The Motor Scout: A Story of Adventure in South America
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Title: The Motor Scout: A Story of Adventure in South America
Creator: Herbert Strang
Illustrator: Cyrus Cuneo
Release date: June 15, 2013 [eBook #42953]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42953
Credits: Produced by Al Haines
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOTOR SCOUT: A STORY OF ADVENTURE IN SOUTH AMERICA ***
Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover]
[Illustration: THE GOBERNADOR RIDES]
THE MOTOR SCOUT
_A STORY OF ADVENTURE IN SOUTH AMERICA_
BY
HERBERT STRANG
_ILLUSTRATED BY CYRUS CUNEO_
LONDON
HENRY FROWDE
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
1913
RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED,
BRUNSWICK STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S.E.,
AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER THE FIRST
BOMBASTES FURIOSO
CHAPTER THE SECOND
COMINGS AND GOINGS
CHAPTER THE THIRD
BENEVOLENCES
CHAPTER THE FOURTH
GAS
CHAPTER THE FIFTH
PARDO DISMISSES HIMSELF
CHAPTER THE SIXTH
TIM IS HELD TO RANSOM
CHAPTER THE SEVENTH
THE PREFECT MOVES
CHAPTER THE EIGHTH
SUSPENSE
CHAPTER THE NINTH
FLIGHT TO THE HILLS
CHAPTER THE TENTH
CINCINNATUS O'HAGAN
CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH
THE MOTOR-CYCLE
CHAPTER THE TWELFTH
FREE WHEEL
CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH
A COMMISSION
CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH
HIS FATHER'S HOUSE
CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH
THE RAID ON SAN ROSARIO
CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH
A SIEGE AND A SORTIE
CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH
IN POSSESSION
CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH
THE ORDER OF THE NASTURTIUM
CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH
PARDO SCORES A TRICK
CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH
PARDO LOSES A TRICK
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST
RUN TO EARTH
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND
A PUNCTURE
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD
A LEAP FOR LIFE
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH
FROM DAN TO BEERSHEBA
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH
THE RAVINE
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH
HANDSOME ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE GOBERNADOR RIDES (_see page_ 10) . . . _Frontispiece_
CAPTURED BY BRIGANDS
HORSEMEN ON THE TRACK
TIM LEADS A CHARGE
THE HOLE IN THE FLOOR
A CHECK AT THE CAVE
MAP
CHAPTER I
BOMBASTES FURIOSO
One hot sultry afternoon in June, the population of the little town of
San Rosario in the Peruvian Andes was struck with sudden amazement at
the sight of a motor-bicycle clattering its way through the main street
with some risk to the dogs, poultry, and small boys who had been lazily
disporting themselves there. It was not the bicycle itself that evoked
their wonder: that was an object familiar enough. Nor was it the youth
seated in the saddle, and steering it deftly past all obstacles. It was
a second figure, mounted uneasily on the carrier behind: a rotund and
portly figure, which shook and quivered with the vibration of the
machine as it jolted over the ill-paved road, maintaining its
equilibrium with obvious difficulty. Children and women shrieked; the
men leaning against the walls took their cigars from their lips and
gasped; and the noise of the engine was almost smothered by the mingled
din of barking dogs and screaming fowls. It was the figure of the
gobernador himself: land-owner, chief magistrate, and father of a
family.
The wondering populace might have supposed that the gentleman had taken
leave of his senses--for surely no one of his mature years and serious
responsibilities would have risked so much if he had been sane--had it
not been plain to them that he was in desperate distress. His head was
bare; his swarthy cheeks were shining with perspiration; his eyes rolled
with fright; and his fat hands were clasped about the waist of the boy
in the saddle with the convulsive grip of a man clinging for dear life.
The face of the boy was, on the contrary, beaming with delight. His
lips were parted in a wide smile; his blue eyes were dancing; and his
mop of tow-coloured hair waved joyously in the breeze that the motion of
the vehicle created.
The street filled, and soon there was a mingled crowd pouring in full
cry behind the bicycle. There were young fellows in black coats and
spotless collars--the well-to-do Peruvian is something of a dandy; men
in white ducks and Panama hats; ladies in mantillas; Indians in
bright-coloured ponchos; rough-clad muleteers; bare-legged Indian
children. The rider waved his hand and grinned at a stripling who ran,
pen in hand, from an office, to see the cause of the uproar, and
smilingly watched the bicycle as it bowled along over the cobbles of the
plaza, with much clamorous outcry from the hooter, finally coming to
rest before a large house there. The perspiring passenger having
descended from his uneasy perch, the rider dismounted and offered his
arm as a support to the magistrate, whose legs, cramped by their
unwonted strain, moved very stiffly as he approached his door.
Young Tim O'Hagan and his motor-bicycle had been for some time the talk
of San Rosario. Tim was sixteen, but he was called "Young Tim" to
distinguish him from his father, and also, perhaps, in the spirit of
kindly tolerance with which elders sometimes regard their high-spirited
juniors. Young Tim had always been what his father's English friends
called a "pickle," and old Biddy Flanagan, the family maidservant, a
"broth of a boy." As a small boy he had been in frequent scrapes, and a
cause of bewilderment and trouble to the grave householders of the town.
More than once they had politely complained to Mr. O'Hagan of his
escapades: scrambling over their roofs, hunting for lost balls in their
gardens without much regard for their carefully tended flower-beds, and
engaging in many other nimble exercises which are natural enough to an
English--or Irish--boy, but are rare with the less active Latins.
Thrashings and admonitions were equally ineffective; he would promise
not to repeat a certain offence, and keep his word, but only to break
out in a new direction. Mr. O'Hagan at last despaired of further
correction, and yielded to his wife's advice, to leave Tim to the
sobering hand of time.
As he grew older Tim became less mischievous, without losing his wild
spirits and love of frolic. To see him coast down the hills on his
free-wheel bicycle with no hold upon the handle-bar filled the Peruvian
boys with fear and amazement. And when, on his sixteenth birthday, his
father surrendered to his importunities, and presented him with a
motor-bicycle, there were not wanting many who foretold that young Tim
would sooner or later break his neck. Tim laughed at them. He had come
through his most daring exploits without any hurt more serious than
scratches and bruises; and being very clear-headed and possessed of iron
nerves he was accustomed to scoff at the warnings of timid people.
In spite of his prankishness, there was no more popular person in San
Rosario. Nobody could dislike the boy with his fair Irish face, his
honest eyes twinkling with fun, and the shaggy head that scorned hats
and defied sunstroke. The Peruvian ladies would have made a pet of him
if he would have allowed them; and their husbands, in a country where
everybody, man, woman, and child, smokes, often made him presents of
cigars, which he accepted gratefully, and dutifully handed over to his
father.
His was the only motor-bicycle in the province, an object of a fearful
awe to the young Peruvians. A crowd of these would surround him as he
prepared to mount, and scatter with shrieks when they heard the clatter
of the engine. Elderly ladies crossed themselves and drew their
mantillas closer as they saw him flashing by, and the authorities of San
Rosario were thinking of framing a bye-law for the protection of the
inhabitants from furious driving. But they were slow to move; to-morrow
would do; and Biddy Flanagan declared that no action would be taken
until the gossoon had killed somebody dead.
On this June day, Tim had left home early in the afternoon for a
twenty-mile trip into the hills. He was returning, and had just run
down a steep and winding declivity which joined the highroad to San
Juan, the provincial capital, when he caught sight of the gobernador,
Senor Jose Fagasta, ambling ahead on his mule in the homeward direction.
In half a minute he overtook the magistrate, and being always very
sociably inclined, and having a certain liking for the large
good-tempered gentleman, he stopped his machine, dismounted, and after a
salutation in Spanish stepped on beside the rider, not finding it easy
to keep pace with the mule's rapid march.
The gobernador was returning from the capital to his own little
township, and it was not long before he confided to the boy the object
and result of his visit.
"Brigands, my young friend," he said amiably.
"Are they caught, senor?" asked Tim.
"No, no; but they soon will be, the rascals!"
Tim pricked up his ears. Of late the so-called brigands had been very
troublesome. They swept down from their unknown lairs in the mountains,
falling unawares on some remote hacienda, and waylaying the trains of
pack-mules on the roads. Tim, like many another honest boy, felt a
sneaking admiration for these lawless adventurers, and was not wholly
displeased that they had hitherto defied all attempts to track them and
bring them to book. Besides, they were "against the government"; and
there were many good Peruvians who had reason to abhor the officials
under whose exactions they were then suffering.
"What is going to be done, senor?" he asked.
"What am _I_ going to do, you should have said," replied the magistrate.
"You will see, my boy. They sent for me to-day at San Juan, and I have
had a long consultation with his excellency the Prefect. 'Senor
Doctor,' said he, 'you are the man to catch these ruffians. I leave it
to you.'"
There was an accent of pride in the gobernador's tone, and he looked at
Tim with the air of a man demanding admiration.
"Why do they call you doctor, senor?" asked Tim. "You don't attend us."
"No, my son. I am a Doctor of Laws of San Marcos University. Yes, they
have confidence in me," he continued. "And the brigands will soon have
me to reckon with." He touched significantly the butt of his revolver.
"I will hunt them down; I will catch them; I shall have no mercy on
them, and they will find that such villainy is not to be allowed to go
unpunished within twenty miles of Senor Doctor Jose Fagasta. I am a man
of peace; nobody could be more mild and humane; but when I see the
beneficent laws of our republic transgressed and defied, then I remember
that I am chief magistrate; I become severe; I may even be called
terrible."
"What will you do with them?" asked Tim, impressed by the gobernador's
vigorous words, and fascinated by the shining weapon that peeped out of
his pocket, and the long sword that dangled from his belt.
"They shall be shot, my boy. Not without trial, no; we shall be just
even to the most villainous desperado. We shall catch them, and bring
them in irons to the town. We shall give them a fair trial, and condemn
them: that goes without saying; then we shall place them blindfolded in
the plaza, and----"
"Shoot them!" added Tim, as the magistrate paused mysteriously.
Senor Jose nodded with official gravity, and for a little there was
silence between the two, Tim conjuring up the anticipated scene, and
wondering what the sensations of a man about to be shot must be.
[Illustration: CAPTURED BY BRIGANDS]
Suddenly, from behind a cluster of rocks at their left hand, there
sprang into the road four men, who without a moment's warning flung
themselves on the travellers. Two seized Tim, the other two dragged the
gobernador from his mule, and in a trice had him on the ground at their
feet. The attack was so sudden and unexpected that there had not been
time even to cry out; but now the gobernador raised his voice in
horrified protest, and Tim regained his wits and took stock of the
situation. The men were attired in ragged tunics and breeches, with
sashes about their waists, and feathered hats of varied hue. They were
swarthy wild-eyed fellows; mestizos--men of mixed Spanish and Indian
blood; and Tim knew at a glance that they must be members of the very
gang of outlaws whom the magistrate had so valorously undertaken to
extirpate. They began to talk to one another rapidly in a jargon which
Tim, familiar as he was with Spanish, could not understand. But the
upshot of their consultation was seen in a minute. One of the men who
held the lad brought his face close to his, and said:
"You go home! We have nothing to do with you. Take your machine and
go."
Tim glanced at the gobernador, who lay motionless in the hands of his
captors, mingling protests, threats, and offers of money. The brigand
cursed, and declared that the boy had better take his chance of escaping
before they changed their mind. It was clear that nothing could be done
for the gobernador; the brigands had him at their mercy; and Tim
considered that there was nothing to be gained by remaining. Indeed, it
must be confessed that he was a good deal afraid of these
ferocious-looking fellows, and desired nothing better than to escape
from their clutches. So he caught the handle-bar, ran a few feet with
his bicycle, then sprang to the saddle, and in a few seconds was riding
at full speed along the road.
At first he was conscious of nothing but relief and joy at his own lucky
escape. But he had not ridden far before he began to think of the
gobernador. His conscience pricked him. He felt like a deserter. He
owed nothing, it was true, to Senor Fagasta, who, while genial enough in
private life, had always struck Tim as a ridiculous, pompous kind of
person in his public capacity. But it seemed rather mean to ride away
and leave the magistrate to his fate. There was not time to reach the
town and bring back help; he could not himself do anything for the
gobernador; and he began to wonder what the brigands would do with him.
Perhaps they would rob him of what valuables he had, and let him go.
Surely they would not hurt him! But when Tim remembered stories of the
lengths to which these outlaws sometimes went he grew more and more
uneasy.
After a few minutes he slowed down, considered for a little, then
dismounted and pushed his bicycle into a thick clump of bushes, where it
was well hidden. He durst not ride back, for though his machine was
furnished with a silencer, it did not run so quietly as not to be heard.
He had made up his mind to retrace his path on foot, and see for himself
what had happened. It was a long tramp uphill in the heat, and it took
him nearly an hour to walk the distance which on the cycle he had
covered in six or seven minutes. Fortunately the track wound so
frequently that he ran no risk of being seen by the brigands.
As he approached the spot, he moved slowly and warily, peeping from
behind bushes along straight stretches of the track, and glancing up
into the hills to right and left. On reaching the scene of the capture
he found that it was deserted. Nobody was in sight. He looked this way
and that, and stooped to the ground to see if he could discover by their
footmarks the direction in which the brigands had gone. But the ground
was hard; he could scarcely discern the tracks of his own tyres. A
trained scout might perhaps have noticed some slight indication, but Tim
had had no such training.
"They've hauled him away," he thought, and there flashed into his mind
recollections of fairy stories, in which ogres had carried human beings
to their dens to make a meal of them. Tim had a vivid imagination.
He was on the point of returning when a sudden loud buzzing struck his
ear. He listened: it was like the sound made by swarms of insects in
the forest. And yet it was different--hoarser, less musical. Somehow it
reminded Tim of the gobernador's speeches on great occasions in the
plaza, He left the path, still on his guard, and scouted to the right
among the trees, from which the humming seemed to come. And guiding
himself by the sound, he presently started back when he saw Senor
Fagasta himself, bound upright to a trunk, bare-headed, his mouth
gagged.
The humming became very violent when Tim appeared. He noticed that the
gobernador had managed to shift the gag a little. None of the brigands
being in sight, he ran to the tree, removed the gag altogether, slit the
cords about the senor's limbs, and was immediately embarrassed by two
stout arms flung around him, and two hot lips pressing kisses on one
cheek after the other.
"Oh, I say!" he exclaimed, wriggling. "Steady on, senor."
"Ah, my dear friend! My preserver! my deliverer!" Here there was
another hug, but Tim evaded the kiss. "Tell me!" whispered the
gobernador, "have those wretches gone away?"
"Indeed they have," said Tim. "You had better come away too."
"But they have taken my mule! I am not accustomed to walking. I shall
faint: I shall be seized with apoplexy."
"I have left my cycle two or three miles away, senor. If you can manage
to walk to that you can mount behind me, and we'll be home in no time."
"Yes, I will do so. Assist me with your arm. I am on thorns until I am
on the machine; till then I am not safe. Hasten, my son. I have not
walked a mile for twenty years, though in my youth--but no matter: I
will do my best."
They set off, Tim linking arms with the gobernador, who marched down the
track with the rolling gait of a sailor. Every now and then he stopped
to rest and recover breath, and as at these moments he showed signs of
repeating his embraces, Tim edged away until he was ready to start
again.
"Ah, my preserver!" said the gobernador once, "you have laid a debt upon
me which a lifetime of gratitude will not liquidate."
"Indeed it's nothing at all," said Tim. "You would have done the same
for me."
"That is true; I certainly would; the blood of a long line of hidalgos
runs in my veins. In Spain I might call myself Don Jose de Fagasta; in
republics, alas! there is no aristocracy. But hasten, my son; I am not
safe until I reach the machine."
Tim thought from the gobernador's manner that the current of noble blood
must by this time have become a pretty thin trickle. But he kept that
reflection to himself.
Senor Fagasta mounted behind Tim, proclaiming himself safe. But the
rapid motion of the cycle down the steep and rugged track filled him
with alarms of another kind. In vain he implored Tim to drive more
slowly the boy replied that he would not be secure until he reached the
town, and terrified him with apprehension of sunstroke. It must be
confessed that the spirit of mischief was now fully awake in Tim. Every
sigh, every ejaculation of the stout gentleman behind him gave him a
thrill of joy. As they approached the town the gobernador, mindful of
his dignity, begged Tim to stop and let him finish the journey on foot.
But Tim could not resist the temptation to career through the street and
set the magistrate down at his own door; he relished the idea of the
wonder and excitement he would create.
"It's hardly worth while to set you down now, senor," he said. "You'll
be home in less than a minute. Hold tight!"
As Senor Fagasta entered his house, he turned to Tim.
"My son," he said in a confidential tone, "no doubt you will be asked to
explain this strange occurrence. Do not reveal the cause. I do not
command you as gobernador of this town; I ask as one gentleman of
another."
"I must tell my father, senor," said Tim.
"Certainly; your father's discretion is perfect. Not a word to any one
else, then?"
"Very well, senor. But won't people ask you too?"
"Undoubtedly. The doings of their magistrate are intensely interesting
to the citizens of San Rosario. I shall explain to them that I felt an
urgent need, a positive passion, to try for myself the qualities and
speed--yes, I may say speed--of your motor-bicycle."
"And your hat blew off in the wind. I see, senor," said Tim with
twinkling eyes. "And now, of course, you will send the police after the
brigands."
"I shall never forget that I am gobernador of San Rosario. Good-bye, my
son."
CHAPTER II
COMINGS AND GOINGS
Tim rode on through the town, soon left the last house behind him, and
came into the open country. A rough track led northward to Mr.
O'Hagan's hacienda, three miles away. Several years before, Mr. O'Hagan
had bought his estate, consisting of some thousands of acres, at a very
low price, and planted it partly with coffee, partly with sugar. His
workers were Cholos (the native Indians) and Japanese. The cost of
living and of labour being low, and the soil very fertile, the
plantations had in a short time brought him wealth. The chief drawback
was difficulty of transport. San Rosario was in a remote province
between the Andes and the forests, far from railways and from good
roads. There were steep hills almost all round the town, crossed only
by rough paths over which goods were carried on the backs of mules.
Some of the planters had tried to introduce wheeled vehicles; but the
customs of the country proved too strong for them, and the arriero or
muleteer, dirty, cheerful, hard-working and incorrigibly unpunctual,
remained the common carrier.
On first leaving the gobernador, Tim was glowing with pleasure and pride
in his feat. But as he neared his home, his spirits gradually sank. He
did not much relish the coming explanations with his father. Mr. O'Hagan
was by no means strict with his only son as a general rule, but he was
apt to look darkly on escapades which involved the townsfolk. By the
time Tim came to the house he was in quite a sober frame of mind.
The dwelling was a long, one-storied building of adobe and wood,
constructed in Peruvian style. The entrance hall led into a patio--a
sort of courtyard open to the sky, with palms and boxes of flowers
around the walls. To the right of this were the drawing-room and study.
Beyond was another patio with a well in the centre, and a veranda
looking on the garden. On the other side were the dining-room and
bedrooms, and a small room used by Mr. O'Hagan as an office. Then came
the servants' patio, the kitchen and servants' bedrooms, and at the end
of the house a large enclosure, part vegetable garden, part poultry run.
Tim placed his bicycle in its shed behind the house, and entered,
resolved to "get it over." He hoped to see his mother in the patio; she
was often a very convenient buffer between him and his father; but she
was not there, and he remembered that this was the time of her afternoon
nap. He went on until he reached the office, where Mr. O'Hagan and a
Peruvian clerk were at work.
Mr. O'Hagan threw a rapid glance at the boy as he entered, and was
relieved to see no cuts, bruises, or other signs of accident.
"Had a good ride, Tim?" he said.
"Pretty good," replied Tim somewhat gloomily. "I saved Senor Fagasta's
life."
"What's that you say? I suppose you overtook him and didn't run him
down, eh?"
"It wasn't exactly that," said Tim. "I did overtake him on his mule;
he'd been to San Juan; but we were pounced on by four rough-looking
fellows he called brigands. They let me off, and I walked back and found
the gobernador tied to a tree. I brought him in on my machine."
"You don't tell me so! This is very vexing; I wish it hadn't happened."
"But, Father, you wouldn't have left the old gentleman to die!"
"How do you know he'd have died?" said Mr. O'Hagan testily. "The
fellows probably only wanted to squeeze a ransom out of him. Upon my
word, Tim, you're a great trouble to me, with your machine. You know how
careful I am to keep out of local squabbles, and yet you've run
head-first into one."
"Really, I couldn't help it, Father."
"I suppose you couldn't, but it's a pity. You've made an enemy of the
Mollendists, and in this country they may be our governors next week.
You'll cost me a pretty penny. Still, you couldn't help it; only don't
let it occur again."
Tim heaved a sigh of relief.
"You'd have laughed if you'd seen him," he said. "We came through the
street in fine style. He was perched on the carrier, clinging on for
dear life, and all the people shouting like anything."
"You don't mean to say you brought him right through the street?"
"Indeed I did."
"Why on earth did you do that?"
"It was such fun, Father. I really couldn't help it."
"And don't you know you must never be funny with a Peruvian? He has no
sense of fun, especially when the fun is at his expense. You're
terribly thoughtless. You ought to have dropped the gobernador before
you came to the town. However!"
Mr. O'Hagan did not continue his rebuke. In his mind's eye he saw the
recent scene, and remembered the time when he himself might have yielded
to the temptation to which Tim had succumbed. Years before, when quite
a young man, just arrived from home, he had thrown himself with Irish
impetuosity into the struggle between Peru and Chile; and having been a
lieutenant of volunteers when living in London, he had made use of his
military knowledge in his new domicile. He had been given a commission
in the Peruvian cavalry, and had led many a daring sortie, many a
gallant charge. With those reckless feats still clear in his memory, he
could not bear hardly on the boy who so much resembled him. "You can't
put old heads on young shoulders," he thought; "but I was a fool to buy
him that motor-cycle."
The conversation between father and son had, of course, been carried on
in English. The Peruvian clerk, bending over his books, listened
attentively, but could understand only a word or two here and there.
What little he picked up whetted his curiosity, and by and by, when he
found an opportunity of speaking to Tim alone, he tried to pump him.
But Tim did not like Miguel Pardo. He could scarcely have told why; it
was an instinctive feeling which did not need explanation. When the
young Peruvian began to ply him with questions in Spanish, perfectly
polite, but yet, as Tim thought, rather too pressing, he gave short and
vague answers. Pardo saw that he was being fenced with, and presently
desisted, breaking off the conversation with a smile.
A little later, when the O'Hagans were having tea in the patio, Pardo
spent the last few minutes before closing work for the day in writing a
letter. Then, locking up his books, he left the house by the servants'
entrance and, instead of going to the huts half a mile away, in which
Mr. O'Hagan's employees lodged, he set off for the town.
He had not gone far when he was met-by Nicolas Romana, the young
Peruvian who was storekeeper and general factotum of the estate. The
two men were always so excessively polite to each other that Mr. O'Hagan
shrewdly guessed them to be hostile at heart. They never quarrelled;
but it was impossible to be in their company long without feeling that
at any moment sparks might fly.
"Ah, senor," said Romana, on meeting Pardo, "you are about to take the
air? Let me give you a friendly warning: beware of a storm. I just now
heard rumblings of thunder."
"Many thanks, senor," replied Pardo. "I shall not go far afield.
Perhaps to the town. San Rosario is not Lima, unluckily. There I should
have a friend's house at every few yards to give me shelter."
This, as Romana very well knew, was a mere boast, an assumption of
superiority: every Peruvian wishes to be regarded as a native of Lima.
"How strange we never met there!" he said politely. "I myself was born
at Lima, and lived there fully twenty years."
"What a loss to me!" said Pardo. "I bid you good-evening."
He swept off his hat and passed on.
Romana stood looking after him in some surprise. It was an unusually
abrupt ending of the conversation. Ordinarily the bandying of words
would have been kept up for several minutes. What was the reason of
Pardo's haste? He was walking very quickly, too, as if he had an errand
of importance.
A man who has weighty secrets himself is very apt to suspect others of
harbouring secrets also. This may perhaps explain why Romana, instead
of proceeding on his way to the hacienda, turned about, and dogged Pardo
to the outskirts of the town. There the clerk entered a small house--a
chacara belonging to one of the Indian agriculturists of the
neighbourhood. In a few minutes he returned, passed unsuspiciously the
clump of bush behind which Romana was spying, and retraced the road
homeward.
Romana remained on the watch. Presently an Indian came out of the
house, went to his corral hard by, caught and saddled a horse, and rode
off, not towards San Rosario, but along a bridle-path that ran westward
and led into the high road to San Juan.
The watcher felt that he had not come in vain. Instead of returning to
the hacienda, he walked rapidly into the town, and showed signs of
pleasure on meeting, near the plaza, a thin, wiry man of about sixty
years of age, with whom he entered into earnest conversation. A few
minutes later this man might have been seen riding quickly out of the
town, on the same road as that which the Indian had struck perhaps half
an hour before.
Next morning, when the workers were busy about the plantation, and Mr.
O'Hagan was engaged with Pardo in the office, Romana strolled to an
orange orchard a quarter of a mile southward from the house. After
waiting there impatiently for nearly an hour, he was joined by the man
with whom he had conversed in San Rosario on the previous evening.
"Well, caballero?" said Romana eagerly.
"I followed him, senor, into San Juan."
"Where did he go?"
"To the Prefect's house."
"Good!" said Romana with satisfaction. "Is there any news?"
"None, senor. The gobernador gives out that he very much enjoyed his
ride."
Romana smiled.
"Very well, caballero. Go back and keep eyes and ears open."
They parted, and Romana returned to his work.
CHAPTER III
BENEVOLENCES
Senor Jose Fagasta was seated in a deep chair on the balcony of his
house overlooking the plaza. It was a hot afternoon, and he had
exchanged his black coat for a loose jacket of white alpaca. An awning
and his broad-brimmed Panama hat gave shelter from the sun. At his side
was a small table, with a glass and a decanter. Between his lips there
was a long cigar. It had gone out: the gobernador was asleep.
He was suddenly roused by the sound of cheering up the street. Rubbing
his eyes, and taking automatically a pull at his extinguished cigar, he
let out a smothered ejaculation, struggled to his feet, and hastened
into the house. The cause of these abrupt movements was the appearance
of a party of horsemen trotting into the plaza at the upper end--the
Prefect of the province, accompanied by a small escort.
The gobernador hurried to his dressing-room, threw off his jacket, and
was struggling into his frock coat when he was summoned to attend the
Prefect below. He durst not delay. He held the Prefect in awe, as was
only natural, seeing that it was the Prefect who had appointed him to
his office, at the cost of a very considerable fee. In his haste and
perturbation he forgot that he wore a Panama, and was only reminded of
it when the Prefect, who was just entering the hall as Senor Fagasta
came to the foot of the staircase, looked with stern disapproval over
his head.
"A thousand pardons, senor," said the confused gobernador. "I was
taking a brief siesta, and did not expect to be honoured by a visit from
your excellency."
He swept off his hat, bowed his head before his superior, and politely
invited him to a seat in the patio.
The Prefect, a tall sharp-featured man of about forty years, with keen
black eyes over which bushy eyebrows met, and a heavy moustache twisted
into long points, accepted the chair, laying his three-cornered hat on a
table. His manner made the gobernador uneasy.
"An extraordinary rumour has reached me, senor doctor," said the
Prefect, "that you were seen yesterday in a very undignified position,
unworthy of your office, riding on a motor-cycle behind the young
Ingles."
"It is true, senor," said the gobernador. "I had never experienced that
novel mode of locomotion, and I assure your excellency that I shall
never try it again."
"Such conduct, senor, is calculated to bring your responsible office
into contempt. It cannot be overlooked: you are dismissed."
For a moment the gobernador's emotion rendered him speechless. He
thought of the many good English sovereigns with which he had bought his
office, and the terrible eclipse of all his importance in the town. Then
he pulled himself together: perhaps if the Prefect knew all he would
have mercy.
"Your excellency," he said humbly, "I admit that my conduct may seem
wanting in dignity; but I beg that you will hear my explanation. I was
returning from my interview with you, full of zeal for the duty with
which you had entrusted me, when I was seized by four villainous
brigands in the hills. They bound me to a tree, and but for the
courageous intervention of the young Ingles, who mounted me on his
machine and brought me home, I should probably either not be alive
to-day, or be a much poorer man than I am. Not that I am rich," he
added hastily. "In these circumstances I trust that your excellency
will have the goodness to overlook my unintentional delinquency."
"That is impossible, senor. Your dismissal is registered. It cannot be
rescinded. Still, as a special act of grace, in consideration of your
zeal, I may authorise your reappointment."
"Your kindness overwhelms me, senor," said the grateful gobernador,
unaware how truly he spoke.
"But there is a condition, senor," the Prefect continued. "I am hard
pressed for funds to carry on my campaign against the brigands. Your
zeal is such that you will not refuse to make a small contribution on
behalf of the cause--say L500. I shall then have the greatest pleasure
in reinstating you as gobernador of this town."
Senor Fagasta writhed. He knew that protest was useless. He must pay,
or be disgraced. How much of his contribution would go to support the
cause, and how much into the Prefect's own pocket, he could only
suspect. The interview soon came to an end, and the Prefect left the
house richer by L500.
The idlers who had gathered outside cheered him again as he remounted.
They expected to see him ride back to San Juan. To their surprise he
struck into the rough track northward, which led only to the hacienda of
Mr. O'Hagan, to another that lay some few miles beyond, and then to the
hills. Evidently the Prefect's visit was of more than usual importance.
[Illustration: Map]
Half an hour later the Prefect reined up at the door of Mr. O'Hagan's
house. The family were at tea in the patio. On seeing his visitor
through the open door, Mr. O'Hagan rose with a muttered exclamation of
annoyance, and went to greet him. He was forestalled by Pardo, who had
run from the office and was holding the horseman's stirrup. Mr. O'Hagan
felt that he could do no other than invite the Prefect to drink a cup of
tea, and that gentleman was soon seated in the patio, stirring his cup,
and talking to Mrs. O'Hagan in the charming manner for which he had a
name among ladies.
"I wish to thank your son, senor and senora," he said presently, "on
behalf of the government, for his spirited action yesterday in the cause
of law and order. There, my boy," he went on, taking a sol--equivalent
to a florin--from his pocket, "accept that as a token of my high
consideration."
Tim looked at his father.
"Pardon me, senor," said Mr. O'Hagan, swallowing his irritation, "your
generosity is quite unnecessary. My son needs no reward."
"That is very high-minded," said the Prefect, pocketing the coin. "He
will allow me to shake him by the hand and compliment him on his courage
and resource?"
Tim gave him a limp hand: it was not so bad as the gobernador's hug and
kiss.
"I am glad to be able to number you and your family, senor," the Prefect
continued, "among my declared adherents."
"Don't make a mistake, senor," said Mr. O'Hagan quickly. "My son had no
political motive in his action. It was a mere impulse of humanity."
"The cause of the government is the cause of humanity," said the Prefect
impressively. "The brigands represent anarchy. Brigandage is chaos. I
am determined to stamp it out. My action is in the true interests of
all law-abiding citizens, and especially of such enterprises as yours,
which depend on the reign of law for their prosperity."
At this point, after an almost imperceptible sign from Mr. O'Hagan, his
wife rose and went with Tim into the drawing-room. The Prefect
gallantly opened the door for her, and bowed with extreme deference: he
was the pink of politeness. Then he returned to his chair. Mr. O'Hagan
guessed what was coming. A few years before this, the Prefect, by
bribery and intrigue, had ousted his predecessor in office, one Senor
Mollendo, and had since maintained his position by corruption, and by
levying forced loans on such of the wealthy men as had not the courage
to resist him. The public taxes were already sufficiently heavy; but
the province was so remote from Lima that its prefect was practically a
dictator, and appeals to the central government would have been
fruitless.
Senor Mollendo, knowing that his life was hardly safe, had taken refuge
in the hilly district in the heart of the province, and was there joined
by his partisans, who grew gradually in number as the Prefect's
exactions increased. These Mollendists were what we should call a
political party in opposition: in Peru the government termed them
brigands. It was natural enough that they should include among their
number many lawless irreconcilables of the true brigand type; and
opposition which would in England take the form of public meetings and
demonstrations found expression here in raids and robberies. Mr.
O'Hagan had been several times approached indirectly for contributions
to the Prefect's war fund, but he had always refused to comply.
"As I was saying, senor," the Prefect resumed, lighting the cigar Mr.
O'Hagan offered, "your security depends on the supremacy of law. That
being the case, and my treasury being in temporary need of funds, I have
every confidence in inviting you to subscribe a small sum--say L1000--to
a loan for the more active prosecution of the work of suppressing the
brigands which we all have at heart."
"I am a man of few words, senor," said Mr. O'Hagan. "I have bought my
land; I pay my legal taxes, which are heavy enough; and I am entitled to
the protection of government. My people are contented; I have had no
trouble with them; the people you call brigands have not molested me; if
they do I shall claim your protection, but I don't anticipate anything
of the kind. I must therefore decline your invitation."
"I beg you not to be hasty, senor. Your security may yet be rudely
shocked: no man can call himself safe while the brigands are at large;
and I should be very much distressed if you were to suffer loss through
the unfortunate penury of the government. A contribution of
L1000--merely by way of loan--would probably prevent a much greater
loss."
"Not one peseta, senor," said Mr. O'Hagan bluntly. "I must beg you to
believe that that is final."
The Prefect smiled blandly.
"Ah! you Inglesas!" he said.
"I'm an Irishman, senor: that's worse."
"Well, senor, I must thank you for your hospitality and take my leave.
I wish you every success, and a large share of the sunlight of
prosperity. I only regret that by your reluctance to support me you are
helping to let loose the forces of lawlessness and giving hostages to
brigandage--in fact, breeding worms that will eat into the tissues of
industrial enterprise. I bid you good-day, senor."
Mr. O'Hagan was not impressed by the Prefect's picturesque language.
Tall talk is the foible of Peruvians. But after he had seen the last of
his visitor, he returned to the house in a state of intense irritation.
His wife was awaiting him in the patio.
"He wants to bleed me," he said angrily: "demanded a trifle of L1000.
This country is a hot-bed of corruption. And I wish that motor-cycle
were at the bottom of the sea."
"Why, dear," said Mrs. O'Hagan placably, "what has that to do with it?"
"It gives the fellow an excuse for saying that I'm on the side of the
Mollendists. Why do you let me spoil that boy, Rose?"
Mrs. O'Hagan smiled, remembering that she had begged her husband to wait
until Tim was a little older before giving him the motor-cycle. Wisely
she did not remind him of that, but simply said:
"Don't worry, dear. Things mayn't be so bad as you think.... And Tim
is not _really_ spoilt, you know."
CHAPTER IV
GAS
Next day Tim went into the town on an errand for his mother. He was
looking at the window of the only book-shop, when he felt a touch on his
sleeve. Looking round, he saw Alfonso, the gobernador's son, a sallow,
weedy boy of about his own age, whom he had often vainly tried to induce
to have a game at cricket in a field behind Mr. O'Hagan's house. He did
not think much of Alfonso, who always called him senor!
"Follow me, senor," said the boy mysteriously, "but don't let people
know."
He moved off at once. Tim might have thought that he was being enticed
away for a practical joke of some kind, only he remembered that the
Peruvians never played practical jokes except in carnival time. "I may
as well go," he said to himself; so, pushing his hands into his pockets,
he sauntered after Alfonso Fagasta. Several persons gave him pleasant
greetings, and he stopped once or twice to exchange a word, always
keeping his eye on Alfonso.
The Peruvian boy walked past the church in the plaza, and turned into a
narrow street, or rather lane, bounded on one side by the wall of the
presbytery, on the other by a high wall enclosing a garden. Tim knew
the place well; indeed, in days gone by he had sometimes scaled the
garden wall in quest of ripe plums or peaches. He followed Alfonso for
some distance, until he came to the rear of the enclosure, where there
was a dense plantation extending up the slope of a hill. Here Alfonso
made signs to him to wait, and disappeared through a wicket gate into
his father's garden.
"Why couldn't he tell me where to come?" thought Tim impatiently.
"What's the silly secret?"
He climbed a tree by way of passing the time, and presently, from his
leafy bower, he saw the gobernador open the wicket gate, glance
cautiously round, and then come swiftly towards the plantation. He
looked this way and that, and gave a jump when Tim called out, just
above his head:
"Here I am, senor doctor."
"Ha! my young friend, come down," said the gobernador.
Tim dropped at his feet.
"I have something to say to you," continued the gobernador hurriedly.
"Pardon me for not receiving you in my house with the respect due to my
preserver, but there are reasons...." He nodded with an air of mystery.
Then he went on in nervous haste: "Tell your good father to be on his
guard to-night. See that everything is secure. He must be careful not
to arouse suspicion among his staff. Few are to be trusted in these
disturbed times. If he sleeps at all, let him sleep with one eye open."
"What's going to happen, senor?" asked Tim.
"I say no more. Perhaps I have said too much. But I owe you so much
gratitude----"
"Don't mention it, senor," said Tim, backing. "Thanks for your
warning."
"Do not breathe my name to any one but your father," said the gobernador
anxiously. "I must go. Next time I see you I hope it will be at my
front door, with open arms."
"I hope it won't," thought Tim. He shook hands with the flurried
gentleman, who, with another cautious look around, returned to the gate
and slipped through into his garden.
Tim was very thoughtful as he walked home. Such a warning in Spanish
America was not to be disregarded, and he could not help connecting it
with the Prefect's visit, the object of which he had learnt from his
mother. He had a lively imagination. Such a man as the Prefect was not
likely to accept amiably the snub administered by Mr. O'Hagan. He might
use other means than persuasion to enforce his will.
He wanted money. To-morrow was pay-day at the hacienda, and there was a
large sum in the safe. San Rosario had no bank. The branch of a Lima
bank at San Juan had shut its doors on the accession of the present
Prefect to office: the managers feared that their floating assets would
be attached by the new official, ostensibly for public purposes. Since
then the employers of labour had had to be their own bankers, drawing
cash at intervals from Lima by well-armed convoys. There could be
little doubt that the gobernador had somehow got wind of a plot to rob
Mr. O'Hagan on the coming night.
Tim wondered what his father would do to defeat the attempt. How would
the burglars go to work? The safe was kept in the office. The key was
on Mr. O'Hagan's bunch. To reach the office the robbers would have to
pass through one or other of the patios. The middle patio had French
doors opening on the garden. They were always locked and bolted at
night, like the main door and the servants' entrance. It would be
difficult to enter without making a noise, unless the servants were in
league with the burglars. Tim thought of each of them in turn, and felt
sure that all were trustworthy.
All at once a brilliant idea struck him. His father was rather vexed
with him--or with the motor-cycle, which amounted to the same thing;
what a score it would be if he could deal with this matter himself,
without his father knowing anything about it! He chuckled with delight
as he imagined himself telling at the breakfast-table, as calmly as
though it were an everyday matter, how he had defeated an attempted
burglary. But how was it to be done? Mr. O'Hagan was a light sleeper; a
slight noise would disturb him, and Tim was at a loss for any means of
routing the burglars silently.
He thought of wire entanglements; but he could not erect them without
his father's knowledge. He thought of a booby-trap; but that was bound
to make a noise. He had almost reached home before a plan occurred to
him; it pleased him so much that he laughed. There was a large quantity
of ammonia solution in the house, kept for household purposes and for
use with the refrigerator which was a domestic necessity in this
tropical climate. Tim had only recently left school in England, so that
his knowledge of chemistry had not yet evaporated. If he heated some of
this liquid, and led the vapour into the patio at the critical moment,
the fumes would be obnoxious enough, he thought, to choke off any rash
intruders.
As soon as he got home, he took into consultation an old mestizo named
Andrea, who was gardener and odd man, a family servant of many years'
standing. Andrea was rather troubled, and advised that the warning
should be given to Mr. O'Hagan; but few could resist Tim's
persuasiveness, and the old man at length consented to assist his young
master.
Tim's bedroom was next to the office. At the bottom of the wall next to
the patio there was a grating which could be removed. That night, when
all the rest had retired, Andrea brought to Tim's room a large oil-can
with a narrow neck, containing a quantity of the ammonia solution. Tim
had already provided himself with a short length of garden hose, with a
nozzle at the end. Drawing the rubber tubing over the neck of the can,
he placed the nozzle end in the hole from which the grating had been
removed, in such a way that when the cock was turned it would allow the
fumes to enter the patio within a few inches of the office door. Having
lighted a large spirit-lamp beneath the oil-can, he set a chair against
the door, on which he could mount to reach a ventilator above, opening
on to the patio, and sat down on his bed, quivering with excitement, to
wait for the expected attack.
Hours passed, and he grew fidgety. Every now and then he got on the
chair, and peeped through the ventilator. All was dark and silent.
"I don't believe they're coming," he whispered disconsolately to Andrea.
"So much the better, senorito," said the old man.
But Tim did not agree with that; he did not want to be disappointed of
his fun.
At last he heard a slight sound from without. Jumping on the chair, he
peered through the ventilator. He could see nothing, but he guessed by
the sounds that the putty was being scraped from one of the glass panes
of the French door. Presently he dimly saw several dark, shadowy forms
pass from side to side. The men were removing the pane. One after
another the intruders stepped quietly across the patio towards the
office door. Just as they reached it Tim slipped off the chair, stooped
to the floor, and noiselessly turned on the cock of the nozzle.
For a few seconds there was no effect. He heard the slight click of a
key as it was inserted in the lock of the office door. But then, as the
ammonia fumes began to diffuse, there was a sniff, a stifled cough, and
a whispered exclamation. Presently there were louder coughs, long-drawn
gasps, and the men, in the effort to repress these fatal sounds, choked
and spluttered violently, until, half-blinded, half-suffocated, they
turned away, cursing with what breath was left to them, and tumbled over
one another in a rush for the door.
At the same moment the door of Mr. O'Hagan's room was flung violently
open, and that gentleman, roused by the noise, rushed into the patio in
his pyjamas, a gun in his hand. Seeing that the pane was removed, he
ran to the door, and sent a charge of duck-shot after the dark figures
scampering over the garden-beds. The sound of firing roused all the
household, and the affrighted servants came flocking into the patio.
"What's this confounded smell?" gasped Mr. O'Hagan, turning when the
marauders had vanished into the night. There was a chorus of coughs
from the servants.
Tim had turned off the stream of gas, and now opened his door; he felt
very much annoyed with the burglars; why had they made such a silly row?
"One of your tricks, Tim?" said Mr. O'Hagan. He gasped again.
"Ammonia, begore!"
"It is, Father," said Tim meekly.
"What on earth do you mean by disturbing the whole household in this
way? ... Get back to bed," he cried in Spanish to the servants; "all's
well now.... Now, sir, just explain this tomfoolery."
"May I come into your room?" asked Tim, anxious that old Andrea should
not get into trouble.
"You may, and apologise to your poor mother for disturbing her rest.
Now, what have you to say for yourself? Were those fellows outside
friends of yours, in the plot too? If so, you're responsible for the
murder or maiming of some of them."
"Indeed they're not. They are burglars, and I spoilt their game with
ammonia."
"Burglars, eh? But how did you know they were coming? You must have
made preparations?"
"I did. Old Fagasta told me to look out for them to-night, and I did
so."
"Indeed now! What did the gobernador know about it, then?"
"He didn't tell me. He only asked me to tell you to be on your guard
to-night."
"Why didn't you do so, then?"
"I thought I would make them scoot myself, and not disturb you. Who
could know the donkeys would make such a silly row!"
Mr. O'Hagan's mouth twitched at his son's indignant tone.
"Well, Tim," he said, "sure 'twas very considerate of you, but next time
you are asked to give me a message, give it. And no more tricks of this
kind, mind ye. We don't wish to be blown up one night."
"I dished them, anyway."
"I don't deny it. But 'twas lucky the noise woke me; for a few pellets
in their carcasses will be a more enduring lesson than a stink. Now, to
bed!"
When Tim had gone, Mr. O'Hagan said to his wife:
"The Prefect has made his first move, Rose."
"Tim was quite upset, poor boy!" replied Mrs. O'Hagan.
CHAPTER V
PARDO DISMISSES HIMSELF
"I am going into the town," said Mr. O'Hagan at breakfast next morning.
"Last night's affair must not be passed over. I shall lay a formal
complaint before Senor Fagasta. It won't be any good, but it would
never do to take no notice. When Pardo comes, Tim, tell him that he
must get the ledger posted to-day; he is rather behind. And if any of
the people are curious about the shots last night--they must have heard
them--don't answer any questions. I have already told the servants to
hold their tongues."
Setting off on horseback, he rode straight to the gobernador's house.
He noticed that the magistrate greeted him nervously. When the usual
civilities had been exchanged, he said:
"I have to report, senor, that an attempt was made last night to break
into my house, and to ask that you will do what you can to discover the
villains and bring them to justice."
"This is very distressing, senor," said the gobernador. "It will give
the town a bad name, especially as it happened the day after the visit
of our illustrious Prefect."
"Yes, that is decidedly unfortunate," remarked Mr. O'Hagan ironically.
"I will of course do what I can with the few police at my disposal," the
gobernador continued. "Had it happened on the night before, I should
have been better able to deal with the matter, for the Prefect left a
few of his escort of gendarmes behind. They were quartered on me; but
they departed yesterday evening. Perhaps you will give me full
particulars, which I will draw up in proper form."
Mr. O'Hagan related the circumstances, which the gobernador wrote down
with great deliberateness and solemnity. While he was doing this, Mr.
O'Hagan had time to put two and two together. He had little doubt that
the attack had been made by men left behind for that purpose by the
Prefect, and guessed that the gobernador had learnt or suspected their
design from something they had let fall while quartered in his house.
The report having been drawn up, Senor Fagasta gravely stamped it with
the official seal, and said:
"Be assured I will do what I can, senor. I trust that the senora and
your excellent son are well?"
"Quite, senor, thank you," said Mr. O'Hagan.
Neither had mentioned the incident of the bicycle or the warning given
by the gobernador, from whose manner Mr. O'Hagan judged that he did not
wish those matters to be alluded to. On his side, he felt that it would
be indiscreet and probably useless to press the magistrate for
particulars of what he knew or suspected. He had done a good turn in
giving the warning, no doubt risking the vengeance of the Prefect if his
action should come to that worthy's knowledge.
Taking leave of the gobernador, Mr. O'Hagan rode home and went straight
to the office. It was empty. He called to Tim, who was practising with
an air-gun at a target set up at the end of the lawn.
"Where's Pardo?" he asked.
"He hasn't turned up, Father. He sent a kid over to say that he's
grieved to the heart at not being able to attend to his duties, owing to
a painful attack of lumbago. I don't like the chap, Father."
"Because he's got lumbago?"
"No; because I think he's a bit of a fraud. Last time he stayed away it
was a sore heel, you remember; but I happened to see him picking oranges
in the evening when the men had gone home, and he walked well enough."
"You didn't mention it to me."
"Well, his heel might have been sore, and I didn't want to meddle,
especially as you think a good deal of him, Father."
"I do. He's the best book-keeper I ever had. I'll get your mother to
send him some turpentine: that'll put him to rights."
In the course of the day Romana was despatched by Mrs. O'Hagan with a
bottle of turpentine for the sick man. Pardo was not to be seen. The
old half-breed woman who looked after him told Romana that her master
had not risen that day, complaining of pains and stiffness in his back.
"Has he sent for the doctor?" he asked.
"Not yet. He says it is a chill, and will soon pass."
"The mistress has sent some stuff to cure him. The instruction is to
rub it into the skin very thoroughly. Take it to Senor Pardo, and ask
if I can do anything for him."
The old woman went off with the bottle. Romana had noticed Pardo's coat
lying over the back of a chair. As soon as he was alone, he lifted the
coat, cast a rapid but searching glance over it, and laid it on the
chair again.
"Many thanks, senor," came Pardo's voice from the inner room. "Thank
the gracious lady for me, and say that I hope to return to my beloved
duty in a day or two."
"Is the pain very severe, senor?" asked Romana sympathetically.
"Not so severe as the stiffness, senor. Take care that you don't take a
chill."
"Thanks, my friend. I myself am always careful of the night air.
Good-day; I will give the mistress your message."
Romana hurried back to the house, and sought his master in the office.
"Well, how is the invalid?" asked Mr. O'Hagan. "Did you see him?"
"No, senor: he was keeping his bed. I would suggest that you should
send your own doctor to him."
"That's not necessary, surely. A good rubbing is all that he needs for
lumbago."
"If it is lumbago!" said the man. "Will you give me a moment, senor?"
"Of course," replied Mr. O'Hagan, laying down his pen. "What is it?"
He leant back in his chair, frowning a little. A most unsuspicious man
himself, he was annoyed at Romana's suggestion of malingering, coming on
top of the doubts hinted by Tim.
"On the day when the senor gobernador rode on the bicycle," said Romana,
"Senor Pardo sent a letter to his excellency the Prefect."
"What of that? and how do you know?" asked Mr. O'Hagan sharply.
"I saw his Cholo messenger ride away with it to San Juan, senor, and a
friend reported to me that the Cholo took it to the Prefect's house. As
you know, the Prefect came to San Rosario two days after, and visited
the gobernador. He then rode here. Senor Pardo held his stirrup while
he dismounted. He returned to San Juan, but left some of his gendarmes
behind. Then came the matter of last night. To-day Senor Pardo is not
to be seen."
"What are you driving at?" asked Mr. O'Hagan irritably.
"Have patience, senor. I have been ten years in your service, and you
have no complaint against me?"
"That is true, but I don't like this air of mystery and suspicion. Say
plainly what you have in your mind."
"I have just seen Senor Pardo's coat--the one he was wearing yesterday:
there were several little black holes in the back. I think if you send
your doctor to him, you will find that he suffers not from lumbago but
from shot wounds."
Mr. O'Hagan stared in amazement.
"You suggest that he was among those villains who tried to break in last
night?" he asked.
"I do, senor."
"And that the Prefect was concerned in it?"
"The Prefect's gendarmes, senor. As for the Prefect himself!..."
He shrugged expressively.
"And that Senor Pardo is in the Prefect's pay?"
"That is my belief, senor."
"Romana, are you a spy?"
"Senor, I am a Mollendist," replied the man with dignity.
Mr. O'Hagan was much perturbed. He was loth to believe that Pardo was a
traitor, but the chain of events as linked together by Romana was
unpleasantly consistent. Perhaps what troubled him most of all was the
discovery that, careful as he had been to hold aloof from local
dissensions, two of his servants were mixed up in them, on opposite
sides. It was now easier to understand the mutual antagonism between
the two men, of which, though veiled by the outward forms of civility,
he had always been conscious.
"You have told no one else what you suspect?" he said, after a few
moments' deliberation.
"Nobody, senor."
"Then take care not to do so. I believe that you mean well, but I hope
to find you mistaken. We shall see."
When Romana had gone, Mr. O'Hagan sought his wife and told her
everything.
"I have never liked Pardo," she said, "though I can't say why. Perhaps
it would be as well to ask Dr. Pereira to see him."
"I prefer not to. I shall put it to the fellow direct when he comes
back to work. One thing is certain: Romana must go. I can't have a
Mollendist about the place. If it became known, the Prefect would make
it another reason for worrying me, or worse."
"Won't you write to the British consul at Lima?"
"I'm afraid that would be useless. He's too far away to be able to do
anything. We're in a desperately awkward position, Rose. The Prefect
will have his knife in me, and young Tim has certainly offended the
Mollendists by releasing the gobernador. Whatever they meant to do with
him, they will be furious at being baulked by a youngster. When I send
my next convoy to the capital, I think you and the boy had better go
too. You'll be out of harm's way there."
"Indeed I will do nothing of the kind, Tim. I will not leave you. And
I can't believe that there's any danger to a British subject here.
Write to the consul at once, dear; it's just as well to be beforehand
with trouble."
"I will do so. Say nothing to Tim, by the way. He'd only worry."
Three days afterwards Pardo returned. He looked rather pale, and after
greeting his employer launched out into a voluble description of his
sufferings.
"But the gracious lady's lotion worked wonders, senor," he said.
"Rather painful, isn't it?" said Mr. O'Hagan, noticing with misgiving
that the man wore a new coat.
"Not at all, senor. Its application was most soothing. It is a most
excellent remedy."
Mr. O'Hagan remembered how, when suffering from lumbago himself, the
friction with turpentine had left his back sore and smarting for days.
"Sit down, Pardo," he said. "I've something to say to you."
The man sat down awkwardly on his chair, smiling amiably.
"You remember the night of the attempted robbery," Mr. O'Hagan went on.
"No doubt my shots disturbed you."
"Not at all, senor. I slept the sleep of the just."
"How often do you correspond with the Prefect?"
The sudden question obviously took Pardo aback. He looked
uncomfortable, but recovered himself in a moment, and said with a feeble
smile:
"A humble clerk and book-keeper does not correspond with so important a
person as his excellency, senor."
"Nevertheless, you sent a letter to his excellency a few days ago. He
visited me two days after, and left a party of his gendarmes in the town
when he returned to San Juan. I have reason to suspect that they were
concerned in the attempt to rob me. How did they know that at that
precise moment I had a large sum of money in my safe?"
"These are very strange questions, senor," said Pardo. His manner was
quiet and restrained, but Mr. O'Hagan, intently watching him, noticed a
look of fear in his eyes.
"They are," he said. "Here's another: where is your old coat? I mean
the coat you were wearing last time you were here. It was nearly new."
Pardo started to his feet.
"Senor, this is intolerable," he cried. "I don't know what you mean, but
your questions are an insult to a perfect gentleman." (Every Peruvian
is a perfect gentleman.) "You will please to accept my resignation."
"Very well, Pardo: perhaps it is best." He handed him his week's wages.
"And let me tell you this, Senor Ingles," cried the man furiously as he
pocketed the money: "a Peruvian gentleman does not take lightly such
insults to his honour. You will repent this. You will feel the weight
of my just anger. You treat me like a dog: dogs can bite. I will not
accept your money."
He took it from his pocket and threw it on the floor. "You shall learn
what it is to insult a perfect gentleman."
Snatching up his hat, he swept it round in ironical salutation, and
flung out of the room.
CHAPTER VI
TIM IS HELD TO RANSOM
Tim had many acquaintances but few friends among the youth of San
Rosario and the neighbourhood. He often felt the lack of a chum of his
own age, and looked forward eagerly to the time, now drawing very near,
when he would return to England and enter an engineering college. His
most intimate friend in Peru was a young fellow, two or three years
older than himself, named Felipe Durand, who lived on his father's
hacienda, about twelve miles north of the town. Durand had been
educated in England, and being a very fair batsman, he sometimes joined
Tim in getting up a cricket match between elevens of the Japanese
workers.
On the day after Pardo's dismissal, Tim rode out to Durand's house to
arrange for a match in the following week. The path was only a rough
track; it was indeed not a public thoroughfare at all, but was
maintained by Senor Durand and Mr. O'Hagan for their own convenience.
Much of it ran through woods, and on each side the ground rose gradually
to a considerable height.
Tim met nobody on the way, but within a few miles of the hacienda he
noticed a group of men at the edge of the wood some little distance from
the path. Thinking that they were peons of Senor Durand he gave them
only a fleeting glance and passed by. He reached his friend's house
about twenty minutes after starting, and discussed the proposed match in
a little summer-house, over a dish of fruit and a glass of lemonade.
"I say, O'Hagan," said young Durand, after arrangements had been made,
"I wish I had seen your performance with the gobernador. It must have
been great sport."
The two boys always used English when together.
"Indeed, it was good fun," said Tim. "The pater was in a bit of a fizz:
he thinks the Mollendists won't like it."
"I dare say not. He should do as my governor does."
"What's that?"
"Pay up. My father gives them a regular subscription."
"That's rather dangerous, isn't it? The Prefect would drop on him if he
knew."
"The Prefect has dropped on him as it is. He has borrowed a good deal
that he'll never pay back. My father grumbles, of course; but he likes
a quiet life, and would rather pay than be worried. He subscribes to
the Mollendists' funds for the same reason; they leave him alone. He
says that old Mollendo will get the better of the Prefect one of these
days, and as the old chap is fairly honest he won't be sorry. Your
pater had better do the same."
"I'm sure he won't. He says corruption is the curse of this country,
and he won't have anything to do with either of the parties."
"That's very honourable and British, but it won't pay.... Have those
robbers been caught yet?"
"They have not. D'you know, I believe our man Pardo had a hand with
them; the pater gave him the sack yesterday. He resigned, but only to
avoid a sacking. I'm not sorry.... Well, you'll come over on Monday,
then. It's a holiday, so we'll make a day of it."
Tim had ridden only a few miles on his homeward way when he was brought
to a sudden check. The path was blocked by a tree which had apparently
fallen since he passed a couple of hours before. He dismounted, resting
his bicycle against the trunk. The tree was obviously too heavy to be
lifted, and he was looking for a way round it when a number of men
rushed at him from the bushes on each side of the track, and in a few
seconds he was a prisoner. Among his captors he saw one of the brigands
who had snapped up the gobernador.
"You will not get away this time, Senor Ingles," said the man, laughing.
"You will please to come with us."
Tim was helpless. He could only put the best face on it. The men led
him along the track northward, in the direction of Durand's house, two
following with the bicycle. As they neared the house, they struck into
the woods on the left, not returning to the track until they were some
distance beyond, at a wooden bridge over a ravine. The district to the
north had a bad name. It was the immemorial haunt of outlaws, whether
revolutionist or criminal. The outlawed criminal was invariably a
revolutionist; though among the revolutionists there were many, like
their leader, Mollendo himself, who were quite respectable members of
society.
After a few miles the country became very wild and rugged. The men in
charge of the bicycle grumbled at their laborious task; they were not
used to wheeling so heavy and cumbersome an object, and in the rougher
places it was difficult to balance. Every minute Tim expected to see
the machine escape from their hands, topple over, and dash itself to
pieces on the rocky declivity.
The track became steeper and steeper. It wound this way and that, a
rough wall of rock rising high on the left hand; on the right long
slopes and sheer descents, crossed by yawning gullies, stretching
downwards for hundreds of feet. Now and then white gull-like mountain
birds flew screaming in front of the party; hundreds of squirrels were
disporting on the rocky ramparts, darting among the trees that clothed
the ravines when they saw the intruders upon their solitudes. They
marched on for hours, covering, perhaps, a mile and a half an hour,
until night threw its purple shade upon the hills. Then they halted in a
narrow glen. The leader of the party gave Tim the option of being tied
up or passing his word not to attempt escape.
"You are Ingles," he said. "I can trust your word."
Tim did not appreciate the compliment; but since it was quite clear that
he could not escape with his bicycle, he gave his word, looking as
pleasant as he could. The men bivouacked, making a supper of parched
maize, which they took from their wallets, and weak spirits from their
flasks. They offered Tim a share of their provisions; he accepted the
maize, but declined the spirits, longing for a draught of water.
He spent a very uncomfortable night. The rocky ground cut into his light
summer clothes, which afforded but a poor defence against the cold of
this upland region. He slept fitfully, wondering in the wakeful
intervals what was going to happen to him, and thinking of the distress
his parents must suffer at his absence. "Durand was right," he thought.
"When I get free I'll ask Father to give these Mollendists a
subscription. But I bet he won't."
The march was resumed in the morning. The track still ascended, until it
reached a ridge, from which Tim caught glimpses on the other side of a
river meandering far below between wooded banks. In front the ridge
rose gradually. In about three hours the party, passing between two
tall rocks like gate-pillars on either side of the track, found
themselves suddenly in an encampment of considerable size. Two or three
hundred men were assembled in a sort of courtyard surrounded by
tumble-down buildings of unworked stone. Tim knew at a glance that he
was in the ruins of an ancient Inca fortification, castle, or
observation plaza, built by that vanished race on a hill-top which had
probably been flattened artificially. The men were encamped on two
sides of the enclosure; on the other two sides a number of horses were
hobbled.
Tim had no time to take in more details of the scene. The arrival of
his captors was hailed with shouts, and he was led through the excited
throng to an angle of the courtyard, where, in a little recess, a
Peruvian between fifty and sixty years of age, and of benevolent aspect,
was reclining on rugs before a slab that served as a table.
"Senor," said the leader of the party, "this is the young Ingles who
released the man Fagasta."
Senor Mollendo rose and made a courtly salutation.
"Good-morning, Senor Ingles," he said. "I have heard of you and your
respected father. It gives me the greatest pain to see you in your
present unhappy plight."
"You can relieve your pain at once by releasing me, senor," said Tim
boldly.
Mollendo gave him an indulgent smile.
"I have to consider the claims of justice, my young friend. See how the
case stands. You were taken with the man Fagasta, the hireling of the
usurping Prefect. You were released, but with rank ingratitude returned
and set free the gobernador, the agent of the odious dictator, the man
who had been heard to boast of his intention to root out the friends of
liberty from this oppressed region. Your offence could scarcely be more
serious. It is dangerous for a foreigner to interfere in our domestic
affairs; especially is it unbecoming in an Englishman, a citizen of that
glorious land of freedom, a lover of liberty and of equal laws, to
associate himself with the agents of a corrupt and shameless tyranny.
It is necessary to signalise the abhorrence with which such action must
be viewed by all right-thinking men. You shall be a recipient of such
poor hospitality as I can extend to you until your unworthy conduct is
redeemed by the payment of L250, and the engine by means of which you
effected your reprehensible intervention on behalf of the oppressor will
be confiscated to the use of the patriots."
Tim was quite unused to having such eloquence hurled at him. His head
master had contented himself with a few sharp words and half a dozen
swishes--infinitely preferable to such a lot of "jaw." He felt
overwhelmed, and had nothing to say. "Jolly cheek!" he thought, "asking
L250. I wish he may get it."
His parole was demanded again, and he was strictly forbidden to stray
beyond the limits of the enclosure. He was given a dinner consisting of
mutton boiled with vegetables, and toasted maize, with water from a
stream, almost dried up by the summer heat, that flowed into the broader
river below. Mollendo offered him a Manilla cigar, which he put in his
pocket.
He was allowed to roam about the encampment. So well placed that one
might approach within a few yards without discovering it, it overlooked
the surrounding country for hundreds of square miles. On the east he
could see the track by which he had come, winding east and south-east
through the hills. On the west a few steps cut in the rock led to what
had once been an Inca road, running into the path that led southward to
the highway to San Juan. Southward flowed the hill-stream, through a
rough and precipitous gully. To the north the ground rose steeply to
inaccessible snow-capped peaks.
Tim passed a restless and unhappy day. He supposed that Mollendo had
sent one of his men to demand the ransom from his father; but no
information was given him. The only mitigation of his captivity was
afforded by the brigands' experiments with the motor-cycle. None of
them was able to ride it; few were anxious to try. They were good
horsemen, no doubt; but Tim soon came to the conclusion that they would
never make motor-cyclists. He watched with amusement their first
attempts in the middle of the courtyard. One man tried to mount the
bicycle when stationary, and became violently angry at each failure to
maintain his balance. Then he got two of his comrades to support him,
one on each side, and thrust at the handles. No movement resulting, his
supporters pushed the machine for a few yards, then let it go. It
toppled over, and the rider's leg being crushed between the cycle and
the ground, he swore bitterly, and retired to digest his discomfiture.
Senor Mollendo looked on at all this with much disappointment. The
confiscated machine, apparently, was not to be so valuable an
acquisition as he had supposed. He smiled with pleasure, however, when
the machine was set in motion by a series of accidents. While one man
was in the saddle; held up on both sides, another happened to discover
the petrol tap, and turned it on. The supporters pushed the bicycle for
a few feet, the engine began to fire, and the rider chancing to move the
throttle switch, the machine started forward with a suddenness that
caused the two men at the sides to lose their grip. There were shouts
of delight from the onlookers; but the rider was so much amazed at his
own inadvertent skill that he lost his head, and could neither stop nor
steer his unmanageable steed. Only by sprinting across the courtyard at
full speed did Tim save man and cycle from being dashed disastrously
against the stone wall.
After this the machine was left severely alone, until Tim, weary for
want of something to do, offered to instruct the men in its
manipulation. This won Senor Mollendo's warm approval, and Tim spent
several hours of that day and the next in teaching the younger members
of the party how to ride. They had no personal feeling against him; and
with the prospect of their lean treasury being increased by L250 on his
account, they began to regard him with even more kindliness than his
willingness and good temper had already won.
On the third day the messenger sent by Senor Mollendo to claim the
ransom, returned, bringing with him not merely the money, but a rumour
of the manner in which the midnight raiders had been received at Mr.
O'Hagan's house. That they were part of the Prefect's escort was an
open secret. Mollendo called Tim to him and asked if the story was
true. Tim saw no reason to conceal anything, and gave a full
description of what had happened, only suppressing the fact that his
information had come from the gobernador.
"You showed remarkable ingenuity, my young friend," said Mollendo,
greatly tickled by the picture of the spluttering crew stumbling out
into the darkness. "I quite understand why your good father should
consider you worth L250. He has sent the money; you are free. And as a
mark of my appreciation of your service to the cause of liberty by
discommoding the usurper's minions, I have much pleasure in
returning"--("How much?" wondered Tim in excitement)--"your motor-cycle.
Four of my supporters will assist you to the path below. When you meet
your father, convey to him my salutations, and assure him that the money
will be put to a good use in upholding the flag of freedom."
He shook hands warmly, bowed with his hat to his breast, and with a
polite _a reveder_, the Spanish equivalent of _au revoir_, he ended
Tim's captivity.
CHAPTER VII
THE PREFECT MOVES
Tim's adventure caused Mr. O'Hagan to change his mind about dismissing
Romana. To do so might be a new cause of offence to the sensitive
patriots.
"You have already proved a very dear son," he said, with a humorous
twinkle that disguised his real feeling.
"Durand says that his pater gives old Mollendo a regular subscription to
keep him quiet," said Tim.
"Blackmail! He will soon get tired of that."
"I don't suppose what he has paid comes to L250."
"Ah! but he hasn't given his boy a motor-cycle! Young Durand came over
to-day to play cricket, and seemed vastly tickled when I told him where
you were."
"I could have boxed his ears," said Mrs. O'Hagan indignantly. "It was
no laughing matter to me."
"Will I challenge him, Mother?" said Tim quizzingly. "I am going to
ride over to-morrow to tell him all about it, and if you like----"
"Don't tease your mother," Mr. O'Hagan interposed. "She insisted on my
sending the money at once, or I declare I would have been inclined to
let you have a week of it."
The kidnapping of the young Ingles created much indignation and
resentment among the people of San Rosario. The majority of them,
having little to lose, were staunch supporters of the Prefect, and when
next day they saw a dozen gendarmes ride into the town, they supposed
them to be only the advanced guard of a force sent from the capital to
begin the long-expected operations against the brigands. Some, however,
viewed the soldiers with alarm. To the substantial citizens, a visit of
the Prefect's gendarmes usually spelt trouble. Every man whose secret
sympathies were with the Mollendists trembled in his shoes; even those
who were conscious of innocence shivered if their worldly substance was
large enough to be worth the attention of the Prefect and his harpies.
Many, among them the gobernador, were greatly relieved when the
gendarmes, instead of dismounting, halted only to refresh themselves in
the saddle at one of the albergos, then rode through the town and along
the track leading to Mr. O'Hagan's house.
Arriving there, the leader sprang from his horse, and strode with
clanking spurs to the door, which stood open. The others formed up in
line along the front of the house. To the servant who came in answer to
the officer's summons, he explained that he wished to see the senor
haciendado. Mr. O'Hagan left the office, where he had been alone, and
invited his visitor into the patio.
"I regret, senor," said the officer, declining to be seated, "that I
have come on a very disagreeable errand." He took a paper from his
pocket. "You see here a warrant, signed by his excellency the Prefect,
and sealed with the provincial seal, authorising the arrest of yourself
and your son."
"On what charge, senor?" asked Mr. O'Hagan quietly.
"On the charge of furthering and abetting the treasonable designs of one
Carlos Mollendo, who is stirring up sedition. It is useless to resist,
senor; I have a sufficient body of troopers outside. I demand that you
surrender yourself and your son to justice."
"I will come with you," said Mr. O'Hagan, "under protest. You will
please to note that I am a British citizen. My son is not at home."
"Where is he?"
"That I must leave you to find out."
The officer at once called in a man to search the house, himself keeping
guard over Mr. O'Hagan in the patio. The gendarme found Mrs. O'Hagan
coming from the servants' quarters. He bowed respectfully, and asked
her to go to the drawing-room and remain there.
"I am going to the patio, to my husband," replied the lady stoutly.
"Stand out of my way, please."
The man tugged his moustache, stood aside, and then went on to complete
his search. The half-minute's delay had allowed Romana, whom his
mistress had just quitted, to slip out of the house and into a
shrubbery, whence he made his way swiftly in the direction of Senor
Durand's estate.
He met Tim returning, half-way between Durand's house and the
cross-roads.
"Stop, senorito," he called; "I have a message from the gracious lady."
"What is it?" asked Tim, jumping off his machine.
"The senora bids you come with me," said Romana. "Gendarmes have ridden
to arrest the senor and you, and the mistress sent me to take you to a
place of safety."
"I won't go. I will join Father," said Tim at once, preparing to ride
off. Romana detained him.
"I beg you to do as the senora wishes," he said. "What is the use of
your going to prison, too? There is more chance for every one if you
are free. You will do better to remain in hiding until we see what is
intended towards the senor. I have friends in San Rosario and the
capital; we Mollendists have our spies, like the Prefect. The senor will
no doubt be taken to San Juan. Nothing will be done immediately. The
Prefect is always very careful to cloak his misdeeds under the forms of
law."
"I'll go back to Senor Durand's, then."
"That is unwise, senorito. The gendarmes may come there to look for
you, and then Senor Durand himself will be in danger. I know a better
place, and if you will come with me----"
"Very well, then; but I don't like it. What is to become of Mother?"
"The senora will be quite safe: the Prefect is always very polite to the
ladies," said Romana.
Romana mounted behind Tim, and they rode back to the cross-roads, then
turned to the right into a track that was fairly level for some
distance, then ascended gradually. Nearly nine miles from the
cross-roads it wound round a steep cliff. On one side a sheer wall of
rock rose to a great height; on the other a wooded precipice fell away
to an equal depth. A small waterfall plunged from the heights above,
forming a stream across the path, and flowing as a second waterfall over
the edge of the precipice. At this point the hill-side was covered with
scrub, amid which one large tree formed a conspicuous object.
Stepping-stones were laid across the stream, and a few large slabs were
let into the steep bank above the path on the farther side.
Here they dismounted and made their way along the bed of the stream
towards the waterfall. Then they turned to the right, and proceeded
over more large flat slabs leading into the scrub, Romana remarking that
their footsteps would leave no traces on the stones. On reaching the
large tree before mentioned, they found themselves at the mouth of a
cavern concealed by the foliage and the scrub. A projection of the
cliff on the right hid the entrance of the cavern from observation by
any one on the upper portion of the path.
It had been a task of no little difficulty to haul the cycle up the
stream, and both were very hot and tired when they reached the cave.
Drawing aside the screen of foliage, Romana whispered the word Libertad.
There was no answer. He led Tim inside.
"That is our password," he said with a smile. "If I had failed to give
it I might have been shot. But there is no one here now. Only three
men know of this place. Here you will be quite safe. You are now a
Mollendist," he added, chuckling.
"Have you set a trap for me, Romana?" said Tim indignantly.
"No, no; all that I mean is that now the senor your father is a prisoner
he must be a Mollendist. All the Prefect's enemies are."
While speaking he had lit a lamp, by whose light Tim saw an earthen
roof, walls, and floor; two or three stools; a three-legged table; a
large cupboard in which were kept, as Romana told him, food that would
not spoil, and a few mugs; a large can for holding water, and two long
boxes containing rugs which might serve on occasion as beds.
"Is there no other entrance?" Tim asked.
"Come and see."
Romana led him for some distance into the cave, which bent away to the
left. The air was very damp and mouldy, and Tim felt that he would not
care to make too long a stay in so fusty a place. Presently he heard a
gurgle and splash of water, and the light of the lamp which Romana
carried fell on an oblong slab of stone standing upright before them,
about three feet in height. Romana took hold of the upper part of it,
and lowered the stone to the ground. Then Tim saw the waterfall within
two or three feet of them. They were slightly above the bottom of it;
about twelve feet of the cliff face separated them from the spot where
the waterfall became a stream. Romana explained that the other entrance
of the cavern was some forty yards away.
"Now, senorito, you will remain here until I discover what is to be
done. You are not afraid?"
"What is there to be afraid of? Only the damp, so far as I can see. It
may give me lumbago!"
"That is better than duck-shot," said Romana, smiling. "I shall not
have time to explain to my comrades, but if any one comes, he will give
the password, and you will answer Salvatore. You may trust any follower
of Senor Mollendo. The path is open to you; none uses it except our own
people; but do not stray far in case you are seen by an enemy. I will
return as soon as may be."
"Can't your people make a raid and rescue my father?" asked Tim. "They
ought to do something for the money they have got out of him."
"I fear we are not strong enough at the present time," answered Romana.
"But be assured that Senor Mollendo will do anything that is possible.
He holds the senor in high respect."
Tim grunted. He did not think much of a respect that bled a man to the
extent of L250.
CHAPTER VIII
SUSPENSE
Romana did not return to Mr. O'Hagan's house. He guessed that every
member of the household would be under suspicion; and though his part
with the Mollendists was not known, Pardo, if he came on the scene,
would not hesitate to trump up a charge against him. So he hung about
until nightfall, and then slipped into the town and took shelter with
Pedro Galdos, the agent who had dogged Pardo's messenger to San Juan.
Galdos was a strange illustration of the irony of circumstances in
Spanish America. At one time, under another name, he had been
sub-prefect of a provincial town; but he lost his office with a change
of government, and drifted into poverty. He now earned a scanty
livelihood by selling lottery tickets and doing any odd jobs that came
his way. No one in San Rosario had known him in his official career;
none would have suspected that the thin, shabby, down-at-heel old man
who haunted the street-corners, pestering folks to buy his grimy lottery
tickets, had formerly held a post of authority. As agent and spy of the
Mollendists he was quite trustworthy. Since his dismissal he was always
against the government; and his services were at the disposal of any
opponent of the present prefect, whether Mollendo or another.
He lived alone in a little two-roomed mud cottage at the east end of the
town. Here Romana sought a temporary lodging. Galdos already had some
news for him. Mr. O'Hagan had not been taken to the capital, but was
imprisoned in the town jail.
"I will tell you why, senor," said the old man. "The Prefect wishes to
manage things quietly. There is too much sunlight in San Juan! The
Senor Ingles has many friends and a few compatriots there, and they
would agitate if the thing were known. The Prefect's own party would be
uneasy, for it is no light matter to oppress an Ingles; the British
Government would say hard things at Lima, and the Prefect might find
himself in hot water. He is a hotheaded, reckless imbecile; but some of
his supporters are more prudent, and they would hesitate to provoke the
anger of the government. But here, in this out-of-the-way town, many
things can be done without making a noise. The Prefect has many
creatures who will do just as he bids them. He needs much money; his
troops are clamouring for arrears of pay, and he lacks arms and
ammunition for the campaign he is meditating against our party. The
Senor Ingles is known to be wealthy; that is his crime."
"What will the Prefect do with him?" asked Romana.
"Who knows?" replied Galdos with a shrug. "We shall see. There was
trouble at the hacienda to-day. When the Japanese workers heard that
the caballero was arrested, they marched to the house and threatened
mischief to the gendarmes. It was only the intervention of the senora
that prevented a fight. She pled with the people to go back to their
work for the senor's sake. The Inglesa is a clever woman. Where is the
boy?"
"He is in a safe place, where he will remain until we know what is to be
done. If the worst happens he must take refuge with Senor Mollendo until
we can convey him and his mother to Lima. I shall go back to him
to-morrow."
Meanwhile Tim had eaten his supper--a tin of beans which he found in the
cupboard--and made himself as snug as possible among the rugs in one of
the box beds. He was not frightened, but he would not have denied that
he felt miserable. For a long time he lay wakeful, wondering how far
the Prefect's tyranny might go, and taking a good deal of unnecessary
blame to himself for having wished for a motor-bicycle. The machine, of
course, was no more the cause of recent events than a ball of worsted is
the cause of a kitten's playfulness. Just as a kitten's native energy
makes the ball the occasion of leaps and gambols; so the Prefect had
seized on Tim's adventure with the gobernador as a pretext for squeezing
the gobernador himself, and for venting his spite on the man who would
not be squeezed.
Romana came back on the following afternoon. The news he brought was
not calculated to lighten Tim's heaviness. Mr. O'Hagan was closely
confined; gendarmes were flocking into the town, to overawe any who
might be disaffected, Romana supposed. He left again at dusk, begging
Tim to be patient.
Next day his information was even more serious. The Prefect had
arrived, accompanied by a number of officers, and it was rumoured that
the prisoner was to be tried by court-martial. The ordinary process of
law was evidently too slow for the dictator; it left, perhaps, too many
loopholes for escape. With a court composed of his own particular tools
he might depend on the proceedings being short and swift.
"But it is utterly illegal to try a civilian by court-martial in time of
peace," Tim protested.
"The Prefect makes his own law," said Romana. "He has proclaimed
martial law in the town."
"He means Father to be condemned; what will the sentence be? A big
fine?"
"Probably, with a term of imprisonment also," replied Romana. In his
heart of hearts he expected a much more terrible punishment. The
Prefect would not be satisfied with a fine, however large; nor with a
term of imprisonment, however long. Nor would he even stop at
confiscating Mr. O'Hagan's property, and let him go. There is only one
safe way in which tyranny can walk, and that is a road stained with
blood. But Romana did not impart his anticipations to Tim; there was no
need to wring his young heart before the time.
He durst not go into the town next day, but waited in the wood for
Galdos to bring him news of the trial. It confirmed his gloomiest
forebodings. Pardo was the principal witness against his master. He
repeated authentic fragments of Mr. O'Hagan's talk, which, harmless
enough in themselves, might be construed as treasonable by prejudiced
minds. He swore, falsely, that he had heard his master declare that he
would not pay the taxes, which were mere extortion. He declared that
the L250 which Mr. O'Hagan had sent to Mollendo was not a ransom, but a
contribution to the brigands' funds. Similar testimony was given by two
former servants of the prisoner. Mr. O'Hagan's denials were scouted. He
was not allowed to employ counsel, and in two hours the sorry farce was
over. He was found guilty, condemned to forfeit his estate and to be
shot in the plaza, three days later.
Romana shrank from conveying this heavy tidings to the boy awaiting his
return in the cavern. But there was no help for it. He walked back
slowly, and broke the news as gently as he could.
Tim was at first utterly overwhelmed. In his most despondent moments he
had never looked for anything so bad as this. When his stupor passed, he
cried out that he must go to his mother; that he would himself seek the
Prefect, and plead with him to annul the sentence; that he must and
would do something, he knew not what.
"It would be useless, senorito," said Romana sadly. "You would yourself
be arrested; you might suffer the same fate; then the gracious lady
would be doubly bereaved, left without a protector, and that would
embitter your father's last moments."
"But I can't sit still and do nothing," cried Tim, walking up and down
in his misery. "Suppose it were your father! Won't your Mollendists do
something? There's a lot of them; wouldn't Senor Mollendo lead them to
the town if I begged and prayed him?"
"He is not strong enough," answered Romana. "The town is full of
gendarmes. I don't know the caballero's plans, but he cannot alter them
for a foreigner."
"He will only send his men to pounce on solitary travellers like the
gobernador," said Tim bitterly.
"Remember, senorito, that he is himself outlawed, in hiding. The men
you saw in his camp are not numerous enough; they are ill-armed. There
are a crowd of gendarmes and several troops of mercenaries already in
the town, and another thousand men can be summoned from San Juan, and
would arrive within a few hours."
"But I could get our Japs to join. They would fight like demons for my
father."
"What arms have they?" said Romana patiently. "It is useless, senorito.
But there are three days. Perhaps the Prefect will think better of it.
No doubt he is uneasy at not having captured you; he will never feel
safe while you are at large; and he may delay the extreme step. We must
hope for the best."
As he became calmer Tim recognised the force of all that Romana had
said, and his own helplessness. He could but wait and hope.
Very early next morning they were standing near the mouth of the cavern.
Romana was about to go again into the wood a few miles nearer the town,
to receive any further information that Galdos might have for him.
"Ask him to go to my mother, and bring word how she is," Tim was saying.
"Look, senorito; what is that?" said Romana suddenly, pointing down the
track in the direction of the town. A mounted party of four was
approaching, too far off for the individuals of which it was composed to
be distinguished.
[Illustration: HORSEMEN ON THE TRACK]
"They are after me!" said Tim at once.
"Back, senorito!" cried Romana, drawing him behind the screen of
foliage, through which they peered anxiously at the advancing party.
"There is a lady!" said Romana presently. "They are riding very fast."
"Is it Mother?" said Tim. "I believe it is! And, Romana, look; I
believe it's Father too! Isn't it? Isn't it?"
"For Dios, senorito!" exclaimed Romana, "you are right! It is the senor
himself. He has escaped! Praise to our Lady and Sant Iago! Come! Let
us meet them."
CHAPTER IX
FLIGHT TO THE HILLS
Tim could hardly contain himself. He raced along the bed of the stream,
leapt across the stepping-stones, and bounded down the rocky track with
small concern for his limbs. When he came in sight of the party he
snatched off his hat and waved it wildly in the air. Romana followed
less swiftly and with more circumspection. He was smiling at his
thoughts.
"First the son, then the father--both Mollendists!"
That was the happy consummation to which he flattered himself events
were leading.
"Ah, Tim!" said Mr. O'Hagan as they met. "We were one too many for the
Prefect, you see. Your mother was the one, bless her! But she must
tell you all about it herself by and by. The first thing is to secure
ourselves. Many thanks, Romana. Now, are we going right for that camp
of yours?"
"Straight on, senor," said Romana. "You will presently come to the
river. The path runs alongside it for several miles; then it diverges
to the right, and meets the path that goes past Senor Durand's hacienda.
The two paths become one. Keep straight on. The senor capitan will
welcome you."
"But aren't you coming too, to make the introductions?"
"The senorito and I will follow. We must fetch the machine."
"I can't leave Tim," said Mrs. O'Hagan.
"What's the path like?" cried Tim. "Can I ride, Romana?"
"For some distance, yes. There are steep places after the paths join."
"There are indeed," said Tim. "That's where the brigands--your friends,
I mean--had to haul the cycle. A very stiff job too. Mother, ride on
with Father. I'll catch you in no time. I'll mount Romana behind me:
he's lighter than the gobernador!"
"You're quite sure you'll catch us?" said Mrs. O'Hagan anxiously.
"Quite, so don't worry. Oh! you don't know how jolly glad I am to see
you."
The other two members of the party, Andrea and another house servant,
rode on with their master and mistress, while Tim and Romana returned to
the cave for the cycle. They had a good deal of difficulty in hoisting
it up from the bed of the stream on to the path, but when they were once
there, they soon made up on the riders, and went on all together at a
rapid pace.
"Shall we run ahead and warn Senor Mollendo?" asked Tim presently.
"No: stay with us," said Mrs. O'Hagan. "I don't want to lose sight of
you."
"Better not, senorito," added Romana. "We must be careful as we approach
the place where the paths join. If the escape has been discovered, and
they are pursuing, they will come by the other path: it is shorter. Why
did you choose this one, senor?"
"It was recommended to us by that ragged old man who sells lottery
tickets. Is he a friend of yours?"
"He is a caballero, senor," replied Romana with dignity. "Senor Galdos
was once a sub-prefect."
"Was he indeed? He has been a very good friend to us, and I hope we may
be able to reward him some day. How much farther is it? The path is
becoming very rough."
"It is several miles, senor; but if all is well when we come to the
junction of paths, there will be no need to hurry for the rest of the
way."
Soon after this the path diverged from the stream, which wound away to
the westward. Romana now recommended that the party should ride slowly,
while he himself scouted ahead on foot. The track here was too rough
for the motor-cycle to gain anything in point of speed.
"When you come to a large stone, senor, which I will place in the middle
of the track," said Romana, "then halt. It will be no more than a mile
from the forked path, and you will do better to go no farther until I
return to you, lest the clatter of hoofs should be heard."
He went on and disappeared. About two miles farther on the riders came
to the arranged signal. They halted, the men dismounted, and Tim,
leaning against the flank of his mother's horse, and clasping her hand,
begged her to tell him how the escape had been contrived.
"You had heard the result of the trial?" she asked.
Tim nodded.
"Were you there, Mother?"
"I was not. I thought it best for your father's sake to keep out of the
town. Yesterday afternoon that wretch Pardo came and took possession of
our house. He showed me a document authorising him to work the estate
on behalf of the government----"
"Which means the Prefect, of course," Mr. O'Hagan put in.
"Then the wretched creature politely turned me out. I told him that he
was in rather too much of a hurry; he might at least have had the
decency to wait until all was over. But of course I didn't squabble
with the worthless fellow. I packed up a few things, got my horse--he
allowed me that!--and rode with Andrea and Juan into the town. Dr.
Pereira was brave enough to take me in. No doubt the Prefect will make
him pay for it."
"Was the Prefect still in the town?" asked Tim.
"He had gone back to San Juan, leaving Captain Pierola to carry out the
sentence. I had made up my mind to see your father for the last time,
and when it was dark Senora Pereira lent me a dress and a mantilla, and
the doctor escorted me to the gobernador's house. Of course, his
permission had to be got. He was very much distressed, poor man; he is
terribly afraid of the Prefect: but he promised to admit me to the
prison for a quarter of an hour to-morrow night. I asked him whether he
couldn't let my husband escape, but he went nearly frantic at the idea.
"I was very much upset, as you may imagine. On the way back Dr. Pereira
noticed a man following us. At first he paid no attention, but by and
by got angry, and turned round upon the man, and asked him what he meant
by it. 'Go on, senor doctor,' said the man. 'Do not notice me, but let
me quietly into your house presently.' We went on, and I had only just
taken off my borrowed things when the doctor brought the man to my room.
It was the little old man who sells lottery tickets. He told me that if
I would give him L200 he would set your father free. 'How?' I said.
'It will be better to ask no questions,' he said. I had no money----"
"The gendarmes stripped the safe when they arrested me," said Mr.
O'Hagan.
"But I had brought my jewel-case," his wife went on. "I suppose I
showed my doubts in my face, for the old man said, 'The senora can trust
me,' and, looking at him, I felt that I could. I put my jewel-case in
his hands and told him to take what was necessary, quite expecting that
he would take everything. But he examined the things as if he knew
something about them, and selected my pearl necklace and two bracelets.
'The senora will not like parting with them,' he said, 'but there is no
other way.' I told him he might have everything if he would save my
husband, and he seemed quite hurt. Then he told me that I must not go
to bed, but be ready to leave the house at any moment. He kissed my
hand in the most courtly way and was gone.
"About two o'clock he came again. 'All is ready,' he said: 'come with
me.' You may imagine what a state I was in. I followed him through the
dark streets until we came out into the country, and there I found your
father and the two men waiting for me with a spare horse. The old man
told us the way to come, and here we are. I love that dear old man."
"He bribed the jailers, I suppose--jolly old soul!" said Tim.
"The Prefect's own methods," said Mr. O'Hagan. "I'm afraid the
gobernador will have a bad time of it. He was responsible for me."
"And won't the jailers suffer, too?" asked Tim.
"They decamped at once, you may be sure," replied his father. "But
here's Romana back again. He's in a hurry."
Romana was running down the path.
"We cannot go on, senor," he said. "I crept as close as I dared to the
fork, and caught sight of some men among the trees beyond. I don't know
who they are, but it is not safe to proceed."
"What are we to do, then?"
"We must go back until we come to the river. The water is very low, and
we can walk up along the sand at the edge. Presently we shall come to a
stream that flows down the hill-side from near Senor Mollendo's camp.
We can climb up there. It is very steep and rocky, but it is the only
way."
"Very well: lead on."
On reaching the river, the party scrambled down the bank to the bottom.
In times of rain the torrent had deposited large quantities of sand in
the bed, which the shrinking of the channel in the summer had left bare
and dry. On this firm floor, level as a billiard table, but ascending in
a gentle plane, progress was easy; but when they reached the stream of
which Romana had spoken, and had to strike up the hill-side, they found
themselves in difficulties. They had to dismount and lead the horses
over great ledges of quartz, polished to a dangerous slipperiness by the
action of sand and water, and round huge boulders, that offered, at
first sight, insuperable obstacles. Difficult as the way was for the
horses, it was doubly so for the motorcycle, which had to be carried for
many yards at a time, and hauled up and over sharp-edged rocks that
threatened damage to its tyres. Many times they had to stop and rest.
It was now midday, and very hot, and Mr. O'Hagan's party, having had no
food since the night before, were hungry as well as tired.
"Plucky little woman!" said Mr. O'Hagan at one of these halts, to his
wife who sat beside him on a ledge of rock.
"Just think of Tim spending nights by himself in a cave!" said Mrs.
O'Hagan. "How horrid for him!"
"Boys like that sort of thing," returned her husband with a smile.
"Don't they, Tim?"
"If there's another fellow with them," said Tim. "There's no fun in
camping-out alone. I wish I'd thought to bring some grub. Mother must
be famished!"
"I confess I hope Senor Mollendo will have _something_ for us," said
Mrs. O'Hagan. "Going long without food is bad for a growing boy."
"I can eat anything," said Tim, "but I'm afraid you won't like their
grub."
"My dear boy, I would rather eat parched peas with Senor Mollendo than
sit down to a banquet with the Prefect.... Hark! What's that?"
She clutched her husband's arm at the sound of rifle-shots far to the
east.
"We had better get on, I think," said Mr. O'Hagan, rising. "Where's
Romana?"
"He has gone ahead to warn Senor Mollendo of our coming," said Andrea.
"He will come back to help with the machine."
An hour later the whole party, hot, exhausted, and hungry, entered the
enclosure which Tim had described to his parents. The assembled
Mollendists greeted them with loud vivas, and Senor Mollendo's face
beamed as he came forward, hat in hand, to meet them.
"Welcome to my little castle, senor, senora," he said, with the air of a
potentate. "I rejoice in the circumstances which have given me the
honour of entertaining such distinguished guests."
"I don't," said Mr. O'Hagan bluntly, "though I thank you for your
hospitality, senor. Do you know what is the dearest wish of my heart at
the present moment?"
"If it is anything I can do----"
"A glass of wine for my wife, and then dinner, senor. Your guests, I
should think, never reach you without an appetite."
CHAPTER X
CINCINNATUS O'HAGAN
"I have an apology to make to you, senor," said Mollendo, as they sat at
dinner in his own little four-square apartment. "I perceive that I was
under a misapprehension when I ordered the arrest of your son. I can
never sufficiently lament my indiscretion, and beg that you will accept
the expression of my profound regret."
"I quite understand, senor," said Mr. O'Hagan, reflecting that the
indiscretion had cost him L250. "You party men find it difficult to
understand that an action may be dictated by other than party
considerations. My son helped Senor Fagasta because he's a man, not
because he's gobernador."
"His action does honour to his humanity as well as his courage," said
the courtly host. "In these circumstances I feel that it is
inconsistent with the honour of a caballero to take advantage of a
mistake, and I beg therefore that you will accept restitution of the sum
of money which I demanded of you, but to which I had no just claim."
"Your suggestion is only what I should have expected from a caballero of
your reputation, senor," said Mr. O'Hagan, politely adopting Mollendo's
formality of speech. Mollendo bowed. "But in the circumstances I
cannot do better than leave the money in your hands. And let me say
that I thoroughly approve of the use to which you will put it."
"My dear!" ejaculated Mrs. O'Hagan in English.
"I am going the whole hog now," replied her husband quietly.
She pressed her lips together, and listened nervously as the
conversation was resumed.
"I have made up my mind definitely to take sides with you," continued
Mr. O'Hagan. "Hitherto I have held aloof, as you know; but I have always
sympathised with your aims. You stand for political honesty and good
government. That is a motive that appeals to me as a citizen.
Personally, I have a strong inducement to support you; the Prefect has
stripped me of my estate. If you succeed, I shall retrieve my fortunes;
and in assisting you I shall not only consult my own interests, but do
something, I believe, for the good of the country in which I have lived
for so many years."
"A thousand thanks, senor," said Mollendo, his eyes beaming as he
clasped Mr. O'Hagan's hand. "I rejoice in your generosity, and hail the
approaching triumph of our cause. I remember how, in the brave days of
old, the Roman Cincinnatus was called from his farm to assume command of
the national forces; and how, within the space of sixteen days, he put
the enemy to utter rout and confusion. You, senor, shall be our
Cincinnatus. Caballeros," he cried, rising and addressing the motley
throng in the courtyard, "the Senor Ingles is one of us. He espouses
the cause of liberty; he will strike with us against the tyrant. I call
upon you to acclaim our honoured guest with hearty vivas, and to drain
your copitas to the caballero who will lead us to success."
Thundering cheers broke from the men, and they were only too eager to
fill their cups and drink the health of the Senor Ingles and confusion
to the dictator. Romana smiled as he sat with Andrea and Juan at a
little distance from his master. What he had hoped had come to pass; the
senor was now a Mollendist. Tim also smiled, for a different reason.
"How do you like Cincinnatus O'Hagan?" he whispered slily in his
mother's ear.
But Mrs. O'Hagan's sense of humour was at the present moment clouded by
anxiety and misgiving.
"'Tis perfectly horrid," she said.
Mollendo had, in fact, jumped eagerly at the chance of securing Mr.
O'Hagan as an active associate. He was himself well advanced in years;
and though very popular with his followers, on whom he exercised a
magnetic influence by his personal courage and his oratorical gifts, he
had no military qualities or experience, and was conscious of his own
defects as a leader. Mr. O'Hagan, on the other hand, as he well knew,
had won a great repute as a soldier in the stormy days of the Chilian
war. His advice in matters of strategy and tactics would be invaluable.
He would bring to the cause just those factors of success in which
hitherto it had been lacking, and for the first time Mollendo saw the
gleam of coming triumph. Mrs. O'Hagan suffered many pangs as the
conversation proceeded. The two men were settling the basis of their
alliance. Mollendo was to retain the nominal command; the practical
control of the movements of his little force was to be in the hands of
Mr. O'Hagan. The good lady saw that her husband was back in the days of
his youth. He always threw himself heart and soul into whatsoever he
took up, and he discussed matters now with all the fire and eager
enthusiasm of a boy. His wife was troubled; and when she noticed with
what rapt attention Tim followed the talk, she made up her mind to drop
a word of caution later.
In the midst of the conversation a man came hurriedly into the
courtyard, and walking straight up to his leader saluted and said:
"Senor, I have news."
"What is it, Cristobal?"
"We were watching on the hills, senor, when we saw two parties drawing
near, the larger on the eastern track, the smaller on the western. We
hastened down to the fork, intending to give battle to them both; but
suddenly we saw the smaller party halt; from it a man came forward, but
presently hastened back again, and all his company retreated and
disappeared. At the fork we met the others, and gave them so warm a
reception that they withdrew towards the town. We followed them, but
they did not halt, so we returned to the fork, and there our people are
still posted."
"That is well, my son. The smaller party consisted of the Senor Ingles
and his family whom you see here. They are now supporters of our cause.
Carry that news to our men; it will encourage them. The senor was a
great captain in the army of Peru years ago.... Will the senora excuse
us for a few moments?" he asked, when the man had gone.
"You want to talk secrets, I suppose," said Mrs. O'Hagan; "but unless my
husband objects, I should prefer to know all your arrangements. Tim,"
she added in English, "I am not to be kept in the dark. I do not like
your turning yourself into a brigand, but I see your mind is made up.
Only don't do anything without telling me."
"Senor, my wife and I have no secrets," said Mr. O'Hagan. "You may
speak quite freely."
"What I had to say concerns the senora herself," said Mollendo. "This
is no place for a lady; nor should she be subjected to the fatigues and
dangers that we shall have to encounter. My wife lives peacefully in a
remote corner of the country some fifty miles from here in the hills,
and if the senora will deign to accept her hospitality----"
"Not at all, senor; I remain with my husband and son," said Mrs. O'Hagan
firmly.
"Perhaps the senor will command otherwise," suggested Mollendo, who was
not accustomed to domestic opposition.
From that moment Mrs. O'Hagan was his determined enemy. Mr. O'Hagan
hurriedly explained that he would discuss the matter with his wife in
private. He found an opportunity of doing so later in the day, when a
corner of the ruins had been prepared for their accommodation. He
pointed out that she would be unable to make the long and rapid marches
which irregular warfare entailed. Her presence, and the necessity of
protecting her, would be a source of weakness, possibly of disaster.
Mrs. O'Hagan recognised this, and after a time reluctantly agreed to
accept Senora Mollendo's hospitality.
"But I must take Tim with me," she said.
Mr. O'Hagan stroked his chin.
"The boy won't like that," he remarked.
"It will be for his good," she replied. "Surely you admit that fighting
with these desperadoes is not fit work for a boy of his age."
"As to that, there are many here no older. Age doesn't count in these
matters. He is perfectly healthy; he may be very useful to me, and the
experience will be invaluable to him."
"Am I to lose both of you?" cried the lady, much troubled. "If it were
for our own country I might endure it, like many another poor woman; but
to think of you throwing away your lives for this miserable country--oh!
it is too much."
Mr. O'Hagan was inclined to yield the point; but while he was still
hesitating, his wife, dashing the tears from her eyes, suddenly
forestalled him.
"I am an idiot," she said. "Of course the boy would eat his heart out
away from you. I mustn't look on the black side. But do take care of
him, won't you, Tim?"
And so it was settled that young Tim should remain with his father.
Next day Senor Mollendo provided an escort of half a dozen men, with
whom Mrs. O'Hagan set off for the long ride into the hills. Mr. O'Hagan
and Tim on horseback, each having a carbine, accompanied the party,
having decided to go half the way. They left the camp at its northern
side, and followed the track downward for several miles until it crossed
the river by a narrow stone bridge. Then their course led to the
north-west, the path rising steadily as it approached the spurs of the
Andes. Progress was very slow; the day was already far advanced when
they reached a little hut on the hill-side, about halfway to their
destination, where Senor Mollendo was accustomed to break his journey
when going to and fro between the camp and his home. Here they passed
the night. In the morning Mrs. O'Hagan took leave of her husband and
son, who watched her party until it disappeared along the winding track,
then silently sprang to their saddles and rode in the opposite
direction.
They had come within a few miles of the stone bridge over the river when
they caught sight simultaneously of a number of horsemen strung out
along the path far ahead, and riding towards them. Mr. O'Hagan felt the
lack of one of the prime necessities of a soldier--a field-glass.
"We must hide up until we see who they are," he said to Tim. "They
don't know how to order a march, at any rate."
The hill-side provided many convenient nooks for hiding and taking a
look-out. But only a few minutes had passed when Tim, from behind his
rock, called:
"It's old Mollendo, Father."
"Take care you don't call him that in the hearing of his men. It would
be a deadly insult. Better call him 'excellency.' I wonder what has
happened."
They returned to the track, and trotted downhill to meet the horsemen.
There was about them an air of depression which did not escape Mr.
O'Hagan. The explanation confirmed his foreboding.
"Good-day, senor," said Mollendo, with a graceful salutation as they
met. "I grieve to say that you behold me a fugitive."
"What, excellency! Has the usurper taken the field at last?"
"It seems so, senor general." (Tim grinned as these complimentary
titles passed.) "We were surprised at dawn by large numbers of the
enemy who had advanced along the route by which you came to my camp. My
sentries were, I fear, overcome by somnolence. The attack was so sudden
that I had no time to form my ranks; but in the half light some of us
were able to make our escape--some on horseback, others on foot. We are
scattered to the four winds; all our stores are lost; it is a sad
inauguration of our new alliance."
"Courage, excellency!" said Mr. O'Hagan. "We must consider how to
retrieve this mishap. Are you pursued?"
"Not for the last five miles, senor."
"Then we will halt here, and wait for our men to rejoin us. No doubt
some of them will come dropping in by and by. Let us ride forward,
excellency, and choose a position."
Meanwhile Tim, seeing Romana among the score of men who accompanied
Mollendo, rode up to him with an eager question.
"Where is my cycle?"
"There was not time to bring it, senorito; but I managed to hide it
under a heap of brushwood collected for the fires."
"They'll find it!" said Tim, his face falling.
"Perhaps we shall recapture the camp first. It was all I could do."
Tim thanked him, but felt that the chance of recovering his cycle was
small indeed.
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 Romana 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 Romana 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, Senor 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 Romana as the second scout, you
need have no fear; the boy will be safe with Romana, 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, Romana 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 Romana'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:
"Romana, I am going to get my bike."
CHAPTER XII
FREE WHEEL
Romana 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 L60 in London? Besides, I am not going to let the
Prefect's fellows have it."
"But consider," said Romana 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 Romana 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. Romana, 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
Romana.
"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, senorito? 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."
Romana 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 Romana 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 Romana 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 Romana 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 Romana 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 Senor 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. "Senor 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 Senor Mollendo entered, and Tim gave the story in Spanish for his
benefit.
"I congratulate you, my boy," said the leader warmly, "and you too,
senor, 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. Senor
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 L250," said Mollendo, with a conscious look.
"Let Romana 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 Romana 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 Romana 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 L30 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, senor 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
Romana 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 L30, and handed them to Tim. A
strange turn of Fortune's wheel, indeed!
Tim left the cave to find Romana, 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 Romana.
"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," Romana objected. "We cannot ride back
without petrol."
"True. Your friend Senor 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."
Romana 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
Senor 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.
Romana 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, senorito," said Romana, "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, senorito," said Romana.
"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, senorito, 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, Romana: 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."
Romana 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 Romana
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, senorito?"
"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 Senor 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."
Romana 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 Senor 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 Romana 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 Senor 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. Romana 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
Senor Durand's estate, with that running eastwards to his own home, and
with another going southwards and emerging into the main road from San
Rosario to San Juan. There were trees all around, and Tim decided to
climb into one that gave him a partial view of all the tracks.
He had not been long settled in his perch when he heard on his left the
sound of a horse trotting. Peering out through the foliage he presently
caught sight of young Felipe Durand, riding alone towards the town.
Tim, as we know, was impulsive; he often acted hastily, and sometimes
repented afterwards, though not so frequently as might have been
expected. When his friend was within a few yards of him, he hailed him
cautiously. Durand reined up with a start, and looked wonderingly about
him.
"Where are you?" he said, in a tone little above a whisper.
"Here, up a tree," replied Tim.
"You _are_ up a tree!" said Durand.
"Don't be an ass. Ride in and tie your horse up. I'm coming down to
talk to you. There's no one in sight."
Durand dismounted and led his horse some distance into the copse. There
Tim joined him.
"You are pretty mad," said Durand, "to come so close to the town. What
on earth are you up to?"
"Romana 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 L1000 and put him under arrest.
He has promised L500 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 Romana. 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 Romana arrived. He might get some
petrol himself. Romana 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 Senor 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 Romana'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 XV
THE RAID ON SAN ROSARIO
Tim was flushed with elation at his victory. With boyish impetuosity he
had flung himself into the affair without a thought of consequences. He
had driven away the interloper and regained possession of his father's
house: a feat of which he was inclined to be proud. As to the future
his mind was blank.
He was helping himself to some of the dainties on the table in the
dining-room when Romana rushed into the house.
"I'm here first, you see," said Tim, with a laugh. "Pardo has run
away."
"Por Dios, senorito! are you mad?" cried the man. "We shall have the
Prefect's men from the town upon us in little more than an hour. Come
away at once. We can take horses and ride into the hills before they
catch us."
"Wait a little," said Tim, sobered in a moment as he realised for the
first time what his impulsive action involved. "I can't run away and
leave the Japs to face it. It was all my fault."
"They must take their chance. They can hide in the plantations to-night
and make off to-morrow. There will be no more work for them here."
"But they can't get away in such a terrific hurry with their families
and belongings. The Prefect's men would hunt them down and serve them
as they've sometimes served the Indians. I'm responsible for them."
"This is folly!" cried Romana, who was much agitated. "You can do
nothing for them. There are not enough horses to carry them with us to
the hills, even if they could ride, and they would be overtaken if they
came on foot. Come, senorito, there is no time to lose."
"Don't talk: let me think," said Tim, leaning forward with his elbows on
the table and his head between his hands.
He was fully enlightened now. He saw what his rash act had led to.
These eighty Japanese labourers were not merely mutinous "hands"; they
would be regarded as rebels commanded by an acknowledged Mollendist. He
was responsible for them, and he knew enough about the Prefect's temper
to be sure that they would meet with no mercy at his hands. What could
he do for them? As soon as Pardo reached the town and told his story
there, without doubt a company of gendarmes and troopers would ride out
intent on vengeance. The situation seemed desperate.
Gone was now all feeling of triumph. Tim was simply miserable. It
would be useless to bring the Japanese into the house and attempt to
defend it. Even if they could maintain their position for a time they
could not beat off the enemy with bill-hooks against rifles, and before
long hundreds more would be summoned from San Juan. And then he started
up at a sudden recollection. Durand had told him that there were but a
hundred of the Prefect's men in San Rosario. The others were divided
between San Juan and the camp in the hills. Was it possible to lead the
Japanese into the town, swoop down upon the garrison, diminished by the
despatch of troopers to the hacienda, and at least arm his men? It
would be a desperate adventure, one not to be undertaken in cold blood;
but the men were seething with excitement and jubilant at their success;
and while they were in this temper they might be capable of actions
which at another time would appal them.
He jumped up and looked round for Romana. Seeing that he was not in the
room, he ran out into the patio and called for him. Romana hurried in
from the dark.
"I have two horses at the door, senorito," he said.
"Where are the Japs?" asked Tim.
"Out on the lawn. They are mad with joy. Come, senorito."
"I am going to lead them to the town," cried Tim, brushing past him and
going out through the shattered door. Romana stood for a moment
paralysed with amazement, then followed Tim, who was hurrying towards
the crowd. He heard him tell them what he intended to do; he heard them
shout with enthusiasm; then he rushed back to the house, sprang on one
of the horses, and galloped away into the darkness.
Tim explained to the men in detail, as quickly as the points occurred to
him, what course he proposed to take. He would march rapidly to the
town, enter by the east end, the quietest quarter, and lead them to the
barracks. Only a few men were there; and if the attackers moved
quietly, they might hope to surprise the garrison, seize the building,
and supply themselves with arms from the armoury. He knew that some of
the workers had pistols. These he sent to their huts to fetch their
weapons, bidding them run all the way there and back. There was not a
moment to lose; it was now a quarter of an hour since Pardo fled; by
this time he was probably a third of the way to the town.
Impressing on the men that haste and silence were essential, Tim
returned to the house in search of Romana. But Romana was not to be
found. Seeing one horse where there had been two just before, Tim leapt
to the conclusion that the man had taken fright and made good his own
escape. His lip curled with disdain of his cowardice. He found Biddy
Flanagan, told her to keep the servants quiet and attend to Captain
Pierola, who lay wounded on the floor of the patio, then picked up the
rifles which the gendarmes had cast aside in their hasty flight, and
carried them out to the men. A few minutes afterwards he put himself at
the head of the column, now increased by a score of Cholos, eager to
share in the adventure, and set off at a rapid pace along the track to
San Rosario.
He had spoken boldly and cheerfully to the men, but his mind was dark
with misgiving. He could not be charged with lack of forethought now.
As he marched his brain was busy. Nobody in San Rosario would dream of
the audacious movement he was leading; no special guard would be
maintained at the barracks; with the advantage of surprise he felt that
a sudden swift onslaught might win the place. But what then? In a day
or two at the most he would be besieged by an overwhelming force, and,
unless aided by a popular rising against the Prefect, his little band of
untrained men must be annihilated. The one consolation was that by a
preliminary success he would certainly gain time; and recollecting that
the Japanese, if they had remained on the plantation, or fled over the
open country, would have been at the mercy of pursuing cavalry, he felt
that the course he had chosen was the wisest in the circumstances.
After marching for nearly a mile along the track, he struck off to the
left, over a marshy wilderness that lay between it and the highroad east
of the town. By this time, no doubt, a detachment of mounted men was
already riding out to deal with the mutiny. Pardo would have seen to
that. They would follow the direct path; it was essential that they
should neither see nor hear the body of men hastening in the opposite
direction.
Ten minutes after he had quitted the track, he heard the thud of hoofs
and the clinking of metal in the distance. He instantly called a halt,
waited until the sounds had dwindled away behind him, then hurried on
still more rapidly than before. The diminution of the garrison would
render his task easier; but it was important that he should accomplish
it before the horsemen, finding that the birds were flown, had time to
return to the town. Luckily he knew every yard of the ground, and chose
his route unerringly even before the distant lights of San Rosario came
into view to give him guidance.
Fifty minutes after starting he reached the eastern outskirts of the
town. This was the best quarter. A few substantial houses were
scattered irregularly, surrounded by their gardens, and separated by
crooked streets and lanes which all debouched upon the plaza. It was in
one of these streets, on the opposite side of the plaza from the
gobernador's house, that the barracks were situated--a large two-storey
building, once a mansion, but now reserved for the accommodation of the
gendarmes and the irregular troops of the Prefect whenever great
occasions brought them from San Juan. The outlying streets were
strangely quiet, though a murmurous hum came from the direction of the
plaza. Choosing the narrowest and least frequented lane, Tim led his
silent force to the end of the street of the barracks.
Meanwhile the centre of the town was in a ferment of excitement. The
arrival of the fugitives with news of the revolt led by the outlawed
Ingles, the attack on the house, the murder (thus it was exaggerated) of
Captain Pierola, was like the coming of a whirlwind. The wildest
rumours flew through the town, and the whole populace flocked into the
plaza to discuss them. One of the two lieutenants in the barracks
immediately set off with a troop for the hacienda; the other, summoned
from the house where he had been dining, sent a second troop into the
plaza to keep order and check any revolutionary demonstration to which
the news of the outbreak might give rise. Thus all things conspired to
favour the bold plan which Tim had conceived.
The barracks occupied almost the whole of one side of the short street.
Wide gates gave entrance to an open porch that cut the building in two.
It was flanked on both sides by the lower floor, devoted to stores.
Staircases led to the upper floor, in which were, on one side the
quarters of the men, on the other the guardroom and armoury. Both right
and left a palisaded balcony overlooked the porch. Beyond this was a
long rectangular patio, bounded on three sides by the stables. The
patio was surrounded by a high wall abutting on the gardens of the
surrounding villas.
During the daytime the front gates were constantly open, and a sentry
marched up and down the porch between the street and the patio. At
night they were shut, and the sentry occupied his box just within. Tim
had debated on the way whether to scale the rear wall or to rush the
front entrance, and decided that the latter course had the better
promise of success. The wall was spiked; if they safely surmounted it,
to descend on the stable roof would cause a commotion among the horses,
and before they could reach the main building they would have to cross
the whole width of the patio, perhaps in the face of a hot fire. If the
front gates were shut, the wicket would no doubt be opened in answer to
a knock. Then his plan was to seize and silence the sentry, and send
his men up the stairs, if possible before the alarm was given.
He halted at the end of the street, which was not overlooked by houses,
and glanced up it towards the plaza. To his surprise and joy he saw a
bar of light across the roadway at the position of the gates. They were
open: evidently the surprising events of the evening had led to a
modification or the neglect of the usual arrangements. The street was
empty. Passing word along the line that the men were to follow at his
heels as quickly as possible, he rushed along towards the open gates.
Within the porch the sentry at his box was talking to two of his
comrades who, with their coats loosened, were leaning over the railing
of the balcony on the guardroom side. The attackers had come within a
few yards of the gates before the sound of their hurrying feet was
audible above the hum of the excited crowd in the plaza. It awakened no
alarm or suspicion; but the sentry moved leisurely to the street to see
what was happening. He had just reached the gates when, before he could
cry out, he was hurled to the ground, and a crowd of men dashed past and
over him into the porch. The two men above stared in bewilderment for a
moment; then, partially realising the situation, they ran back into the
guardroom shouting with alarm.
By this time Tim was half-way up the stairs on that side. Some of his
men followed closely; others were springing up the opposite staircase.
As yet not a shot had been fired. But as Tim reached the balcony half a
dozen mestizo soldiers of the Prefect came tumbling out of the
guardroom, some loading their rifles, some hastily flinging on their
bandoliers. Tim shouted to them to surrender, emphasising the demand
with a shot from his revolver. At such close quarters they could not
fire their rifles. The suddenness of the attack, and the sight of the
swarm of Japanese and Cholos pressing on with billhooks, struck them
with panic. All but two threw down their arms at once; one struck at
Tim with his clubbed rifle; Tim dodged the blow, and throwing out his
left foot behind his opponent, flung himself with all his weight against
the man and hurled him backwards to the floor. The sixth man ran to the
window opening on the patio, and sprang out, falling with a crash. It
was afterwards discovered that his arm was broken.
On the other side, meanwhile, a brisk fight was in progress. There were
a dozen men in quarters, including the second lieutenant. All the rest
were in the plaza or had gone to Mr. O'Hagan's hacienda. Roused by the
noise, they seized their arms and rushed to the balcony. The officer
reached the head of the staircase at the same moment as the first of the
Japanese, and instantly dropped him with a revolver shot. This
momentarily checked the assailants, giving time to the troopers to come
forward to the lieutenant's support. When Tim, after his bloodless
victory, ran back to the balcony, he saw on the opposite side a confused
mass of men in hand-to-hand fight, hacking at each other with rifles,
swords and billhooks. He could not fire for fear of hitting one of his
own party. Leaping down the staircase, he dashed across the porch, up
the other stairs, and flinging himself into the midst of the melee,
brought the butt of his revolver down heavily on the officer's head, at
the same time crying to the Peruvians that all was lost. They were
already hard pressed; seeing their officer fall, and more Japanese and
Cholos mounting behind the lad with the ruddy cheeks and fair hair, they
gave up the unequal contest.
Locking them in their rooms, Tim hurried down to the porch. He ordered
some of his men to close and bar the gates, and led another party up to
find the armoury beyond the guardroom. The door of it was locked, but
he burst the lock with a shot from his revolver, and, ordering the men
to go in and help themselves, he ran back, recalled by a clamour at the
gates.
On reaching the balcony, he found his men at grips with a number of the
enemy who had been patrolling the plaza on horseback, and hearing the
shots had galloped down the street to discover their cause. The greater
number of Tim's party being on the floor above, the Peruvians had been
strong enough to prevent the closing of the gates, and some had already
penetrated into the porch. Tim sang out to the men behind him in the
guardroom and armoury to line the balcony, and fired down among the
enemy. He was soon joined by a dozen eager Japanese. At his order they
poured a volley into the crowd below, taking care not to hit their
comrades, who were partially sheltered behind the half-open gates. The
horsemen, thrown into confusion by this deadly attack from above, tried
to wheel their horses and ride back into the street. This made the
confusion worse than before. The horses plunged with fright and pain;
several of the riders reeled from their saddles; in a few seconds the
survivors fled in hopeless rout. The moment the last had gone the gates
were slammed behind them and barred.
Running to a window overlooking the street, Tim saw more horsemen
galloping from the plaza, followed by a shouting mob. He called his
newly-armed men to his side, and ordered them to fire as soon as the
troopers reached the barracks. One volley was enough. The horsemen
reined up, wheeled about, and rode back in disorder, driving the
shrieking crowd before them. The barracks were won.
CHAPTER XVI
A SIEGE AND A SORTIE
Tim had learnt his lesson against premature exultation. He did not at
the barracks, as at the hacienda, allow his wits to be lulled by the
heady incense of success. The flight of the troopers, the secure
barring of the gates, gave him a breathing space in which he envisaged
very clearly the dangers of his situation.
He was not much troubled about the men whom he had just defeated. They
would probably take no further action until rejoined by the strong party
who had ridden out to the hacienda. How long would that be? Nobody at
the house would tell them in what direction the insurgents had marched.
The Peruvian officer might suppose that they had fled to the hills, and
if he pursued, it would be many hours before he could return with his
troopers to San Rosario. But it was not unlikely that they had heard the
sounds of firing, which would travel far across the open country in the
night. In that case the party would gallop back at once. No doubt a
messenger had already ridden from the town to acquaint them with what
had happened, so that in all probability they would return within two
hours. It was now nearly nine o'clock; by eleven the combined force,
outnumbering Tim's band, would for their own credit's sake try to
recapture the barracks. Behind walls Tim felt that he had a fair chance
against them.
But this was only the first and the least of the dangers he had to
anticipate. There were two hundred or more men in Mollendo's old camp
in the hills: the news of the outbreak at the hacienda might already
have been conveyed to them, with a summons to ride back to the town. If
they started as soon as the call reached them, they might arrive by six
or seven o'clock; but Tim hoped that with Spanish procrastination they
would put off their departure until the morning. There was a much more
pressing peril. San Juan was only thirty miles away--ten miles nearer
than the Inca camp. The Prefect was there! Doubtless he was possessed
of full information, flashed to him from San Rosario by telegraph.
Spanish though he was by blood and habit, he was prompt and vigorous in
action; and with his present authority and future security at stake he
would surely set off within a little of receiving the news--perhaps was
already hurrying across the hills. The road was bad; a march by night
could not be fast; but even at the worst, by five o'clock an
overwhelming force might be pouring into the town.
Tim wished that he had had the forethought to send a man to cut the
telegraph wire. That would have gained five hours at the least. But he
could not think of everything; he was as yet a novice in things
military; and he had had no one with whom to take counsel. He reflected
bitterly on Romana's desertion. Romana was not a soldier; but he was
twice Tim's age; he had had some experience with the Mollendists, and
was shrewd and far-seeing. Tim was surprised and angry to find that the
man was apparently a coward.
Thrown upon his sole resources, Tim tried to think of some means of
meeting the threatening dangers. His case would be hopeless as soon as
the Prefect arrived with his main body of troops, unless--Tim grasped
eagerly at an idea that had flashed upon him. If he could send a message
to his father, the Mollendists, though ill-equipped and weak in numbers,
might push down from the hills by way of the river bed and reach San
Rosario in time to give him help. But they were twenty miles beyond the
Inca camp, and could not arrive before the Prefect unless the approach
of the force from San Juan could be hindered. That was not impossible.
A few men posted on the hill road just above the place where the
Mollendists had snapped up the gobernador could hold in check a much
larger number in the darkness, and gain a few precious hours. Tim
resolved to attempt both--to despatch a messenger to his father, and a
little band to the defile on the high road to San Juan.
He had just risen from his seat in the guardroom to select men for these
tasks when there was a commotion below--a shout of alarm, followed by a
moment's silence, then a cheer. He looked over the balcony, and saw
Romana pushing his way from the patio through the crowd of Japanese and
Cholos to the foot of the staircase.
"You are safe, senorito?" Romana called, seeing Tim looking down at him.
Tim did not reply: he felt hurt and indignant.
"You come when the fight is over," he said, when Romana joined him. "I
thought I could trust you."
"Caramba, senorito, what do you mean?" cried Romana, his usual
forbearance giving way under a rush of hot blood. "Do you take me for a
coward? I have saved you from making a thorough mess of your own hasty
scheme. You did not think of the telegraph wire: I did. That is all."
"You have cut it?"
"Yes. I galloped straight to the road. I hope I cut the wire before
Pardo reached the town."
"Forgive me, Nicolas," said Tim penitently, grasping his hand. "I am an
ass. I ought to have known you had not deserted me."
"Say no more, senorito," said Romana, cooling at once. "I am rejoiced
at your success. But there is still much to do."
"How did you get in?"
"I climbed the wall and got over the stable roof. That must be guarded,
senorito. When the men come from the hacienda they will certainly try to
get in. The Prefect will hang them if they do not recapture the place."
"It shall be done: I ought to have seen to it before, but I have been
thinking of other things."
He went on to tell Romana his recent decisions.
"I thought of both, senorito," said the man. "I debated whether to ride
at once from the road to Senor O'Hagan; it would have gained much time;
but I felt that I must first see what had become of you. The duty is
mine: I know the way: no one else does. Give me a dozen men; we will
sally out on horseback down the street and get away before the men in
the plaza are ready to pursue us. Galdos has my horse in the wood half
a mile away, but I need a fresh one."
"What about the supplies?" asked Tim, remembering the errand on which
they had come.
"I took out two laden mules to the place where we had arranged to meet.
Finding that you were not there, I tied them up in the wood and went to
the house to fetch petrol, as I promised. Little did I imagine what I
should see there!"
"I got tired of waiting and went myself. There are several petrol cans
in the shrubbery. Of course I had no intention of fighting; but I
simply couldn't stand Pardo thrashing Asumi, and when the other Japs
began to attack I saw a chance. It was a mad thing to do: I didn't look
ahead."
"It may turn out to be the best thing that could possibly have happened.
But I must go, senorito; time is precious."
They went down to the stables together, and chose twelve of the best
horses. Then they selected eleven of the Cholos, who were quite at home
on horseback. Tim explained the nature of the service required of them.
They were eager to start. The lamp in the entrance was extinguished.
Tim kept watch on the street from the window of the guardroom, with
several men armed with rifles. The bars were quickly removed; the gates
were thrown open; and the twelve men sallied out, turned to the right,
and galloped at full speed down the street. There was instantly a rush
from the plaza. But a volley from the windows checked the oncomers, and
they fell back. Tim knew that before they could ride through the plaza,
and down a side street in pursuit, the fugitives would have a start of
at least half a mile. The gates were again closed and barred, and
silence fell once more upon the scene.
Tim had little anxiety about Romana. On reaching the outskirts of the
town, he would follow a track parallel with a stream--the same which
flowed past Romana's cave--cross it a few miles to the west, then
proceed across open country until he came to a wooden bridge over the
river. He would then take to the high road, and in the course of little
more than two hours arrive at the defile where Senor Fagasta had been
captured. There posting the men, he would return to the river, and ride
more rapidly upon the hard sand at the edge of the channel. In five or
six hours he should reach the Mollendist camp. With nearly sixty miles
to march, Mr. O'Hagan could not reach San Rosario before late on the
next afternoon, even if he started with his mounted men only. But if
the men posted at the defile were successful in delaying the Prefect's
advance, the time gained might be enough to allow the Mollendists to
secure the town.
Romana's forethought in cutting the wire had diminished the most serious
of Tim's anxieties. The telegraphist at San Rosario, of course, would
soon have discovered the damage by the failure of response from San
Juan, and after a certain delay no doubt a mounted courier had been
despatched to convey the news--possibly a considerable party, for
protection against enemies along the road. In all probability news of
the affair at the hacienda had only just reached the Prefect, who might
reasonably regard it as a trumpery disturbance that could be left to his
subordinates. It would be some hours yet before he learnt of the attack
on the barracks, and even if he then started immediately, Romana would
have placed his men on the defile before the force from San Juan could
arrive.
When the gates had been secured, Tim had the lamp relit and called a
parade of his men in the patio. His losses had been slight. Of the
eighty-two left to him, seventy-five were still fit for service. All
but eight were now armed with rifles; for the eight there were swords,
bayonets, and lances, if they wished for other weapons than their own
bill-hooks. A large proportion of the Japanese, having served in their
national army, were expert with the rifle; and as there was plenty of
ammunition in the armoury, and food in the stores on the ground floor,
Tim felt himself very well situated, whether to withstand a siege or to
repel an attack.
After parading the men, he told off a number of them to hold the roof of
the stables on three sides of the patio. The rest were posted at all
the windows overlooking the street. The rooms were left in darkness.
About an hour after Romana's departure the sounds from the plaza, which
had died down into a dull murmur, suddenly revived. Shouts and cheers
mingled with the clatter of hoofs and the jingle of accoutrements. The
party from the hacienda had returned. Tim sent word to the men on the
stables to be on the alert.
Some time passed. The plaza had again relapsed into silence. Tim
guessed that the enemy were organising an attack. He wondered whether
they would attempt an assault on the gates, or trust to escalading the
patio walls. The gates were of hard wood studded with iron; the bars
were stout; it would not be easy to break them down. If the enemy once
forced their way in and made good their position, they would have
command of the s
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