CHAPTER XXIVFROM DAN TO BEERSHEBAColonel Zegarra was holding a levee of his admirers from the town when Tim returned to camp."Well, my young friend, have you made any interesting discoveries?" he asked, from among a group of ladies as Tim passed."Several, señor," replied Tim. "Among other things, what it feels like to fly through the air on wheels.""Very interesting," said the gentleman in amiable ignorance. "I was not aware that your machine could fly. How marvellous is the progress of invention!" he added, turning to the ladies."Wonderful!" they cried, clapping their hands."Will you show us how you do it, Señor Tim?" said the colonel's daughter."I regret, señorita, that it is impossible here," said Tim, laying his hand on his heart in the local way. "It requires a hill a mile long; a number of the Prefect's men pelting down after you, and bellowing like bulls; a ravine thirty feet wide spanned by a bridge; and some good obedient fellows who will blow up the bridge at the critical moment. These conditions do not exist every day, señorita."The girl looked puzzled. Then a light dawned."Is it a joke, Señor Tim?" she asked with a smile. She knew something of Tim's jokes in carnival time."A joke that won't bear repetition, señorita," he replied, and then bowed himself away.The eastern track being now impassable, he thought it sufficient to leave a few men at the broken bridge to guard against any attempt to repair it. The rest he withdrew to the camp. One of the vedettes on the western track having been surprised and killed, he decided as a precaution for the future to place the men in couples. He did not enlighten Colonel Zegarra, when the visitors had gone, as to his flight through the air, but simply informed him that the bridge had been blown up to check a troop of the Prefect's horsemen.Before he retired for the night he thoroughly examined the cycle, and found that the tyres, though showing signs of wear, were as yet sound. He gave it to one of the Japanese to clean, and then sought his couch, worn out by the racking experiences of the day.Next morning word was brought that the enemy were advancing in force along the western track. Colonel Zegarra was not lacking in courage, and the plan of action to be followed in the event of attack had been settled in several conversations between himself and Tim. The ground on both sides of the track for half a mile from the cross-roads was fairly open, affording a clear field for fire. Though the enemy outnumbered the Mollendists, the latter had the advantage of being the defenders. Their position, protected by earthworks and the fringe of wood, was so strong that an attempt to force it ought not to succeed. To harass the enemy in flank, Tim had arranged to post himself with a small detachment in a dense copse on the left of the track about a mile in front of the camp. With luck he might not be discovered; if he was attacked, the closeness of the trees would enable him to make a good defence. He chose thirty of his own Japanese for this duty, knowing their good fighting qualities and their absolute personal loyalty to him.They had been stationed in the copse for some hours before the head of the enemy's column appeared. The men were on foot. Tim had intended to worry them as they advanced, but it now occurred to him that he would do better to hold his hand until the attack developed. If Colonel Zegarra should be in difficulties, a sudden assault on the enemy from the rear might turn the scale.The enemy opened out as they approached the cross-roads, intending to surround the camp. They made a concerted rush, but in the lack of artillery they were seriously handicapped, and after several attempts had failed, they fell back to cover. Some retreated in the direction of the copse. Tim saw his opportunity. Bidding his men wait until they were within a few hundred yards, he then gave the order to fire. In the shock of surprise the enemy fell into disorder, and fled in all directions. Their confusion was communicated to the whole force, and soon the discomfited rabble were in full retreat, suffering severely as they crossed the line of fire from the camp.Colonel Zegarra rose to the occasion. Ordering his men to mount, he led them in pursuit. The retreat became a rout. Ridden down by the horsemen, cut up by the steady firing of Tim's men in the copse, the enemy were a disorganised mob before they reached their horses, which they had left about two miles down the track. Some succeeded in mounting, and galloped away. Others were headed off, and were made prisoners. Within an hour of the first attack the Prefect's eastern force was shattered, and no longer existed as a fighting unit.There was great jubilation among the Mollendists. On returning to camp Colonel Zegarra at once penned a flowery despatch to Mr. O'Hagan announcing his victory. The courier had not been gone long when Romaña rode up in haste, bearing a verbal message from the commander-in-chief. After long delay the Prefect was making a determined effort to force the defile, and Mr. O'Hagan asked for a reinforcement of fifty men, if they could be spared. It was arranged that Tim should start at once with fifty horsemen. It seemed unlikely that the troops just defeated would rally, but for assurance' sake he persuaded Romaña to remain at the cross-roads, to advise Colonel Zegarra if the enemy should attempt any movement which must be met rather by craft than by courage.Tim rode ahead of his troop on the motorcycle. When about a third of the way to the defile, he suddenly discovered on his left a considerable number of men on foot descending from the hills towards the highroad. Their intention clearly was either to take the main Mollendist army in the rear, or to make a swoop on the cross-roads and then to San Rosario. Tim guessed that his father was unaware of this complication. The men must have been for at least two days on the march, for the hills were generally regarded as impracticable.Tim halted for a few moments to make a rapid calculation. His father and Colonel Zegarra must be warned. If he rode on, the enemy, though at present a long distance away, would be on the road between him and Colonel Zegarra by the time he returned. On the other hand he might ride to the colonel and back before they reached the road, in which case he would still have a chance of slipping by.He remounted and dashed back at full speed, ordering his horsemen when he met them to halt and be on the alert. Colonel Zegarra agreed to move out with all his troops, and if he found the enemy on the road, marching towards the defile, to hang on their rear. Then Tim set off again. He commanded his horsemen to await Colonel Zegarra; it seemed more important for the moment that the colonel should have his full number than that the party should press on to reinforce Mr. O'Hagan.The head of the flanking column was only half a mile from the road when Tim dashed by. To some extent screened by trees and bushes, he became the target for the enemy's fire as he passed patches of open country. But he escaped unhurt, thanks to his speed and to the windings of the road, which caused his direction to alter frequently, and baffled the riflemen's aim. In a few minutes he was out of range, in a few more out of sight.On approaching the defile, Tim heard sounds of heavy firing. The Prefect's attack was evidently being hotly pressed. He found the Mollendist force some distance farther east than he had expected. They occupied the rocks on either side of the road, and were firing along the defile. Just as Tim arrived he heard the distant roar of a gun, and a shell crashed high up among the rocks at his right hand. He slipped off his bicycle, and hurried to find his father.Mr. O'Hagan greeted the boy with especial warmth."Pardo gave me a terrible scare when he told me he had got you," he said. "What happened?"Tim related how he had been dealt with at the house."He had the cheek to come to you, then," he said. "Why didn't he go to the Prefect?""I suspect he did. He wanted to make sure of his price.""The wretch said my price had gone up. What did he ask?""The hacienda!"Tim whistled."You kicked him out, I hope?" he said indignantly."Well, Tim, you see Colonel Zegarra's despatch with your postscript came just in time, or---- But that's all over. How are things going?""We have fairly smashed the lot from the Inca camp. They attacked this morning. Romaña brought your message, and I was hurrying up with fifty men when I saw a detachment of the enemy, about two hundred strong, I think, marching over the hills towards the road, so I rode back and asked Zegarra to bring up all his men and then came on ahead to tell you.""That's very bad news," said Mr. O'Hagan, somewhat perturbed. "I've as much as I can do to hold my own here. As you see, they've brought a couple of guns to bear on us.""Where are they?""Up in the hills yonder. How they were dragged there I can't imagine. They're at least a thousand feet up. The Prefect has more energy and resource than I expected. When the guns opened fire this morning we had to abandon the head of the defile. We're pretty safe here for the moment, and can check any attempt to force the passage; but I dare say the Prefect will find another position for the guns where they can command us, and then we shall have to fall back again. With two hundred men threatening our rear----""Couldn't you spare some men to deal with them?""That's a capital idea, Tim. It will take a long time to move the guns to a new position. We'll try it. I'll take a hundred and fifty men myself. You had better stay here; you've done your share.""I'd rather come with you," said Tim."I dare say, but you had better go and report to the President what you have been doing. He's rather down in the mouth, and your victory at the cross-roads will cheer him."Mr. O'Hagan soon set off with his men, all mounted. When he returned a few hours later, he was flushed with success. The Prefect's hill column found itself in the position in which it had hoped to catch the Mollendists--bottled up between two forces, which equalled or exceeded it in number, and were much fresher. Instead of attacking, the enemy were attacked. Fatigued after their long and difficult march, they were in no condition to make a prolonged resistance, and fell back before Mr. O'Hagan's impetuous onset. They were seeking a strong position when Colonel Zegarra dashed suddenly upon their rear. Hopelessly entrapped, they lost heart. Some flung down their arms and surrendered, others dispersed and sought safety in the hills.With Mr. O'Hagan returned Colonel Zegarra and the greater part of his force, a small detachment being sent back to keep an eye on the road to San Rosario. President Mollendo, whose volatile spirits had already been exalted by Tim's report of the morning's success, was carried away by delight at the Prefect's second discomfiture on the same day. He insisted on promoting Tim captain on the spot, and made an oration to the troops which moved many of them to tears, and confirmed their belief that they had in Carlos Mollendo a statesman of the highest rank.While this orgy of sentiment was in progress, Mr. O'Hagan was discussing matters with Tim quietly in the background."That's all very well," he said, jerking his head towards the spot where Mollendo was perorating, "but it doesn't prevent the Prefect from hauling his guns. I quite expect that to-morrow he will begin to shift them in this direction, and when they begin to play we can't hold the defile another half-hour.""What then, Father?" asked Tim."Why, then we shall be compelled to fall back on San Rosario. The Prefect has three men to our one; and the moment the tide seems to be turning in his favour a lot of ours are sure to desert. It's the way of things here. But for the guns we could hold him off for months, so long as Galdos keeps up the supplies--though I'm afraid of ammunition running short. The two checks the Prefect has had to-day are decided set-backs, but we are not much better off unless we can take the heart out of him. If we could only capture his guns, now!""Why not?""Well, if you can suggest a way, do so. But don't reckon without your host. They're at least a thousand feet up, somewhere on that ridge. The War Office of this republic being unable to supply field-glasses, I haven't located them exactly. To climb the hill in face of the enemy would be a pretty tough job in itself, and the guns are pretty sure to be well guarded.""I'll try it to-night," said Tim, "with a few of our Japs. Some of them were in the war with Russia, and it won't be the first time they've had such night-work.""I don't want to disappoint you," said Mr. O'Hagan, pulling at his moustache, "but it's too risky--indeed it is. What would your poor mother say?"Tim was so well accustomed to this appealad matremthat it had quite lost its effect."She'd jib to begin with, to be sure," he said, "but she'd give in in the end; she always does when it's not an absolute question of right or wrong. You'd better say yes, Father."It was on the tip of his tongue to relate the adventures of the previous day, but he reflected that the story might have quite the opposite effect from what he intended. Mr. O'Hagan's last instructions to him had been not to go adventuring, and though he felt that he could hardly be blamed for adventures which had hurled themselves at him unsought, it was probable that his father would not recognise any reasoning of that kind. So he confined his arguments strictly to the matter in hand. Mr. O'Hagan's opposition was really half-hearted. He had come to have great faith in Tim's resourcefulness and luck. Ultimately he agreed to let the boy do what he had suggested; the success of his scheme might prove to be the turning-point of the struggle.Helped by a half-moon, Tim set off about midnight with a dozen of the Japanese who had served in the army, including three gunners. As weapons they carried only revolvers and knives, with a good supply of cartridges. One of them had a dark lantern for signalling the result of the expedition to Mr. O'Hagan. Slipping down the road for some distance in the direction of San Rosario, they turned to the right, and roped themselves together for the climb into the hills.It was the hardest job that Tim had ever undertaken. He had no compass, and could only direct his course by the position of the moon. Its light was not sufficient to enable him to choose the easiest way. There was no path. At the head of the line he clambered up wherever he could find foothold, sometimes, indeed, crawling on all-fours up slippery slopes, scrambling over or between boulders, now and then brought up by a sheer wall of rock impossible to scale. The party had often to rest and recover breath, and the ascent was so arduous and slow that he was a little uneasy lest the dawn should surprise them before they gained the summit. To make matters worse the moon was dropping, and its incessant change of position rendered it a far from trustworthy guide.At last, after three hours of fatiguing work, they reached the crest of the ridge, where they caught sight of the lights in the Prefect's camp below them far away to the west. Tim guessed that the guns were placed somewhere along the ridge. He stole along quietly, stopping now and again to listen for signs of the men in charge. Presently he came to a formidable buttress of rock projecting over the valley and rising many feet above the general level. It appeared to be the highest point in this part of the country, and if the top was flat, was the most likely place to have been chosen for the gun platform. Whispering to his men to move as quietly as possible, he led them along a narrow ledge on the face of the cliff below the buttress, edging into the wall on his left hand so as to avoid a fatal fall into the depths.At the farther end of the ledge he halted. It was now almost dark; the moon had descended below the hills on the opposite side of the road. But by aid of the last lingering sheen he detected signs of recent pick-work on the ground, just beyond the spot where he stood. Evidently a squad of labourers had been employed to clear a passage for the guns. There was no sound. Casting off the rope, Tim stole forward alone, and soon discovered a rough path leading in the reverse direction towards the rear of the buttress.His heart pumping with excitement, he returned to the men, and whispered his final instructions. There was to be no firing unless they had to defend themselves against overpowering numbers. Then he led them on noiselessly up the path. It ended sooner than he expected. He came suddenly to a level space of some extent, on which he saw two guns, pointing over the valley. Stretched on the ground behind them were ten men. They were asleep. Secure in their supposed inaccessibility, they had posted no guard.Tim paused a moment, then ordered his men to steal round until they completely encompassed the sleeping crew. At a low whistle from him they sprang forward; there was a brief and almost silent struggle; and the enemy, only half awake, found themselves prisoners. Not a shot was fired; scarcely a wound was given.Hurrying to the edge of the buttress with the lamp, Tim flashed it three times into the darkness. He knew that his father at the end of the defile, more than a mile away, would be anxiously watching. Then he returned to the guns. By the light of the lamp, carefully screened from the enemy's camp, the Japanese loaded the guns and swung them round until they pointed to the west. When he started, Tim had expected that, if he succeeded at all, he would only be able to spike the guns and then run for it. But having captured the small party of gunners, he saw no reason why he should not turn his success to account. It was now nearly four o'clock. Dawn would break very soon. And he thrilled with delight in the anticipated surprise in store for the Prefect.The men waited impatiently. On this hill-top they would have earlier light than the troops below. By the time that the first rosy gleam stole out of the east the gunners were at their posts. This was work after their own hearts. The guns were not the perfect machines to which they were accustomed, and they laid them with especial care. The shadows upon the camp at the head of the defile dissolved. As soon as there was light enough, the two gunners fired almost at the same instant, shattering the still morning. A thousand echoes reverberated across the valley, and rolled diminuendo from crag to crag. Before they died away Tim caught the faint sound of cheers from his father's camp.The two shells had plunged into the centre of the enemy's position, causing a wild rush for shelter. The Prefect's first feeling was consternation. There was no artillery in San Rosario; whence had the enemy obtained the guns? Why had not his own gunners replied? As he looked up towards the platform on which they were posted he saw two swift flashes, and two more shells whistled overhead and crashed on the rocks just above him. His question was answered; the Mollendists, the despised brigands, had captured his guns and turned them upon him. In that bitter moment he wished, perhaps, that he had lent a less ready ear to the suggestions of Miguel Pardo. All the enterprise and daring which his enemy had recently shown was inspired, not by Carlos Mollendo, but by the foreigners, and they, but for Pardo, might have been with him, or at least not against him.It was soon apparent that matters were serious. Shells were dropping into the defile as fast as the gunners could load. Already they had done much damage, and panic was spreading through the ranks. The men were seeking cover; some were already running to the rear, where the horses were tethered; none had any spirit for fight. While this disorder reigned, there was a sudden cry that the brigands were charging up the defile. The Prefect's troops vastly outnumbered Mr. O'Hagan's, but he had no advantage of them now. They had no faith in their cause, no enthusiasm for their leader. Disheartened by previous failure, demoralised by the bombardment of their own guns, they were deaf to the Prefect's passionate entreaties to stand firm. They answered him with oaths and curses. Nor was the Prefect of the stuff of heroes. He was not the man to gather about him a few choice spirits and steadfastly defend the pass. Surrounded, almost swept away by the yelling mob of his terror-stricken army, he elbowed his way through them, to gain the tree to which his horse was tied. He had better have allowed himself to be borne away on foot among his men. Mounted, he presented a conspicuous object to the head of the eager little force charging up the road. A dozen rifles were levelled at him; a dozen bullets sang through the air; and when the Prefect's body was lifted after the defile was cleared, it was found riddled.The attack having been made on foot, no effective pursuit could be maintained. So precipitate, indeed, was the flight of the cowed troops, that only the laggards of the rear were in much danger, Mr. O'Hagan's victory was almost bloodless. The fugitives poured into San Juan; the wildest reports found easy credence there. It became known by and by that the Prefect was killed, a piece of news at which more than his enemies rejoiced. The magnates of the town were hurriedly called together; they agreed to accept the new republic; and when, in the course of the afternoon, Señor Mollendo and Mr. O'Hagan rode in at the head of their troops, they were received with acclamations by the populace, and with a flowery address by the officials. The wheel of fortune had lifted the outlaw to the headship of the State.CHAPTER XXVTHE RAVINEMuch to his disappointment, Tim was not a spectator of President Mollendo's triumphal entrance into his capital. He did not hear the eloquent oration delivered from the steps of the court house, nor was he present at the banquet at which the President fell on Mr. O'Hagan's neck, and kissed him amid the frantic plaudits of the company. When Tim saw the troops charging up the defile, he set off to join them, leaving the Japanese in charge of the guns. At some risk to his neck he scrambled down the face of the hill, and came up with the little army in time to take a share in the final scenes. When the victory was assured, Mr. O'Hagan sent him with Romaña and a hundred men back to San Rosario, to report the defeat and death of the Prefect, and keep order in the town.San Rosario had quietly accepted the new régime. The few well-to-do people, who had suffered from the Prefect's levies, hoped that the system of benevolences was buried, and were prepared to give the new President a chance; the poorer folk cared little who their ruler was, or what the nature of the government, provided they were able to earn their living in peace. Señor Fagasta was perhaps the only unhappy man in the town.Finding that everything was peaceful and orderly in the town, Tim thought he might venture to visit the hacienda, arrange for the necessary repairs to be made to the house against his father's return, and reopen work on the plantations, which would soon become a wilderness through neglect. Accordingly, on the second evening after his arrival in San Rosario, he rode over on his motor-cycle, accompanied by Romaña on horseback. Biddy Flanagan was still alone in possession of the house. She welcomed Tim heartily, but was less cordial to Romaña: he was one of "them foreigners." Her joy at the approaching return of "the master" was dulled by distress at the bareness of the rooms. The establishment of a republic was to her an insignificant event beside the loss of the best "chainey," and military glory did not compensate the theft of the silver spoons. And when, early next morning, she carried breakfast into the dining-room, she mournfully drew attention to the fact that she had had to make the coffee in a delf jug."'Tis because the silver coffee-pot be took, Master Tim," she said. "And there's no silver spoons for the eggs, and what will I say to the mistress when she comes home!""We can get some more, Biddy," said Tim. "And really, I always think that coffee tastes better out of a jug.""'Deed now, that's true, but 'tis not for the likes of me to say so at all. If there was no difference between the kitchen and the dining-room of a gentleman's house, what would the country be after coming to? Sure I hope the villain is killed, and will not be the way of troubling us again.""I wonder what became of Pardo?" said Tim to Romaña when the old woman was gone."You may be sure he is not killed," said Romaña. "Pardo is not the man to risk his skin in the fighting line.""No, it may give him lumbago," rejoined Tim with a laugh. "I suppose he has gone off with his loot. A good riddance! After breakfast you might look round the house and see what repairs are needed, while I go over to the huts and tell the Jap women that their husbands are on the way home. It's a blessing none of the married men were killed except the one Pierola shot."Some twenty minutes later Tim set off on foot for the labourers' huts half a mile across the plantation. He followed a path that intersected a field of sugar-cane, which grew so high that he was completely concealed. Presently it crossed a broad stretch of grass land separating the sugar from the coffee, and here Tim was surprised to see recent hoof-marks. None of his father's horses remained on the hacienda, and he wondered who could have ridden in this direction. If the tracks pointed towards the house he might have supposed that Felipe Durand had come over to see him; but they all led away from it, as though the rider had come either from the stables, or from the meadow behind the house.Curiosity piqued him to follow up the marks. He took no pains to walk quietly, but his footfall was silent on the grass. The tracks led towards the road that ran past Durand's house and ultimately to the Inca ruins. After about a hundred yards the path bent to the right. On arriving at the bend Tim started back. A little ahead a horse was grazing. A bundle was slung from its crupper. Just beyond, there was a disused well, and here Tim saw a man, whose back was towards him, turning the windlass. He stood partially concealed among the plants to watch. Presently a second bundle appeared over the edge of the well. The man untied it from the rope and turned with it in his arms towards the horse. Tim had already suspected his identity, and he now saw without surprise that it was Miguel Pardo.Acting on impulse, he dashed forward, hoping to reach the thief before he could mount. But Pardo caught sight of him, vaulted into the saddle, and galloped towards the road. It was hopeless to pursue him on foot. Tim had his revolver, but he was not one to use it in cold blood. Instantly he thought of the cycle, which was in its shed at the back of the house. He sprinted back, started the engine, and in a few minutes was dashing in chase.He knew that Pardo, in spite of his start, must soon be overtaken, and he had little doubt of the direction of his flight. Neither San Juan nor San Rosario would be safe for him; he would almost certainly choose the track to the Inca ruins; trusting in course of time to be able to make his way round over the hills, and seek refuge in another province where he was unknown.Tim flew along to the track, wheeled into it, and looked ahead. Pardo was not in sight. Suddenly he remembered the broken bridge. It would certainly not have been repaired. Tim wondered whether Pardo had heard of its destruction. In that case he would not have come this way, but would have chosen the western track. If he was in ignorance of what had happened, he would be checked perforce at the ravine, and the chase would soon be over. Even supposing he had followed the other track, Tim thought that the speed of his cycle would allow him to ride to the bridge, make sure, return to the cross-roads, and still overtake the fugitive, who would no doubt slacken his pace when he supposed himself to be unpursued.As Tim passed Durand's house, Felipe came down the path. Tim afterwards discovered that he had seen the horseman dashing by, and wondered who could be so foolish as to ride along a track which within a few miles was impassable."Pardo!" shouted Tim as he flashed past, and Durand ran for his horse to follow the chase.A mile beyond the house Tim caught sight of his quarry. In another minute or two he must turn at bay. No doubt he was armed, and Tim for the first time realised that he might presently be involved in rather a desperate struggle. While the horse was galloping, Pardo, encumbered as he was with his bundle, would be unable to take steady aim. But as soon as he came within sight of the bridgeless ravine, he would spring from his saddle and fire. Tim had set off in pursuit with the simple idea of capturing Pardo, and handing him over to the civic authorities for trial and punishment as a thief; but he saw now that he was not likely to succeed without a fight.The distance between horseman and cyclist rapidly diminished. The long hill beyond the ravine came in sight, but the ruins of the bridge were as yet hidden by the short acclivity beyond which the track dipped. Pardo was just reaching the top of this ascent as Tim arrived at the bottom. There were only fifty yards between them. Before Tim was prepared for the movement Pardo suddenly made a half-turn in the saddle and fired. The shot flew wide, and Tim, edging in on the near side of the track, so that Pardo could only use his revolver again if he turned completely round, or twisted to the left and fired over his shoulder, rode relentlessly on up the ascent. In a few seconds he expected the final tussle.On gaining the brow of the hill Pardo checked, drew his restive horse across the road, and pointing his revolver steadily, fired. Tim had guessed his intention, and his own shot rang out almost simultaneously. Pardo, not allowing for his altitude, fired too high: Tim's aim was spoilt by his bobbing movement on the machine, and his shot wounded the horse instead of the man. Before either could fire again, the situation was changed with a suddenness that for a moment took him aback. The horse, already alarmed by the clatter of the engine and the sound of the shots, was rendered frantic by its wound. Springing round on its hind legs, it took the bit between its teeth and bolted down the slope towards the ravine.When Tim gained the top, he realised with horror the desperate peril of his enemy, and instantly forced down his brakes and stopped the machine, in the hope that with the cessation of the noise the animal's terror would lessen in time for its career to be checked. Pardo, a moment after the descent had begun, saw the hideous gap in front of him, and made a desperate effort to rein up. But it was too late. The maddened horse galloped on blindly, came to the edge of the chasm, and instinctively made a frantic leap for the opposite bank. It jumped short by several feet. Then, with a scream that rang in Tim's ears for many a day, horse and rider plunged to the bottom.Tim had already leapt off his machine. He ran forward and at no small risk clambered down the steep side of the ravine. Both horse and horseman were dead, amid a litter of broken pottery and scattered plate, which had burst from the bundles. Tim shrank from touching any of the stolen property. White to the lips, he climbed up to the track, and staggered into the arms of Durand, who had followed on horseback.CHAPTER XXVIHANDSOME ACKNOWLEDGMENTSOne evening, a few weeks after the close of the brief campaign, the town-hall of San Juan presented a picturesque and even brilliant spectacle. All the important people, and a good many of the unimportant, of the capital and of San Rosario were assembled in response to the President's invitation, to celebrate the foundation of the Republic. Two long tables ran the length of the hall; at the top a cross table was ranged beneath a shield bearing the Mollendo arms. The President occupied the centre seat. On his right hand sat General O'Hagan, on his left a young captain of the same name. Next in order to these were the principal actors in this little drama: Colonel Zegarra, his friend the lawyer, Dr. Pereira, Nicolas Romaña, Pedro Galdos, the Durands, father and son--for Señor Durand, having contributed to the Mollendist war-fund, had apparently determined to get something for his money.Two personages whom one would hardly have expected to see there were Señor Fagasta and Captain Pierola. Señor Mollendo had been informed by Tim of the warning given by the gobernador, which had resulted in the discomfiture of Pardo's night attack on the house. The President argued from this that Señor Fagasta had his good points; and being anxious to conciliate the officials under the old régime he reinstated the burly gentleman in his former office. For the same reason he offered to Captain Pierola, now recovered of his wound, the command of the republican forces, which Mr. O'Hagan, deaf to all entreaties, had relinquished.In a balcony at the opposite end of the hall sat a bevy of ladies, to watch the feasting in which they, angelically, were not to partake, and to hear the speeches that would follow. Mrs. O'Hagan sat in the centre beside Señora Mollendo. The younger ladies, dressed with all the grace and charm of which the Peruvian belle is mistress, were impatient for the end of the tiresome preliminaries: the banquet in which they could not share, the speeches which some of them had already heard rehearsed, had less attractions for them than the dance which was to round off the proceedings.The table decorations were unusual. The vases were filled with leaves, blossoms, and berries of the nasturtium, of which homely plant every guest had a flower in his button-hole.The courses were handed round; the glasses of wine and pisco were filled and emptied and filled again; and then the President rose. A smile beamed upon his benevolent features as he surveyed the cheering company. A broad band of orange satin formed a graceful loop over his white waistcoat, and a large diamond in his shirt-front flashed as it caught the rays of the innumerable candles. He was a dignified and impressive figure.When the cheers had subsided, he began to speak. After a few introductory sentences, he launched into a summary of the events which had led up to this culminating scene. He described the birth of the Republic, enunciated with great eloquence the principles which would govern his administration, and then, turning to personal matters, announced the honours and dignities which he had conferred on certain of the gentlemen whom he saw on either side. He made graceful references to the legal attainments of Señor Fagasta, to the military abilities of Captain Pierola, to the loyal services of Señores Pedro Galdos and Nicolas Romaña, whom he had appointed respectively treasurer and secretary of the Republic. Then, after an expressive pause, he proceeded:"Gentlemen, on this great and auspicious occasion I have a duty to perform---a duty of which I acquit myself with all the ardour of an overflowing heart. There are epochs in the life of nations when the firmament is obscured by dark aggregations of cloud, which exclude the radiance of heaven's bright luminaries, and among which the thunder rumbles with awful and portentous reverberation. At such a period of distress and gloom, when Rome, the heart and centre of the ancient world, saw herself threatened by pestilent hosts of waspish barbarians, the eyes of men turned in their trouble towards a simple farmer, who pursued the avocations of bucolic life in his rural retreat, amid sounds no more horrific than the lowing of his cattle and the guttural ejaculations of his swine. To him repaired a deputation of his despairing countrymen, who found him cleaving the stubborn soil with his labouring plough, and besought him to quit those haunts of industry and peace, and, exchanging the gleaming ploughshare for the well-tempered sword, the smock of Ceres for the shining corslet of Mars, to return with them and save the State."You know, gentlemen, the sequel of that momentous domiciliary visit. You know how Cincinnatus marshalled his hosts, led them against the enveloping invaders, and having smitten Volscians and Æquians with irresistible might, laid aside the implements of war, and withdrew to replace the yoke upon his toiling oxen, and ruminate in rustic simplicity upon the vicissitudes of mortal things."Gentlemen, we too have our Cincinnatus. We have in our midst a gentleman who, driven from his peaceful fields by the shameless greed of tyranny, threw in his lot with the despairing victims of a rapacious despot: who, having laid down the sword which he had wielded with conspicuous dexterity in his youth against the enemies of his adopted country, girded it on in his maturer years at the call of an oppressed and suffering community. Gentlemen, it is to him we owe the inception of the reign of peace and prosperity in this elevated region. I bid you raise your glasses and drain them to the health of our illustrious friend and liberator, our Cincinnatus, Señor General O'Hagan."The President's speech was hailed with a chorus of vivas as the company sprang to their feet to honour the toast. Handkerchiefs fluttered in the ladies' gallery. Tim, catching Durand's eye, winked, and his friend responded with a look which meant "Look out! The old buffer hasn't done yet." Tim wondered what his father would say in answer to this effusion. He found that the President, instead of resuming his seat when the cheers had died away, remained standing, took a sip from his glass, and went on:"History does not record whether Cincinnatus was a married man, but, indulging our imaginations, we may suppose that he had a wife and family. We may see with our mind's eye the homely Roman matron, leaving the meal-tub when her husband broke to her the fateful news, and wiping the flour from her industrious hands that she might gird him with the sword, and furbish his shield, and arrange the folds of his toga in comely dignity. We may picture his sons and daughters gazing with admiration not unmixed with awe at their heroic father, watching him as he bestrode his fields with the proud senators who had brought the people's summons, gazing with longing eyes day after day into the misty distance, wondering with anxious fears how their beloved progenitor was faring in the stress and heat of strife. We can imagine their pride and gladness when he returned, crowned with the laurel wreath of victory, and, so far as history relates, without a wound. We can see them gathered about his knee, on the winter nights when the pine-logs crackle, and the wolf's long howl undulates across the marshes, and hang upon his lips as he relates the story of great doings on the stricken field."These, I say, are the pictures which imagination paints for us; but we need no aid from imagination to behold the domestic life of our own Cincinnatus.Integer vitae, sceleris purus, as the great Roman sang, he has lived among us, in a home graced by the presence of a beauteous spouse, and brightened by the lively merits of a gallant youth. Such praise and gratitude as we owe to the father we owe also in no small measure to the son, who sits beside me in all the glow of healthy juvenility, blushing with ingenuous pride in the achievements of his noble sire. What need to recount, gentlemen, the exploits of this youthful warrior! Modestly as he himself has veiled them, the admiration of his devoted men could not be silenced, and they proclaim his prowess with unbated enthusiasm. Picture the scene, gentlemen, when, pursued for long miles by the mounted warriors of the tyrant, our dauntless friend sped on unfaltering on his matchless steed, and was not abashed when he beheld the yawning gulf unbridged before him. For him Fate had not ordained the sacrificial leap of Marcus Curtius; the safety of the State did not demand his death. Flashing like a meteor to the very brink of the abyss, he defied the laws of Nature, and soared through the startled air with the swift legerity of a mountain bird. Thus wonderfully preserved from peril behind and before, he played a manful part in the final scenes of this glorious revolution, and, in the words of the august orator of Rome,de republica bene est meritus. I bid you raise your glasses, and drain them to the health of Señor Capitan O'Hagan."The toast was hailed with thunderous applause. Tim sat with downcast eyes, wishing that the floor would open and swallow him. "I hope to goodness the old josser is done now!" he thought. But the President waited with a benignant smile until silence was restored, then went on:"It is known to you, gentlemen, that the Señor Capitan is the first recipient of the Order of the Nasturtium, which I have founded in celebration of the new era upon which we have entered. Since it becomes us to invoke the gracious countenance of feminine loveliness upon the order, I have inscribed at the head of the roll the name of the Señora O'Hagan."Here he bowed very gallantly towards the balcony, and Tim, glancing up, saw his mother incline her head, and raise her handkerchief to her mouth, as if to hide a smile."It is known to you also, gentlemen," the President continued, "that in deference to the unanimous wish of the citizens, I have consented that a statue of myself shall be erected in the plaza of this town, not in any spirit of vainglory, but as a permanent witness of the triumph of the principles which I profess. But I deemed it unfitting that the sister town of San Rosario should be without a similar memorial, and I have therefore taken upon myself to order, from Paris, the home of art, two other statues, to stand in the plaza of our neighbour. The one will represent the Señor General as Cincinnatus, garbed in the toga of ancient Rome, with a sword crossed upon a ploughshare at his feet. The other will exhibit the effigy of the Señor Capitan. It was a matter of much deliberation how to mould this second statue that it might form a harmonious companion of the first. As you are aware, the Romans did not anticipate the triumphs of the inventive modern mind. They did not possess the motor-bicycle. But by dint of much thought I have reconciled the old with the new. The Señor Capitan will appear as Mercury, the messenger of the gods, with his caduceus in his hand, and his winged feet planted on a globe. These statues will face each other in the public square, and proclaim to future generations the features and the characteristics of the two gentlemen whose achievements and merits we honour so heartily to-night."The President at last sat down. Mr. O'Hagan, looking supremely uncomfortable, thanked him and the company, for himself and Tim, for the flattering honours that had been paid to them; and after speeches from Señor Fagasta, Colonel Zegarra, and half a dozen other notables, the proceedings came to an end, and the hall was cleared for dancing."I say, old chap," said Durand, when he had an opportunity of speaking to Tim, "won't you feel rather cold as Mercury?""Shut up!" growled Tim. "Old Moll's off his chump. But he doesn't mean it.""But he does!""Well then, I'll waylay the silly old thing on the road, and smash it to bits. I never heard of such silly rot."But these violent measures were not necessary. Every now and then during the next few months Durand put Tim in a rage by announcing that the statues had left Paris, that they had reached Lima, that they were on the road. But the truth is that the financial straits to which the new republic was soon reduced have hindered the realisation of President Mollendo's generous dream, and up to the present the plaza of San Rosario is destitute of classic statuary. Cincinnatus lives very contentedly on his farm, and Mercury is now leading a grimy existence in some famous engineering shops on the Tyne.
CHAPTER XXIV
FROM DAN TO BEERSHEBA
Colonel Zegarra was holding a levee of his admirers from the town when Tim returned to camp.
"Well, my young friend, have you made any interesting discoveries?" he asked, from among a group of ladies as Tim passed.
"Several, señor," replied Tim. "Among other things, what it feels like to fly through the air on wheels."
"Very interesting," said the gentleman in amiable ignorance. "I was not aware that your machine could fly. How marvellous is the progress of invention!" he added, turning to the ladies.
"Wonderful!" they cried, clapping their hands.
"Will you show us how you do it, Señor Tim?" said the colonel's daughter.
"I regret, señorita, that it is impossible here," said Tim, laying his hand on his heart in the local way. "It requires a hill a mile long; a number of the Prefect's men pelting down after you, and bellowing like bulls; a ravine thirty feet wide spanned by a bridge; and some good obedient fellows who will blow up the bridge at the critical moment. These conditions do not exist every day, señorita."
The girl looked puzzled. Then a light dawned.
"Is it a joke, Señor Tim?" she asked with a smile. She knew something of Tim's jokes in carnival time.
"A joke that won't bear repetition, señorita," he replied, and then bowed himself away.
The eastern track being now impassable, he thought it sufficient to leave a few men at the broken bridge to guard against any attempt to repair it. The rest he withdrew to the camp. One of the vedettes on the western track having been surprised and killed, he decided as a precaution for the future to place the men in couples. He did not enlighten Colonel Zegarra, when the visitors had gone, as to his flight through the air, but simply informed him that the bridge had been blown up to check a troop of the Prefect's horsemen.
Before he retired for the night he thoroughly examined the cycle, and found that the tyres, though showing signs of wear, were as yet sound. He gave it to one of the Japanese to clean, and then sought his couch, worn out by the racking experiences of the day.
Next morning word was brought that the enemy were advancing in force along the western track. Colonel Zegarra was not lacking in courage, and the plan of action to be followed in the event of attack had been settled in several conversations between himself and Tim. The ground on both sides of the track for half a mile from the cross-roads was fairly open, affording a clear field for fire. Though the enemy outnumbered the Mollendists, the latter had the advantage of being the defenders. Their position, protected by earthworks and the fringe of wood, was so strong that an attempt to force it ought not to succeed. To harass the enemy in flank, Tim had arranged to post himself with a small detachment in a dense copse on the left of the track about a mile in front of the camp. With luck he might not be discovered; if he was attacked, the closeness of the trees would enable him to make a good defence. He chose thirty of his own Japanese for this duty, knowing their good fighting qualities and their absolute personal loyalty to him.
They had been stationed in the copse for some hours before the head of the enemy's column appeared. The men were on foot. Tim had intended to worry them as they advanced, but it now occurred to him that he would do better to hold his hand until the attack developed. If Colonel Zegarra should be in difficulties, a sudden assault on the enemy from the rear might turn the scale.
The enemy opened out as they approached the cross-roads, intending to surround the camp. They made a concerted rush, but in the lack of artillery they were seriously handicapped, and after several attempts had failed, they fell back to cover. Some retreated in the direction of the copse. Tim saw his opportunity. Bidding his men wait until they were within a few hundred yards, he then gave the order to fire. In the shock of surprise the enemy fell into disorder, and fled in all directions. Their confusion was communicated to the whole force, and soon the discomfited rabble were in full retreat, suffering severely as they crossed the line of fire from the camp.
Colonel Zegarra rose to the occasion. Ordering his men to mount, he led them in pursuit. The retreat became a rout. Ridden down by the horsemen, cut up by the steady firing of Tim's men in the copse, the enemy were a disorganised mob before they reached their horses, which they had left about two miles down the track. Some succeeded in mounting, and galloped away. Others were headed off, and were made prisoners. Within an hour of the first attack the Prefect's eastern force was shattered, and no longer existed as a fighting unit.
There was great jubilation among the Mollendists. On returning to camp Colonel Zegarra at once penned a flowery despatch to Mr. O'Hagan announcing his victory. The courier had not been gone long when Romaña rode up in haste, bearing a verbal message from the commander-in-chief. After long delay the Prefect was making a determined effort to force the defile, and Mr. O'Hagan asked for a reinforcement of fifty men, if they could be spared. It was arranged that Tim should start at once with fifty horsemen. It seemed unlikely that the troops just defeated would rally, but for assurance' sake he persuaded Romaña to remain at the cross-roads, to advise Colonel Zegarra if the enemy should attempt any movement which must be met rather by craft than by courage.
Tim rode ahead of his troop on the motorcycle. When about a third of the way to the defile, he suddenly discovered on his left a considerable number of men on foot descending from the hills towards the highroad. Their intention clearly was either to take the main Mollendist army in the rear, or to make a swoop on the cross-roads and then to San Rosario. Tim guessed that his father was unaware of this complication. The men must have been for at least two days on the march, for the hills were generally regarded as impracticable.
Tim halted for a few moments to make a rapid calculation. His father and Colonel Zegarra must be warned. If he rode on, the enemy, though at present a long distance away, would be on the road between him and Colonel Zegarra by the time he returned. On the other hand he might ride to the colonel and back before they reached the road, in which case he would still have a chance of slipping by.
He remounted and dashed back at full speed, ordering his horsemen when he met them to halt and be on the alert. Colonel Zegarra agreed to move out with all his troops, and if he found the enemy on the road, marching towards the defile, to hang on their rear. Then Tim set off again. He commanded his horsemen to await Colonel Zegarra; it seemed more important for the moment that the colonel should have his full number than that the party should press on to reinforce Mr. O'Hagan.
The head of the flanking column was only half a mile from the road when Tim dashed by. To some extent screened by trees and bushes, he became the target for the enemy's fire as he passed patches of open country. But he escaped unhurt, thanks to his speed and to the windings of the road, which caused his direction to alter frequently, and baffled the riflemen's aim. In a few minutes he was out of range, in a few more out of sight.
On approaching the defile, Tim heard sounds of heavy firing. The Prefect's attack was evidently being hotly pressed. He found the Mollendist force some distance farther east than he had expected. They occupied the rocks on either side of the road, and were firing along the defile. Just as Tim arrived he heard the distant roar of a gun, and a shell crashed high up among the rocks at his right hand. He slipped off his bicycle, and hurried to find his father.
Mr. O'Hagan greeted the boy with especial warmth.
"Pardo gave me a terrible scare when he told me he had got you," he said. "What happened?"
Tim related how he had been dealt with at the house.
"He had the cheek to come to you, then," he said. "Why didn't he go to the Prefect?"
"I suspect he did. He wanted to make sure of his price."
"The wretch said my price had gone up. What did he ask?"
"The hacienda!"
Tim whistled.
"You kicked him out, I hope?" he said indignantly.
"Well, Tim, you see Colonel Zegarra's despatch with your postscript came just in time, or---- But that's all over. How are things going?"
"We have fairly smashed the lot from the Inca camp. They attacked this morning. Romaña brought your message, and I was hurrying up with fifty men when I saw a detachment of the enemy, about two hundred strong, I think, marching over the hills towards the road, so I rode back and asked Zegarra to bring up all his men and then came on ahead to tell you."
"That's very bad news," said Mr. O'Hagan, somewhat perturbed. "I've as much as I can do to hold my own here. As you see, they've brought a couple of guns to bear on us."
"Where are they?"
"Up in the hills yonder. How they were dragged there I can't imagine. They're at least a thousand feet up. The Prefect has more energy and resource than I expected. When the guns opened fire this morning we had to abandon the head of the defile. We're pretty safe here for the moment, and can check any attempt to force the passage; but I dare say the Prefect will find another position for the guns where they can command us, and then we shall have to fall back again. With two hundred men threatening our rear----"
"Couldn't you spare some men to deal with them?"
"That's a capital idea, Tim. It will take a long time to move the guns to a new position. We'll try it. I'll take a hundred and fifty men myself. You had better stay here; you've done your share."
"I'd rather come with you," said Tim.
"I dare say, but you had better go and report to the President what you have been doing. He's rather down in the mouth, and your victory at the cross-roads will cheer him."
Mr. O'Hagan soon set off with his men, all mounted. When he returned a few hours later, he was flushed with success. The Prefect's hill column found itself in the position in which it had hoped to catch the Mollendists--bottled up between two forces, which equalled or exceeded it in number, and were much fresher. Instead of attacking, the enemy were attacked. Fatigued after their long and difficult march, they were in no condition to make a prolonged resistance, and fell back before Mr. O'Hagan's impetuous onset. They were seeking a strong position when Colonel Zegarra dashed suddenly upon their rear. Hopelessly entrapped, they lost heart. Some flung down their arms and surrendered, others dispersed and sought safety in the hills.
With Mr. O'Hagan returned Colonel Zegarra and the greater part of his force, a small detachment being sent back to keep an eye on the road to San Rosario. President Mollendo, whose volatile spirits had already been exalted by Tim's report of the morning's success, was carried away by delight at the Prefect's second discomfiture on the same day. He insisted on promoting Tim captain on the spot, and made an oration to the troops which moved many of them to tears, and confirmed their belief that they had in Carlos Mollendo a statesman of the highest rank.
While this orgy of sentiment was in progress, Mr. O'Hagan was discussing matters with Tim quietly in the background.
"That's all very well," he said, jerking his head towards the spot where Mollendo was perorating, "but it doesn't prevent the Prefect from hauling his guns. I quite expect that to-morrow he will begin to shift them in this direction, and when they begin to play we can't hold the defile another half-hour."
"What then, Father?" asked Tim.
"Why, then we shall be compelled to fall back on San Rosario. The Prefect has three men to our one; and the moment the tide seems to be turning in his favour a lot of ours are sure to desert. It's the way of things here. But for the guns we could hold him off for months, so long as Galdos keeps up the supplies--though I'm afraid of ammunition running short. The two checks the Prefect has had to-day are decided set-backs, but we are not much better off unless we can take the heart out of him. If we could only capture his guns, now!"
"Why not?"
"Well, if you can suggest a way, do so. But don't reckon without your host. They're at least a thousand feet up, somewhere on that ridge. The War Office of this republic being unable to supply field-glasses, I haven't located them exactly. To climb the hill in face of the enemy would be a pretty tough job in itself, and the guns are pretty sure to be well guarded."
"I'll try it to-night," said Tim, "with a few of our Japs. Some of them were in the war with Russia, and it won't be the first time they've had such night-work."
"I don't want to disappoint you," said Mr. O'Hagan, pulling at his moustache, "but it's too risky--indeed it is. What would your poor mother say?"
Tim was so well accustomed to this appealad matremthat it had quite lost its effect.
"She'd jib to begin with, to be sure," he said, "but she'd give in in the end; she always does when it's not an absolute question of right or wrong. You'd better say yes, Father."
It was on the tip of his tongue to relate the adventures of the previous day, but he reflected that the story might have quite the opposite effect from what he intended. Mr. O'Hagan's last instructions to him had been not to go adventuring, and though he felt that he could hardly be blamed for adventures which had hurled themselves at him unsought, it was probable that his father would not recognise any reasoning of that kind. So he confined his arguments strictly to the matter in hand. Mr. O'Hagan's opposition was really half-hearted. He had come to have great faith in Tim's resourcefulness and luck. Ultimately he agreed to let the boy do what he had suggested; the success of his scheme might prove to be the turning-point of the struggle.
Helped by a half-moon, Tim set off about midnight with a dozen of the Japanese who had served in the army, including three gunners. As weapons they carried only revolvers and knives, with a good supply of cartridges. One of them had a dark lantern for signalling the result of the expedition to Mr. O'Hagan. Slipping down the road for some distance in the direction of San Rosario, they turned to the right, and roped themselves together for the climb into the hills.
It was the hardest job that Tim had ever undertaken. He had no compass, and could only direct his course by the position of the moon. Its light was not sufficient to enable him to choose the easiest way. There was no path. At the head of the line he clambered up wherever he could find foothold, sometimes, indeed, crawling on all-fours up slippery slopes, scrambling over or between boulders, now and then brought up by a sheer wall of rock impossible to scale. The party had often to rest and recover breath, and the ascent was so arduous and slow that he was a little uneasy lest the dawn should surprise them before they gained the summit. To make matters worse the moon was dropping, and its incessant change of position rendered it a far from trustworthy guide.
At last, after three hours of fatiguing work, they reached the crest of the ridge, where they caught sight of the lights in the Prefect's camp below them far away to the west. Tim guessed that the guns were placed somewhere along the ridge. He stole along quietly, stopping now and again to listen for signs of the men in charge. Presently he came to a formidable buttress of rock projecting over the valley and rising many feet above the general level. It appeared to be the highest point in this part of the country, and if the top was flat, was the most likely place to have been chosen for the gun platform. Whispering to his men to move as quietly as possible, he led them along a narrow ledge on the face of the cliff below the buttress, edging into the wall on his left hand so as to avoid a fatal fall into the depths.
At the farther end of the ledge he halted. It was now almost dark; the moon had descended below the hills on the opposite side of the road. But by aid of the last lingering sheen he detected signs of recent pick-work on the ground, just beyond the spot where he stood. Evidently a squad of labourers had been employed to clear a passage for the guns. There was no sound. Casting off the rope, Tim stole forward alone, and soon discovered a rough path leading in the reverse direction towards the rear of the buttress.
His heart pumping with excitement, he returned to the men, and whispered his final instructions. There was to be no firing unless they had to defend themselves against overpowering numbers. Then he led them on noiselessly up the path. It ended sooner than he expected. He came suddenly to a level space of some extent, on which he saw two guns, pointing over the valley. Stretched on the ground behind them were ten men. They were asleep. Secure in their supposed inaccessibility, they had posted no guard.
Tim paused a moment, then ordered his men to steal round until they completely encompassed the sleeping crew. At a low whistle from him they sprang forward; there was a brief and almost silent struggle; and the enemy, only half awake, found themselves prisoners. Not a shot was fired; scarcely a wound was given.
Hurrying to the edge of the buttress with the lamp, Tim flashed it three times into the darkness. He knew that his father at the end of the defile, more than a mile away, would be anxiously watching. Then he returned to the guns. By the light of the lamp, carefully screened from the enemy's camp, the Japanese loaded the guns and swung them round until they pointed to the west. When he started, Tim had expected that, if he succeeded at all, he would only be able to spike the guns and then run for it. But having captured the small party of gunners, he saw no reason why he should not turn his success to account. It was now nearly four o'clock. Dawn would break very soon. And he thrilled with delight in the anticipated surprise in store for the Prefect.
The men waited impatiently. On this hill-top they would have earlier light than the troops below. By the time that the first rosy gleam stole out of the east the gunners were at their posts. This was work after their own hearts. The guns were not the perfect machines to which they were accustomed, and they laid them with especial care. The shadows upon the camp at the head of the defile dissolved. As soon as there was light enough, the two gunners fired almost at the same instant, shattering the still morning. A thousand echoes reverberated across the valley, and rolled diminuendo from crag to crag. Before they died away Tim caught the faint sound of cheers from his father's camp.
The two shells had plunged into the centre of the enemy's position, causing a wild rush for shelter. The Prefect's first feeling was consternation. There was no artillery in San Rosario; whence had the enemy obtained the guns? Why had not his own gunners replied? As he looked up towards the platform on which they were posted he saw two swift flashes, and two more shells whistled overhead and crashed on the rocks just above him. His question was answered; the Mollendists, the despised brigands, had captured his guns and turned them upon him. In that bitter moment he wished, perhaps, that he had lent a less ready ear to the suggestions of Miguel Pardo. All the enterprise and daring which his enemy had recently shown was inspired, not by Carlos Mollendo, but by the foreigners, and they, but for Pardo, might have been with him, or at least not against him.
It was soon apparent that matters were serious. Shells were dropping into the defile as fast as the gunners could load. Already they had done much damage, and panic was spreading through the ranks. The men were seeking cover; some were already running to the rear, where the horses were tethered; none had any spirit for fight. While this disorder reigned, there was a sudden cry that the brigands were charging up the defile. The Prefect's troops vastly outnumbered Mr. O'Hagan's, but he had no advantage of them now. They had no faith in their cause, no enthusiasm for their leader. Disheartened by previous failure, demoralised by the bombardment of their own guns, they were deaf to the Prefect's passionate entreaties to stand firm. They answered him with oaths and curses. Nor was the Prefect of the stuff of heroes. He was not the man to gather about him a few choice spirits and steadfastly defend the pass. Surrounded, almost swept away by the yelling mob of his terror-stricken army, he elbowed his way through them, to gain the tree to which his horse was tied. He had better have allowed himself to be borne away on foot among his men. Mounted, he presented a conspicuous object to the head of the eager little force charging up the road. A dozen rifles were levelled at him; a dozen bullets sang through the air; and when the Prefect's body was lifted after the defile was cleared, it was found riddled.
The attack having been made on foot, no effective pursuit could be maintained. So precipitate, indeed, was the flight of the cowed troops, that only the laggards of the rear were in much danger, Mr. O'Hagan's victory was almost bloodless. The fugitives poured into San Juan; the wildest reports found easy credence there. It became known by and by that the Prefect was killed, a piece of news at which more than his enemies rejoiced. The magnates of the town were hurriedly called together; they agreed to accept the new republic; and when, in the course of the afternoon, Señor Mollendo and Mr. O'Hagan rode in at the head of their troops, they were received with acclamations by the populace, and with a flowery address by the officials. The wheel of fortune had lifted the outlaw to the headship of the State.
CHAPTER XXV
THE RAVINE
Much to his disappointment, Tim was not a spectator of President Mollendo's triumphal entrance into his capital. He did not hear the eloquent oration delivered from the steps of the court house, nor was he present at the banquet at which the President fell on Mr. O'Hagan's neck, and kissed him amid the frantic plaudits of the company. When Tim saw the troops charging up the defile, he set off to join them, leaving the Japanese in charge of the guns. At some risk to his neck he scrambled down the face of the hill, and came up with the little army in time to take a share in the final scenes. When the victory was assured, Mr. O'Hagan sent him with Romaña and a hundred men back to San Rosario, to report the defeat and death of the Prefect, and keep order in the town.
San Rosario had quietly accepted the new régime. The few well-to-do people, who had suffered from the Prefect's levies, hoped that the system of benevolences was buried, and were prepared to give the new President a chance; the poorer folk cared little who their ruler was, or what the nature of the government, provided they were able to earn their living in peace. Señor Fagasta was perhaps the only unhappy man in the town.
Finding that everything was peaceful and orderly in the town, Tim thought he might venture to visit the hacienda, arrange for the necessary repairs to be made to the house against his father's return, and reopen work on the plantations, which would soon become a wilderness through neglect. Accordingly, on the second evening after his arrival in San Rosario, he rode over on his motor-cycle, accompanied by Romaña on horseback. Biddy Flanagan was still alone in possession of the house. She welcomed Tim heartily, but was less cordial to Romaña: he was one of "them foreigners." Her joy at the approaching return of "the master" was dulled by distress at the bareness of the rooms. The establishment of a republic was to her an insignificant event beside the loss of the best "chainey," and military glory did not compensate the theft of the silver spoons. And when, early next morning, she carried breakfast into the dining-room, she mournfully drew attention to the fact that she had had to make the coffee in a delf jug.
"'Tis because the silver coffee-pot be took, Master Tim," she said. "And there's no silver spoons for the eggs, and what will I say to the mistress when she comes home!"
"We can get some more, Biddy," said Tim. "And really, I always think that coffee tastes better out of a jug."
"'Deed now, that's true, but 'tis not for the likes of me to say so at all. If there was no difference between the kitchen and the dining-room of a gentleman's house, what would the country be after coming to? Sure I hope the villain is killed, and will not be the way of troubling us again."
"I wonder what became of Pardo?" said Tim to Romaña when the old woman was gone.
"You may be sure he is not killed," said Romaña. "Pardo is not the man to risk his skin in the fighting line."
"No, it may give him lumbago," rejoined Tim with a laugh. "I suppose he has gone off with his loot. A good riddance! After breakfast you might look round the house and see what repairs are needed, while I go over to the huts and tell the Jap women that their husbands are on the way home. It's a blessing none of the married men were killed except the one Pierola shot."
Some twenty minutes later Tim set off on foot for the labourers' huts half a mile across the plantation. He followed a path that intersected a field of sugar-cane, which grew so high that he was completely concealed. Presently it crossed a broad stretch of grass land separating the sugar from the coffee, and here Tim was surprised to see recent hoof-marks. None of his father's horses remained on the hacienda, and he wondered who could have ridden in this direction. If the tracks pointed towards the house he might have supposed that Felipe Durand had come over to see him; but they all led away from it, as though the rider had come either from the stables, or from the meadow behind the house.
Curiosity piqued him to follow up the marks. He took no pains to walk quietly, but his footfall was silent on the grass. The tracks led towards the road that ran past Durand's house and ultimately to the Inca ruins. After about a hundred yards the path bent to the right. On arriving at the bend Tim started back. A little ahead a horse was grazing. A bundle was slung from its crupper. Just beyond, there was a disused well, and here Tim saw a man, whose back was towards him, turning the windlass. He stood partially concealed among the plants to watch. Presently a second bundle appeared over the edge of the well. The man untied it from the rope and turned with it in his arms towards the horse. Tim had already suspected his identity, and he now saw without surprise that it was Miguel Pardo.
Acting on impulse, he dashed forward, hoping to reach the thief before he could mount. But Pardo caught sight of him, vaulted into the saddle, and galloped towards the road. It was hopeless to pursue him on foot. Tim had his revolver, but he was not one to use it in cold blood. Instantly he thought of the cycle, which was in its shed at the back of the house. He sprinted back, started the engine, and in a few minutes was dashing in chase.
He knew that Pardo, in spite of his start, must soon be overtaken, and he had little doubt of the direction of his flight. Neither San Juan nor San Rosario would be safe for him; he would almost certainly choose the track to the Inca ruins; trusting in course of time to be able to make his way round over the hills, and seek refuge in another province where he was unknown.
Tim flew along to the track, wheeled into it, and looked ahead. Pardo was not in sight. Suddenly he remembered the broken bridge. It would certainly not have been repaired. Tim wondered whether Pardo had heard of its destruction. In that case he would not have come this way, but would have chosen the western track. If he was in ignorance of what had happened, he would be checked perforce at the ravine, and the chase would soon be over. Even supposing he had followed the other track, Tim thought that the speed of his cycle would allow him to ride to the bridge, make sure, return to the cross-roads, and still overtake the fugitive, who would no doubt slacken his pace when he supposed himself to be unpursued.
As Tim passed Durand's house, Felipe came down the path. Tim afterwards discovered that he had seen the horseman dashing by, and wondered who could be so foolish as to ride along a track which within a few miles was impassable.
"Pardo!" shouted Tim as he flashed past, and Durand ran for his horse to follow the chase.
A mile beyond the house Tim caught sight of his quarry. In another minute or two he must turn at bay. No doubt he was armed, and Tim for the first time realised that he might presently be involved in rather a desperate struggle. While the horse was galloping, Pardo, encumbered as he was with his bundle, would be unable to take steady aim. But as soon as he came within sight of the bridgeless ravine, he would spring from his saddle and fire. Tim had set off in pursuit with the simple idea of capturing Pardo, and handing him over to the civic authorities for trial and punishment as a thief; but he saw now that he was not likely to succeed without a fight.
The distance between horseman and cyclist rapidly diminished. The long hill beyond the ravine came in sight, but the ruins of the bridge were as yet hidden by the short acclivity beyond which the track dipped. Pardo was just reaching the top of this ascent as Tim arrived at the bottom. There were only fifty yards between them. Before Tim was prepared for the movement Pardo suddenly made a half-turn in the saddle and fired. The shot flew wide, and Tim, edging in on the near side of the track, so that Pardo could only use his revolver again if he turned completely round, or twisted to the left and fired over his shoulder, rode relentlessly on up the ascent. In a few seconds he expected the final tussle.
On gaining the brow of the hill Pardo checked, drew his restive horse across the road, and pointing his revolver steadily, fired. Tim had guessed his intention, and his own shot rang out almost simultaneously. Pardo, not allowing for his altitude, fired too high: Tim's aim was spoilt by his bobbing movement on the machine, and his shot wounded the horse instead of the man. Before either could fire again, the situation was changed with a suddenness that for a moment took him aback. The horse, already alarmed by the clatter of the engine and the sound of the shots, was rendered frantic by its wound. Springing round on its hind legs, it took the bit between its teeth and bolted down the slope towards the ravine.
When Tim gained the top, he realised with horror the desperate peril of his enemy, and instantly forced down his brakes and stopped the machine, in the hope that with the cessation of the noise the animal's terror would lessen in time for its career to be checked. Pardo, a moment after the descent had begun, saw the hideous gap in front of him, and made a desperate effort to rein up. But it was too late. The maddened horse galloped on blindly, came to the edge of the chasm, and instinctively made a frantic leap for the opposite bank. It jumped short by several feet. Then, with a scream that rang in Tim's ears for many a day, horse and rider plunged to the bottom.
Tim had already leapt off his machine. He ran forward and at no small risk clambered down the steep side of the ravine. Both horse and horseman were dead, amid a litter of broken pottery and scattered plate, which had burst from the bundles. Tim shrank from touching any of the stolen property. White to the lips, he climbed up to the track, and staggered into the arms of Durand, who had followed on horseback.
CHAPTER XXVI
HANDSOME ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
One evening, a few weeks after the close of the brief campaign, the town-hall of San Juan presented a picturesque and even brilliant spectacle. All the important people, and a good many of the unimportant, of the capital and of San Rosario were assembled in response to the President's invitation, to celebrate the foundation of the Republic. Two long tables ran the length of the hall; at the top a cross table was ranged beneath a shield bearing the Mollendo arms. The President occupied the centre seat. On his right hand sat General O'Hagan, on his left a young captain of the same name. Next in order to these were the principal actors in this little drama: Colonel Zegarra, his friend the lawyer, Dr. Pereira, Nicolas Romaña, Pedro Galdos, the Durands, father and son--for Señor Durand, having contributed to the Mollendist war-fund, had apparently determined to get something for his money.
Two personages whom one would hardly have expected to see there were Señor Fagasta and Captain Pierola. Señor Mollendo had been informed by Tim of the warning given by the gobernador, which had resulted in the discomfiture of Pardo's night attack on the house. The President argued from this that Señor Fagasta had his good points; and being anxious to conciliate the officials under the old régime he reinstated the burly gentleman in his former office. For the same reason he offered to Captain Pierola, now recovered of his wound, the command of the republican forces, which Mr. O'Hagan, deaf to all entreaties, had relinquished.
In a balcony at the opposite end of the hall sat a bevy of ladies, to watch the feasting in which they, angelically, were not to partake, and to hear the speeches that would follow. Mrs. O'Hagan sat in the centre beside Señora Mollendo. The younger ladies, dressed with all the grace and charm of which the Peruvian belle is mistress, were impatient for the end of the tiresome preliminaries: the banquet in which they could not share, the speeches which some of them had already heard rehearsed, had less attractions for them than the dance which was to round off the proceedings.
The table decorations were unusual. The vases were filled with leaves, blossoms, and berries of the nasturtium, of which homely plant every guest had a flower in his button-hole.
The courses were handed round; the glasses of wine and pisco were filled and emptied and filled again; and then the President rose. A smile beamed upon his benevolent features as he surveyed the cheering company. A broad band of orange satin formed a graceful loop over his white waistcoat, and a large diamond in his shirt-front flashed as it caught the rays of the innumerable candles. He was a dignified and impressive figure.
When the cheers had subsided, he began to speak. After a few introductory sentences, he launched into a summary of the events which had led up to this culminating scene. He described the birth of the Republic, enunciated with great eloquence the principles which would govern his administration, and then, turning to personal matters, announced the honours and dignities which he had conferred on certain of the gentlemen whom he saw on either side. He made graceful references to the legal attainments of Señor Fagasta, to the military abilities of Captain Pierola, to the loyal services of Señores Pedro Galdos and Nicolas Romaña, whom he had appointed respectively treasurer and secretary of the Republic. Then, after an expressive pause, he proceeded:
"Gentlemen, on this great and auspicious occasion I have a duty to perform---a duty of which I acquit myself with all the ardour of an overflowing heart. There are epochs in the life of nations when the firmament is obscured by dark aggregations of cloud, which exclude the radiance of heaven's bright luminaries, and among which the thunder rumbles with awful and portentous reverberation. At such a period of distress and gloom, when Rome, the heart and centre of the ancient world, saw herself threatened by pestilent hosts of waspish barbarians, the eyes of men turned in their trouble towards a simple farmer, who pursued the avocations of bucolic life in his rural retreat, amid sounds no more horrific than the lowing of his cattle and the guttural ejaculations of his swine. To him repaired a deputation of his despairing countrymen, who found him cleaving the stubborn soil with his labouring plough, and besought him to quit those haunts of industry and peace, and, exchanging the gleaming ploughshare for the well-tempered sword, the smock of Ceres for the shining corslet of Mars, to return with them and save the State.
"You know, gentlemen, the sequel of that momentous domiciliary visit. You know how Cincinnatus marshalled his hosts, led them against the enveloping invaders, and having smitten Volscians and Æquians with irresistible might, laid aside the implements of war, and withdrew to replace the yoke upon his toiling oxen, and ruminate in rustic simplicity upon the vicissitudes of mortal things.
"Gentlemen, we too have our Cincinnatus. We have in our midst a gentleman who, driven from his peaceful fields by the shameless greed of tyranny, threw in his lot with the despairing victims of a rapacious despot: who, having laid down the sword which he had wielded with conspicuous dexterity in his youth against the enemies of his adopted country, girded it on in his maturer years at the call of an oppressed and suffering community. Gentlemen, it is to him we owe the inception of the reign of peace and prosperity in this elevated region. I bid you raise your glasses and drain them to the health of our illustrious friend and liberator, our Cincinnatus, Señor General O'Hagan."
The President's speech was hailed with a chorus of vivas as the company sprang to their feet to honour the toast. Handkerchiefs fluttered in the ladies' gallery. Tim, catching Durand's eye, winked, and his friend responded with a look which meant "Look out! The old buffer hasn't done yet." Tim wondered what his father would say in answer to this effusion. He found that the President, instead of resuming his seat when the cheers had died away, remained standing, took a sip from his glass, and went on:
"History does not record whether Cincinnatus was a married man, but, indulging our imaginations, we may suppose that he had a wife and family. We may see with our mind's eye the homely Roman matron, leaving the meal-tub when her husband broke to her the fateful news, and wiping the flour from her industrious hands that she might gird him with the sword, and furbish his shield, and arrange the folds of his toga in comely dignity. We may picture his sons and daughters gazing with admiration not unmixed with awe at their heroic father, watching him as he bestrode his fields with the proud senators who had brought the people's summons, gazing with longing eyes day after day into the misty distance, wondering with anxious fears how their beloved progenitor was faring in the stress and heat of strife. We can imagine their pride and gladness when he returned, crowned with the laurel wreath of victory, and, so far as history relates, without a wound. We can see them gathered about his knee, on the winter nights when the pine-logs crackle, and the wolf's long howl undulates across the marshes, and hang upon his lips as he relates the story of great doings on the stricken field.
"These, I say, are the pictures which imagination paints for us; but we need no aid from imagination to behold the domestic life of our own Cincinnatus.Integer vitae, sceleris purus, as the great Roman sang, he has lived among us, in a home graced by the presence of a beauteous spouse, and brightened by the lively merits of a gallant youth. Such praise and gratitude as we owe to the father we owe also in no small measure to the son, who sits beside me in all the glow of healthy juvenility, blushing with ingenuous pride in the achievements of his noble sire. What need to recount, gentlemen, the exploits of this youthful warrior! Modestly as he himself has veiled them, the admiration of his devoted men could not be silenced, and they proclaim his prowess with unbated enthusiasm. Picture the scene, gentlemen, when, pursued for long miles by the mounted warriors of the tyrant, our dauntless friend sped on unfaltering on his matchless steed, and was not abashed when he beheld the yawning gulf unbridged before him. For him Fate had not ordained the sacrificial leap of Marcus Curtius; the safety of the State did not demand his death. Flashing like a meteor to the very brink of the abyss, he defied the laws of Nature, and soared through the startled air with the swift legerity of a mountain bird. Thus wonderfully preserved from peril behind and before, he played a manful part in the final scenes of this glorious revolution, and, in the words of the august orator of Rome,de republica bene est meritus. I bid you raise your glasses, and drain them to the health of Señor Capitan O'Hagan."
The toast was hailed with thunderous applause. Tim sat with downcast eyes, wishing that the floor would open and swallow him. "I hope to goodness the old josser is done now!" he thought. But the President waited with a benignant smile until silence was restored, then went on:
"It is known to you, gentlemen, that the Señor Capitan is the first recipient of the Order of the Nasturtium, which I have founded in celebration of the new era upon which we have entered. Since it becomes us to invoke the gracious countenance of feminine loveliness upon the order, I have inscribed at the head of the roll the name of the Señora O'Hagan."
Here he bowed very gallantly towards the balcony, and Tim, glancing up, saw his mother incline her head, and raise her handkerchief to her mouth, as if to hide a smile.
"It is known to you also, gentlemen," the President continued, "that in deference to the unanimous wish of the citizens, I have consented that a statue of myself shall be erected in the plaza of this town, not in any spirit of vainglory, but as a permanent witness of the triumph of the principles which I profess. But I deemed it unfitting that the sister town of San Rosario should be without a similar memorial, and I have therefore taken upon myself to order, from Paris, the home of art, two other statues, to stand in the plaza of our neighbour. The one will represent the Señor General as Cincinnatus, garbed in the toga of ancient Rome, with a sword crossed upon a ploughshare at his feet. The other will exhibit the effigy of the Señor Capitan. It was a matter of much deliberation how to mould this second statue that it might form a harmonious companion of the first. As you are aware, the Romans did not anticipate the triumphs of the inventive modern mind. They did not possess the motor-bicycle. But by dint of much thought I have reconciled the old with the new. The Señor Capitan will appear as Mercury, the messenger of the gods, with his caduceus in his hand, and his winged feet planted on a globe. These statues will face each other in the public square, and proclaim to future generations the features and the characteristics of the two gentlemen whose achievements and merits we honour so heartily to-night."
The President at last sat down. Mr. O'Hagan, looking supremely uncomfortable, thanked him and the company, for himself and Tim, for the flattering honours that had been paid to them; and after speeches from Señor Fagasta, Colonel Zegarra, and half a dozen other notables, the proceedings came to an end, and the hall was cleared for dancing.
"I say, old chap," said Durand, when he had an opportunity of speaking to Tim, "won't you feel rather cold as Mercury?"
"Shut up!" growled Tim. "Old Moll's off his chump. But he doesn't mean it."
"But he does!"
"Well then, I'll waylay the silly old thing on the road, and smash it to bits. I never heard of such silly rot."
But these violent measures were not necessary. Every now and then during the next few months Durand put Tim in a rage by announcing that the statues had left Paris, that they had reached Lima, that they were on the road. But the truth is that the financial straits to which the new republic was soon reduced have hindered the realisation of President Mollendo's generous dream, and up to the present the plaza of San Rosario is destitute of classic statuary. Cincinnatus lives very contentedly on his farm, and Mercury is now leading a grimy existence in some famous engineering shops on the Tyne.