CHAPTER XITHE MOTOR-CYCLEMr. 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."CHAPTER XIIFREE WHEELRomaña 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.CHAPTER XIIIA COMMISSIONIt 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.CHAPTER XIVHIS FATHER'S HOUSETim 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."Youareup 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.
CHAPTER XI
THE MOTOR-CYCLE
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."
CHAPTER XII
FREE WHEEL
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.
CHAPTER XIII
A COMMISSION
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.
CHAPTER XIV
HIS FATHER'S HOUSE
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.
"Youareup 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.