not to know that
the Prefect would take matters into his
own hands, nor would he have done so, I
suspect, but for me.  It is therefore
incumbent on me, as the cause of your
misfortune, to do what I can to retrieve it."

"And I trust much in your valour and
skill, general."

"I thank you, excellency.  Our most
urgent need is food; the next is arms and
ammunition; the next, men.  That is the
order in which our fortunes must be built
up.  And I confess that at the moment I am
rather at a loss as to what steps to advise."

"We could get a certain amount of food
at our own place," suggested Tim.  "There
can be no harm in robbing what we have
been robbed of."

"That is all very well, but Pardo is in
possession, no doubt with gendarmes to
support him; and the enemy lie between us
and home.  It is very necessary to keep a
careful watch on their movements, and I
propose, with your consent, excellency, to
send two scouts forward to-night to see what
they are doing."

"Let me be one, Father," said Tim eagerly.

"You are rather too young," said Mr. O'Hagan,
remembering his wife's injunctions.
"Many of his excellency's men are
no doubt experienced in such work."

"Let the boy go, general," said Mollendo.
"I have already formed a high opinion of
his courage.  Such a task would give him
invaluable experience.  And if you send
Nicolas Romaña as the second scout, you
need have no fear; the boy will be safe with
Romaña, one of the most active and
trustworthy of my adherents."

Mr. O'Hagan felt himself in a difficulty.
It would certainly weaken his own position
with Mollendo if he refused to let his boy
take a share in the operations.  After so
direct a proposal he could hardly hesitate
to employ Tim when he would employ any
one else.  After a brief inward conflict he said:

"Very well, excellency; the boy must win
his spurs; he shall go."

Tim was delighted, Romaña scarcely
less; he felt much flattered by his chief's
praises.  Soon after dark, therefore, the two
set off on horseback.  It was a cold night;
a biting wind blew down from the
mountains; and the scouts were not sorry when,
arriving within a few miles of the camp,
they had to dismount and proceed on foot.
They led their horses some distance from
the track, and tethered them in a clump of
trees, placing on their return three large
boulders at the side of the path to mark
the place.  If they should have to hurry
back in the darkness, without such
signposts they might very well overshoot the
spot.  Then, keeping on the hill-side above
the track, they crept along, listening for
sounds from the enemy's outposts.

They were within half a mile of the camp
when they had the first indication of the
enemy's presence.  They heard the sound of
horses champing their bits in the distance,
and a low murmur of voices.  Moving
stealthily forward, they found that two or
three men were posted on the track.  As
far as they could tell, this was the only
precaution taken by the enemy against
surprise from this quarter.

The scouts wormed their way foot by foot
towards the camp.  Their course was
difficult.  They durst not advance along the
track itself; and the hill-side above was
rugged and broken, littered with loose stones
which had been removed at some time from
the Inca buildings.  Their route brought
them presently to a spot from which they
saw a slight glow ahead.  It evidently came
from a camp fire; but the fire itself was
hidden from them by the ruined wall.
Skirting the enclosure, they made their way
to the side where, as they knew by the
sounds, the horses were tethered.  Here
they caught the footfalls of a sentry moving
to and fro outside the wall.  They stole
past him to a point where the hill fell away
steeply, crawled up the slope until they
gained the foot of the wall, and clambering
up its ruined face, peered over into the
interior of the courtyard.  The horses just
beneath them snorted with alarm; their
movements, quiet as they were, or their
scent, had disturbed the sensitive beasts.
The sentry close by stopped; but after a
silent pause of a few moments resumed his
beat.

The scouts clung to the wall, their eyes
just above its top.  They saw three fires
in the courtyard; all were dying down.
Around each lay a number of men, wrapped
in their cloaks.  They could not count them;
indeed, only when the breeze stirred the
embers could they distinguish the forms at
all.  But it was easier to count the horses,
ranged in a close rank with their heads
towards the wall.  There were ninety.  A
similar line stood against the adjacent wall
at right angles.  Altogether there must be
at least a hundred and eighty animals.

There seemed to be no chance of making
any more discoveries, and the twain were
about to move away, when a sudden gust
of wind stirred the nearest of the dull fires
to a momentary flame.  By its light Tim
caught a glimpse of his motor-cycle resting
against the wall on the far side of the
enclosure.  He nudged Romaña's elbow to
draw his attention to it.  Neither dared to speak.

They remained thus for a few seconds;
then, by a second nudge, Tim intimated his
intention to retire.  They let themselves
down silently, and crept up the hill-side.
When they were out of earshot from the
camp, Tim said in a whisper:

"Romaña, I am going to get my bike."





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.. _`FREE WHEEL`:

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   CHAPTER XII


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   FREE WHEEL

.. vspace:: 2

Romaña gasped when Tim declared his
intention.

"It is madness," he said.  "Your father
charged me to have care of you.  I must
forbid it."

"I don't care what you say.  I am going
to get my bike.  Do you know that it cost
£60 in London?  Besides, I am not going
to let the Prefect's fellows have it."

"But consider," said Romaña anxiously.
"I don't deny you may steal in and get it;
they are keeping very poor watch; but what
then?  You would have to bring it out----"

"I'd manage that."

"And then how get it to our camp?  The
track is very difficult, for miles too rough for
you to ride.  There are sure to be sentries
at the eastern entrance; and as for the gully
by which we came, you know how hard our
task was in daylight: we could not possibly
carry the machine down in the darkness."

"All that's perfectly true, but I am not
going to leave it with these rascals, so we've
just got to think it out."

He had to admit that the gully and the
western track, by which they had just come,
were impossible.  The only other route was
the path which he had travelled when first
brought by his captors to the camp, and
when he had returned home after being
ransomed.  The entrance, as Romaña had
said, would undoubtedly be guarded; and
judging by the position of the outposts
whom they had passed on the way up,
there would be a corresponding picket on
the path below.

The path itself was difficult enough.  For
more than a quarter of a mile from the camp
it was a steep descent.  Then for about two
miles it dropped more gradually, becoming
from that point onward a sort of switchback
with a generally downward trend until it
reached the level not far from Durand's
house.  Having twice travelled along the
path, Tim knew it well enough to feel sure
that he could ride along it even in the
darkness without much risk.  The difficulty was
threefold: to secure the bicycle unnoticed;
to pass the sentry at the entrance; and to
evade the picket at the foot of the hill.
Romaña, who knew the weaknesses of his
countrymen, admitted that the sentry in all
probability would be asleep; but the
members of the picket would certainly be awake:
among two or three there would be conversation.

"Well then," said Tim, "if the sentry is
asleep I'll chance the rest.  But you won't
be in it.  We came out to scout, and you
must get back and tell them what we have
learnt: it isn't much."

"Your father will blame me severely if I
return without you," said Romaña.

"You can tell him you protested.  Besides,
I'll very likely be back before you.  If I get
away safely I'll make a round to the river,
and when I get there I can go so fast that
I may overtake you somewhere up the
road--provided the petrol lasts out.  It must be
getting low; I'd forgotten that; and we've no
more.  After this the machine will be useless."

"Then why not leave it, señorito?  It
will be useless to the enemy also."

"Don't go over it all again!  I mean to
have the bike; that's settled.  You get back.
I'll allow time for you to reach the horses
before I do anything.  You had better start
at once."

Romaña knew that further expostulation
would be useless.  He had had much
experience of his young master's firmness.
Reluctantly he took his leave, and crept
back over the hill-side.  Tim listened for
his footsteps, and hearing nothing he felt
much encouraged.  If Romaña could move
silently, so could he.  But for assurance'
sake he took off his boots and slung them
round his neck by their laces.

He waited a long time.  The sky was
moonless, a deep indigo blue, so dark that
the starlight did not enable him to read the
face of his watch.  It was essential he should
not start upon his own hazardous adventure
until Romaña was out of danger, and he had
waited probably twice as long as was
necessary before he ventured to move.  There
were no sounds from the enclosure except
the occasional stamp of a horse's hoof or the
rattle of a chain.  Even the sentry on his
right had apparently ceased to trudge his
monotonous beat.  The other sentry, if there
was one, at the entrance to his left, had not
moved.  Once or twice he thought he heard
slight sounds from down the path: the fact
that outposts were stationed below rendered
it probable that the sentry above would not
consider it necessary to be on the alert.
Perhaps, thought Tim with a gush of hope,
there was no sentry there at all!

At last, having heard no alarm from the
direction in which Romaña had gone, he
decided to start.  He stole cautiously along
and down the hill-side until he came to one
of the tall rocks that stood at the entrance.
Here he paused a moment to listen.  There
was no sound.  Creeping round the rock,
at two more strides he was within the
enclosure.  The breeze no longer woke fitful
flames from the embers of the camp fires.

It was pitch dark: otherwise he might have
seen the form of a sentry dozing on a ruined
buttress near the entrance.  In the absence
of light, the only means of finding the cycle
was to steal along by the wall until he came
to it.  Luckily he had to pass no horses:
the animals would have been more easily
disturbed than the men.

He moved as quickly and quietly as
possible, but his heart was in his mouth
more than once as he made the round.  It
was perilous work, picking his way in the
darkness among the sleeping men.  They
were placed irregularly, some close to the
wall, some at a little distance from it, some
actually touching it.  One man murmured
in his sleep as Tim passed; another, flinging
out an arm with a dreamer's sudden violence,
struck it against Tim's leg, and growled an
imprecation.  But, no doubt supposing that
he had hit a comrade, he suspected nothing,
and rolled over.  At the blow Tim felt an
impulse to shout aloud and run; but he kept
a tight rein upon his nerves, and went on
without further alarm.

At last he reached the bicycle.  There was
no sleeper within a few yards of it.  He
passed his hand over it rapidly to make sure
that it was complete.  Then, bracing
himself for the ordeal, he wheeled it between
several of the men towards the centre of the
courtyard.  At this tense moment he had
reason to be glad of the care which he had
always spent in keeping the machine well
oiled.  This, and the fact that it was a
free-engine model, made it noiseless.

Looking now eastward, he was just able
to discern the two pillars of rock that stood
high above the level of the adjacent wall at
the entrance.  Guided by them, he pushed
the machine straight across the courtyard,
skirting one of the dead fires.  He passed
between the rocks: he was now on the track:
and the heedless sentry slumbered on.

Tim was breathing hard in his excitement.
The first danger was past: what was he now
to do?  He stood beneath one of the tall
rocks, thinking.  Should he try to creep past
the outpost stationed, as he suspected, at the
foot of this, the steepest part of the track?
Or should he mount and run the gauntlet?
The men were probably not asleep: whether
awake or not they would hear his machine
approaching.  It seemed perhaps the safer
course to wheel the bicycle down at the side
of the track, and not mount until he was
within a few yards of them, when he might
hope to dash past before they were ready to
deal with him.

He was moving slowly downhill when an
accident caused a change of plan.  A loose
piece of rock, displaced by the front wheel,
bumped and rattled down the track, making
what seemed a terribly loud noise in the still
night air.  The slumbering sentry awoke and
let out a shout.  There were faint answering
shouts from below.  It was Hobson's choice
for Tim now.  He vaulted into the saddle,
and the cycle sped down the steep descent.
He did not switch on the engine; indeed,
he had some trouble in keeping the machine
in hand with the brake.  At renewed sounds
of alarm ahead he allowed the speed to
increase.  It was a gamble with fate.  If
the outpost, deliberately or unawares, blocked
the track at the foot of the hill, nothing could
save either Tim or any person or thing he
might strike.  If the space was clear, nothing
could arrest his course but a shot, so long as
he retained control of the machine.  Favoured
by the darkness he might escape, even should
the men fire at him.

Down he flew, steering by guesswork.
He heard shouts and the plunging of horses
ahead; then saw dimly several dark forms.
They appeared to stretch across the track.
He could not have checked now if he had
wished to.  He dashed on, as it were into
their midst.  On the left he grazed a man
about to mount; on the right passed within
a few inches of a horse; and while he was still
in the throes of nervous anxiety and even
terror, the machine had borne him safely
through the outpost.  He could hardly
believe in his good fortune.  But there was
no doubt about it.  He had now to face
only the dangers of the track ahead.

These were formidable enough.  It was
a mad ride at the best: a boulder of any
size, and there were many, would hurl him
to destruction.  Fortunately the track here
was fairly straight.  At one slight bend
he narrowly shaved a tree; a little farther
on the machine bumped into a transverse
depression, probably the dry channel of a
rivulet, and he just averted a side slip.  His
fortune held good.  As he drew farther from
the enemy he reduced his speed, and when
the downward incline became less steep, and
almost insensibly merged in a rise, he jumped
off, lighted his lamp, and for the first time
started the engine.

The men of the outpost, meanwhile, were
scarcely aware of what had happened.  The
sentry's shout had alarmed them, but they
knew not what to be prepared for.  There
was no firing, so that the Mollendists could
not be attempting a surprise.  While they
were mounting, they were vaguely conscious
that something had approached and passed
them, swiftly, with scarcely a rustle.  Only
when the ghostly object was already two or
three hundred yards down the track did it
flash into the mind of one of them that this
must be the machine which he had seen
hauled out from under a heap of brushwood
in the camp.  None of his comrades could
ride: it must have been purloined by an
audacious Mollendist.  Then the pursuit
began.  But the horsemen had to pick their
way carefully in the darkness.  Even before
Tim gained the switchback portion of the
track he had hopelessly distanced them.
And having now his lamp to guide him, he
was able to avoid obstacles, and dashed up
and down the slopes at a great speed.

Presently he came to the forking of the
paths, and turned to the right, intending
to ride on to the river, and make his way up
the channel until he was several miles west
of the camp.  He had ridden only a few
yards along this path, however, when it
suddenly struck him that the tracks of his
wheels would be clearly visible in daylight,
and would guide the enemy to the situation
of his friends.  Instantly he slowed down,
wheeled round and, returning to the fork,
ran some little distance along the path in the
direction of San Rosario.  Then, dismounting,
he walked the cycle a little farther; this
would have the effect of making the wheel
tracks more shallow.  On reaching a particularly
hard stretch of the path, he lifted the
machine on to the rocky ground at the side,
and partly wheeling, partly carrying, made
his way slowly back towards the cross path
leading to the river.

Here he listened for sounds of pursuit.
There were none.  The horsemen had given
it up.  He debated whether to try to
obliterate the few traces he had made before
the necessity of hiding his trail occurred to
him.  But he reflected that in the deceptive
light of the lamp he might leave still more
compromising signs, whereas the obvious
retracing of his course might suffice to lead
the enemy off the scent.  Accordingly he
let the wheel marks remain, and, carrying
or pushing the bicycle over many yards of
the sloping ground above the track, he again
mounted, and hastened on to the river bank.
There he turned to the left in the direction
of San Rosario, but after riding a short
distance he stopped, wheeled the machine
down the sloping bank between the bushes,
and then started upstream through shallow
water.  When he had thus covered about a
mile, he pulled on his boots, remounted, and
set off along the sandy foreshore.

Remembering suddenly that the river
was in full view from the ridge on his right
hand, which led directly to the captured
camp, he put out his light.  He wished he had
done so as soon as he turned northward, and
felt very uneasy lest the enemy should have
seen the lamp from above, and hurried down
the gully to intercept him.  The sandy bed
being whitish, he was able to ride rapidly
without a light.  A stream trickling into
the river from the right indicated the gully.
He dashed past, half expecting to be assailed
with shots; but there was no sign of an
enemy, and he felt that, except for some
unforeseen contingency, his dangers were over.

He kept to the river bed for several miles
after leaving the vicinity of the camp.
Then, however, he had to mount the bank
and take the track leading to Mollendo's
hut.  By this time he was very tired, and
the necessity of dismounting frequently,
to push the machine up the steeper and
more rugged stretches of the path, taxed his
strength severely.  To make matters worse,
the petrol gave out, and riding, even in
level places, was no longer possible.  But he
pressed on doggedly at a snail's pace.  At
last, when the sky behind him was beginning
to lighten with the dawn, he saw three
figures emerging from the gloom on the
track ahead.  In a few minutes Romaña and
two other men met him, and relieved him
of his burdensome machine.  Soon after,
exhausted but very happy, he dragged
himself into the hut, greeted his father
and Señor Mollendo with a smile, and,
dropping on to an extended rug, fell instantly
asleep.





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.. _`A COMMISSION`:

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   CHAPTER XIII


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   A COMMISSION

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It was high noon when Tim awoke.  A
breakfast was ready for him; so was his
father.

"I am very glad your mother is not with
us," said Mr. O'Hagan.  "She would have
been out of her mind with anxiety about
you.  Don't you know that a soldier's first
duty is to obey?  You were sent to scout:
you exceeded your instructions, and I am
not pleased with you."

"But, Father," said Tim, with his mouth
full of beans, "I have often heard you say
that a soldier ought to think for himself.
Don't you remember saying that a man who
has to be told everything isn't much good?"

"That's all very well," said Mr. O'Hagan,
feeling himself on slippery ground.  "I was
referring to officers, as you are perfectly
aware.  If every private were to think and
act for himself it would end in disaster."

"Am I a private?" asked Tim innocently.

"You are a raw recruit, with everything
to learn.  You are under discipline: remember that."

"I don't think it's fair," said Tim.
"Señor Mollendo calls you general; I don't
see why I shouldn't be an officer too!  You
might make me your aide-de-camp, Father."

"You are talking rubbish, sir.  Understand
me: you must do what you are told,
and not go larking about on risky adventures
like an irresponsible schoolboy."

Mr. O'Hagan spoke rather warmly.  He
had passed an anxious night.  Secretly he
was delighted with Tim's pluck and
resourcefulness; but his pleasure was qualified by
misgiving as to future dangers into which
the boy's love of adventure might lead him.
Besides, for his wife's sake he felt it his duty
to assume a sternness that was not quite
genuine.

"Aren't you glad I got the bike?" said Tim.

"Well, yes, I suppose I am," replied his
father.  "How did you manage it?"

Here Señor Mollendo entered, and Tim
gave the story in Spanish for his benefit.

"I congratulate you, my boy," said the
leader warmly, "and you too, señor, on
possessing a son who unites courage with
ingenuity, and caution with daring.  He has
twice proved himself more than a match for
the enemy, and in recognition of his signal
merits and as a mark of my approval I
appoint him a lieutenant in the army of
liberty."

Father and son glanced at each other.
This, coming after their recent conversation,
was almost too much for their gravity; they
could hardly refrain from laughter.  The
contrast between Mollendo's lofty manner
and his low fortunes was very comical.

"I thank you, excellency," said Mr. O'Hagan,
as gravely as he could.  "I hope
my son will continue to merit your
approbation--and mine."

The two men consulted together.  The
continued presence of the enemy at the
Inca camp was disconcerting.  By covering
the roads to San Rosario and the capital,
and restricting the Mollendists to the hills,
they put an effectual bar upon recruiting.
The northward region, sparsely settled and
largely unexplored, was favourable ground
for refuge, but for nothing else.  A few more
stragglers had rejoined their leader; but the
recent reverse discouraged any large
reinforcement.  So long as the little band, now
numbering about seventy, was cooped up
in the hills, the cause was at a standstill.
They might as well give up the struggle.

To approach the town with their present
numbers would be madness.  They would
be opposed by vastly superior forces, and
their retreat would be cut off by the Prefect's
men at the Inca camp, who themselves
outnumbered them by three to one.  Yet the
only chance of bringing about a general
rising against the Prefect was to gain a
brilliant success.

The situation of the Mollendists seemed
desperate.  There was scarcely any food
left, either for men or horses, and little
ammunition.  Only fifty of the men had
rifles; the remainder were armed with
revolvers and steel weapons of various kinds,
most of them rusty.  Their attire was equally
diversified.  Some were clad in the ordinary
costume of civil life; a few in the somewhat
flashy habiliments affected by professional
brigands; some had the parti-coloured
ponchos worn by Cholos.  There were at
least a dozen different styles of hat.  They
were certainly what Cromwell would have
called a "ragged regiment."  Mr. O'Hagan
felt that in casting in his lot with them he
had sprung from the frying-pan into the fire.
But he reflected that he had had no alternative;
and having accepted the responsibility
of organising the paltry army he was bound
to make the best of it.

The necessity of securing provisions must
be dealt with at once.  Señor Mollendo could
not offer a practicable suggestion:
Mr. O'Hagan recalled Tim's notion of running
off with supplies from his own estate, only
to dismiss it as impossible of achievement.
But Tim here made another proposal.

"Have you got any money, Father?" he asked.

"Not a peseta."

"I have £250," said Mollendo, with a
conscious look.

"Let Romaña and me go down to his
cave in the cliff," said Tim, "and see if we
can't get into communication with Galdos.
With your money, excellency, he might
purchase stores secretly in the town."

"Both Romaña and you are marked men,"
said Mr. O'Hagan.  "Anybody else would
have a better chance."

"I am sorry to differ from my generalissimo,"
said Mollendo.  "On the contrary,
I consider that the excellent qualities already
displayed by Lieutenant O'Hagan and
Romaña are guarantees of success.  I give my
vote cordially in favour of this admirable
proposal."

Tim could not help smiling.  He took a
mischievous joy in the overriding of his
father's views.  Mr. O'Hagan might be
Cincinnatus, but he was certainly not dictator.

"Galdos will have no difficulty, of course,
in buying provisions," he said; "the
difficulty will be to convey them to us."

"It is the duty of my adherents to triumph
over difficulties," returned Mollendo.  "For
£30 Galdos will be able to purchase provisions
for three days.  They will form a comfortable
load for two pack-mules.  As for the
means by which he may secure their safety
on the march, that must be left to the
caballero's discretion."

"We shall have to do the same thing
again in three days," said Mr. O'Hagan.

"Unless, señor general, we should by
that time have won a signal victory, which
is what I anticipate from your military
genius."

"And that will lick old Cincinnatus
hollow," thought Tim.

Mr. O'Hagan saw that to oppose the
suggestion further would be to risk a loss
of the harmony which ought to exist between
the civil and military leaders of a community.
He therefore yielded gracefully, and bent
his mind on the details of the plan.  He
determined to send out one or two small
parties to scout in the neighbourhood of the
camp while Tim and Romaña went down
the river.  It was possible that the Prefect's
men, having failed in what was no doubt
their chief object, the recapture of the
prisoner, might leave their present
somewhat bleak quarters, and return to San
Rosario or San Juan.  If it were discovered
that such was the case, it would be necessary
to advise Tim of it, so that he might beware
of stumbling among the retreating enemy.
Mr. O'Hagan arranged to do this by lighting
a beacon on a prominent hill-top, which
could be seen from many miles around.
One fire would indicate that the retirement
was by the eastern road,--that by which
Tim had first been brought to the camp;
two fires, some distance apart, that the
western road had been chosen.  No definite
instructions could be given for the guidance
of the two scouts: they must act according
to circumstances and their own discretion.

There was a whimsical smile on
Mr. O'Hagan's face as Mollendo took from a
leather case notes to the value of £30, and
handed them to Tim.  A strange turn of
Fortune's wheel, indeed!

Tim left the cave to find Romaña, and
arrange with him for their expedition.  They
agreed that they had better not start until
evening; they were both tired after the
work of the previous night; and an afternoon's
sleep would be the best preparation
for the task before them.

"I will choose two of the best horses,"
said Romaña.

"We shan't need them," replied Tim.
"You can ride behind me on the bicycle."

"But you have no petrol!"

"That is no matter.  It is downhill all
the way, and if you hold on behind me we
shall go more quickly and more quietly
than on horseback."

"There is the coming back," Romaña
objected.  "We cannot ride back without petrol."

"True.  Your friend Señor Galdos has
got to get some petrol.  That's part of his job."

"I don't believe there is any in the town."

"Well, if there isn't we must lay up the
cycle in your cave until we can get some
from San Juan or elsewhere.  The machine
is no good up here in the hills.  We might
just as well make what use of it we can."

Romaña said no more.  Argument was
never effective with Tim when he had made
up his mind.  They slept through the
afternoon, and started about an hour before dusk,
watched with much curiosity by the motley
crew of Señor Mollendo's adherents.  As
Tim had said, the track ran generally
downhill, switchbacking here and there, but most
of the ascents being too short to necessitate
their dismounting.  Occasionally there was
a long stretch upwards, where they had
to push the machine.  On reaching the
river they descended the bank and pursued
their way along the hard sand.  The incline,
though slight, was sufficient to keep the
wheels rolling, and their progress was so
silent that nobody beyond a dozen yards
could have detected their presence by the ear.

On approaching the western end of the
gully that led up to the camp they kept a
wary look-out in the gathering darkness.
At this hour it was unlikely that the enemy
would be abroad unless they had some
definite object in view.  They had hitherto
shown no evidence of enterprise.  The
departure of the Prefect seemed to have
robbed them of initiative.  There was some
slight risk of their having discovered the
wheel marks of the cycle in the sand if any
parties had been prowling in the course of
the day.  But when the scouts had passed
the junction of the river with the cross track
in safety, they felt secure.  A few miles
farther down they left the river and returned
to the track.  The only danger now was
that they might meet some one coming
from San Rosario to the camp; but the
ringing sound of hoofs on the hard track
could be heard for a long distance in the silence
of the night, and they would have warning in
time to hide somewhere before the riders
drew near.  In any case it was unlikely that
horsemen from the town would choose the
longer route.

They had now an easy run down to the
spot where the little hill stream cut across
the track.  Tim could not venture to light
his lamp; but the sky was not so dark as
on the previous night, and he had no difficulty
in dodging the loose rocks which lay upon
the track here and there.  On arriving at
the stream, they dismounted and carried the
machine to the cavern.  This was the most
toilsome portion of their journey; the rest
of it had been accomplished almost without
exertion.

Romaña lit his lamp, and brought out
from the cupboard a tin of biscuits and some
potted beef.  The waterfall gave them drink.
As they ate their supper they discussed
their plans.

"I will walk into the town to-night,
señorito," said Romaña, "see my friend,
and commission him to buy the provisions.
I shall tell him to purchase only a small
quantity at any one shop, so as not to
awaken suspicion.  To-morrow I shall
remain secluded in his cottage, and return here
with the mules in the evening."

"That's all very well, but what am I to
do?" said Tim.

"You will remain here, señorito," said Romaña.

"Why should I?  I had enough of this
cave before.  If that's all I'm to do I might
just as well have remained in the hills.  We
were both sent on this job, remember."

"But there would be great danger in your
going into the town.  It is a needless risk.
True, you speak our language perfectly;
but your appearance, your complexion, your
hair, señorito, are not those of a Peruvian.
You would certainly be recognised----"

"So will you."

"Not certainly.  In the dark I shall be
like any other townsman; and though
everybody knows me----"

"Look here, Romaña: old Moll--I mean
his excellency--made me a lieutenant this
morning, and if I choose to say I'll go, and
order you to stay here, you'll have to obey."

Romaña blinked.  But he was very
patient with Tim, whom he had known ever
since he was a two-years' toddler.  He
repeated his arguments, and Tim was not
so pig-headed as to deny their force,
disgusted though he was at the prospect of
kicking his heels for a whole day while
Romaña was doing the work.

"I tell you what," he said at length.
"I'll agree to what you propose if you'll try
to get me some petrol."

"How can I do that, señorito?"

"You won't leave the town till dusk.
Slip up to our place and bring a can from
the outhouse.  Here's the key.  Nobody
will be about at that time, and you can come
back through the sugar-canes."

"The cans are heavy."

"Well, I'll meet you where the path joins
the road to Señor Durand's.  There are
plenty of trees to hide amongst.  I won't
leave here until it's getting dark, and I'll
keep a good look-out.  Between us we can
carry a can or two easily."

Romaña was not unwilling to make the
attempt.  He knew the ground thoroughly;
it would not be difficult to thread his way
secretly through the plantations to the shed,
fifty yards in the rear of the house, where the
petrol was stored; the sugar-canes grew so
high that he could pass among them without
any risk of being espied.  He agreed to the
suggestion, only impressing on Tim the
necessity for caution.  Then, pulling his
hat well down over his eyes, and gathering
his cloak around him, he took his leave, and
set off on the fifteen-mile walk to the town.





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.. _`HIS FATHER'S HOUSE`:

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   CHAPTER XIV


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   HIS FATHER'S HOUSE

.. vspace:: 2

Tim was not remarkable for patience.
The morning and afternoon of the next day
passed too slowly for him.  In the cave
there was nothing to do; outside, his activity
was circumscribed.  He gave himself a
bath in the pool below the waterfall, then
returned to the cave for his breakfast.  The
empty meat tin tempted him to set it up
at one end of the cave as a target, and
practise revolver-shooting.  But recollecting
that the shape of this hiding-place might set
up tell-tale reverberations, he abandoned the
idea, kicked the tin away, and by way of
doing something went for another bathe.

While he was still disporting in the water
he heard footsteps in the direction of the
path, and scampered back lightly to the
shelter of the leafy screen.  Peering out
somewhat anxiously, he saw an old Indian
woman filling a pitcher from the brook.
She carried it across the track among the
brushwood on the other side, and
disappeared.  Tim guessed that she was one of
the workers on Señor Durand's estate, which
extended for several miles between the two
paths from San Rosario.  Some hours later
a Cholo youth walked up the track, carrying
a fishing-net and basket; he, no doubt, was
going to the river to catch the family dinner.
Except for these two, Tim saw no human
being during the day.  A number of
waterfowl settled on the stream when the sun
was high, and he caught glimpses of gaudy
parrots occasionally; these were all the signs
of life.

He had promised Romaña not to start
too soon, and meant to keep his promise.
It was twelve miles to the spot where they
had arranged to meet, a walk of less than
three or more than four hours according
to the pace.  Tim reasoned that by taking
the longer period he would have more
opportunities for scouting, and could make
up for any time lost if he should have to
conceal himself from passers-by.  Accordingly
he started, a full hour before he need
have done.  When once upon the path he
forgot his intention to go slowly.  He kept
up a good swinging pace, though neglecting
no precaution.  In the plantations on his
left hand he saw the distant forms of several
of Señor Durand's workers, but he met
nobody on the path, and nobody overtook him.

When he arrived at the place agreed
upon, it wanted still nearly two hours of
sunset.  Romaña could not reach him for
at least three hours, perhaps four or five if
he brought petrol.  Tim began to wish that
he had not been in such a hurry.  The spot
was a cross-road--the junction of the path
by which he had come with the track
running northwards to Señor Durand's
estate, with that running eastwards to his
own home, and with another going southwards
and emerging into the main road from
San Rosario to San Juan.  There were
trees all around, and Tim decided to climb
into one that gave him a partial view of
all the tracks.

He had not been long settled in his perch
when he heard on his left the sound of a
horse trotting.  Peering out through the
foliage he presently caught sight of young
Felipe Durand, riding alone towards the
town.  Tim, as we know, was impulsive; he
often acted hastily, and sometimes repented
afterwards, though not so frequently as
might have been expected.  When his friend
was within a few yards of him, he hailed
him cautiously.  Durand reined up with
a start, and looked wonderingly about him.

"Where are you?" he said, in a tone
little above a whisper.

"Here, up a tree," replied Tim.

"You *are* up a tree!" said Durand.

"Don't be an ass.  Ride in and tie your
horse up.  I'm coming down to talk to
you.  There's no one in sight."

Durand dismounted and led his horse
some distance into the copse.  There Tim
joined him.

"You are pretty mad," said Durand, "to
come so close to the town.  What on earth
are you up to?"

"Romaña has gone into the town to
get some grub.  We're very short up yonder."

"You'll be shot if you're caught.  The
Prefect is raging at your father's escape.
He led the raid on Mollendo's camp, thinking
to catch you and your father there."

"He'd better go on raging," said
Tim, with a grin.  "What is happening, Durand?"

"He has sacked the gobernador, fined
him £1000 and put him under arrest.  He
has promised £500 to the man who captures
you or your father."

"My price has doubled, then!  Where
is he now?"

"He has gone back to San Juan.  It's
rumoured that as soon as he has made things
secure there he's going to lead an expedition
into the hills.  He has sworn to smash
the Mollendists, and he'll have no mercy
on Mollendo or your father when he catches them."

"He should say 'if.'  'Ifs and ans are
pots and pans; 'there's a big difference
between 'if' and 'when'--and 'now' and
'never.'  What do they say in the town?"

"A good many people sympathise with
you, but the Prefect has a strong party,
as you know; otherwise he wouldn't have
left only a hundred men behind.  There's
a big crowd in Mollendo's old camp."

"I know, and a very poor lot they are.
What is happening at home?"

"Pardo is playing the tyrant.  It's rather
fun.  He cleared out all your old servants,
except the Irishwoman.  Old Biddy flatly
refused to go, and I suppose he's afraid of
being a laughing-stock in the town if he
sends the gendarmes in with her."

"He has got gendarmes, then?"

"A dozen or so.  He needs them.  He
has cut down wages all round, forbidden
any of the workpeople to go into the town,
and generally played the fool.  There was
a row this morning.  The Japs refused to
go to work except on the old terms.  The
foreman went to see Pardo at the house,
Pardo was insulting, and the Jap flew
at his throat.  Of course he had no chance
with the gendarmes there.  They collared
him and marched him into the town, and
he'll have a bad time when the Prefect
comes back.  Pardo's a fool.  The Japs
will bolt in a body if he isn't careful.
They'll easily get work elsewhere, and he'll
find it hard to run the plantations without
them.  But what are you doing here?"

"I'm waiting for Romaña.  He's coming
out after dark."

"Well, take my advice and don't run
any risks.  By the way, how is your
mother?  My mater was talking about her
this morning."

"She's all right--out of harm's way.
Old Mollendo is a funny old chap.  He has
made Father a general, and me a lieutenant."

"You don't mean to say that you have
really joined his party?"

"Indeed we have."

"That's a mistake.  The Prefect has got
a real handle against you now.  He'd be
justified in shooting you."

"He must catch us first.  You'll see
something startling one of these days."

"I'm afraid I shall.  Well, good-bye.  I
shan't say I've seen you, of course.  I'm
going to dine with Dr. Pereira."

"You can tell him.  He's a good sort.
Good-bye; glad I met you."

Durand rode on, and Tim went back to
his tree.  But he had not sat there more
than a few minutes before a sudden impulse
seized him to go himself to the house.  It
was only three miles away; he would have
plenty of time to go there and back before
Romaña arrived.  He might get some petrol
himself.  Romaña had the key of the
outhouse; but Tim knew of a couple of loose
boards at the back which he could easily
remove and so gain entrance.  He threw a
glance along each of the paths; nobody was
in sight.  Then he slipped down and hastened
into the broken country that lay between
him and the cultivated ground.  The hour
was drawing near for the cessation of work
on the plantations.  He might reach the
neighbourhood of the house without meeting
any of the labourers.  Even if he did meet
them, what Durand had said assured him
that he need have no fear of betrayal.

He made all possible haste.  No fence
separated the waste land from the coffee
plantations.  In this region the coffee plants
grew to an unusual height, and he could
safely make his way through them without
having to go farther northward to the
equally tall sugar-canes.

He met no one.  In less than an hour he
came to the rear of the private grounds.
A thick shrubbery enclosed the field on
which he was accustomed to play cricket
and lawn-tennis.  To the left was the petrol
shed.  Between the field and the house
were the kitchen garden and an orchard.

Tim made his way to the back of the shed.
It was an easy matter to pull out the loose
boards.  He entered, took a can, and
returning with it to the shrubbery, hid it among
the dense foliage near the spot where he had
emerged from the plantation.  In the course
of half an hour he had four cans ready for
removal.  By this time dusk had fallen.
He heard the clatter of crockery from the
house.  It was dinner time.  An uncontrollable
desire seized him to look in upon
Pardo at the meal.  Carefully replacing the
boards taken from the wall of the shed, he
slipped quietly round by the shrubbery
towards the end of the house remote from
the servants' quarters.  There was now a
light in the dining-room.  He stole through
the intervening orchard, crept to the wall
of the house; then, going down on hands
and knees, peeped over the window-sill.

The table was laid profusely; evidently,
he thought, Pardo was "doing himself
well."  The ex-bookkeeper had the head
of the table; there were two guests, one of
them the Captain Pierola who was to have
superintended the execution of Mr. O'Hagan,
the other Señor Fagasta's secretary.  The
men were on good terms with their fare
and each other.  They were chatting in
high good temper, and Tim felt a flush of
anger as he saw how free they were making
with his father's Burgundy.  It was a good
wine, used but sparingly by its owner; these
Peruvians had already emptied one bottle,
and two more stood at Pardo's elbow.

Tim watched them for some minutes,
conscious of a mad longing to rush in and
break the bottles on their heads.  But the
night was deepening; it was time to get
back; and he pictured Romaña's surprise
when he met him, as he expected to do,
coming through the plantation.  Retracing
his steps as stealthily as he had approached,
he returned to the shrubbery, took up one
of the cans, and set off with it towards the
rendezvous.

He had taken only a few steps, however,
when he heard a sudden commotion from
the front of the house.  Men's voices were
raised in angry cries.  He halted, wondering
what was happening.  After a moment's
hesitation, he ran back, dropped the can
in the shrubbery, and again hastened
noiselessly to the house.  Looking into the
dining-room, he saw that it was now empty; but
the door leading into the patio was open,
and through it he caught sight of a group of
gendarmes.  At the same moment he heard
the crack of a whip, then a cry of pain,
followed by howls of rage and the crash of
breaking glass.

The patio was brightly lit, but Tim's
view of what was proceeding there was
intercepted by the backs of the gendarmes.
Throbbing with excitement, he ran to the
side of the one-storeyed house, scrambled
up the wall by means of holes which he had
once made when climbing for a lost ball,
and got upon the roof.  A few steps more
brought him to the edge of the open patio.
Peeping over, he took in at a rapid glance a
dramatic situation.  In the centre of the
floor lay a Japanese workman, held down
by two gendarmes, while Pardo belaboured
him with a raw-hide whip.  In the veranda
and on the lawn beyond there was a swarm
of the Japanese labourers, howling with
rage, brandishing bill-hooks, and pressing
forward to the patio, the glass door of
which had just been shattered by the men
nearest it.  Within stood more gendarmes
with fixed bayonets, and just as Tim arrived,
Captain Pierola stepped forward and fired
his revolver into the midst of the crowd.
A man fell back among his comrades, shot
to the heart.  The cries were stilled; the
throng drew away out of the light; and Pardo
went on with his thrashing.

Tim's first feeling was utter shame
and indignant wrath.  Then he had a
sudden inspiration.  Rushing back to the
wall, he shinned down with the speed of a
squirrel, ran round to the front, and dashing
among the crowd of Japanese, who were
standing in the darkness, enraged but
irresolute, he called on them to follow him.
They recognised him, hailed him with a
shout of delight, and next moment the whole
eighty were following him in a yelling horde
back to the house.

He kept out of the light from the patio,
until, as he expected, the gendarmes fired
a scattered volley.  Then springing on to
the veranda, he discharged his revolver
point-blank at Captain Pierola, and brought
him to the ground.  The fall of their officer
took the gendarmes aback.  Before they
could recover themselves, the Japanese burst
into the patio with a shout of triumph.
The Peruvians did not await the cold steel
of their flashing bill-hooks.  Pardo had
already dropped his whip and fled.  The
gendarmes flocked after him, across the
patio, through the corridor and out at the
main door towards the road to San Rosario.
Not all escaped.  The rearmost were
swooped upon by the exultant Japanese, who
took an ample vengeance for the death of
their comrade and the brutal treatment of
their foreman.

"Glory be!" said a voice from the rear
of the patio, and Biddy Flanagan came
hastily to greet Tim.  "Is the master after
coming back?"

"He is not, Biddy, but he and Mother
are quite safe."

He turned to ask explanations of the
recent scene.  It appeared that the acting
foreman had come to Pardo with an
ultimatum from the whole body of Japanese,
that unless he procured the instant release
of the man imprisoned in the town they
would at once quit the hacienda.  Pardo,
having drunk more than was good for him,
forgot that he was not dealing with the
timid, spiritless Indians of the Peruvian
Amazon.  He ordered in the gendarmes, and
proceeded to flog the man, in full view of
the crowd watching through the door of the
patio.  No doubt the Japanese would have
had the courage to storm the house even
without Tim; but his opportune arrival had
quickened them with enthusiasm; they had
the confidence of men fighting in a cause
doubly just.





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.. _`THE RAID ON SAN ROSARIO`:

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   CHAPTER XV


.. class:: center large

   THE RAID ON SAN ROSARIO

.. vspace:: 2

Tim was flushed with elation at his victory.
With boyish impetuosity he had flung
himself into the affair without a thought of
consequences.  He had driven away the
interloper and regained possession of his
father's house: a feat of which he was
inclined to be proud.  As to the future his
mind was blank.

He was helping himself to some of the
dainties on the table in the dining-room
when Romaña rushed into the house.

"I'm here first, you see," said Tim, with a
laugh.  "Pardo has run away."

"Por Dios, señorito! are you mad?"
cried the man.  "We shall have the Prefect's
men from the town upon us in little more
than an hour.  Come away at once.  We
can take horses and ride into the hills before
they catch us."

"Wait a little," said Tim, sobered in a
moment as he realised for the first time what
his impulsive action involved.  "I can't
run away and leave the Japs to face it.  It
was all my fault."

"They must take their chance.  They
can hide in the plantations to-night and make
off to-morrow.  There will be no more work
for them here."

"But they can't get away in such a terrific
hurry with their families and belongings.  The
Prefect's men would hunt them down and
serve them as they've sometimes served the
Indians.  I'm responsible for them."

"This is folly!" cried Romaña, who was
much agitated.  "You can do nothing for
them.  There are not enough horses to
carry them with us to the hills, even if they
could ride, and they would be overtaken if
they came on foot.  Come, señorito, there
is no time to lose."

"Don't talk: let me think," said Tim,
leaning forward with his elbows on the table
and his head between his hands.

He was fully enlightened now.  He saw
what his rash act had led to.  These eighty
Japanese labourers were not merely mutinous
"hands"; they would be regarded as rebels
commanded by an acknowledged Mollendist.
He was responsible for them, and he knew
enough about the Prefect's temper to be
sure that they would meet with no mercy
at his hands.  What could he do for them?
As soon as Pardo reached the town and told
his story there, without doubt a company
of gendarmes and troopers would ride out
intent on vengeance.  The situation seemed
desperate.

Gone was now all feeling of triumph.  Tim
was simply miserable.  It would be useless
to bring the Japanese into the house and
attempt to defend it.  Even if they could
maintain their position for a time they could
not beat off the enemy with bill-hooks
against rifles, and before long hundreds more
would be summoned from San Juan.  And
then he started up at a sudden recollection.
Durand had told him that there were but a
hundred of the Prefect's men in San Rosario.
The others were divided between San Juan
and the camp in the hills.  Was it possible
to lead the Japanese into the town, swoop
down upon the garrison, diminished by the
despatch of troopers to the hacienda, and at
least arm his men?  It would be a desperate
adventure, one not to be undertaken in cold
blood; but the men were seething with
excitement and jubilant at their success; and
while they were in this temper they might
be capable of actions which at another time
would appal them.

He jumped up and looked round for
Romaña.  Seeing that he was not in the
room, he ran out into the patio and called
for him.  Romaña hurried in from the dark.

"I have two horses at the door, señorito,"
he said.

"Where are the Japs?" asked Tim.

"Out on the lawn.  They are mad with
joy.  Come, señorito."

"I am going to lead them to the town,"
cried Tim, brushing past him and going out
through the shattered door.  Romaña stood
for a moment paralysed with amazement,
then followed Tim, who was hurrying
towards the crowd.  He heard him tell them
what he intended to do; he heard them shout
with enthusiasm; then he rushed back to
the house, sprang on one of the horses, and
galloped away into the darkness.

Tim explained to the men in detail, as
quickly as the points occurred to him, what
course he proposed to take.  He would
march rapidly to the town, enter by the
east end, the quietest quarter, and lead them
to the barracks.  Only a few men were
there; and if the attackers moved quietly,
they might hope to surprise the garrison,
seize the building, and supply themselves
with arms from the armoury.  He knew
that some of the workers had pistols.  These
he sent to their huts to fetch their weapons,
bidding them run all the way there and back.
There was not a moment to lose; it was now
a quarter of an hour since Pardo fled; by
this time he was probably a third of the way
to the town.

Impressing on the men that haste and
silence were essential, Tim returned to
the house in search of Romaña.  But
Romaña was not to be found.  Seeing one
horse where there had been two just before,
Tim leapt to the conclusion that the man
had taken fright and made good his own
escape.  His lip curled with disdain of
his cowardice.  He found Biddy Flanagan,
told her to keep the servants quiet and
attend to Captain Pierola, who lay wounded
on the floor of the patio, then picked up the
rifles which the gendarmes had cast aside
in their hasty flight, and carried them out to
the men.  A few minutes afterwards he put
himself at the head of the column, now
increased by a score of Cholos, eager to share
in the adventure, and set off at a rapid pace
along the track to San Rosario.

He had spoken boldly and cheerfully to
the men, but his mind was dark with
misgiving.  He could not be charged with lack
of forethought now.  As he marched his
brain was busy.  Nobody in San Rosario
would dream of the audacious movement he
was leading; no special guard would be
maintained at the barracks; with the
advantage of surprise he felt that a sudden swift
onslaught might win the place.  But what
then?  In a day or two at the most he would
be besieged by an overwhelming force, and,
unless aided by a popular rising against the
Prefect, his little band of untrained men
must be annihilated.  The one consolation
was that by a preliminary success he would
certainly gain time; and recollecting that
the Japanese, if they had remained on the
plantation, or fled over the open country,
would have been at the mercy of pursuing
cavalry, he felt that the course he had chosen
was the wisest in the circumstances.

After marching for nearly a mile along the
track, he struck off to the left, over a marshy
wilderness that lay between it and the
highroad east of the town.  By this time, no
doubt, a detachment of mounted men was
already riding out to deal with the mutiny.
Pardo would have seen to that.  They would
follow the direct path; it was essential that
they should neither see nor hear the body
of men hastening in the opposite direction.

Ten minutes after he had quitted the track,
he heard the thud of hoofs and the clinking
of metal in the distance.  He instantly
called a halt, waited until the sounds had
dwindled away behind him, then hurried
on still more rapidly than before.  The
diminution of the garrison would render his
task easier; but it was important that he
should accomplish it before the horsemen,
finding that the birds were flown, had time
to return to the town.  Luckily he knew
every yard of the ground, and chose his
route unerringly even before the distant
lights of San Rosario came into view to give
him guidance.

Fifty minutes after starting he reached the
eastern outskirts of the town.  This was the
best quarter.  A few substantial houses were
scattered irregularly, surrounded by their
gardens, and separated by crooked streets
and lanes which all debouched upon the
plaza.  It was in one of these streets, on the
opposite side of the plaza from the
gobernador's house, that the barracks were
situated--a large two-storey building, once
a mansion, but now reserved for the
accommodation of the gendarmes and the irregular
troops of the Prefect whenever great
occasions brought them from San Juan.  The
outlying streets were strangely quiet, though
a murmurous hum came from the direction
of the plaza.  Choosing the narrowest and
least frequented lane, Tim led his silent force
to the end of the street of the barracks.

Meanwhile the centre of the town was in
a ferment of excitement.  The arrival of
the fugitives with news of the revolt led by
the outlawed Inglés, the attack on the
house, the murder (thus it was exaggerated)
of Captain Pierola, was like the coming of
a whirlwind.  The wildest rumours flew
through the town, and the whole populace
flocked into the plaza to discuss them.
One of the two lieutenants in the barracks
immediately set off with a troop for the
hacienda; the other, summoned from the
house where he had been dining, sent a
second troop into the plaza to keep order
and check any revolutionary demonstration
to which the news of the outbreak might give
rise.  Thus all things conspired to favour the
bold plan which Tim had conceived.

The barracks occupied almost the whole
of one side of the short street.  Wide gates
gave entrance to an open porch that cut
the building in two.  It was flanked on
both sides by the lower floor, devoted to
stores.  Staircases led to the upper floor,
in which were, on one side the quarters of
the men, on the other the guardroom and
armoury.  Both right and left a palisaded
balcony overlooked the porch.  Beyond this
was a long rectangular patio, bounded on
three sides by the stables.  The patio was
surrounded by a high wall abutting on the
gardens of the surrounding villas.

During the daytime the front gates were
constantly open, and a sentry marched up
and down the porch between the street and
the patio.  At night they were shut, and
the sentry occupied his box just within.
Tim had debated on the way whether to
scale the rear wall or to rush the front
entrance, and decided that the latter course
had the better promise of success.  The
wall was spiked; if they safely surmounted
it, to descend on the stable roof would
cause a commotion among the horses, and
before they could reach the main building
they would have to cross the whole width
of the patio, perhaps in the face of a hot
fire.  If the front gates were shut, the wicket
would no doubt be opened in answer to a
knock.  Then his plan was to seize and
silence the sentry, and send his men up the
stairs, if possible before the alarm was given.

He halted at the end of the street, which
was not overlooked by houses, and glanced
up it towards the plaza.  To his surprise
and joy he saw a bar of light across the
roadway at the position of the gates.  They
were open: evidently the surprising events
of the evening had led to a modification or
the neglect of the usual arrangements.  The
street was empty.  Passing word along the
line that the men were to follow at his heels
as quickly as possible, he rushed along
towards the open gates.

Within the porch the sentry at his box
was talking to two of his comrades who,
with their coats loosened, were leaning over
the railing of the balcony on the guardroom
side.  The attackers had come within a
few yards of the gates before the sound of
their hurrying feet was audible above the
hum of the excited crowd in the plaza.
It awakened no alarm or suspicion; but the
sentry moved leisurely to the street to see
what was happening.  He had just reached
the gates when, before he could cry out,
he was hurled to the ground, and a crowd of
men dashed past and over him into the
porch.  The two men above stared in
bewilderment for a moment; then, partially
realising the situation, they ran back into
the guardroom shouting with alarm.

By this time Tim was half-way up the
stairs on that side.  Some of his men
followed closely; others were springing up
the opposite staircase.  As yet not a shot
had been fired.  But as Tim reached the
balcony half a dozen mestizo soldiers of
the Prefect came tumbling out of the
guardroom, some loading their rifles, some hastily
flinging on their bandoliers.  Tim shouted
to them to surrender, emphasising the
demand with a shot from his revolver.  At
such close quarters they could not fire their
rifles.  The suddenness of the attack, and
the sight of the swarm of Japanese and
Cholos pressing on with billhooks, struck
them with panic.  All but two threw down
their arms at once; one struck at Tim with
his clubbed rifle; Tim dodged the blow, and
throwing out his left foot behind his opponent,
flung himself with all his weight against
the man and hurled him backwards to the
floor.  The sixth man ran to the window
opening on the patio, and sprang out, falling
with a crash.  It was afterwards discovered
that his arm was broken.

On the other side, meanwhile, a brisk
fight was in progress.  There were a dozen
men in quarters, including the second
lieutenant.  All the rest were in the plaza or
had gone to Mr. O'Hagan's hacienda.  Roused
by the noise, they seized their arms and
rushed to the balcony.  The officer reached
the head of the staircase at the same moment
as the first of the Japanese, and instantly
dropped him with a revolver shot.  This
momentarily checked the assailants, giving
time to the troopers to come forward to the
lieutenant's support.  When Tim, after his
bloodless victory, ran back to the balcony,
he saw on the opposite side a confused mass
of men in hand-to-hand fight, hacking at
each other with rifles, swords and billhooks.
He could not fire for fear of hitting
one of his own party.  Leaping down the
staircase, he dashed across the porch, up
the other stairs, and flinging himself into
the midst of the mêlée, brought the butt
of his revolver down heavily on the officer's
head, at the same time crying to the
Peruvians that all was lost.  They were
already hard pressed; seeing their officer fall,
and more Japanese and Cholos mounting
behind the lad with the ruddy cheeks and
fair hair, they gave up the unequal contest.

Locking them in their rooms, Tim hurried
down to the porch.  He ordered some of
his men to close and bar the gates, and led
another party up to find the armoury
beyond the guardroom.  The door of it was
locked, but he burst the lock with a shot from
his revolver, and, ordering the men to go in
and help themselves, he ran back, recalled
by a clamour at the gates.

On reaching the balcony, he found his
men at grips with a number of the enemy who
had been patrolling the plaza on horseback,
and hearing the shots had galloped down
the street to discover their cause.  The
greater number of Tim's party being on the
floor above, the Peruvians had been strong
enough to prevent the closing of the gates,
and some had already penetrated into the
porch.  Tim sang out to the men behind
him in the guardroom and armoury to line
the balcony, and fired down among the
enemy.  He was soon joined by a dozen
eager Japanese.  At his order they poured
a volley into the crowd below, taking care
not to hit their comrades, who were partially
sheltered behind the half-open gates.  The
horsemen, thrown into confusion by this
deadly attack from above, tried to wheel
their horses and ride back into the street.
This made the confusion worse than before.
The horses plunged with fright and pain;
several of the riders reeled from their saddles;
in a few seconds the survivors fled in
hopeless rout.  The moment the last had gone
the gates were slammed behind them and barred.

Running to a window overlooking the
street, Tim saw more horsemen galloping
from the plaza, followed by a shouting mob.
He called his newly-armed men to his side,
and ordered them to fire as soon as the
troopers reached the barracks.  One volley
was enough.  The horsemen reined up,
wheeled about, and rode back in disorder,
driving the shrieking crowd before them.
The barracks were won.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A SIEGE AND A SORTIE`:

.. class:: center medium

   CHAPTER XVI


.. class:: center large

   A SIEGE AND A SORTIE

.. vspace:: 2

Tim had learnt his lesson against premature
exultation.  He did not at the barracks, as
at the hacienda, allow his wits to be lulled
by the heady incense of success.  The
flight of the troopers, the secure barring
of the gates, gave him a breathing space
in which he envisaged very clearly the
dangers of his situation.

He was not much troubled about the men
whom he had just defeated.  They would
probably take no further action until
rejoined by the strong party who had ridden
out to the hacienda.  How long would that
be?  Nobody at the house would tell them
in what direction the insurgents had marched.
The Peruvian officer might suppose that
they had fled to the hills, and if he pursued,
it would be many hours before he could
return with his troopers to San Rosario.
But it was not unlikely that they had heard
the sounds of firing, which would travel far
across the open country in the night.  In
that case the party would gallop back at
once.  No doubt a messenger had already
ridden from the town to acquaint them with
what had happened, so that in all probability
they would return within two hours.  It
was now nearly nine o'clock; by eleven the
combined force, outnumbering Tim's band,
would for their own credit's sake try to
recapture the barracks.  Behind walls Tim
felt that he had a fair chance against them.

But this was only the first and the least
of the dangers he had to anticipate.  There
were two hundred or more men in Mollendo's
old camp in the hills: the news of the
outbreak at the hacienda might already have
been conveyed to them, with a summons to
ride back to the town.  If they started as
soon as the call reached them, they might
arrive by six or seven o'clock; but Tim
hoped that with Spanish procrastination
they would put off their departure until the
morning.  There was a much more pressing
peril.  San Juan was only thirty miles
away--ten miles nearer than the Inca camp.
The Prefect was there!  Doubtless he was
possessed of full information, flashed to him
from San Rosario by telegraph.  Spanish
though he was by blood and habit, he was
prompt and vigorous in action; and with his
present authority and future security at
stake he would surely set off within a little
of receiving the news--perhaps was already
hurrying across the hills.  The road was
bad; a march by night could not be fast;
but even at the worst, by five o'clock an
overwhelming force might be pouring into
the town.

Tim wished that he had had the forethought
to send a man to cut the telegraph
wire.  That would have gained five hours
at the least.  But he could not think of
everything; he was as yet a novice in things
military; and he had had no one with whom
to take counsel.  He reflected bitterly on
Romaña's desertion.  Romaña was not a
soldier; but he was twice Tim's age; he
had had some experience with the Mollendists,
and was shrewd and far-seeing.  Tim
was surprised and angry to find that the man
was apparently a coward.

Thrown upon his sole resources, Tim tried
to think of some means of meeting the
threatening dangers.  His case would be
hopeless as soon as the Prefect arrived with
his main body of troops, unless--Tim grasped
eagerly at an idea that had flashed upon him.
If he could send a message to his father, the
Mollendists, though ill-equipped and weak
in numbers, might push down from the hills
by way of the river bed and reach San
Rosario in time to give him help.  But
they were twenty miles beyond the Inca
camp, and could not arrive before the Prefect
unless the approach of the force from San
Juan could be hindered.  That was not
impossible.  A few men posted on the hill
road just above the place where the
Mollendists had snapped up the gobernador could
hold in check a much larger number in the
darkness, and gain a few precious hours.
Tim resolved to attempt both--to despatch
a messenger to his father, and a little band
to the defile on the high road to San Juan.

He had just risen from his seat in the
guardroom to select men for these tasks
when there was a commotion below--a
shout of alarm, followed by a moment's
silence, then a cheer.  He looked over the
balcony, and saw Romaña pushing his way
from the patio through the crowd of Japanese
and Cholos to the foot of the staircase.

"You are safe, señorito?" Romaña called,
seeing Tim looking down at him.

Tim did not reply: he felt hurt and indignant.

"You come when the fight is over," he
said, when Romaña joined him.  "I thought
I could trust you."

"Caramba, señorito, what do you mean?"
cried Romaña, his usual forbearance giving
way under a rush of hot blood.  "Do you
take me for a coward?  I have saved you
from making a thorough mess of your own
hasty scheme.  You did not think of the
telegraph wire: I did.  That is all."

"You have cut it?"


"Yes.  I galloped straight to the road.
I hope I cut the wire before Pardo reached
the town."

"Forgive me, Nicolas," said Tim penitently,
grasping his hand.  "I am an ass.
I ought to have known you had not deserted me."

"Say no more, señorito," said Romaña,
cooling at once.  "I am rejoiced at your
success.  But there is still much to do."

"How did you get in?"

"I climbed the wall and got over the
stable roof.  That must be guarded, señorito.
When the men come from the hacienda they
will certainly try to get in.  The Prefect will
hang them if they do not recapture the place."

"It shall be done: I ought to have seen
to it before, but I have been thinking of other
things."

He went on to tell Romaña his recent decisions.

"I thought of both, señorito," said the
man.  "I debated whether to ride at once
from the road to Señor O'Hagan; it would
have gained much time; but I felt that I
must first see what had become of you.
The duty is mine: I know the way: no
one else does.  Give me a dozen men;
we will sally out on horseback down the
street and get away before the men in the
plaza are ready to pursue us.  Galdos has
my horse in the wood half a mile away, but
I need a fresh one."

"What about the supplies?" asked Tim,
remembering the errand on which they had come.

"I took out two laden mules to the place
where we had arranged to meet.  Finding
that you were not there, I tied them up in
the wood and went to the house to fetch
petrol, as I promised.  Little did I imagine
what I should see there!"

"I got tired of waiting and went myself.
There are several petrol cans in the
shrubbery.  Of course I had no intention of
fighting; but I simply couldn't stand Pardo
thrashing Asumi, and when the other Japs
began to attack I saw a chance.  It was a
mad thing to do: I didn't look ahead."

"It may turn out to be the best thing
that could possibly have happened.  But I
must go, señorito; time is precious."

They went down to the stables together,
and chose twelve of the best horses.  Then
they selected eleven of the Cholos, who were
quite at home on horseback.  Tim explained
the nature of the service required of them.
They were eager to start.  The lamp in
the entrance was extinguished.  Tim kept
watch on the street from the window of the
guardroom, with several men armed with
rifles.  The bars were quickly removed; the
gates were thrown open; and the twelve
men sallied out, turned to the right, and
galloped at full speed down the street.
There was instantly a rush from the plaza.
But a volley from the windows checked the
oncomers, and they fell back.  Tim knew
that before they could ride through the
plaza, and down a side street in pursuit, the
fugitives would have a start of at least half a
mile.  The gates were again closed and
barred, and silence fell once more upon the
scene.

Tim had little anxiety about Romaña.
On reaching the outskirts of the town, he
would follow a track parallel with a
stream--the same which flowed past Romaña's
cave--cross it a few miles to the west, then
proceed across open country until he came
to a wooden bridge over the river.  He
would then take to the high road, and in the
course of little more than two hours arrive
at the defile where Señor Fagasta had been
captured.  There posting the men, he would
return to the river, and ride more rapidly
upon the hard sand at the edge of the
channel.  In five or six hours he should
reach the Mollendist camp.  With nearly
sixty miles to march, Mr. O'Hagan could
not reach San Rosario before late on the
next afternoon, even if he started with his
mounted men only.  But if the men posted
at the defile were successful in delaying the
Prefect's advance, the time gained might
be enough to allow the Mollendists to secure
the town.

Romaña's forethought in cutting the wire
had diminished the most serious of Tim's
anxieties.  The telegraphist at San Rosario,
of course, would soon have discovered the
damage by the failure of response from San
Juan, and after a certain delay no doubt a
mounted courier had been despatched to
convey the news--possibly a considerable
party, for protection against enemies along
the road.  In all probability news of the
affair at the hacienda had only just reached
the Prefect, who might reasonably regard it
as a trumpery disturbance that could be left
to his subordinates.  It would be some hours
yet before he learnt of the attack on the
barracks, and even if he then started
immediately, Romaña would have placed his men
on the defile before the force from San Juan
could arrive.

When the gates had been secured, Tim
had the lamp relit and called a parade of
his men in the patio.  His losses had been
slight.  Of the eighty-two left to him,
seventy-five were still fit for service.  All but
eight were now armed with rifles; for the
eight there were swords, bayonets, and
lances, if they wished for other weapons
than their own bill-hooks.  A large proportion
of the Japanese, having served in their
national army, were expert with the rifle;
and as there was plenty of ammunition in
the armoury, and food in the stores on the
ground floor, Tim felt himself very well
situated, whether to withstand a siege or to
repel an attack.

After parading the men, he told off a
number of them to hold the roof of the
stables on three sides of the patio.  The
rest were posted at all the windows overlooking
the street.  The rooms were left in darkness.

About an hour after Romaña's departure
the sounds from the plaza, which had died
down into a dull murmur, suddenly revived.
Shouts and cheers mingled with the clatter
of hoofs and the jingle of accoutrements.
The party from the hacienda had returned.
Tim sent word to the men on the stables to
be on the alert.

Some time passed.  The plaza had again
relapsed into silence.  Tim guessed that the
enemy were organising an attack.  He
wondered whether they would attempt an
assault on the gates, or trust to escalading
the patio walls.  The gates were of hard
wood studded with iron; the bars were
stout; it would not be easy to break them
down.  If the enemy once forced their way
in and made good their position, they would
have command of the stores, for Tim could
not risk a hand-to-hand fight in the entrance
porch.  The party from the hacienda,
combined with those who had been patrolling
the plaza and probably with a certain
number of the Prefect's supporters in the
town, would outnumber his own men by
at least three to one.  Tim thought his best
plan in the event of an inroad was to hold
the balconies and staircases, and keep the
enemy at bay until they were forced to
retire by exhaustion of their ammunition.

He soon found that the danger was to be
faced both in front and rear.  Warning
came first from the stables.  The silence was
broken by a sudden clamour.  From the
surrounding gardens men were attempting
to scale the wall on all sides--an impossible
feat in face of the forty men at their posts
of vantage on the stable roof.  But this
attack was only designed as a means of
occupying the defenders while the main
assault was proceeding in front.  Looking
up the street, Tim saw a number of dark
shapes rushing from the plaza along the
opposite side.  He had ordered his men
to hold their fire until the enemy were
well in view.  But the attackers did not
come far down the street.  They suddenly
turned to their left, and disappeared within
a doorway.  Their object was soon evident.
In a few minutes there was a burst of flame
from the houses exactly opposite the barracks,
and bullets flew through the open windows
at which Tim and his men had posted
themselves.  At the same moment a much
larger body of men, all on foot, came dashing
along from the plaza, keeping on the near
side of the street.  It was plain that under
cover of the rifle fire opposite a determined
attempt was to be made to break in the gates.

Tim ordered half his men, taking what
cover was possible, to reply to the fire across
the street, and the other half to be ready
to shoot down upon the enemy below.  He
saw at once that at the windows his second
party would be at a great disadvantage,
because they could not fire effectively
without exposing themselves.  So he sent them
up a wooden ladder to the roof, where they
would be in less danger themselves, while
better placed for dealing with the assailants.

Soon both patio and street were ringing
with the noise of battle.  At the rear and
sides the troopers who tried to mount the
walls, some on ladders, some by clambering
up the stonework, were hurled down by the
men above them.  In the front, bullets
rang across the street in opposite directions,
and poured from the roof upon the dense
mass now at the gates.  Tim heard a
resounding crash below; the enemy had
brought with them a heavy beam which
they were using as a battering ram.  In the
almost total darkness it was impossible to
discover the effect of the fire from the roof.
That it was comparatively ineffectual was
soon proved.  Three times the thundering
blows rang on the gates; at the third one
of the wings gave way, and with a yell of
triumph men began to pour into the porch.

Tim at once called his men from the
windows and posted them on the balconies
overlooking the entrance, whence they fired
on the crowd surging in.  Some of the men
on the stable roof, seeing by the light of
the lamp what had occurred, began to shoot
across the patio.  Taken thus between two
fires, the front ranks of the enemy lost heart
and tried to push back to the street.  They
were checked by their comrades still pressing
forward, and for a minute or two the porch
was filled with a solid mass of men, into
which the Japanese poured their shot as
fast as they could load.  The enemy were
thrown into utter confusion and panic.
With yells of rage and pain they struggled
among themselves, fighting each other in
their desperate efforts to get through the
half-open gate into the street.  But for the
steady shooting of the men on the roof, which
cleared the ground opposite the entrance,
not one would have issued forth alive.  An
advance of their comrades had been checked.
The pressure relaxed; the way was open;
and in five minutes after the gate was broken
the survivors of the fight were rushing
headlong back to the plaza, driving the mob
before them, and pursued by shots from the
men on the roof.

Tim ran downstairs and across the patio
to learn how his men were faring there.  The
assailants had been beaten back all along
the wall, and were slinking away through
the gardens to rejoin their friends.  There
had been much commotion among the horses
in the stables, and a good deal of damage done
by their heels when they lashed out in terror
of the shots.  On looking in at the quivering
animals Tim was seized with an idea: why
not keep the discomfited enemy on the run?
They had had two rather sharp lessons:
a charge on horseback might have at least the
effect of discouraging another attack on the
barracks.  By starting at once he might
even yet overtake the fugitives before they
all reached the plaza.

He called up the twenty Cholos he had left;
in half a minute they had led all the remaining
horses into the patio, and without waiting
to saddle, sprang upon their backs and
followed Tim to the gate.  As they came to
the street, Tim saw that fortune favoured
him.  The men who had been firing from
the opposite houses were at that moment
issuing from the doorway some distance
away, and moving off towards the plaza.
With a wild whoop Tim led the charge.
The enemy instantly picked up their heels
and dashed for safety.  Their comrades in
the plaza were gloomily discussing their
defeat.  Only a few men who had been
patrolling the square were mounted; the
horses of the rest were ranged in a long
line opposite the gobernador's house.  At
the sound of Tim's party galloping and the
cries of the fugitives the whole body made a
rush for their horses; but before they could
cross the plaza the pursuers were upon them.

.. _`TIM LEADS A CHARGE`:

.. figure:: images/img-180.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: TIM LEADS A CHARGE

   TIM LEADS A CHARGE

The place was ill lighted; the Prefect's
men, even if they had not been flustered
and disheartened, could scarcely have seen
how small was the band clattering across
the cobbles.  The noise made by Tim's
men, indeed, was worthy of a regiment, and
being mingled with shouts and screams from
the people who had been pushed back to the
openings of the streets, the coolest of soldiers
might have been deceived.  These hirelings
were not cool.  One or two succeeded in
mounting; the rest took panic and ran in all
directions.  Their horses caught the infection,
and galloped riderless across the plaza,
dashing in blind fear among the shrieking
people.  Men and animals fled helter-skelter
into the dark streets and out into the open
country.  In a few minutes the whole
garrison of San Rosario as a mounted force
had ceased to exist.

Tim was prudent enough not to leave the
plaza.  He did not yet appreciate the full
extent of his success.  When the square was
clear of the enemy, he hastened back to the
barracks, blocked up the damaged gateway
as well as he could, and then, feeling that he
was safe for the rest of the night, sent his
men to find a supper.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`IN POSSESSION`:

.. class:: center medium

   CHAPTER XVII


.. class:: center large

   IN POSSESSION

.. vspace:: 2

Felipe Durand was enjoying an after-dinner
cigar with Dr. Pereira when they
heard the first commotion in the town
consequent upon Pardo's arrival from the
hacienda.  Regarding it as nothing more
than a street brawl they went to a window
overlooking the plaza, and watched the
crowd gathering, and the gendarmes come
from the direction of the barracks to keep
order.  After a few minutes they returned
to their chairs.

Presently a servant entered, and reported
what was being said in the town.  A wild
and exaggerated rumour had spread that
the Mollendists had swooped in vast numbers
on Mr. O'Hagan's hacienda; the Prefect's
troops had been sent to drive them out.

"Young Tim did not tell me that anything
of that sort was in contemplation," said
Durand.

"It is a mad proceeding," said the doctor.
"By all accounts the Mollendists are a very
small party, and badly provided.  I am
surprised at O'Hagan."

"Perhaps it is a move of Tim's," suggested
Durand.  "He's mad enough for anything
at times."

"That boy has as many lives as a cat.
It's a marvel that he hasn't broken his neck
long before this."

"He was just the same at school.  If he
fell from a tree he never seemed to hurt
himself.  I remember once at rugger--a
sort of football, you know--he had a terrible
collision with a forward twice his size, and
we thought he was killed for a certainty.
But he got up after a minute and rubbed
his shins and chaffed the other fellow about
his fat.  'Soft as a cushion,' he said, 'lucky
for me.'"

They sat smoking and talking until a
renewed uproar drew them again to the
window.  There they watched what ensued
upon Tim's capture of the barracks.  They
came to the conclusion, surprising as it was,
that the Mollendists had attacked in force.
The rumours brought from below stairs
magnified every detail.  The numbers of
the assailants were greatly multiplied;
Dr. Pereira was inclined to believe that
Mr. O'Hagan, of whose exploits in the Chilian
war he knew, had himself organised a
dashing descent on the town.  It was only
later, when Tim led the charge into the plaza,
that the two onlookers had an inkling of the
truth.

"It's Tim after all, the young demon!"
exclaimed Durand.

"But he must be backed up," said the
doctor.  "He would never attempt such a
foolhardy exploit unless he could rely on
support from his father."

"You don't know Tim so well as I do,
señor," said Durand.

"You must stay the night, Felipe.  We
can't tell what may be happening on the
road, and you mustn't risk being shot.  The
affair is evidently much more serious than
I thought.  In the morning we shall learn
the truth of it."

A little while after the plaza had been
cleared and the excited populace had melted
away, two of the principal men in the town,
both strong opponents of the Prefect, came
to see Dr. Pereira.  They pointed out that
the town was now without responsible
authorities.  No gobernador had yet been
appointed in place of Señor Fagasta, still under
arrest; Captain Pierola, in command of
the garrison, was reported killed; and next
day the place would be in anarchy.  They
therefore begged the doctor to proclaim
himself provisional gobernador, and to
authorise the enrolment of special constables
to keep order until matters developed.

"I don't think I can do that," said the
doctor.  "The town is now practically in
the possession of the Mollendists.  Any such
action on my part would be resented by
them, unless indeed I issued a proclamation
in the name of Señor Mollendo.  Do you
suggest that I should do that?"

His visitors, one of whom was the principal
lawyer in the town, hesitated.  They
recognised that to take such a step would be a
burning of their boats.  The Prefect was
still to be reckoned with.

"My idea was to remain neutral between
the two parties, señor doctor," said the
lawyer, "and set up a provisional administration
in the interests of the general order."

"That cannot be done without the consent
of the gentleman now in military occupation,"
replied Dr. Pereira.

"But he is not in effective occupation,
señor," the lawyer persisted.  "He has
withdrawn his men to the barracks."

"The Prefect's men are not in occupation,
at any rate," said the doctor, dryly.  "They
have abandoned the town.  The utmost
that we can do is to send a deputation to the
Mollendist leader, and ask him to authorise
measures for the protection of the life and
property of the civil population.  I am
willing to form one of such a deputation,
and I suggest that you accompany me,
señores."

"Let me come too, señor," said Durand eagerly.

"You had better remain here, Felipe,"
replied the doctor.  "This is a matter for
grave and reverend signors."

His eyes twinkled.  He suspected that his
visitors were as yet unaware of the identity
of the "Mollendist leader," and relished the
anticipated scene of Tim receiving the
deputation.  In a few minutes the three
gentlemen set forth, the doctor bearing a
note which Durand had hastily scribbled.

Meantime Tim, while his men were at
supper, had been taking mental stock of the
position.  It did not occur to him that he
was master of the town.  No boy of his
years and limited experience could suppose
that by a single charge at the head of twenty
men he had swept away all effective
opposition.  He did not know that the enemy had
scattered in all directions over the surrounding
country; and while he felt that they would
probably not attack again during the night,
he expected that they would rally and at
any rate keep him closely invested pending
the arrival of the Prefect.  Consequently,
after arranging for the efficient guarding of
the barracks during the remaining hours
of darkness, he threw himself on Captain
Pierola's bed to snatch a rest in preparation
for the anticipated work of the day.

He was called up about midnight by one
of the sentries, who reported that three men
were approaching from the plaza under a
flag of truce.  He hurried to the gate, and
was surprised to hear Dr. Pereira's voice in
answer to the question he asked through the
wicket.

"We come as a deputation on behalf of
the citizens," said the doctor.

Tim threw open the wicket, and the three
gentlemen entered.  The lawyer and his
friend stared when they recognised in the
"Mollendist leader" the boy whom they
regarded as a harum-scarum young giddy-pate.
Tim's surprise equalled theirs when
the doctor, who thoroughly enjoyed the
situation, explained the object of their visit.

"We have come to you, as the gentleman
in military possession of the town," said the
doctor, "to request that you will take
measures for the maintenance of civil order.
The official garrison has withdrawn; the
gobernador is unable to act; and we fear
that disturbances may arise among the
populace.  We offer no opinion and take no
sides in the dissensions which presumably
have led to the present circumstances; we
approach you merely in the interests of the
general good."

The doctor's words were grave and formal,
but Tim caught the humorous twinkle of
his eyes.  He knew that Dr. Pereira was no
friend to the Prefect.  Maintaining equal
gravity, he tried to adjust his thoughts to
the new situation.  If the doctor had been
alone, he would have spoken to him freely, and
asked his advice.  The presence of the other
two Peruvians, whom he knew only slightly,
imposed a reserve.  Quick-witted as he was,
for a moment he found himself at a loss.
But when he realised the full import of
Dr. Pereira's words, he pulled himself together,
and said:

"I am honoured by your visit, señores.
I will at once send men to patrol the
plaza."  A sudden idea struck him.  "Perhaps it
would be in order if I issued a proclamation."

"That is the usual formality, señor," said
the lawyer, with professional approval.

"Then will you be good enough to draw
it up for me, señor?  You will employ the
correct forms.  Announce that I hold the
town in the name of Señor Mollendo, and that
it is under martial law until the civil
government is re-established.  You will find paper
and ink in the guardroom upstairs."

The lawyer and his friend having departed
to draw up the document, Tim was left alone
with his old friend.

"Bravo, Tim!" said the doctor.  "You
have carried it off well."

"But is it true?" asked Tim eagerly.
"Are we in possession of the town?"

"Without a doubt.  You have only to
act boldly.  Toujours l'audace!  The
garrison have bolted; without good leadership
they won't rally, and Captain Pierola
is dead, I hear."

"He is only wounded," said Tim.

"He is not here, at any rate.  The
Mollendists have a strong party in the town,
and if you put a bold face on it the Prefect's
adherents will not dare to rise.  Of course
your father is near?"

"I hope so, señor.  I have sent a
messenger for him."

"You don't mean to say that you have
done this on your own account, unsupported?"

"We *have* been rather lucky," said Tim
with a smile.

The doctor uttered an ejaculation of
amazement.

"You must tell me all about it presently,"
he said, as the lawyer reappeared with the
proclamation.  Tim, with an ingenuous blush,
scrawled his signature at the foot: "Timothy
O'Hagan, Lieutenant;" and with grave
salutations the three gentlemen withdrew.
At the moment of parting, Dr. Pereira put
into Tim's hand the note written by Durand.
Opening it, he read:

.. vspace:: 2

"Good old Tim!  I wish I had been in the scrum.
I am going to ask my pater if I may join you."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE ORDER OF THE NASTURTIUM`:

.. class:: center medium

   CHAPTER XVIII


.. class:: center large

   THE ORDER OF THE NASTURTIUM

.. vspace:: 2

Tim sent twenty of the Japanese to patrol
the plaza, to be relieved after two hours.
Then he returned to bed, feeling immensely
elated at the astonishing turn of affairs.

Early in the morning, a group of men
were seen approaching under a flag of truce
from the end of the street remote from the
plaza.  Some were leading horses.  Their
leader was alone admitted through the gate,
while a party of Japanese with loaded rifles
kept watch on the others from the windows
of the guardroom.  The man announced that
he had come with his companions, all
members of the Prefect's mercenary army,
to offer their services to the Señor Inglés.
They had been for weeks without pay; they
had served the Prefect from necessity rather
than choice; and were ready to strike a blow
for freedom.

Tim had a natural prejudice against
turncoats.  But he reflected that in this
kind of warfare a wholesale change of sides
was not uncommon.  His father had
expected that any Mollendist success would
immediately result in a large accession of
recruits, and he decided to accept the men's
offer.  When, however, later in the day,
after his proclamation had been read in the
plaza, more men came in, civilians of San
Rosario as well as troopers of the Prefect's,
he felt somewhat embarrassed.  To admit
more than a hundred to the barracks seemed
to him rather hazardous.  Such volatile
soldiers of fortune might change sides again
at any moment, and turn their arms against
him.  He therefore resolved to take no more
than fifty into the barracks, bidding the
rest to remain in their own homes, and hold
themselves ready to take the field when
summoned.  If he could have been quite
sure of their loyalty he would have despatched
them to reinforce the party at the defile, but
he felt that he must not run any risks for
the present, hoping that ere long his father
would arrive to take over his responsibilities,
which were beginning to weigh upon him.

Just before midday a messenger arrived
from Romaña.  He reported that early in
the morning he had had a brush with a
small advance body of the enemy, who had
retired after the exchange of a few shots.
Romaña himself had only reached the spot
a few minutes before the enemy appeared.
He had ridden to the Mollendist camp with
the news of Tim's movements, and
Mr. O'Hagan, after a momentary outburst of
anger, had promised to march at once for
the town.  But his progress would necessarily
be slow, owing to the fact that more
than half his men were unmounted, and to
the need for care in slipping past the enemy
in the Inca camp.

It seemed to Tim that the most serious
element in the situation was the danger of
an advance in force along the San Juan
road.  The men who had been checked by
Romaña were probably few in number; the
passage of a really strong detachment could
not long be seriously disputed by so small a
party.  It must be reinforced at once.  Here
Tim was in a difficulty.  He could not part
with his own men; on the other hand, his
new recruits had as yet given no proof of
their loyalty.  He saw that he must take
risks to avoid greater risks, and decided to
send a hundred men up the road to support
Romaña.  He arranged also for relays of
mounted men to post themselves on the
road and bring him early news of any fresh
attack on the defile.  To guard against
danger from the Inca camp he despatched a
few mounted men along the road in that
direction, to keep watch and get in touch
with the Mollendists as they approached.
The rest of his little force he kept under
arms in the barracks, ready to launch them
in whatever quarter their support might be
required.

In San Juan, meanwhile, the news of the
successive disasters suffered by the official
troops had struck the Prefect like thunder-claps.
He had been busily organising his
forces for a decisive blow against the
Mollendists, and was finding it necessary, much
against the grain, to part with a large portion
of the money he had recently obtained from
the gobernador and from Mr. O'Hagan's
safe, in making up arrears of pay for his
unruly mercenaries.  The messengers and
fugitives who had got through from San
Rosario carried with them so startling a
story of the vast numbers who had attacked
the town that he hesitated to move out until
he had made careful arrangements for
securing his position at the capital.  He had
contented himself with sending a single
troop along the road to San Rosario, to feel
for the enemy and discover what the position
really was.  The speedy return of these men,
with report of having been ambuscaded at
the defile, filled him with as much uneasiness
as dismay.  Knowing how precarious was his
hold upon the loyalty of his forces, he sought
to attach them to him by lavish promises
and considerable advance sums as earnest of
his sincerity.  As soon as day dawned he
pushed on his preparations with feverish
activity.

At San Rosario the day passed without
incident.  There was great excitement in
the town, but no breach of order.
Everybody knew by this time that the attack
overnight had been led by the young
foreigner, and he was so popular a person
that the majority of the citizens were not
at all displeased with his proclamation.
The gendarmes who had held the gobernador
captive in his house having fled, Señor
Fagasta came forth into the plaza, and
made an attempt to assert his authority.
But being assured by Dr. Pereira that the
reins of power were now definitely in other
hands, he retired to his patio, exchanged
his official dress for his old alpaca coat and
a Panama hat, and solaced himself with
strong cigars and many copitas of brandy
for his compulsory withdrawal from public
life.  During the day sundry groups of
Peruvian youths and other idlers ventured
timorously along the street from the country
end, and gazed open-mouthed at the gates
of the barracks and at the smiling Japanese
posted at the windows; but after a time
Tim thought it advisable to keep the street
clear, and posted a couple of his men at the
end to keep off intruders.

Early next morning word was brought
from his advanced scouts that the Mollendist
army had been sighted far up the western
track.  Every few minutes further reports
arrived.  Tim, all tingling with excitement,
paced up and down the guardroom, wondering
whether he ought to remain at his post,
or whether he might ride out to meet his
father.  Presently he heard that a crowd of
the townsfolk were pouring out into the
country to hail the Liberator.  At this news
boyish impetuosity prevailed over all
considerations of form.  Rushing to the stables,
Tim sprang on a horse and galloped out, down
the street, and through the rabble.

He met the ragged company a mile from
the cross-roads, marching, horse and foot, at
the heels of Mollendo and Mr. O'Hagan.

"Hallo, Father!" Tim shouted as he dashed up.

"You young scamp!" cried Mr. O'Hagan,
who was nevertheless delighted with the
scamp.  He had begun to think that Tim's
action in forcing his hand was going to bear
good fruit: he had picked up several recruits
on the way.

"Thank God you're safe!" he continued,
clasping the boy's hand.  "It was terribly
rash of you, my boy: what your poor mother
would say I don't know: I don't like to think
about it.  You have fairly taken the wind
out of my sails; *you* ought to be generalissimo,
bedad!  Seriously, you have set the ball
rolling to some purpose.  Mollendo is in ecstasies."

Mollendo had tactfully ridden on, so that
the meeting of father and son might be
private.  And being met at this point by
some of his chief supporters in the town, he
went forward with them, leaving word that
he wished Lieutenant O'Hagan to follow him
to the gobernador's house.

"You had better cut off and get a wash,
my boy," said Mr. O'Hagan.  "You're as
black as a sweep."

"I don't wonder.  I haven't had time to
wash; but I'll ride back to the barracks and
soon follow you.  Old Moll looks considerably bucked."

"He is.  A word of advice: don't call him
Old Moll in the hearing of the men, and don't
laugh when he addresses you."

"I don't mind so long as he doesn't kiss
me," said Tim, and rode away.

Half an hour afterwards he rode into the
plaza, blushing at the *vivas* that burst from
the throats of the rag-tag and bobtail who
were assembled at the sides, kept back by
the armed Japanese.  He found Mollendo
in the official chamber, with Mr. O'Hagan,
Dr. Pereira, the lawyer, and other notables
of the town.  Mollendo rose from his chair,
advanced to meet Tim, and before the boy
could draw back kissed him on both cheeks.

"I cannot sufficiently express my delight
and gratitude, Señor Lieutenant O'Hagan,"
he said.  "I heard some particulars of your
noble conduct from Nicolas Romaña; the
señor doctor has related your magnificent
defence of the barracks; you have displayed the
transcendent military aptitude of your race,
and proved yourself a compeer of the
illustrious Wellington, who so heroically defended
the liberties of the land of my forefathers
against the tyranny of the Corsican.  I feel
that I can best signalise this great occasion
by promoting you to a colonelcy in the army
of liberation.  Viva Colonel O'Hagan!"

Tim had often laughed at the perfervid
orations he had heard delivered by Peruvians,
but he felt more abashed than amused now.

"Old gasser!" he thought.  "Why can't
he talk sense!"  But his reply was very
polite.  "Thank you, excellency," he said;
"you are very good, but if you don't mind
I will remain as I am for the present.  It
was all a sort of accident; there wasn't really
much of a fight, and--and----"

Mr. O'Hagan interposed as Tim found
words fail him.

"Take my thanks also, excellency, for
the honour you propose to confer on my
son; but he is very young, and I think he
should earn his promotion gradually."

"I defer to you, my dear general.  I am
charmed by your son's modesty--a virtue
that is ever the attribute of great men.  But
I intend to establish an order of merit for
distinguished service under the new
republic"--here every one started--"it shall be
styled the Order of the Nasturtium; and
your son shall be the first recipient of the
insignia."

This announcement fell rather flat after
the startling declaration of Mollendo's
intentions, made so casually.  Mollendo had
in fact determined to form a republic,
independent of Peru, which had always
failed to exercise efficient sovereignty in this
remote province east of the Andes.  The
audacity of his scheme appealed to the
imagination of the Peruvians present.  After
the first moments of surprise they hailed
Mollendo as Don Carlos, the first President,
and the lawyer asked eagerly that his
excellency would allow him to draw up
a proclamation.  That historic document,
when it appeared, bore many traces of
Mollendo's own inspiration.  He was nothing
if not eloquent, and the sounding phrases
which he dictated were calculated to impress
a people peculiarly susceptible to fine
language.  The proclamation was taken to the
only printing-press which San Rosario could
boast, and within a few hours of Mollendo's
arrival the pink leaflets were distributed
broadcast.

There resulted a further rush of recruits.
The people were captivated by the idea of
an independent republic.  Before evening
the President's army had swollen to nearly
five hundred men.  This gave Mr. O'Hagan
more pleasure than flamboyant proclamations
and the founding of orders, which he
regarded as premature and theatrical.  He
took up his quarters with Tim in the barracks,
and pleased the boy intensely by discussing
the military position with him.  The important
matter was to hold the Prefect in check,
and at the same time prevent a junction of
his forces from San Juan with the men in
the Inca camp.  These latter were probably
now on the move, though they, like the
Prefect, might be holding back through
alarm at the exaggerated reports brought
to them by any fugitives who had retreated
in that direction.  To save their face,
runaways always overstate the numbers of the
force that has discomfited them.

The fortunes of the Mollendists were
decidedly in the ascendant.  Their numbers,
it was true, were still much inferior to those
at the Prefect's disposal; but a few hours
had already worked wonders, and time was
in their favour--if the time were not too
long drawn out.  Recruits would no doubt
continue to flock in: Mollendo's would be
regarded as the winning side; but it was
necessary to keep the machine in motion.
If once the impetus due to the recent
successes was lost, there would be a tendency
to run back in the opposite direction.

Mr. O'Hagan decided to hold the crossroads,
three miles west of his own house,
with a force sufficient to prevent the advance
of the enemy from the Inca camp, and
to employ the greater part of his troops
in defending the defile on the San Juan road.

"You will take command at the crossroads,
Tim," he said.  "Keep watch on
those fellows from the north; if they try to
force a passage, either this way or to San
Juan, prevent them.  But sit tight; don't
go adventuring, and don't force an action
if the enemy are quiet.  I may need you at
any moment to reinforce me against the
Prefect.  We have the advantage at present.
The Prefect's two forces are separated by
fifty miles of hills; we hold the only practicable
routes; to effect a junction they'll have
to make a detour of a hundred miles or more.
You and I will be within touch, and can
work together.  My plan is to beat the
enemy in detail--just as you have done, my boy."

"Inherited instinct, Father," said Tim
with a sly look.

Mr. O'Hagan laughed.

"I don't know what your mother would
say," he remarked.  "Mollendo is sure to
send his wife word of his new dignity.
You'd better write a note for your mother
to go with mine and the President's.  Don't
say too much: all that she really wants to
know is that you are safe.  The rest won't
interest her."

"I'm not so sure of that," Tim thought.





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.. _`PARDO SCORES A TRICK`:

.. class:: center medium

   CHAPTER XIX


.. class:: center large

   PARDO SCORES A TRICK

.. vspace:: 2

Before putting his plans in action,
Mr. O'Hagan went to the gobernador's house
(now styled the Palace of Liberty) to lay
them before Señor Mollendo.  He supposed
that the President, preoccupied with the
administrative business of the infant
republic, would cease to concern himself with
the details of the campaign.  A surprise
awaited him.  Mollendo approved his plans,
but said that he would himself accompany
the main force.  His presence and his
eloquence were, he thought, indispensable
to success.

"Moreover, general," he said blandly,
"since your son, with commendable modesty,
has declined the colonel's commission which
I offered him, it will be necessary for form's
sake to appoint an officer of that rank to
command the second army.  I recommend
for that honourable post Señor Zegarra, a
gentleman of proved loyalty, upon whom I
have just conferred a colonel's commission."

Mr. O'Hagan was annoyed.  Señor
Zegarra, the second of the trio who had
formed the deputation to Tim, was a retired
architect, with no military experience.  Still,
he was an amiable man, and Mr. O'Hagan
hoped by a little judicious and tactful
handling to prevent any interference with
his plans.

Tim laughed heartily when his father
returned and told him of the President's
action.

"Old Moll means to be boss," he said.

"Old meddler!" grumbled Mr. O'Hagan.
"However, it can't be helped.  I'll get
Zegarra to make you chief of staff, and if
you go gently with him you can see that he
doesn't upset the apple-cart."

Tim was secretly not ill-pleased at the
change.  It would give him, he hoped,
greater freedom of action.  As commander
of the force he would have been tied to it.
He could not leave his men.  And since
he had already made up his mind to fetch
the petrol cans which he had concealed in
the shrubbery, and make use of the motor-bicycle
again, he needed no consolation for
being superseded.

Mr. O'Hagan made a point of seeking
out old Pedro Galdos, and thanking him for
arranging his escape from prison.  Knowing
that the caballero, poor as he was, would
disdain a pecuniary reward, Mr. O'Hagan
had hit upon a more excellent way.  He
asked him to accept the appointment of
commissary-general to the forces, taking care
to couch the offer in the flowery terms that
a Peruvian loves.  Galdos accepted with
dignity, straightened his shrunken old frame,
and went off to harass all the provision
dealers in the town.

In the afternoon the two forces rode out,
Mr. O'Hagan and the President at the head
of about 350 men, Tim and Señor Zegarra
with 150, including his Japanese.  These
were on foot; all the rest were mounted.
Mr. O'Hagan marched towards San Juan,
Tim to the cross-roads north of the town.
On reaching his post, carrying out his
father's instructions, he set his men to throw
up a light earthwork at the intersection, and
rendered the woods on each side impassable
by an abattis.  He sent a number of
horsemen forward for several miles on both the
eastern and western tracks, to watch for
the enemy and give timely warning if they
should approach from the Inca camp.

Señor Zegarra was, as Mr. O'Hagan had
said, a very amiable gentleman; and when
Tim, after the bivouac had settled down,
announced that he wished to fetch his
motor-bicycle, which might be useful in scouting,
the new-made colonel gave a gracious
approval.  Tim was rather perplexed as to
the best way to set about it.  To begin
with, he had no petrol; but that difficulty
was easily solved.  He picked out four of
his most trusty Japanese, explained to them
clearly where they would find the cans he
had hidden, and sent them through his
father's plantations to bring them in.  They
would also report what they could discover
about the state of affairs at the house: he
thought it scarcely likely that Pardo had
ventured back again.  It was probably
deserted.

But, having the petrol, how could he
bring back the motor-cycle?  To walk to
the cave would be a long and wearisome
job: to ride seemed to mean that on returning
he must leave the horse behind.  He could
not ride both horse and cycle.  He might, of
course, take horsemen with him, and leave
his own steed with them; but the existence
of the cave was known only to Romaña and
two others, and he thought it would be as
well to keep the secret which was not his
own.  But before the Japanese returned
laden with the petrol cans he had solved
the problem.  He would ride out on
horseback, carrying just enough petrol to last
for the run, leave the horse with one of his
vedettes some distance from the cave, and
go on alone for the cycle.  The horse could
be brought back at leisure.

When the petrol arrived, he filled two
flasks and slung them on his saddle-bow.
The messengers reported that all was quiet
at the house.  It appeared to be locked up
and uninhabited.  Tim suspected that Pardo
had been among the men who had fled from
the town, and had very likely gone to San
Juan to stir up the Prefect.  The loss of the
hacienda would be a stinging blow to him.
Tim wondered what had become of old
Biddy and the other servants, and made
up his mind to take the first opportunity of
finding out.

He set off, rode along his chain of vedettes,
and halting at the man nearest the cave on
the San Rosario side, dismounted and
proceeded on foot.  In a few minutes he returned
on the cycle, much to the surprise of the
vedette.  Colonel Zegarra smiled paternally
when he rode into the camp, and made
a laughing allusion to the gobernador's
ludicrous appearance on that historic
occasion a few days before.  To Tim it seemed
to have happened weeks ago.

The little force was not provided with
tents.  Men and officers slept on saddle
cloths, spread in glades among the trees.
The situation was far from pleasant.  The
low ground was infested with mosquitoes
and other insects, whose pertinacious
attentions kept awake many more than those who
were on sentry duty.

During the night Tim resolved to make
a circular reconnaissance next morning, if
there was no warning of the enemy's advance.
On his cycle he could cover the ground much
more rapidly than on horseback, and, with
the zeal of a novice, he was eager to examine
the paths minutely from a strategical point
of view.  He would go by the western and
return by the eastern path, trusting to the
speed of his machine if he came in touch
with the enemy and were pursued.

Colonel Zegarra raised no objection when
Tim diplomatically suggested the importance
of obtaining a thorough knowledge of
the ground.  The nominal commander was
in fact a figure-head, conscious of his own
ignorance, and quite content to leave everything
to his chief of staff, and to reap the
credit of the successes which he hoped that
energetic young man would gain.

Tim rode off immediately after breakfast.
On the way he passed the vedettes strung
out at intervals of about three miles, and
leaving the last vedette behind, near the
cave, sped on beside the river.  The only
serious risk he had to guard against until
he reached the cross-track leading to the
eastern path was the possibility of meeting
a party of the enemy approaching from round
a bend.  In such a case he might have scant
time to turn his machine; indeed, in many
places he would have to dismount to do so,
owing to the narrowness of the track.  If
this occurred on a rising gradient, he might
be overtaken before he could get away.  But
he had all his wits about him, and reflected
that after all the enemy, if they moved,
would probably follow the more direct road
past Durand's house.

He arrived at the spot where his father's
party had halted while Romaña scouted
along the cross-track.  Turning to the right,
he rode for some little distance along this
track, then suddenly made up his mind to
return to the river, approach a little nearer
to the camp, and leaving the machine well
hidden, climb up to the ridge and try to see
what the enemy were doing.  From the top
there was an uninterrupted view for many
miles.  The climb proved an even stiffer
business than he expected, and on gaining
the summit, hot, out of breath, and with
trembling legs, he was disgusted to find that
the Inca camp was too distant for him to
distinguish anything very clearly without
the aid of field-glasses.  He saw figures
moving about in the enclosure, but there
was no sign, on the track or in the camp
itself, of any general movement.  It was
quite possible that the events of the past two
days were still unknown there.  The fugitives
from the town would naturally have turned
towards San Juan, which was nearer than
the Inca camp, and much more easily
accessible.  But the lack of communication
between the camp and San Rosario struck
Tim, raw hand though he was, as evidence
of astonishing neglect of ordinary military
precautions.

Returning to his machine, Tim rode along
the cross-track, reversing the direction of his
night escape, which already seemed ancient
history.  He was careful to profit by the
screen of trees on his left hand, and so keep
out of sight from the spot where Mollendo's
scouts had been posted; and he approached
the fork warily.  There was no one in sight,
either up or down the eastern track.  He
wheeled to the right, and rode on towards his
own camp at the cross-roads.

Only once before had he travelled this
part of the track on his cycle--when he
returned home after being ransomed.  He
remembered how difficult he had found it,
both when riding down, and when marching
up with his captors.  It was uneven, tortuous,
and with many gradients.  Its general
tendency was downhill, but here and there
it rose so steeply that, in spite of the power
of his engine, he had to alight and push the
machine.  At similar descents he had some
trouble in holding it in with his brakes, and
where the track twisted and ran downhill
at the same time, for safety's sake he
dismounted again, and found that wheeling
down was even more difficult than pushing
up.  But the worst was over when he arrived
within about three miles of Durand's house.
From this point the track ran almost
uninterruptedly downhill, and was fairly smooth,
and he sped along gaily at the rate of sixty
miles an hour.

A downward run of about a mile brought
him to the wooden footbridge spanning a deep
fissure that cut across the track.  For two
hundred yards above the bridge the machine
was quite beyond control; even a slight rise
in the last fifty yards failed to check his
speed appreciably.  He dashed on to the
rough timbers at a force that made him
tremble for the framework of the cycle, and
not until he was fifty yards up the gentle
gradient on the farther side was he able to
reduce his speed to a reasonable rate.

"I must have been going a tremendous
lick that time," he thought, after these
breathless moments.  "Wonder I didn't
come a cropper!"

When he reached Durand's house he
decided to call and ask whether Felipe had
obtained his father's consent to join the
President's forces.  He came away with what
is colloquially termed "a flea in his
ear."  Señor Durand met him at the door, refused
to let him see Felipe, and bundled him off
as if he were a tramp.  The gentleman acted
very conscientiously on the old maxim that
you go safest in the middle.  He had
subscribed to the funds of both factions
impartially, and having no faith in the power
of either to maintain a permanent superiority
he bluntly declined to allow his son to take
any part in the struggle.  Tim, as he turned
away, caught sight of his friend looking at
him disconsolately from a window, and with
a grimace which meant "Rotten bad luck,
old man!" he resumed his ride.

It was early afternoon when he arrived
in camp.  He made a formal report to his
amiable chief, whose wife and daughters
had come out to admire him in his new role.
Several other townspeople were chatting
with their friends.  Tim was very hungry
after his long outing, and extricating himself
from the flattering attentions of the ladies,
he went away to get something to eat.
Everything had been quiet during his
absence.  Galdos had brought a fresh supply
of provisions.  No news had been received
from Mr. O'Hagan.

After a good meal Tim, finding that there
was nothing to do except talk to the ladies,
whom he thought quite out of place in a
military camp, decided to ride over to his
house, see for himself what his messengers
had reported on the previous evening, and
get a much-needed change of clothes.  It
was only three miles away.  Leaving the
cycle to be cleaned by one of the Japanese,
he mounted a horse and set off.  He found
the house apparently deserted.  The garden
was trampled; the place had already taken
on the signs of neglect; doors and windows
were closed, and the shattered glass of the
patio entrance had been replaced by boards.

Tim wondered what had become of the
household.  The mestizo servants had
possibly taken, shelter with friends in the
town; perhaps old Biddy Flanagan had
sought a refuge with Señora Pereira.  He tied
his horse to a post and tried the front door.
It was locked.  Going round to the back, he
found that the window of his bedroom had
not been fastened.  He opened it and
climbed in.  As he passed through the room
into the patio he fancied he heard a slight
sound somewhere in the house: but after
listening for a moment decided that he was
mistaken.  All the same he moved on tiptoe,
feeling an unaccountable nervousness.

He went from the patio into the corridor,
glancing through the open doors into the
rooms as he passed.  They appeared to be
just as they were left, except that the table
in the dining-room was cleared.  He came
to the office.  The door was shut, but not
locked.  He opened it and went in.  The
first thing that caught his eye was the safe,
open and empty.  Then he noticed a hole
in the floor.  The matting had been taken
up, and two or three of the boards removed.
At the edge of the hole lay a quantity of
plate, some silver ornaments from the
dining-room, the ormolu clock from the
drawing-room, several porcelain vases, and other
articles of more or less value.

All this he took in at a glance.  Before
he had time even to guess at the explanation
of the strange scene there was a rush from
behind the door, and he found himself
grasped from the rear by two men.  He
tried to wrench himself away, dragging
his captors about the room.  It was useless
to cry for help; he wished he had brought
somebody with him.  He managed to get
one of his arms free, and twisting himself
round, hit out at the man now in front of
him, whom he did not recognise.  There
was some satisfaction in knowing that the
fellow would have a black eye.  But at
this moment the other man flung a cloak
over his head.  With his one free hand he
tried to tear it away, but it was drawn tighter
and tighter across his mouth.  His arm was
caught again; he gasped for breath; his
struggles became feebler; and by and by he
lost consciousness.

When he came to himself, with a racking
pain in his head, he found himself on the
floor, gagged and securely bound.  Pardo,
now alone, was bundling the valuables
together.  Tim watched him as he corded them
in a strip of canvas.  In a moment Pardo
glanced at him, and seeing his eyes open,
smiled, and began to talk, while still going
on with his occupation.

.. _`THE HOLE IN THE FLOOR`:

.. figure:: images/img-212.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: THE HOLE IN THE FLOOR

   THE HOLE IN THE FLOOR

"Buenos dias, señor capitan," he said with
a sarcastic intonation.  "This is a little
surprise, is it not?  Not very pleasant; no.
But strange as it may seem to you at this
moment, I bear you no ill will personally.
Your brigand father, to be sure, has treated
me abominably.  He has insulted the honour
of a Peruvian gentleman, and that is an
offence which, as you know, is frequently,
and justly, avenged with blood.  But you!--you
are just a foolish boy; your impulses
run away with you, and one is naturally
lenient to the indiscretions of youth."

He paused while straining at the cord, then
resumed:

"But one has to consider the public
interest; and in fulfilment of my public duty
I have felt it necessary to put a check upon
your personal freedom.  Having already had
experience of similar restraint, you will no
doubt be able to take your present condition
with philosophic equanimity.  If I am not
mistaken, you owed your release on the
former occasion to the payment of a ransom.
Well, events sometimes repeat themselves.
That lies in the discretion of his excellency
the Prefect, whom I am about to join; he
shall decide what to do with his prisoner."

Here he tied the last knot and stood erect,
looking down at Tim with a sardonic grin
that made his blood boil.

"But it would be inconvenient to take
you with me," Pardo went on.  "We might
meet some of your bandit friends, who would
probably jump to rash conclusions.  Having
a careful regard for your safety, I must
leave you here, but I trust your solitude will
not be protracted.  In the public interest I
ought perhaps to shoot you; but perhaps
your market price now exceeds £250; you
may be more valuable alive than dead.
That thought will console you during your
enforced seclusion.  There is one little
difficulty which it would be wrong not to
mention.  If any misadventure should befall
me on my way to the Prefect, the secret of
your hiding-place will be lost.  That would
be very regrettable, but I must ask you to
consider that the responsibility will lie
with your friends the brigands."

At this moment the second man entered.

"Is all ready?" asked Pardo.

"Yes; I have secured the horse."

"Very well.  Oblige me by pulling up
another board."

The man wrenched up the plank.  Then
the two lifted Tim, and bundled him into
the cavity like a sack.

"*A reveder*, señor capitan," Pardo called
through the hole.

The boards were replaced.  Tim was in
darkness.  For some minutes he heard the
men moving about above him, and the faint
sound of laughter.  Then their feet dragged
heavily on the floor: no doubt they were
removing the bundle.  The footsteps died
away; and Tim was left in solitude and
silence.

The cavity into which Tim had been
thrown had been excavated for the sake of
keeping the rooms above dry, and extended
beneath the house from end to end.  It was
not a pleasant place.  The ground was
damp; the atmosphere was stuffy; air
could enter only by one narrow grating.
Its humidity and the sub-tropical heat
favoured the multiplication of innumerable
insects, and Tim had not been there many
minutes before the voracious creatures
discovered him and began to make the most of
their opportunity and their victim's
helplessness.  They crawled over his hands, up
his sleeves, upon his face, into his hair.  He
did his best by shaking his head and twitching
his features to rid himself of the tormenting
pests; but they pricked and stung with
great determination and vigour, and he was
soon in pain and distress.

If only he could have removed the gag
he would not have felt so utterly helpless.
Not that shouting would have been of any
use in an empty house, but the power to
groan would have seemed a luxury.  And
when by and by he fancied that he heard
shuffling footsteps about the house, he
struggled in his bonds until he felt bruised
and lacerated.  All was in vain.  His head
began to ache; ideas the most incongruous
jostled in his feverish brain.  He tried to
collect himself and keep his mind fixed; but
he could not control his thoughts.  Recollections
of the Black Hole of history came to
harass him, and in alarm and terror lest he
should wholly lose his wits he strained his
muscles to the uttermost.  The effort
exhausted him, and presently he fell into a dull
stupor, in which he was conscious of nothing.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`PARDO LOSES A TRICK`:

.. class:: center medium

   CHAPTER XX


.. class:: center large

   PARDO LOSES A TRICK

.. vspace:: 2

At a late hour that night a rather weary
horseman rode into the Prefect's camp, a few
miles beyond the defile which Mr. O'Hagan
was holding with his 400 men.  News of
the Mollendist extravagances in San Rosario
having reached San Juan, the Prefect with
a sudden burst of energy moved out with a
motley force of 1500, and established himself
on the hills in readiness to force the passage
next day.  The horseman sought out the
Prefect's quarters, in a sheltered glade some
distance from the track, and was checked
every few yards by sentries demanding the
countersign.  The Prefect was always very
careful that all proper precautions were
taken for the safeguard of his person.

Pardo was rather annoyed by these
frequent interruptions.  He was very tired.
The roundabout route which he had been
forced to take by the presence of the enemy
across the road had kept him for many hours
in the saddle.  He had hidden the loot from
his late master's house; but, like all traitors,
he did not trust the man who had assisted
him, and almost wished that he had not left
the spoils and his friend behind.  But,
knowing the kind of men who formed the
bulk of the Prefect's army, he had prudently
decided not to bring valuables within their
reach and expose them to temptation.

He came to the last of the chain of sentries,
and requested an interview with the Prefect.

"His excellency is asleep, señor," said the
man dubiously.  "It is very late."

"Tell his excellency that Señor Miguel
Pardo desires to see him," returned Pardo
with impatience.

The man durst not leave his post, but
summoned a comrade, who conveyed the message.

"His excellency cursed and declined to
see you until the morning, señor," said the
man on his return.

Now, so far as Pardo knew, there was no
need for haste.  He had taken great care to
gag and bind Tim very thoroughly.  He had
left the house locked up and the windows
fastened, and even if anybody should break
in, it was unlikely that the hiding-place
beneath the floor of the office would be
suspected and the prisoner discovered.  But
Pardo was eager to conclude a scheme which
he had ingeniously concocted.  He had also
a rather exaggerated notion of his
importance.  So he sent the messenger back again,
to say that he had something of great
moment to communicate, and begged the
Prefect to see him at once.

After a little delay he was admitted to
his excellency, whom he found reclining on
a camp bed in the open air; tents were not
required in this rainless region.

"What is this important matter that
justifies the disturbance of my rest?" asked
the Prefect, rather haughtily.

"I regret the necessity, excellency," said
Pardo, "but I think when you have heard
me you will consider me justified."

"Well, say on."

"Your excellency would no doubt be glad
to be rid of the man O'Hagan and his boy?"

"Caramba!  I agree with you.  Without
them the brigands would be easily dealt with,
and this ridiculous republic would tumble
like a house of cards.  You have some plan?"

"I have, excellency; but I beg you not
to demand particulars.  I have means of
getting rid of them both.  It has cost me a
great deal of labour and not a little danger."

"Name your price," said the Prefect
impatiently.  "And I warn you to be moderate,
for this expedition is draining me."

"It will not cost you a peseta, excellency.
All that I ask is that you will bestow on me,
free of taxes, the full ownership of O'Hagan's
hacienda."

"Por Dios!  That is your idea of
moderation!  The hacienda produces several
thousand pounds a year.  Not cost me a peseta,
indeed!  You are presumptuous, señor."

"What I shall do is worth the price,
excellency.  O'Hagan has great military
capacity.  The Mollendist cause is gaining
ground.  A single reverse will break up your
army, and even if you win you will have
endless trouble while the Inglés is at large."

The Prefect reflected.  He had reckoned
on making a large income out of
Mr. O'Hagan's estate.  He might still do so,
even if he acceded to Pardo's terms.  What
he gave he could also take away.  When the
insurrection had been scotched, he could
squeeze Pardo until he became troublesome,
and then confiscate the property a second
time.  After a show of hesitation he agreed
to the proposal, and did not demur when
Pardo asked him to sign his name to a
paper with which the man with admirable
forethought had come provided.

Pardo took his leave.  He might now have
thought himself justified in seeking repose,
but impatient greed still urged him on.  He
mounted his horse, rode through the lines,
and did not halt until he had reached the
Mollendist outposts, whom he approached
under a flag of truce.  It was perhaps
fortunate that they were not Mr. O'Hagan's
Japanese workmen.  It was fortunate, too,
that he did not encounter Romaña.  He was
taken to Mr. O'Hagan, who lacked the luxury
of a camp bed: his couch was a bundle of straw.

"It's you, is it?" said Mr. O'Hagan
dryly, as he recognised his visitor.  "Going
to turn traitor again?"

Pardo bit his lips; there was a dangerous
gleam in his eyes.  But he curbed his anger:
he was a man of policy.

"I have the honour to inform you, señor,"
he said coldly, "that your son is a prisoner."

Mr. O'Hagan went pale.  This was an
unexpected blow.  But he said nothing.

"The Prefect is, as you are aware, not so
complaisant as the brigand Mollendo," Pardo
continued.  "He will not release the boy
for a paltry £250.  He will not accept any
sum as ransom for so mischievous a rebel."

He paused, as a cat releases a mouse for
a moment, for the pleasure, it would seem,
of prolonging its victim's agony.

"What have you come here for?" cried
Mr. O'Hagan impetuously.  "Merely to
harass me, you----"

He checked himself.  It was no good
abusing the man.

"I come to make a proposal," said Pardo.
"Your son is at present my prisoner; it
rests with you whether I hand him over to
the Prefect, and then!..."  He expressed
his meaning by a gesture.  "Or whether he
is released, and allowed to rejoin you.  My
terms are quite simple, but absolutely
unconditional.  They are not open to
discussion.  You will make a formal assignment
of your estate to me; you will then leave the
country.  Your son's life depends on your
prompt acceptance."

Mr. O'Hagan sprang up.

"What is to prevent me from shooting
you, you villain?" he cried, overmastered
by his rage.

Pardo shrank from him.  He felt a chill
run down his spine like a trickle of cold water.
But he recovered himself in a moment.

"The honour of an Englishman will prevent
you," he said with an air of assurance.
"Besides, if I die, your son dies.  Nobody
but myself and one other knows where he
is.  He will starve!"

Mr. O'Hagan shivered.  Pardo quailed
before his blazing eyes.  For a moment there
was silence; then Mr. O'Hagan, putting a
restraint upon himself, said:

"If I assign my estate to you----"

"Discussion is mere waste of time," Pardo
interposed.  "The conditions are peremptory.
You must not only assign your estate
to me but leave the country.  That is final."

"Go away," said Mr. O'Hagan.

"I cannot go without an answer."

"I will send for you--presently, when I
have made up my mind--in a few minutes."

Pardo withdrew, lit a cigarette, and strolled
up and down.  He felt very confident, and
flattered himself on his astuteness.  He was
by no means so sure of the success of the
Prefect's arms as he had professed in his
interview with that gentleman, even if
Mr. O'Hagan were out of the way.  The
Mollendists were growing in number;
Mollendo had made a clever move in declaring
for a republic, and the loyalty of the Prefect's
troops hung by a very slender thread.
Pardo had schemed to secure possession of
the estate in any event.  But it was necessary
to get rid of Mr. O'Hagan.  Mollendo, if he
gained the upper hand, might in O'Hagan's
absence respect the assignment.  He was a
stickler for law.  But the Prefect would
certainly not do so unless his enemy were
removed.  Pardo considered that he had
played his cards well.

Mr. O'Hagan was in a cruel predicament.
He could not doubt Pardo's story.  He
would willingly have given up his estate to
save Tim's life, but could he also desert the
cause which he had taken up?  His honour
was engaged.  He paced up and down the
bare space in front of his couch: the sight
of the red end of Pardo's cigarette a few
yards away filled him with bitter anger.  He
knew that he must yield.  With Tim's life
and his own honour in the balance, there was
no doubt which would outweigh the other.
He was too proud to consult Señor Mollendo.
The dilemma must be solved by himself
alone.  He could only make up his mind, go
to the President, and confess that every other
consideration--wealth, success, honour--must
give way before the danger of his only son.

Out of the darkness Romaña came up to him.

"A despatch from Colonel Zegarra, señor,"
he said.  "The courier waits for a reply."

Pardo saw Romaña, flung his cigarette
away, and effaced himself among the trees.
Mr. O'Hagan took the envelope, and tearing
it open mechanically, read the few lines it
contained.  And then Romaña was amazed
to find his hand grasped and shaken vigorously.

"He's safe, Nicolas!" said Mr. O'Hagan,
working his arm up and down like a
pump-handle.  "My boy's safe!"

"Señor!"

"Go and kick that villain out," cried
Mr. O'Hagan, recollecting himself.

"Señor, I don't understand!"

"Pardo!  He's over there.  Bring him to me."

Romaña followed the indication of his
outstretched hand, and came back with
Pardo, who, watching the scene, had been
invaded by a vague uneasiness.

"Go and hang yourself; that's my answer,"
said Mr. O'Hagan, turning his back
on the startled man.  "See him safe out,"
he called over his shoulder to Romaña.  "If
the Japs get hold of him they'll throttle him."

And Pardo, feeling with a sinking heart
that something had gone amiss, was escorted
by Romaña to the outskirts of the camp.

Mr. O'Hagan read again the brief despatch.
It was in Colonel Zegarra's writing.

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent

   SEÑOR,

I have the honour to report that the enemy
has made no movement.  A reconnaissance has
been admirably carried out by Lieutenant O'Hagan
alone, and I hope to report to you to-morrow the
measures which I propose to take for our greater
security.

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: noindent white-space-pre-line

I have the honour to be, señor,
   Yours in the service of the Republic,
       P. ZEGARRA,
          Colonel.

.. vspace:: 2

And there was a postscript in Tim's hand:

.. vspace:: 2

Pardo has been playing tricks.  Will write
to-morrow, as I'm very tired.  All well.

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: noindent white-space-pre-line

TIM,
   Lieutenant and chief of staff.

.. vspace:: 2

At the second reading Mr. O'Hagan could
smile at the odd subscription.  He saw Tim's
eyes twinkling as he wrote.

.. vspace:: 2

Unknown equally to Tim and to Pardo,
the house was not deserted, as they supposed.
Biddy Flanagan, the old Irish
maid-servant, had stuck to it when all the other
domestics fled, just as Puss will linger forlorn
in an empty house.  She shut herself in her
room, and only ventured out to forage.  She
had thus sallied forth to make a cup of tea
when she saw Pardo and his companion
coming from the direction of the town.  She
at once slipped out at the back, locking the
kitchen door and taking the key with her,
and hid herself in the shrubbery.  Thus she
did not see Tim's arrival, though she heard
the hoof-beats, and supposed that Pardo had
been joined by another friend.  When, after
some time, she heard the thud of hoofs again,
and guessed that the intruders had gone
away, she let herself into the house, put the
kettle on, and while she waited for the water
to boil, went through the house to see what
the spalpeens had been after.

"They've took the gold clock," she
muttered, standing with arms folded at the
drawing-room door; "and I wouldn't wonder
if it did be after striking in the bundle, and
maybe get them rogues into trouble.  And
the mistress's best chainey: faith, 'tis a
mercy she took all her jools along with her,
or there'd be none of um left at all."  She
went on to the dining-room.  "The like of
it!  Sorra a silver spoon to be seen, nor the
silver jug; I never heard tell of the way
them villains have the place stripped, and
that Pardo the master's man and all."

She made a mental inventory of the missing
articles and proceeded to the office.

"What did they be after doing here?"
she grunted, as she noticed, with the quick
eye of one accustomed to superintend the
cleaning operations, signs of disturbance
about the matting.  She stooped to straighten
it, and discovered the loosened boards.  "I
wouldn't wonder but they did be hiding the
things," she said, raising the planks one after
another; "and mighty foolish will they look
when they come back, if so be I can get
myself down through the hole and back
again.  There! the kettle's on the boil; I'll
just be wetting the tea, and fetch a candle
for this same."

The daylight streaming in through the
gap had roused Tim from his stupor, and
seeing Biddy above he tried to shout, but could
not utter a sound through the gag.  Biddy
soon returned with a candle and a kitchen
chair.  The latter she lowered into the hole,
stepped on to it, carrying the candle, and
so reached the ground.  She stooped, to
search for the stolen articles, and started
back in a hurry.

"Holy St. Patrick!" she exclaimed; "but
'tis a man, sure.  Is it murder they were after?"

Recovering herself, she held the candle lower.

"Mercy!  'Tis master Tim!" she cried,
"and beasties crawling all over on the poor
face of um.  The like of it!  Divil such
a state ever I seen as the poor boy do be in."

She bent over him, whipped out a pair of
scissors and snapped the cords, and whisked
the insects from his spotted and swollen face
with her apron.

"The poor lamb!" she said, lifting him.
"Sure the life's fair bitten out of um."

Tim could neither speak nor use his
numbed limbs.  The old woman took him
in her arms, climbed up through the hole,
and carried him to the kitchen, where she
made him swallow a cup of tea, and bathed
his face with warm water, speaking her mind
freely on the iniquities of Pardo.

He told her what had happened, and what
Pardo had said.

"And is it pay that the master will be
giving for a prisoner that is free!" cried
the old woman.  "Sure now, cannot ye
telegraph to um?"

"I wish I could; we ought to have
repaired the wire.  But the Colonel will be
sending a despatch to Father, and his courier
will get there before Pardo."

"He might," said Biddy.  "Faith, I hope
the master will shoot the wretch; he has
all the silver stolen, and I don't know what
all.  And what did ye be after, coming into
this den of lions?"

"Just a change of clothes, Biddy.  I
suppose they haven't taken them."

"Not them.  They're not clean inside or
out.  I will get ye the bits of things, my dear,
and do ye rub this butter on your face.  'Tis
the good thing for them bites."

In an hour or so Tim felt able to return to
the camp.

"You had better go into the town, Biddy,"
he said as he set off.

"What for would I be doing that?" she
rejoined.  "I do not be in dread of the likes
of them villains, and if so be they come back,
I wouldn't say but I tell um what I think of um."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`RUN TO EARTH`:

.. class:: center medium

   CHAPTER XXI


.. class:: center large

   RUN TO EARTH

.. vspace:: 2

Young Tim was at an age when boys are
a trifle sensitive about their personal
appearance.  He was glad that on returning
to camp his ravaged complexion was
obscured in the dark.  Nobody seemed at
all concerned about his protracted absence.
Colonel Zegarra was playing at cards with a
friend from the town; the other officers and
the men were amusing themselves after their
fancy.  Tim made a round of the camp, and
was almost surprised to find that sentries
were properly posted.  The vedettes along
the roads had been changed at the intervals
arranged; military routine had been observed.
The only departure from custom, perhaps,
was Colonel Zegarra's allowing Tim to append
a postscript to his nightly despatch.  Tim
had intended to say nothing of his recent
adventure; but reflecting that Pardo might
visit his father for the purpose of extorting
a ransom, he thought it just as well to certify
his safety.

During the night, when his turn for guard
duty came, he pondered the general situation.
With a zeal natural in a young officer, he
wanted to "do something": inactivity was
boring; he wished the sluggish enemy would
wake up.  He wondered by which route
they would march when the movement did
at last begin: by the eastern track or by the
western?  In thinking over the probabilities,
it suddenly struck him that by destroying
the wooden bridge a few miles beyond
Durand's house he could render the eastern
road--the more likely one--impassable.  The
ravine was about thirty feet wide.  The one
other spot at which it could be crossed was
several miles to the east, approachable only
over very rough country.  By preventing
the passage of the enemy by the bridge he
would compel them to return to the cross-track
and come by the western route, at a
loss of many hours.

To destroy the bridge would be a very
simple matter.  It wanted only a good
charge of powder.  But Tim reflected that
it would be a pity to blow it up prematurely,
in case the enemy elected to come by the
other route after all.  The bridge might be
useful to his own side.  So he decided to
ask Colonel Zegarra's permission to mine it,
to clear of all cover a space on each side of
the ravine, and to leave a small detachment
of his own Japanese at some distance on the
south side with orders to fire the mine at
the critical moment.  One of the mounted
vedettes might be posted at the top of the
long incline beyond, to ride at full speed to
the bridge as soon as he should discover
signs of an approach in force.  Such a
headlong gallop would be dangerous in the dark,
so Tim thought of replacing him at night by
an infantry outpost of four men.  He would
station them say a hundred yards north of
the bridge, and theirs would be the duty to
fall back and blow it up if danger threatened.

He was explaining the scheme next
morning to his complacent colonel when news
arrived through his chain of vedettes that
small parties of the enemy had been seen
moving down from the Inca camp towards
the upper junction of the paths.  There was
no indication of a general forward
movement.  They were merely feeling their way,
having apparently discovered, perhaps by
the want of news from the town, that
something unusual was afoot.  The wooden bridge
being only a little more than five miles from
Colonel Zegarra's position, there would
probably be time to make all preparations for
the explosion before the real advance of the
enemy began.  The colonel agreed to the
suggestion.  Tim was surprised at his
extraordinary complaisance, his perfect
contentment with the state of figure-head.
Afterwards, with more knowledge, he felt
considerable respect for President Mollendo's
tact.  Zegarra had been appointed to the
command merely for the sake of appearances--to
avoid any discontent among the Peruvians
at being led by a foreigner.  His
compliance with every proposal of Tim's
had been prearranged.

Tim chose the men for the work, took
them out, and explained to them on the
spot what he wished them to do.  Then he
left them.  He had resolved to ride up the
western road again, and see for himself what
the enemy were about.  Being convinced
that their advance would be made along the
eastern road, he intended to scout as far as
the cross-track, and perhaps to ride some
distance along it, till he came to a spot where
any movement from the Inca camp would
be visible to him.

His cycle had been well cleaned by one
of the Japanese.  He overhauled it finally
himself, tested the sparking and the brakes,
assured himself that the engine worked with
the least possible noise, and that there was
plenty of petrol.  Having filled the chambers
of his revolver, and put on a well-stocked
bandolier, he took leave of the colonel and
set off.

He felt safe for at least a dozen miles.
There were four mounted vedettes along the
track, the last of them being posted about
a mile beyond Romaña's cave.  If the
enemy was moving on this route also, the
fact would already have been reported.

The day was still young, and Tim, none the
worse for his trouble of the previous
afternoon, rode on in high spirits.  Though
continually rising, the track was not really
steep for the first fifteen or twenty miles.
He kept up a good speed, stopping every
three miles to exchange a word with the
vedettes, and had just reached the spot
where he expected to find the last of them,
when he was startled at seeing a man lying
in a curiously huddled fashion at the side
of the track a few yards ahead.  He was
slowing down, intending to stop and look
more closely at the prone form; but
suddenly there was a shot, and a bullet
whistled past his head.

Instantly he clapped on the brakes,
brought the cycle to a standstill, sprang
off--for the track was too narrow to turn
while riding--and wheeling it round, ran
a few yards, remounted, and set off at full
speed down the incline, bending over the
handle-bar.  There was a volley behind him:
the bullets pattered on the cliff at his right
hand; and as he wondered whether his pace
would carry him out of danger, he heard the
clatter of hoofs and the shouts of men at
his back.

He had no doubt of being able to distance
the pursuers.  The cycle could leave the
swiftest horse standing.  They had ceased
to fire, which he thought foolish.  But his
assurance was rudely dashed in a few
seconds.  A few hundred yards below the
stream that crossed the track near Romaña's
cavern, three men stood with levelled rifles,
covering him.  They were plainly waiting
for him to come close enough to make
certain of their aim.

It was a desperate situation.  On the
one side a high cliff; on the other a steep
precipice; behind, an unknown number of
galloping horsemen; before, the waiting
marksmen.  If he dashed on, the three men
could scarcely fail to hit him; if he stopped,
he would be quickly overtaken by the men behind.

In that critical dilemma, when a moment's
hesitation would have been fatal, he
remembered the cave, some little distance on his
right towards the waterfall.  He brought
his machine up with a jerk, sprang off,
pushed it into a bush--there was no time
to attempt to hide it, still less to haul it
with him--and dived among the scrub and
saplings that fringed the banks of the little
stream.  Bending double he raced up the
watercourse towards the beacon tree, tore
aside the leafy screen at the entrance to the
cave, and plunged breathless into the darkness.
He was like a fox that has run to earth.

The cave must be discovered in a few
minutes.  He had no protection but the
darkness and his weapons.  Could he block
up the entrance?  Hurrying to the wall,
he dragged the box-beds over the floor, and
placed them across the gap, just within the
threshold.  The legs of the table were so
deeply imbedded in the ground that he
could not move that; but he set the stools
on the boxes, thus forming a rough and very
insecure barricade.  It was the best that
he could devise; and, posting himself in
the dark a little to the left of the entrance,
he hoped to be able to hold the enemy at
bay for some time with his revolver.

But it was a ticklish situation.  As yet
he did not know with how many men he
had to deal; there were probably enough
to block up the track completely in either
direction.  The vedettes whom he had
passed did not expect him to return by the
same route; he would not be missed for a
considerable time, unless they should have
happened to hear the shots.  This was
unlikely.  The wind was blowing from them
to him; the windings of the track and the
height of the hills did not favour the travel
of sound.  It seemed that the utmost he
could hope was to be able to keep the
enemy off until nightfall, and then try to
steal past them in the darkness.  They were
probably, he thought, merely a scouting
party, not an advanced guard of the main
body.  Evidently they had fallen upon his
vedette unawares, killed him, and then
divided.  Seeing the motor bicycle approach,
the three men scouting down the track had
hidden until he had passed, knowing that he
would be trapped between them and their
comrades higher up.

When he had made his flimsy barricade,
Tim stole to the entrance, pulled the foliage
aside, and looked out.  On the track he saw
eleven men gathered, holding their horses.
They were talking excitedly; one man
pointed to the motor-bicycle, another in
the direction of the cave.  They must have
realised that they had their quarry safe, if
they could get at him.  There was no way
up the hill-side.  He must be concealed
somewhere in the patch of scrub between
them and the hill.  To escape he would
have to come down to the track within a
space of about a hundred yards above and
below the stream.  By thoroughly beating
the scrub they supposed they could drive
him out.

The discussion soon came to an end.
They tied up their horses; then, leaving one
man to guard the motor-cycle, so that
if Tim ran from cover he could not escape
them, they scattered, and began to advance.
They might have been hunters stalking a
tiger through jungle.  They moved warily,
and only now and then were visible to the
anxious watcher at the cave.  With a rifle
he could have picked them off; the revolver
was useless until they came to close quarters.
He had a fleeting hope that they might pass
the entrance to the cave without discovering
it, and as they drew nearer he slipped back
out of sight.  His nerves tingled; minute
after minute went by, and he had almost
concluded that the men must have overshot
the hiding-place when the curtain of foliage
was bent aside, letting in a gleam of light.
The entrance was discovered!

The screen was dropped again.  No
doubt the men were discussing what they
should do.  The opening was narrow.  To
attempt to carry such a place by assault
might give the boldest pause.  Some one
must go first, and that man, if the defender
was resolved to fight, was certain to be
shot.  The men were not particularly
courageous; but there was a price on the
Inglés boy, and even timorous folk will
pluck up their courage when there is a
reward in view.

.. _`A CHECK AT THE CAVE`:

.. figure:: images/img-238.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: A CHECK AT THE CAVE

   A CHECK AT THE CAVE

When some minutes had elapsed, Tim
ventured to draw near to the entrance and
peep out through the leaves.  The men were
grouped some little distance away at the
brink of the stream; he heard the murmur
of their voices.  In a few moments they
separated, and spread out to right and left
of the cave, keeping as much as possible
under cover.  One climbed into the tree,
and concealed himself amid the foliage.
Tim guessed what was coming, and slipped
away to the side of the cave.  He was not
a moment too soon.  The enemy opened
fire, and their shots, coming in different
directions, flew criss-cross into the entrance.
Fortunately the walls were soft, and the
bullets dug into them instead of ricochetting
or splintering.  One fragment grazed Tim's
wrist, a warning to retreat still farther.

After two or three volleys the firing
ceased.  The enemy supposed, no doubt,
that some of their shots had taken effect, or
had at any rate driven their quarry from
the entrance.  Tim rushed back to his former
post, just in time to fire his revolver as
the assailants, shouting to encourage one
another, came with a dash through the
foliage.  At the threshold they were checked
by the unexpected obstacle of Tim's barrier.
For a few moments they stood there, trying
to throw it down, cursing, yelling with pain
as Tim, invisible in the inner darkness,
slowly and deliberately emptied his
revolver.  This was too hot for them.  They
broke away, and Tim, running to the
entrance, saw them hurrying down the slope
to find cover.  They were carrying one of
their comrades; another lay across the
threshold.

They returned to the track.  There was
another consultation among them; then four
of them leapt on their horses and rode away
northward.  Three went on foot down the
track, doubtless to guard against surprise in
that direction; one man still remained in
charge of the bicycle, the last held the horses.
Clearly they had not abandoned their
purpose.  Tim wondered what their next move
was to be.  Surely the horsemen had not
ridden back to the Inca camp for help!  It
was more than twenty miles distant.  There
and back the journey would take several
hours.  They would hardly spend so much
time with the risk of assistance coming
up from the Mollendists.  The vedette who
had been killed must be relieved ere long,
and for all they knew there might be a
numerous detachment of their enemy within reach.

Tim was not long left in doubt.  In half
an hour he saw the mounted men returning,
and recognised the explanation of their
absence.  One of them carried an oblong
object which revealed itself in a few moments
as a sheet of corrugated iron.  Tim wondered
where they could have got it, until he
remembered that some distance up the hill there
was a deserted hut, which had probably been
at some time occupied by a Cholo shepherd.
He jumped to the use to which the iron was
to be put.  It was to serve as a shield against
his bullets.

The riders dismounted at the stream, gave
their horses to the man guarding the cycle,
and disappeared into the scrub.  Some time
passed.  When they emerged again Tim saw
that they had surrounded the iron with a
kind of wicker cage.  It could now be carried
in front of the bearer without his exposing
himself in any way to Tim's fire.  Wicker
and iron together would be impervious to a
revolver bullet.

Tim had a few moments to make up his
mind how to meet this ingenious device.
He slipped across the cave to the opposite
side to that at which he had formerly been
posted.  The enemy would probably expect
attack from the same quarter as before, and
would turn their shield in that direction.  He
had just taken up his new position when
bullets began to fly crosswise through the
entrance.  After this preparatory move the
enemy made a determined rush.  The first
man, bearing the shield, came in and faced
to the right, turning his back upon Tim, who
had a momentary qualm about firing from
the rear.  That moment allowed the two
next men time to pull away the stools.  He
felt that hesitation would be fatal, and fired.
The first man dropped with a groan, and the
shield fell clattering upon the long box.
Before Tim could fire a second shot, two men
had scrambled across on all fours, and the
entrance was darkened by their comrades
pressing behind.

One of those who had entered sprang to
his feet and discharged his revolver at
random in the direction of Tim, whom he
was as yet unable to see, having come
suddenly out of brilliant sunshine into gloom.
Tim slipped back quickly along the wall until
he was in complete darkness, then ran on
tiptoe across the cave.  Turning when he
reached the wall, he fired his barrels one
after another, slipped more cartridges into
the chambers, and crossed again.  By this
manoeuvre he bewildered the enemy, who were
now, however, all in the cave, and protected
almost as much as himself by the darkness.

He did not fire again, lest the flashes
revealed his whereabouts.  All that he could
hope to do was to find some defensible
position in the interior and sell his life
dearly.  There was not even a chance of
dodging his enemy and slipping out, for one
man had been left near the entrance.  He
was determined not to surrender.  Even if
the men now hunting him did not butcher
him on the spot to avenge their fallen
comrades, the Prefect would have no mercy on
his prisoner.  He must defend himself to
the last.  Perhaps when it came to the final
stand he might have an opportunity of
dealing with the four men singly.

He retreated slowly along the wall, listening
for the enemy, whom he was quite unable
to see.  All at once he remembered the
opening at the farther end which Romaña
had shown him.  A last hope flashed into
his mind.  If he could slip out there, replace
the turning stone before his exit was
discovered, and pass through the waterfall into
the open, there was a bare chance of escape.
It was true that he might be discovered by
the man with the cycle, or by the others on
the watch down the track.  But it was better
to be killed in a dash for liberty than cooped
up and slaughtered like a badger in a hole.

Now he hastened his steps, creeping as
fast as possible along the curving wall.
His hunters were no doubt feeling their way,
on their guard against an ambuscade.
Everything depended upon his gaining the exit
before they came to a spot where the
removal of the stone would let a little
daylight upon the scene.  He ran along on
tip-toe, bruising his arms now and then when
he encountered projections from the wall,
and almost dashing his head against the
stone when he suddenly stumbled upon it.
Pressing the top, as he had seen Romaña do,
he turned the stone, clambered through the
gap on to a ledge, and in ten seconds restored
the strange gate to its place.  He reflected
that the enemy, if they had seen the fleeting
gleam of light, would take some time to find
the stone and discover its manipulation, or,
on the other hand, make their way back
through the cave to the opening by which
they had entered.  Whatever they did, he
had gained at least a few minutes.

From the ledge on which he now stood he
looked eagerly about him.  In front of him
was the waterfall, forming a filmy screen.
He could see through it and around it.
There was the man on the track a hundred
and fifty yards away.  Farther down the
three men were still posted: they were now
on horseback.  Tim hoped that they could
not see him.  He was, in fact, quite invisible
to them, as a person behind a curtain in a
room is invisible to those without; though it
is difficult for the one within to realise this:
he feels that, being himself able to see, he
must himself be seen.

The rough ground and scrub in front of
the cave was deserted.  The solitary figure
at the end of the watercourse was in charge of
the horses of the men in the cave, and of the
three who had fallen to Tim's shots.  Near
him, at the edge of the track, lay the man who
had been carried away wounded after the
first attack.  Tim could not see the cycle,
but he had no doubt that it was there.

What should he do?  The men in the
cave must soon discover that he was gone.
If one had the courage to strike a match the
discovery must be made almost at once.
There was very little time.  The obvious
course was to steal along the watercourse,
and gain possession either of a horse or of the
cycle.  Escape on foot was impossible.  He
could not go otherwise than by the track,
and as soon as he appeared there he would
be pursued by the horsemen and overtaken
in a few minutes.  He resolved to creep down
to the man who stood alone, try to secure the
cycle, or, if not that, a horse, and ride away.

To reach the watercourse he had to pass
through the waterfall, or skirt it and appear
within full view from the track.  He decided
on the former course.  The magnified shower
bath was shattering.  Though it was soon
over, he was almost stunned by the pelting
water, and emerged breathless and wet to
the skin.  Pausing for a moment to recover
breath, he crept down the watercourse.
The channel was shallow; he had very little
cover; but he could not waste time in
careful scouting.  At any moment the men
might return to the entrance of the cave and
discover him.  But by taking advantage of
every bush and patch of long grass that he
encountered, he at last came within twenty
yards of the Peruvian unperceived.  The
man had his eyes fixed on the cave, or he
could hardly have failed to see the bent form
stealing along.

Stooping until his eyes were level with the
top of the bank, Tim looked ahead.  There
was the cycle, propped against a thick bush.
It was headed down the track, as he had left
it.  He considered rapidly what he had better
do.  He could not shoot the man in cold
blood.  The alternatives were equally
hazardous.  He might make a dash for the
cycle, start it, and try to get away before its
guardian could seize him.  But the man was
only a few yards from it; this plan could
hardly succeed.  Or he might wriggle to
within a few feet of the watchman, spring
upon him with a sudden rush, and deal him
a knock-out blow.  He could not fail to be
seen at that moment by the wounded man,
if he was conscious; the alarm would be
given; but there might be just time for him
to get away before the three men lower down
the track, or the four in the cave, could take
aim at him.

The latter course was recommended by
the fact that the watchman's attention was
divided between the cave and the horses he
held by the bridles.  They were restless;
the jingle of their harness and the stamping
of their hoofs would mask any slight sound
that Tim might make as he approached.

He slipped his revolver into his belt and
crept along; then, gathering his strength,
hurled himself upon the unsuspecting
trooper.  At the last moment of his rush
the man half turned, hearing his footsteps,
and gave him the opportunity for getting
home a smashing blow on the point of his
chin.  He tumbled like a log.  But the
success of the attack was almost Tim's
undoing.  The horses kicked up their heels
and stampeded wildly, some up, some down
the track, one of them knocking Tim head
over heels.  But there were no bones broken.
Springing to his feet, he rushed to the cycle,
and wheeled it round.  The engine was still
firing; Tim ran a few yards, vaulted into
the saddle, and throwing open the throttle
to its full extent, rode up the hill after the
galloping horses.  He was scarcely conscious
that the wounded man lying on the grass
near by was shouting at the top of his voice.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A PUNCTURE`:

.. class:: center medium

   CHAPTER XXII


.. class:: center large

   A PUNCTURE

.. vspace:: 2

Tim's rush had been so swift, so silent, so
effectual, that he was already running beside
his cycle and preparing to mount before the
three men down the track, more than a
quarter of a mile away, became aware that
something was wrong.  The first intimation
was the pounding of the horses' hoofs as
they took flight.  They looked up to see the
cause of the sudden stampede, but Tim was
hidden from them by the galloping animals,
which were dashing downhill at so desperate
a pace that the troopers, if they waited for
them, must be almost inevitably swept off
the narrow track over the precipice.  Though
they now heard the yells of the mounted
trooper above, they durst not delay, but
promptly wheeled round and set off to head
the race, intending to pull up as soon as the
frantic beasts behind them had recovered
from their fright.

Meanwhile the shouts of their comrade
had brought the other men hurriedly to the
mouth of the cave, which they reached just
in time to see Tim disappear round a curve
in the track.  They plunged through the
scrub, and screamed with rage when they
caught sight of the crowd of horses headed
by the three troopers far down the hill to
their right.  Men of southern blood make
little attempt to control their feelings, and
these Peruvians, their vision of £500 vanished,
stamped and gesticulated and wept, venting
bitter curses upon the hapless trooper whom
Tim had felled, and who was now sitting up
and dizzily feeling his chin.

It was the presence of the three men on
the track that had determined Tim to ride
northward.  With them waiting for him,
ready to shoot as he passed, or before, there
would have been little chance of successfully
running the gauntlet.  He had not reckoned
on the stampeding of the horses; nor had it
occurred to him at the first moment to follow
at their heels and snatch an opportunity of
slipping through in the confusion.  When
he did think of it, he felt very much annoyed
with himself for being so stupid.  Not that
he could have run past them: his experience
on the track soon proved that the attempt
would have been hopeless.  Paradoxical as
it may appear, this only deepened his
annoyance.  Three of the horses had started up
instead of down the hill.  The ascent being
rather steep, they were more fatigued than
frightened before they had run a mile.  The
gallop became a trot, the trot a walk, and
they were making up their simple minds to
stop and refresh themselves with herbage
from the side of the track when a creature
on two wheels came up to meddle.  At the
appearance of the bicycle they kicked up
their heels and fled, all their terrors revived.

It was now that Tim was angry with himself.
If this was the effect uphill, what would
it have been in the other direction?  Flying
downhill after the troop, with a judicious
use of his hooter he might have kept them
all madly on the run, and even driven them
before him into the arms of his amiable
commander.  It was too late now.  Tim was
unreasonably irritated.  An older person
might have consoled himself with the reflection
that it is easy to be wise after the event.

He had intended, when he started from
camp, to ride northward along this very
track; but he wished now that he had
remained at the cross-roads, even though that
might have involved playing nap with Colonel
Zegarra, or making himself amiable to that
gentleman's lady friends.  There was danger
behind him; there might be still graver
danger ahead.  Other parties of the enemy
might be coming down; perhaps the junction
of the tracks was held by them.  It was a
good defensible position, covering any possible
attack on the Inca camp by way of the
eastern route.  If there had been any other
path home, Tim might have taken it and
bolted, without any reason to feel that he
was a coward.  But there was none; he
was compelled to follow this only
track--committed to an attempt to make the round.

There was not much reason to fear pursuit.
The men whom he had tricked at the cave
had lost their steeds; the other three would
perhaps have to ride for many a mile in the
wrong direction.  Like John Gilpin, they
could not help it.  By the time they had
checked the stampeded animals and brought
them up the hill, a good many miles would
separate them from the quarry who had
baffled them.  Tim felt quite easy on that score.

He began to take a little amusement in
the chase in which he was, for his own part,
involuntarily engaged.  The riderless horses
in front of him were not at all happy.  They
would gallop up the steeper inclines,
out-distance the strange thudding creature
behind them, and when they no longer heard
its snorts, slow down and begin to take
things easy.  But on the more level portions
of the track, and the occasional downward
gradients, the machine made four or five
yards to their one.  They had no sooner
settled down into an amble than the pertinacious
pursuer came panting at their heels,
and taking fresh alarm, they dashed on
frantically until another rise gave muscle
the advantage of mechanism.  So it went on
for eight or ten miles, until the horses must
have thought--if horses think--that they
were doomed to drop at length from exhaustion,
and fall a prey to the modern centaur.

But Fate, after all, was kind to them.
Tim suddenly became aware of that
unpleasant sensation, abominable to every
cyclist, which announces a punctured tyre.
There was no loud bang, like the report of a
monster pop-gun, such as sometimes startles
pedestrians in the street, and makes horses
tremble or prance.  The air was oozing
gradually away; moment by moment the
rear tyre became softer and slacker; and
Tim had to stop at once before irreparable
damage was done.

Here was a disaster, the more serious
because the track was no longer flanked by a
cliff on one side and a precipice on the other,
but ran along the crest of an exposed ridge,
from which he could see a long way before
and behind and on either hand.  He could
see--he might also be seen.  The track
afforded no cover, the country at either side
very little.  If he wheeled the cycle to right
or left in search of a sheltered nook in which
to make his repairs, he would spend much
time in getting there and back again.  The
enemy were doubtless now hot in pursuit.
Missing the tracks of his wheels they would
hunt for him, and here there was no cave, no
waterfall, only a scattered bush or two.
They would easily find him, and then!...

Tim sprang off the machine in a hurry.
His only chance was to mend it on the track.
He rested it against a rock, shot a glance
around, then knelt to examine the tyre.
Now, as every one knows, it is sometimes
not easy to locate a puncture.  Tim hoped
that it would not be a case of immersing the
tube in water, for that would involve going
down to the river half a mile away.  Luckily
the puncture was a fairly large one, and easily
seen.  The outer cover of the tyre was cut
through for about two inches, and the
perforation had extended to the inner tube.

He opened the pouch in which he carried
a few small tools and material for making
temporary repairs.  From it he took a
phial of rubber solution, a strip of canvas,
and a "gaiter"--a thickness of rubber
vulcanised to two or three layers of strong
canvas, shaped to the tyre, with hooks at
the bottom.  The first step was to repair
the inner tube.  This he did by smearing
the cut with the solution and sticking on a
rubber patch.  Then he fastened the canvas
by means of the solution to the inside of the
outer cover, over the rent, to prevent the
inner tube from being chafed by the rough
edges made by the cut.  The last operation
was to fix the gaiter to the rim by its hooks.
All this took some time.  In tyre mending,
as in other things, the more haste the less
speed.  Tim worked with deliberate care,
glancing up and down the track from time
to time.  At last, after about half an hour's
work, he straightened himself, satisfied that
the tyre was good for a few hundred miles,
and much relieved that he had been able
to complete the repairs without interruption.

It only remained to inflate the tyre.  He
had just inserted the pump when a succession
of faint irregular clicks fell on his ear.
Turning hastily, he looked down the track.  He
had a good view of it for half a mile.  At
that distance it curved out of sight, but was
visible again for a short stretch a mile lower
down, and still farther in patches.  The air
was very clear; every tree and hillock was
sharply defined in the sunlight; there was
nobody in sight.

But the clicks were growing louder; they
seemed to be the sounds of iron-shod hoofs
upon the rocky ground.  He gazed down the
track, passing from patch to patch over the
intervening bluffs and the stretches of rough
country where it was not visible.  The
sounds came beyond question from his left;
still he could see nobody.

Meanwhile he was pumping hard, keeping
his head turned in the direction of the
sounds.  All at once he caught sight of six
or seven dark specks moving towards him
along the sunlit track.  He guessed that
they were about a mile away.  There was
just time to fill his tyre before they came up
with him.

The pursuers were now hidden by a curve
in the track.  He pumped on; the tyre was
almost fully inflated.  Suddenly he heard a
shout, and saw a horseman round the bend
half a mile below.  He instantly whipped off
the pump, turned the petrol tap, and had
run a yard or two with the machine when
he remembered that in his haste he had left
his pouch on the ground.  He could not
afford to lose that.  Backing, he recovered
it, thrust it into his pocket, and in another
twenty seconds was running slowly up the hill.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw five men
galloping after him.  They were no more
than a quarter-mile away, shouting, urging
their horses to their utmost speed, gaining
on him.  But the crest of the hill was near;
then the track was level for a while; then
had a downward incline.  The engine worked
well; the cycle breasted the slope, gained
the flat, and sped on at forty miles an hour.

A minute after Tim topped the crest, the
horsemen reached the same spot on their
panting steeds.  They yelled with rage and
disappointment when they saw their quarry
bowling along at a speed that a Pegasus might
envy.  One took a shot at him, but Tim,
bending over the handle-bar, offered a low
target, and escaped injury.  In two minutes
he had turned a corner and was out of sight.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A LEAP FOR LIFE`:

.. class:: center medium

   CHAPTER XXIII


.. class:: center large

   A LEAP FOR LIFE

.. vspace:: 2

When Tim had ridden three or four miles
farther, and felt at ease as far as the pursuers
were concerned, he came upon the three
stampeded horses again.  They were
peacefully browsing on some scanty herbage at
the edge, quite content, no doubt, to be
free from their human burdens.  At the
sound of the engine they once more took to
flight, and the violent play they made with
their heels suggested to Tim that they
indignantly resented the disturbance of their meal.

He was now riding so fast that he could
soon have overtaken the animals, in spite of
the upward gradient.  But if he did so, he
would either run the risk of coming into
collision with one of them, or drive them over
the edge of the track on the left, and down
the somewhat steep and dangerous slope to
the river.  It occurred to him that he might
do better to moderate his pace and keep
fairly close on their heels.  They might prove
useful.  The cross-track to which he would
come presently was somewhat looser than
that on which he was riding.  If the enemy
happened to be at the cross-roads beyond,
the horses and the dust they raised might
serve him as a temporary screen.  So he
opened his air throttle a little, and closed the
petrol throttle to the same extent, maintaining
a speed that would keep the horses
on the run without exposing him to the risk
of being overtaken.

He soon found that there was a certain
disadvantage in following upon the heels of
the horses.  On coming into the cross-track,
he was enveloped in a cloud of dust, thick
enough to prevent his seeing more than a
few yards ahead.  The dust and the bodies
of the animals completely shut out the view,
and he realised that as he neared the fork
he would be quite unable to tell what awaited
him there.  He thought it advisable to drop
a little behind.  No doubt the horses would
turn to the left when they reached the
crossroads, and gallop towards the Inca
camp--the place which for some days past they had
associated with fodder.  If the enemy had
not actually passed the fork and marched
down the eastern track, he might manage
to turn into it unperceived under cover of
the dust-cloud, and soon ride out of danger.

Slackening down until he had doubled his
distance from the horses, he noticed on his
right hand a belt of trees which, if his
memory was not at fault, extended for nearly
a mile along the southern edge of the cross-track
until it joined the eastern path.  With
one eye on the horses and the other on the
trees he watched for the branching of the
tracks.  It came sooner than he expected.
Suddenly the horses swerved to the left; a
few seconds afterwards he turned to the
right, and felt the machine quicken under
him on the downward incline.

At that instant he heard the loud crackle
of rifles behind him.  Posted among the
trees just above the fork there was a body of
men who, watching with astonishment the
maddened gallop of three riderless horses,
caught a faint glimpse of the motor-cycle as
it emerged from the whirling dust.  They
fired too hurriedly to hit the mark.  At the
sound of the shots Tim bent double and let
the machine go.  Riding at the rate of thirty
miles an hour he knew that the enemy could
not catch him on horseback on this particular
portion of the track.  But when he came to
the foot of the hill, and began to climb a
long rise, he glanced round and saw a large
troop of horsemen dashing down in pursuit.
They were a long way behind, and unless
some accident befell the machine, he was
sure that he could outpace them with ease.

The track wound frequently.  For long
stretches he was hidden from the pursuers.
Looking back now and then he noticed with
satisfaction, whenever they came in sight,
that he was steadily increasing the interval
between him and them.  He might have run
away altogether if he had driven the machine
at full speed; but the track was very rough,
and he felt that he must watch it carefully
if he was to avoid the risk of a second
puncture, or of collision with some boulder.
Downhill he often had to check his pace,
and so could not take full advantage
of the descents to give him impetus for the
upward gradients of the switchback.  But
as mile after mile was covered he became
less and less fearful of being caught; and
when, at the end of a long, straight stretch,
he saw that the enemy were at least two miles
behind, he was perfectly easy in mind, and
only wondered why they had not given up
the hopeless chase.

His former journeys on this track had
made him pretty familiar with the landmarks,
and as he rode up a long incline, he
knew that he would soon be in sight of the
wooden bridge over the ravine, beyond
which the party of Japanese were posted.
A few miles of switchback, and then he
would have a downward run home.  But
on rising slowly over the crest, he was
staggered to see a troop of some twenty
horsemen halted no more than half a mile
in front of him.  The track dipped to within
about a hundred yards of the spot where
they were standing, then bent somewhat
sharply upwards, and disappeared over the
brow rather more than half a mile ahead.

Tim instantly realised the desperate
position into which he had come unawares.  His
first impulse was to screw on his brakes and
dismount, to avoid rushing headlong among
the enemy.  But in a flash he saw that to
do so would be simply to give himself into
their hands, or into the hands of the men
behind him.  There was no escape either on
the right or the left.  The only possible
course was to ride on and take his chance.
Setting his teeth, and crouching almost flat
over the handle-bar, he opened the throttle,
and shot down the hill, sounding his hooter
violently all the way.

If he had had the leisure to calculate the
possible result he could scarcely have
anticipated the success of his action.  The
horsemen instinctively edged away to the sides
of the track, and on to the edge of the
rough moorland which bounded it on the
east.  Some had the presence of mind to
whip out their pistols, but as the cycle raced
towards them with ever-quickening speed
they found themselves in trouble with their
horses, which began to quiver and sweat
and prance at the strange sight and the
terrifying sounds.  Down flew the cycle,
Tim gripping the handle-bar hard, no longer
able to pick his course, but keeping the middle
of the track, rough or smooth.  He was
unconscious of jerks and jolts; blind to the
risk of puncture; in that critical half-minute
he thought of nothing but the task of steering
so as to avoid collision with the enemy, a
disaster which they on their part were no
less anxious to escape.

He was upon them, in a whirl of dust
raised by the wind of his flight.  A thrill
shot through every fibre as he skimmed
danger by a hair's breadth.  One of the
horses was cavorting on his hind legs, and
his rider, almost as frantic as the animal,
turned him into a whirligig by hard tugging
at the bridle.  A few shots were fired by
the other troopers, but no man could take
steady aim from the back of a rearing horse,
at an object flashing by at forty miles an
hour.  With a rush and a whizz Tim was past.

But his momentary joy at having got
through vanished as he felt the slackening
of speed enforced by the steep incline beyond.
On his former journey he had dismounted
and wheeled the machine.  There was a
great hubbub behind him.  The throbbing
hum of his engine was smothered by the
clatter of the horses' hoofs, and the yells of
their riders spurring them on.  Short as the
ascent was, its angle was so sharp as to
neutralise in great measure the impetus he
had gained downhill.  Moment by moment
the machine flagged, and, without looking
behind, he was conscious that the pursuers
were gaining.  He feared that his engine
power would not suffice to bring him to the
top, upon which he fixed his eyes as it were
imploringly.  How far away it seemed!

He pressed the pace to the uttermost.  The
machine toiled up and up; the uproar behind
grew louder.  He was beginning to despair.
The cycle seemed to be crawling.  Would
the engine hold out?  At last, with what
appeared to be a final heave, it crept over
the crest.  The downward slope had begun,
and the cycle dropped down with a rush
which carried it easily to the top of the
farther rise.  With a sigh of thankfulness
Tim knew that he had now increased his lead.

At this point the track began to wind
round the face of the cliff on his right.  A
few minutes would bring him within sight
of the bridge.  But there was still one long
climb before him, and here, if the pursuers
could last the pace, they would have the
advantage of him.  He glanced back; they
were just rounding the curve, perhaps a
quarter-mile distant.  This was the crisis of
the chase.  As the cycle laboured up the
hill, Tim was aware that the gap was rapidly
diminishing.  When he gained the top, he
had scarcely fifty yards to spare.  But now
for three or four hundred yards the track
was level, and the horsemen yelled with
rage as they saw their quarry once more
slipping from their clutches.  They had no
chance against him on the flat.  By the time
he reached the point where the track dipped
to the mile-long descent to the bridge, they
had lost more than a hundred yards.

The bridge was not yet in sight.  The
track bent to the left somewhat sharply.  In
ordinary circumstances Tim would now have
clapped on the brakes, but he was strung up
to attempt any feat of daring, and after the
first hundred yards of the hill he contented
himself with closing the throttle.  He swung
perilously round the bend, and looking ahead,
saw the bridged ravine three-quarters of a
mile away.  A horseman was galloping
towards it--doubtless one of his vedettes.
But why was he dashing so desperately
towards the bridge?

Tim lowered his eyes, for he wore no
goggles, and the wind created by his pace
made them smart and tingle.  He was
halfway down the slope when a dull report below
him caused him to look up again.  Where,
a few seconds before, the bridge had been,
there was now a cloud of smoke.  His orders
had been carried out only too thoroughly:
the bridge was blown up!

He was thunderstruck.  Reckless and
impulsive as he was, prone to play many a
mad prank on his bicycle, he had never
attempted such a feat as now, in the
twinkling of an eye, he saw himself committed to.
The ravine was more than thirty feet across.
He would reach it in half a minute.  No
power on earth could check his descent.  He
must either plunge into the chasm, fifty feet
deep, or leap the gap.

How can his sensations be described!
Every second his speed was quickening.
The steepness of the slope induced the
feeling that he was dropping into space.
He was conscious of the strange heaving
sensation that a person feels on descending
in a rapidly-moving lift.  His body seemed
to be flying upward.  The air rushed past,
scarifying his flesh, catching his breath,
stunning his ears so that he did not
hear the report of a dozen rifles across the
gap.  Down, down, faster than an express
train, as fast as a racing motor-car, his
body rigid, his mind working swifter than
the electric flash--down to he knew not what.

On either side of the bridge the ground
had been cleared.  He must avoid the ruins
of the bridge; he would steer to one side of
it.  As he swooped meteor-like towards the
gap the space on his right widened out, and
the ground made a slight ascent to the brink
of the ravine.  A touch on the handle-bar
altered his course a point or two.  Barely
conscious of the rise, breathless and dizzy,
he shut his eyes at the fateful moment--and
the machine shot off the brink of the ravine
like a stone from a catapult.  For a fraction
of a second he was in mid air, the wheels
whirring beneath him.  Then there was a
tremendous thud as they struck the ground
011 the opposite side.  The machine raced
up the incline; the speed slackened;
instinctively he applied the brakes; and in a
few more seconds he fell rather than jumped
from the saddle, and dropped panting, a
mass of quivering nerves, upon the track.

A group of Japanese flocked about him.
One gave him water from a mug.  All were
trembling with excitement.  When he had
collected himself, and inquired what had
become of the pursuers, he learnt that, as
they rode headlong down the hill behind
him, two of the horses had slipped and
brought their riders to the ground.  The
rest had reined up at the volley from the
Japanese.  Apparently none had been hit,
but recognising that further pursuit was
hopeless, they had stood watching the last
few hundred yards of the cycle's flashing
course.  The Japanese had been too much
amazed and alarmed to fire again.  Both the
parties looked on as at a thrilling spectacle.
After the cycle had made its leap their
amazement held them motionless for a
while.  Then, at a second volley, the enemy
wheeled round and galloped away.

Tim asked why the bridge had been fired.
The vedette explained that, descrying the
heads of a large number of horsemen over
the tops of the bushes on the crest of the
hill, he had dashed back to give the alarm
according to orders.  The cycle, being lower,
had been invisible to him.  His comrades
were so eager to carry out their instructions
that even when Tim came into view they
were too much occupied to see him, and
only when the match was kindled, and they
ran back to a position of safety, did they
perceive with horror that they had, as they
thought, cut off their master's chance of
escape.  Tim waived away their humble
apologies; they had obeyed orders; and now
that the strain of his nerve-shattering
experiences was relaxed, he could afford to
smile.  The eastern track, at any rate, was
impassable to the enemy.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`FROM DAN TO BEERSHEBA`:

.. class:: center medium

   CHAPTER XXIV


.. class:: center large

   FROM DAN TO BEERSHEBA

.. vspace:: 2

Colonel Zegarra was holding a levee
of his admirers from the town when Tim
returned to camp.

"Well, my young friend, have you made
any interesting discoveries?" he asked, from
among a group of ladies as Tim passed.

"Several, señor," replied Tim.  "Among
other things, what it feels like to fly through
the air on wheels."

"Very interesting," said the gentleman in
amiable ignorance.  "I was not aware that
your machine could fly.  How marvellous is
the progress of invention!" he added, turning
to the ladies.

"Wonderful!" they cried, clapping their hands.

"Will you show us how you do it, Señor
Tim?" said the colonel's daughter.

"I regret, señorita, that it is impossible
here," said Tim, laying his hand on his heart
in the local way.  "It requires a hill a mile
long; a number of the Prefect's men pelting
down after you, and bellowing like bulls; a
ravine thirty feet wide spanned by a bridge;
and some good obedient fellows who will
blow up the bridge at the critical moment.
These conditions do not exist every day,
señorita."

The girl looked puzzled.  Then a light dawned.

"Is it a joke, Señor Tim?" she asked with
a smile.  She knew something of Tim's jokes
in carnival time.

"A joke that won't bear repetition,
señorita," he replied, and then bowed himself away.

The eastern track being now impassable,
he thought it sufficient to leave a few men
at the broken bridge to guard against any
attempt to repair it.  The rest he withdrew
to the camp.  One of the vedettes on the
western track having been surprised and
killed, he decided as a precaution for the
future to place the men in couples.  He did
not enlighten Colonel Zegarra, when the
visitors had gone, as to his flight through
the air, but simply informed him that the
bridge had been blown up to check a troop
of the Prefect's horsemen.

Before he retired for the night he
thoroughly examined the cycle, and found that
the tyres, though showing signs of wear, were
as yet sound.  He gave it to one of the
Japanese to clean, and then sought his couch,
worn out by the racking experiences of the day.

Next morning word was brought that the
enemy were advancing in force along the
western track.  Colonel Zegarra was not
lacking in courage, and the plan of action
to be followed in the event of attack had
been settled in several conversations between
himself and Tim.  The ground on both sides
of the track for half a mile from the cross-roads
was fairly open, affording a clear field
for fire.  Though the enemy outnumbered
the Mollendists, the latter had the advantage
of being the defenders.  Their position,
protected by earthworks and the fringe of
wood, was so strong that an attempt to
force it ought not to succeed.  To harass the
enemy in flank, Tim had arranged to post
himself with a small detachment in a dense
copse on the left of the track about a mile in
front of the camp.  With luck he might not
be discovered; if he was attacked, the
closeness of the trees would enable him to make
a good defence.  He chose thirty of his own
Japanese for this duty, knowing their good
fighting qualities and their absolute personal
loyalty to him.

They had been stationed in the copse for
some hours before the head of the enemy's
column appeared.  The men were on foot.
Tim had intended to worry them as they
advanced, but it now occurred to him that
he would do better to hold his hand until
the attack developed.  If Colonel Zegarra
should be in difficulties, a sudden assault
on the enemy from the rear might turn the
scale.

The enemy opened out as they approached
the cross-roads, intending to surround the
camp.  They made a concerted rush, but in
the lack of artillery they were seriously
handicapped, and after several attempts had
failed, they fell back to cover.  Some
retreated in the direction of the copse.  Tim
saw his opportunity.  Bidding his men wait
until they were within a few hundred yards,
he then gave the order to fire.  In the shock
of surprise the enemy fell into disorder, and
fled in all directions.  Their confusion was
communicated to the whole force, and soon
the discomfited rabble were in full retreat,
suffering severely as they crossed the line of
fire from the camp.

Colonel Zegarra rose to the occasion.
Ordering his men to mount, he led them in
pursuit.  The retreat became a rout.  Ridden
down by the horsemen, cut up by the steady
firing of Tim's men in the copse, the enemy
were a disorganised mob before they reached
their horses, which they had left about two
miles down the track.  Some succeeded in
mounting, and galloped away.  Others were
headed off, and were made prisoners.  Within
an hour of the first attack the Prefect's
eastern force was shattered, and no longer
existed as a fighting unit.

There was great jubilation among the
Mollendists.  On returning to camp Colonel
Zegarra at once penned a flowery despatch
to Mr. O'Hagan announcing his victory.
The courier had not been gone long when
Romaña rode up in haste, bearing a verbal
message from the commander-in-chief.  After
long delay the Prefect was making a
determined effort to force the defile, and
Mr. O'Hagan asked for a reinforcement of fifty
men, if they could be spared.  It was
arranged that Tim should start at once with
fifty horsemen.  It seemed unlikely that
the troops just defeated would rally, but
for assurance' sake he persuaded Romaña
to remain at the cross-roads, to advise
Colonel Zegarra if the enemy should attempt
any movement which must be met rather by
craft than by courage.

Tim rode ahead of his troop on the
motorcycle.  When about a third of the way to
the defile, he suddenly discovered on his
left a considerable number of men on foot
descending from the hills towards the
highroad.  Their intention clearly was either to
take the main Mollendist army in the rear,
or to make a swoop on the cross-roads and
then to San Rosario.  Tim guessed that his
father was unaware of this complication.
The men must have been for at least two
days on the march, for the hills were generally
regarded as impracticable.

Tim halted for a few moments to make a
rapid calculation.  His father and Colonel
Zegarra must be warned.  If he rode on,
the enemy, though at present a long distance
away, would be on the road between him and
Colonel Zegarra by the time he returned.
On the other hand he might ride to the
colonel and back before they reached the
road, in which case he would still have a
chance of slipping by.

He remounted and dashed back at full
speed, ordering his horsemen when he met
them to halt and be on the alert.  Colonel
Zegarra agreed to move out with all his
troops, and if he found the enemy on the
road, marching towards the defile, to hang
on their rear.  Then Tim set off again.
He commanded his horsemen to await
Colonel Zegarra; it seemed more important
for the moment that the colonel should have
his full number than that the party should
press on to reinforce Mr. O'Hagan.

The head of the flanking column was only
half a mile from the road when Tim dashed
by.  To some extent screened by trees and
bushes, he became the target for the enemy's
fire as he passed patches of open country.
But he escaped unhurt, thanks to his speed
and to the windings of the road, which caused
his direction to alter frequently, and baffled
the riflemen's aim.  In a few minutes he
was out of range, in a few more out of sight.

On approaching the defile, Tim heard
sounds of heavy firing.  The Prefect's attack
was evidently being hotly pressed.  He
found the Mollendist force some distance
farther east than he had expected.  They
occupied the rocks on either side of the road,
and were firing along the defile.  Just as
Tim arrived he heard the distant roar of
a gun, and a shell crashed high up among the
rocks at his right hand.  He slipped off his
bicycle, and hurried to find his father.

Mr. O'Hagan greeted the boy with especial warmth.

"Pardo gave me a terrible scare when he
told me he had got you," he said.  "What
happened?"

Tim related how he had been dealt with
at the house.

"He had the cheek to come to you, then,"
he said.  "Why didn't he go to the Prefect?"

"I suspect he did.  He wanted to make
sure of his price."

"The wretch said my price had gone up.
What did he ask?"

"The hacienda!"

Tim whistled.

"You kicked him out, I hope?" he said
indignantly.

"Well, Tim, you see Colonel Zegarra's
despatch with your postscript came just in
time, or----  But that's all over.  How are
things going?"

"We have fairly smashed the lot from
the Inca camp.  They attacked this morning.
Romaña brought your message, and I was
hurrying up with fifty men when I saw a
detachment of the enemy, about two hundred
strong, I think, marching over the hills
towards the road, so I rode back and asked
Zegarra to bring up all his men and then
came on ahead to tell you."

"That's very bad news," said Mr. O'Hagan,
somewhat perturbed.  "I've as
much as I can do to hold my own here.  As
you see, they've brought a couple of guns
to bear on us."

"Where are they?"

"Up in the hills yonder.  How they were
dragged there I can't imagine.  They're
at least a thousand feet up.  The Prefect
has more energy and resource than I
expected.  When the guns opened fire this
morning we had to abandon the head of the
defile.  We're pretty safe here for the
moment, and can check any attempt to
force the passage; but I dare say the Prefect
will find another position for the guns where
they can command us, and then we shall
have to fall back again.  With two hundred
men threatening our rear----"

"Couldn't you spare some men to deal with them?"

"That's a capital idea, Tim.  It will
take a long time to move the guns to a new
position.  We'll try it.  I'll take a hundred
and fifty men myself.  You had better stay
here; you've done your share."

"I'd rather come with you," said Tim.

"I dare say, but you had better go and
report to the President what you have been
doing.  He's rather down in the mouth, and
your victory at the cross-roads will cheer him."

Mr. O'Hagan soon set off with his men,
all mounted.  When he returned a few hours
later, he was flushed with success.  The
Prefect's hill column found itself in the
position in which it had hoped to catch the
Mollendists--bottled up between two forces,
which equalled or exceeded it in number,
and were much fresher.  Instead of
attacking, the enemy were attacked.  Fatigued
after their long and difficult march, they
were in no condition to make a prolonged
resistance, and fell back before Mr. O'Hagan's
impetuous onset.  They were seeking a
strong position when Colonel Zegarra dashed
suddenly upon their rear.  Hopelessly
entrapped, they lost heart.  Some flung down
their arms and surrendered, others dispersed
and sought safety in the hills.

With Mr. O'Hagan returned Colonel
Zegarra and the greater part of his force,
a small detachment being sent back to keep
an eye on the road to San Rosario.  President
Mollendo, whose volatile spirits had already
been exalted by Tim's report of the morning's
success, was carried away by delight at the
Prefect's second discomfiture on the same
day.  He insisted on promoting Tim captain
on the spot, and made an oration to the
troops which moved many of them to tears,
and confirmed their belief that they had
in Carlos Mollendo a statesman of the
highest rank.

While this orgy of sentiment was in
progress, Mr. O'Hagan was discussing
matters with Tim quietly in the background.

"That's all very well," he said, jerking
his head towards the spot where Mollendo
was perorating, "but it doesn't prevent the
Prefect from hauling his guns.  I quite
expect that to-morrow he will begin to shift
them in this direction, and when they begin
to play we can't hold the defile another
half-hour."

"What then, Father?" asked Tim.

"Why, then we shall be compelled to fall
back on San Rosario.  The Prefect has
three men to our one; and the moment
the tide seems to be turning in his favour a
lot of ours are sure to desert.  It's the way
of things here.  But for the guns we could
hold him off for months, so long as Galdos
keeps up the supplies--though I'm afraid
of ammunition running short.  The two
checks the Prefect has had to-day are
decided set-backs, but we are not much
better off unless we can take the heart out
of him.  If we could only capture his guns, now!"

"Why not?"

"Well, if you can suggest a way, do so.
But don't reckon without your host.  They're
at least a thousand feet up, somewhere on
that ridge.  The War Office of this republic
being unable to supply field-glasses, I haven't
located them exactly.  To climb the hill
in face of the enemy would be a pretty
tough job in itself, and the guns are pretty
sure to be well guarded."

"I'll try it to-night," said Tim, "with a
few of our Japs.  Some of them were in the
war with Russia, and it won't be the first
time they've had such night-work."

"I don't want to disappoint you," said
Mr. O'Hagan, pulling at his moustache,
"but it's too risky--indeed it is.  What
would your poor mother say?"

Tim was so well accustomed to this appeal
*ad matrem* that it had quite lost its effect.

"She'd jib to begin with, to be sure,"
he said, "but she'd give in in the end; she
always does when it's not an absolute
question of right or wrong.  You'd better
say yes, Father."

It was on the tip of his tongue to relate
the adventures of the previous day, but he
reflected that the story might have quite
the opposite effect from what he intended.
Mr. O'Hagan's last instructions to him had
been not to go adventuring, and though
he felt that he could hardly be blamed for
adventures which had hurled themselves at
him unsought, it was probable that his
father would not recognise any reasoning
of that kind.  So he confined his arguments
strictly to the matter in hand.  Mr. O'Hagan's
opposition was really half-hearted.
He had come to have great faith
in Tim's resourcefulness and luck.
Ultimately he agreed to let the boy do what he
had suggested; the success of his scheme
might prove to be the turning-point of the
struggle.

Helped by a half-moon, Tim set off about
midnight with a dozen of the Japanese
who had served in the army, including
three gunners.  As weapons they carried
only revolvers and knives, with a good
supply of cartridges.  One of them had a
dark lantern for signalling the result of the
expedition to Mr. O'Hagan.  Slipping down
the road for some distance in the direction
of San Rosario, they turned to the right,
and roped themselves together for the climb
into the hills.

It was the hardest job that Tim had ever
undertaken.  He had no compass, and could
only direct his course by the position of the
moon.  Its light was not sufficient to enable
him to choose the easiest way.  There was
no path.  At the head of the line he
clambered up wherever he could find
foothold, sometimes, indeed, crawling on
all-fours up slippery slopes, scrambling over
or between boulders, now and then brought
up by a sheer wall of rock impossible to
scale.  The party had often to rest and
recover breath, and the ascent was so
arduous and slow that he was a little uneasy
lest the dawn should surprise them before
they gained the summit.  To make matters
worse the moon was dropping, and its
incessant change of position rendered it a
far from trustworthy guide.

At last, after three hours of fatiguing
work, they reached the crest of the ridge,
where they caught sight of the lights in the
Prefect's camp below them far away to the
west.  Tim guessed that the guns were
placed somewhere along the ridge.  He stole
along quietly, stopping now and again to
listen for signs of the men in charge.
Presently he came to a formidable buttress of
rock projecting over the valley and rising
many feet above the general level.  It
appeared to be the highest point in this part
of the country, and if the top was flat, was
the most likely place to have been chosen
for the gun platform.  Whispering to his
men to move as quietly as possible, he led
them along a narrow ledge on the face of
the cliff below the buttress, edging into the
wall on his left hand so as to avoid a fatal
fall into the depths.

At the farther end of the ledge he halted.
It was now almost dark; the moon had
descended below the hills on the opposite
side of the road.  But by aid of the last
lingering sheen he detected signs of recent
pick-work on the ground, just beyond the
spot where he stood.  Evidently a squad
of labourers had been employed to clear a
passage for the guns.  There was no sound.
Casting off the rope, Tim stole forward
alone, and soon discovered a rough path
leading in the reverse direction towards the
rear of the buttress.

His heart pumping with excitement, he
returned to the men, and whispered his
final instructions.  There was to be no
firing unless they had to defend themselves
against overpowering numbers.  Then he led
them on noiselessly up the path.  It ended
sooner than he expected.  He came suddenly
to a level space of some extent, on which he
saw two guns, pointing over the valley.
Stretched on the ground behind them were
ten men.  They were asleep.  Secure in
their supposed inaccessibility, they had
posted no guard.

Tim paused a moment, then ordered his
men to steal round until they completely
encompassed the sleeping crew.  At a low
whistle from him they sprang forward; there
was a brief and almost silent struggle; and
the enemy, only half awake, found themselves
prisoners.  Not a shot was fired; scarcely
a wound was given.

Hurrying to the edge of the buttress with
the lamp, Tim flashed it three times into the
darkness.  He knew that his father at the
end of the defile, more than a mile away,
would be anxiously watching.  Then he
returned to the guns.  By the light of the
lamp, carefully screened from the enemy's
camp, the Japanese loaded the guns and
swung them round until they pointed to the
west.  When he started, Tim had expected
that, if he succeeded at all, he would only
be able to spike the guns and then run for
it.  But having captured the small party
of gunners, he saw no reason why he should
not turn his success to account.  It was
now nearly four o'clock.  Dawn would break
very soon.  And he thrilled with delight in
the anticipated surprise in store for the
Prefect.

The men waited impatiently.  On this
hill-top they would have earlier light than
the troops below.  By the time that the
first rosy gleam stole out of the east the
gunners were at their posts.  This was work
after their own hearts.  The guns were not
the perfect machines to which they were
accustomed, and they laid them with especial
care.  The shadows upon the camp at the
head of the defile dissolved.  As soon as
there was light enough, the two gunners
fired almost at the same instant, shattering
the still morning.  A thousand echoes
reverberated across the valley, and rolled
diminuendo from crag to crag.  Before they
died away Tim caught the faint sound of
cheers from his father's camp.

The two shells had plunged into the
centre of the enemy's position, causing a
wild rush for shelter.  The Prefect's first
feeling was consternation.  There was no
artillery in San Rosario; whence had the
enemy obtained the guns?  Why had not
his own gunners replied?  As he looked up
towards the platform on which they were
posted he saw two swift flashes, and two
more shells whistled overhead and crashed
on the rocks just above him.  His question
was answered; the Mollendists, the despised
brigands, had captured his guns and turned
them upon him.  In that bitter moment he
wished, perhaps, that he had lent a less
ready ear to the suggestions of Miguel Pardo.
All the enterprise and daring which his
enemy had recently shown was inspired,
not by Carlos Mollendo, but by the foreigners,
and they, but for Pardo, might have been
with him, or at least not against him.

It was soon apparent that matters were
serious.  Shells were dropping into the defile
as fast as the gunners could load.  Already
they had done much damage, and panic
was spreading through the ranks.  The men
were seeking cover; some were already
running to the rear, where the horses were
tethered; none had any spirit for fight.
While this disorder reigned, there was a
sudden cry that the brigands were charging
up the defile.  The Prefect's troops vastly
outnumbered Mr. O'Hagan's, but he had
no advantage of them now.  They had no
faith in their cause, no enthusiasm for their
leader.  Disheartened by previous failure,
demoralised by the bombardment of their
own guns, they were deaf to the Prefect's
passionate entreaties to stand firm.  They
answered him with oaths and curses.  Nor
was the Prefect of the stuff of heroes.  He
was not the man to gather about him a few
choice spirits and steadfastly defend the
pass.  Surrounded, almost swept away by
the yelling mob of his terror-stricken army,
he elbowed his way through them, to gain
the tree to which his horse was tied.  He
had better have allowed himself to be borne
away on foot among his men.  Mounted, he
presented a conspicuous object to the head
of the eager little force charging up the road.
A dozen rifles were levelled at him; a dozen
bullets sang through the air; and when the
Prefect's body was lifted after the defile
was cleared, it was found riddled.

The attack having been made on foot, no
effective pursuit could be maintained.  So
precipitate, indeed, was the flight of the
cowed troops, that only the laggards of the
rear were in much danger, Mr. O'Hagan's
victory was almost bloodless.  The fugitives
poured into San Juan; the wildest reports
found easy credence there.  It became
known by and by that the Prefect was
killed, a piece of news at which more than
his enemies rejoiced.  The magnates of the
town were hurriedly called together; they
agreed to accept the new republic; and
when, in the course of the afternoon, Señor
Mollendo and Mr. O'Hagan rode in at the
head of their troops, they were received
with acclamations by the populace, and with
a flowery address by the officials.  The
wheel of fortune had lifted the outlaw to
the headship of the State.





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.. _`THE RAVINE`:

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   CHAPTER XXV


.. class:: center large

   THE RAVINE

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Much to his disappointment, Tim was not
a spectator of President Mollendo's triumphal
entrance into his capital.  He did not hear
the eloquent oration delivered from the
steps of the court house, nor was he present
at the banquet at which the President fell
on Mr. O'Hagan's neck, and kissed him amid
the frantic plaudits of the company.  When
Tim saw the troops charging up the defile,
he set off to join them, leaving the Japanese
in charge of the guns.  At some risk to
his neck he scrambled down the face of the
hill, and came up with the little army in
time to take a share in the final scenes.
When the victory was assured, Mr. O'Hagan
sent him with Romaña and a hundred men
back to San Rosario, to report the defeat
and death of the Prefect, and keep order
in the town.

San Rosario had quietly accepted the
new régime.  The few well-to-do people,
who had suffered from the Prefect's levies,
hoped that the system of benevolences was
buried, and were prepared to give the new
President a chance; the poorer folk cared
little who their ruler was, or what the nature
of the government, provided they were able
to earn their living in peace.  Señor Fagasta
was perhaps the only unhappy man in the town.

Finding that everything was peaceful and
orderly in the town, Tim thought he might
venture to visit the hacienda, arrange for
the necessary repairs to be made to the
house against his father's return, and reopen
work on the plantations, which would soon
become a wilderness through neglect.
Accordingly, on the second evening after his
arrival in San Rosario, he rode over on his
motor-cycle, accompanied by Romaña on
horseback.  Biddy Flanagan was still alone
in possession of the house.  She welcomed
Tim heartily, but was less cordial to Romaña:
he was one of "them foreigners."  Her joy
at the approaching return of "the master"
was dulled by distress at the bareness of
the rooms.  The establishment of a republic
was to her an insignificant event beside the
loss of the best "chainey," and military
glory did not compensate the theft of the
silver spoons.  And when, early next
morning, she carried breakfast into the
dining-room, she mournfully drew attention to
the fact that she had had to make the coffee
in a delf jug.

"'Tis because the silver coffee-pot be
took, Master Tim," she said.  "And there's
no silver spoons for the eggs, and what will
I say to the mistress when she comes home!"

"We can get some more, Biddy," said
Tim.  "And really, I always think that
coffee tastes better out of a jug."

"'Deed now, that's true, but 'tis not for
the likes of me to say so at all.  If there was
no difference between the kitchen and the
dining-room of a gentleman's house, what
would the country be after coming to?
Sure I hope the villain is killed, and will
not be the way of troubling us again."

"I wonder what became of Pardo?"
said Tim to Romaña when the old woman
was gone.

"You may be sure he is not killed," said
Romaña.  "Pardo is not the man to risk
his skin in the fighting line."

"No, it may give him lumbago," rejoined
Tim with a laugh.  "I suppose he has gone
off with his loot.  A good riddance!  After
breakfast you might look round the house
and see what repairs are needed, while I go
over to the huts and tell the Jap women
that their husbands are on the way home.
It's a blessing none of the married men were
killed except the one Pierola shot."

Some twenty minutes later Tim set off on
foot for the labourers' huts half a mile across
the plantation.  He followed a path that
intersected a field of sugar-cane, which grew
so high that he was completely concealed.
Presently it crossed a broad stretch of grass
land separating the sugar from the coffee,
and here Tim was surprised to see recent
hoof-marks.  None of his father's horses
remained on the hacienda, and he wondered
who could have ridden in this direction.
If the tracks pointed towards the house he
might have supposed that Felipe Durand
had come over to see him; but they all led
away from it, as though the rider had come
either from the stables, or from the meadow
behind the house.

Curiosity piqued him to follow up the
marks.  He took no pains to walk quietly,
but his footfall was silent on the grass.  The
tracks led towards the road that ran past
Durand's house and ultimately to the Inca
ruins.  After about a hundred yards the
path bent to the right.  On arriving at the
bend Tim started back.  A little ahead a
horse was grazing.  A bundle was slung
from its crupper.  Just beyond, there
was a disused well, and here Tim saw a
man, whose back was towards him, turning
the windlass.  He stood partially concealed
among the plants to watch.  Presently a
second bundle appeared over the edge of
the well.  The man untied it from the rope
and turned with it in his arms towards the
horse.  Tim had already suspected his
identity, and he now saw without surprise
that it was Miguel Pardo.

Acting on impulse, he dashed forward,
hoping to reach the thief before he could
mount.  But Pardo caught sight of him,
vaulted into the saddle, and galloped towards
the road.  It was hopeless to pursue him
on foot.  Tim had his revolver, but he was
not one to use it in cold blood.  Instantly
he thought of the cycle, which was in its
shed at the back of the house.  He sprinted
back, started the engine, and in a few
minutes was dashing in chase.

He knew that Pardo, in spite of his start,
must soon be overtaken, and he had little
doubt of the direction of his flight.  Neither
San Juan nor San Rosario would be safe for
him; he would almost certainly choose the
track to the Inca ruins; trusting in course of
time to be able to make his way round over
the hills, and seek refuge in another province
where he was unknown.

Tim flew along to the track, wheeled into it,
and looked ahead.  Pardo was not in sight.
Suddenly he remembered the broken bridge.
It would certainly not have been repaired.
Tim wondered whether Pardo had heard of
its destruction.  In that case he would not
have come this way, but would have chosen
the western track.  If he was in ignorance
of what had happened, he would be checked
perforce at the ravine, and the chase would
soon be over.  Even supposing he had
followed the other track, Tim thought that
the speed of his cycle would allow him to
ride to the bridge, make sure, return to the
cross-roads, and still overtake the fugitive,
who would no doubt slacken his pace when
he supposed himself to be unpursued.

As Tim passed Durand's house, Felipe
came down the path.  Tim afterwards
discovered that he had seen the horseman
dashing by, and wondered who could be so
foolish as to ride along a track which within
a few miles was impassable.

"Pardo!" shouted Tim as he flashed past,
and Durand ran for his horse to follow the
chase.

A mile beyond the house Tim caught sight
of his quarry.  In another minute or two he
must turn at bay.  No doubt he was armed,
and Tim for the first time realised that he
might presently be involved in rather a
desperate struggle.  While the horse was
galloping, Pardo, encumbered as he was with
his bundle, would be unable to take steady
aim.  But as soon as he came within sight
of the bridgeless ravine, he would spring from
his saddle and fire.  Tim had set off in
pursuit with the simple idea of capturing
Pardo, and handing him over to the civic
authorities for trial and punishment as a
thief; but he saw now that he was not likely
to succeed without a fight.

The distance between horseman and cyclist
rapidly diminished.  The long hill beyond
the ravine came in sight, but the ruins of the
bridge were as yet hidden by the short
acclivity beyond which the track dipped.
Pardo was just reaching the top of this
ascent as Tim arrived at the bottom.  There
were only fifty yards between them.  Before
Tim was prepared for the movement Pardo
suddenly made a half-turn in the saddle and
fired.  The shot flew wide, and Tim, edging
in on the near side of the track, so that Pardo
could only use his revolver again if he turned
completely round, or twisted to the left and
fired over his shoulder, rode relentlessly on
up the ascent.  In a few seconds he expected
the final tussle.

On gaining the brow of the hill Pardo
checked, drew his restive horse across the
road, and pointing his revolver steadily,
fired.  Tim had guessed his intention, and
his own shot rang out almost simultaneously.
Pardo, not allowing for his altitude, fired
too high: Tim's aim was spoilt by his bobbing
movement on the machine, and his shot
wounded the horse instead of the man.
Before either could fire again, the situation was
changed with a suddenness that for a moment
took him aback.  The horse, already alarmed
by the clatter of the engine and the sound of
the shots, was rendered frantic by its wound.
Springing round on its hind legs, it took the
bit between its teeth and bolted down the
slope towards the ravine.

When Tim gained the top, he realised with
horror the desperate peril of his enemy, and
instantly forced down his brakes and stopped
the machine, in the hope that with the
cessation of the noise the animal's terror
would lessen in time for its career to be
checked.  Pardo, a moment after the descent
had begun, saw the hideous gap in front of
him, and made a desperate effort to rein up.
But it was too late.  The maddened horse
galloped on blindly, came to the edge of the
chasm, and instinctively made a frantic leap
for the opposite bank.  It jumped short by
several feet.  Then, with a scream that rang
in Tim's ears for many a day, horse and rider
plunged to the bottom.

Tim had already leapt off his machine.
He ran forward and at no small risk clambered
down the steep side of the ravine.  Both
horse and horseman were dead, amid a litter
of broken pottery and scattered plate, which
had burst from the bundles.  Tim shrank
from touching any of the stolen property.
White to the lips, he climbed up to the track,
and staggered into the arms of Durand, who
had followed on horseback.





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.. _`HANDSOME ACKNOWLEDGMENTS`:

.. class:: center medium

   CHAPTER XXVI


.. class:: center large

   HANDSOME ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

.. vspace:: 2

One evening, a few weeks after the close
of the brief campaign, the town-hall of
San Juan presented a picturesque and
even brilliant spectacle.  All the important
people, and a good many of the unimportant,
of the capital and of San Rosario were
assembled in response to the President's
invitation, to celebrate the foundation of
the Republic.  Two long tables ran the
length of the hall; at the top a cross table
was ranged beneath a shield bearing the
Mollendo arms.  The President occupied
the centre seat.  On his right hand sat
General O'Hagan, on his left a young captain
of the same name.  Next in order to these
were the principal actors in this little
drama: Colonel Zegarra, his friend the
lawyer, Dr. Pereira, Nicolas Romaña, Pedro
Galdos, the Durands, father and son--for
Señor Durand, having contributed to the
Mollendist war-fund, had apparently
determined to get something for his money.

Two personages whom one would hardly
have expected to see there were Señor
Fagasta and Captain Pierola.  Señor
Mollendo had been informed by Tim of the
warning given by the gobernador, which
had resulted in the discomfiture of Pardo's
night attack on the house.  The President
argued from this that Señor Fagasta had
his good points; and being anxious to
conciliate the officials under the old régime
he reinstated the burly gentleman in his
former office.  For the same reason he
offered to Captain Pierola, now recovered
of his wound, the command of the republican
forces, which Mr. O'Hagan, deaf to all
entreaties, had relinquished.

In a balcony at the opposite end of the
hall sat a bevy of ladies, to watch the
feasting in which they, angelically, were
not to partake, and to hear the speeches
that would follow.  Mrs. O'Hagan sat in
the centre beside Señora Mollendo.  The
younger ladies, dressed with all the grace
and charm of which the Peruvian belle is
mistress, were impatient for the end of the
tiresome preliminaries: the banquet in
which they could not share, the speeches
which some of them had already heard
rehearsed, had less attractions for them than
the dance which was to round off the proceedings.

The table decorations were unusual.  The
vases were filled with leaves, blossoms, and
berries of the nasturtium, of which homely
plant every guest had a flower in his
button-hole.

The courses were handed round; the
glasses of wine and pisco were filled and
emptied and filled again; and then the
President rose.  A smile beamed upon his
benevolent features as he surveyed the
cheering company.  A broad band of orange
satin formed a graceful loop over his white
waistcoat, and a large diamond in his
shirt-front flashed as it caught the rays of the
innumerable candles.  He was a dignified
and impressive figure.

When the cheers had subsided, he began
to speak.  After a few introductory sentences,
he launched into a summary of the events
which had led up to this culminating scene.
He described the birth of the Republic,
enunciated with great eloquence the
principles which would govern his administration,
and then, turning to personal matters,
announced the honours and dignities which
he had conferred on certain of the gentlemen
whom he saw on either side.  He made
graceful references to the legal attainments
of Señor Fagasta, to the military abilities of
Captain Pierola, to the loyal services of
Señores Pedro Galdos and Nicolas Romaña,
whom he had appointed respectively
treasurer and secretary of the Republic.
Then, after an expressive pause, he proceeded:

"Gentlemen, on this great and auspicious
occasion I have a duty to perform---a duty
of which I acquit myself with all the ardour
of an overflowing heart.  There are epochs
in the life of nations when the firmament is
obscured by dark aggregations of cloud,
which exclude the radiance of heaven's
bright luminaries, and among which the
thunder rumbles with awful and portentous
reverberation.  At such a period of distress
and gloom, when Rome, the heart and centre
of the ancient world, saw herself threatened
by pestilent hosts of waspish barbarians,
the eyes of men turned in their trouble
towards a simple farmer, who pursued the
avocations of bucolic life in his rural retreat,
amid sounds no more horrific than the lowing
of his cattle and the guttural ejaculations of
his swine.  To him repaired a deputation
of his despairing countrymen, who found him
cleaving the stubborn soil with his labouring
plough, and besought him to quit those
haunts of industry and peace, and, exchanging
the gleaming ploughshare for the well-tempered
sword, the smock of Ceres for the
shining corslet of Mars, to return with them
and save the State.

"You know, gentlemen, the sequel of
that momentous domiciliary visit.  You know
how Cincinnatus marshalled his hosts, led
them against the enveloping invaders, and
having smitten Volscians and Æquians with
irresistible might, laid aside the implements
of war, and withdrew to replace the yoke
upon his toiling oxen, and ruminate in
rustic simplicity upon the vicissitudes of
mortal things.

"Gentlemen, we too have our Cincinnatus.
We have in our midst a gentleman who,
driven from his peaceful fields by the
shameless greed of tyranny, threw in his lot
with the despairing victims of a rapacious
despot: who, having laid down the sword
which he had wielded with conspicuous
dexterity in his youth against the enemies
of his adopted country, girded it on in his
maturer years at the call of an oppressed and
suffering community.  Gentlemen, it is to
him we owe the inception of the reign of
peace and prosperity in this elevated region.
I bid you raise your glasses and drain them
to the health of our illustrious friend and
liberator, our Cincinnatus, Señor General
O'Hagan."

The President's speech was hailed with a
chorus of vivas as the company sprang to
their feet to honour the toast.  Handkerchiefs
fluttered in the ladies' gallery.  Tim,
catching Durand's eye, winked, and his
friend responded with a look which meant
"Look out!  The old buffer hasn't done
yet."  Tim wondered what his father would
say in answer to this effusion.  He found
that the President, instead of resuming his
seat when the cheers had died away,
remained standing, took a sip from his glass,
and went on:

"History does not record whether
Cincinnatus was a married man, but, indulging
our imaginations, we may suppose that he
had a wife and family.  We may see with
our mind's eye the homely Roman matron,
leaving the meal-tub when her husband
broke to her the fateful news, and wiping
the flour from her industrious hands that she
might gird him with the sword, and furbish
his shield, and arrange the folds of his toga
in comely dignity.  We may picture his
sons and daughters gazing with admiration
not unmixed with awe at their heroic father,
watching him as he bestrode his fields with the
proud senators who had brought the people's
summons, gazing with longing eyes day after
day into the misty distance, wondering
with anxious fears how their beloved
progenitor was faring in the stress and heat of
strife.  We can imagine their pride and
gladness when he returned, crowned with
the laurel wreath of victory, and, so far as
history relates, without a wound.  We can
see them gathered about his knee, on the
winter nights when the pine-logs crackle,
and the wolf's long howl undulates across
the marshes, and hang upon his lips as he
relates the story of great doings on the
stricken field.

"These, I say, are the pictures which
imagination paints for us; but we need no
aid from imagination to behold the domestic
life of our own Cincinnatus.  *Integer vitae,
sceleris purus*, as the great Roman sang, he
has lived among us, in a home graced by the
presence of a beauteous spouse, and brightened
by the lively merits of a gallant youth.
Such praise and gratitude as we owe to the
father we owe also in no small measure to
the son, who sits beside me in all the glow
of healthy juvenility, blushing with
ingenuous pride in the achievements of his
noble sire.  What need to recount, gentlemen,
the exploits of this youthful warrior!
Modestly as he himself has veiled them,
the admiration of his devoted men could
not be silenced, and they proclaim his
prowess with unbated enthusiasm.  Picture
the scene, gentlemen, when, pursued for long
miles by the mounted warriors of the tyrant,
our dauntless friend sped on unfaltering
on his matchless steed, and was not abashed
when he beheld the yawning gulf unbridged
before him.  For him Fate had not ordained
the sacrificial leap of Marcus Curtius; the
safety of the State did not demand his death.
Flashing like a meteor to the very brink of
the abyss, he defied the laws of Nature, and
soared through the startled air with the
swift legerity of a mountain bird.  Thus
wonderfully preserved from peril behind and
before, he played a manful part in the final
scenes of this glorious revolution, and, in
the words of the august orator of Rome, *de
republica bene est meritus*.  I bid you raise
your glasses, and drain them to the health
of Señor Capitan O'Hagan."

The toast was hailed with thunderous
applause.  Tim sat with downcast eyes,
wishing that the floor would open and
swallow him.  "I hope to goodness the old
josser is done now!" he thought.  But the
President waited with a benignant smile
until silence was restored, then went on:

"It is known to you, gentlemen, that the
Señor Capitan is the first recipient of the
Order of the Nasturtium, which I have
founded in celebration of the new era upon
which we have entered.  Since it becomes
us to invoke the gracious countenance of
feminine loveliness upon the order, I have
inscribed at the head of the roll the name of
the Señora O'Hagan."

Here he bowed very gallantly towards the
balcony, and Tim, glancing up, saw his
mother incline her head, and raise her
handkerchief to her mouth, as if to hide a
smile.

"It is known to you also, gentlemen,"
the President continued, "that in deference
to the unanimous wish of the citizens, I
have consented that a statue of myself shall
be erected in the plaza of this town, not in
any spirit of vainglory, but as a permanent
witness of the triumph of the principles
which I profess.  But I deemed it unfitting
that the sister town of San Rosario should
be without a similar memorial, and I have
therefore taken upon myself to order, from
Paris, the home of art, two other statues, to
stand in the plaza of our neighbour.  The
one will represent the Señor General as
Cincinnatus, garbed in the toga of ancient
Rome, with a sword crossed upon a ploughshare
at his feet.  The other will exhibit
the effigy of the Señor Capitan.  It was a
matter of much deliberation how to mould
this second statue that it might form a
harmonious companion of the first.  As
you are aware, the Romans did not anticipate
the triumphs of the inventive modern mind.
They did not possess the motor-bicycle.
But by dint of much thought I have
reconciled the old with the new.  The Señor
Capitan will appear as Mercury, the
messenger of the gods, with his caduceus in his
hand, and his winged feet planted on a
globe.  These statues will face each other in
the public square, and proclaim to future
generations the features and the characteristics
of the two gentlemen whose achievements
and merits we honour so heartily
to-night."

The President at last sat down.  Mr. O'Hagan,
looking supremely uncomfortable,
thanked him and the company, for himself
and Tim, for the flattering honours that had
been paid to them; and after speeches from
Señor Fagasta, Colonel Zegarra, and half a
dozen other notables, the proceedings came
to an end, and the hall was cleared for
dancing.

"I say, old chap," said Durand, when he
had an opportunity of speaking to Tim,
"won't you feel rather cold as Mercury?"

"Shut up!" growled Tim.  "Old Moll's
off his chump.  But he doesn't mean it."

"But he does!"

"Well then, I'll waylay the silly old thing
on the road, and smash it to bits.  I never
heard of such silly rot."

But these violent measures were not
necessary.  Every now and then during
the next few months Durand put Tim in a
rage by announcing that the statues had
left Paris, that they had reached Lima, that
they were on the road.  But the truth is
that the financial straits to which the new
republic was soon reduced have hindered
the realisation of President Mollendo's
generous dream, and up to the present the plaza
of San Rosario is destitute of classic statuary.
Cincinnatus lives very contentedly on his
farm, and Mercury is now leading a grimy
existence in some famous engineering shops
on the Tyne.

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