where,
much to my satisfaction, the colonel received from Lima news of an
armistice. This, of course, extended to all parts of the country; but
I was mistaken in thinking it would increase my leisure, as my time was
still kept fully occupied.

In one way this was a good thing, as it kept me from brooding over
Santiago's story, though even at the busiest times the thought of my
father's fate would creep into my mind. I saw nothing of Jose, who had
been left behind with some Indians to hold a mountain pass, but
occasionally I paid a brief visit to the Spanish prisoners for a chat
with the friendly major.

We had been at Tacna a month, when one evening Colonel Miller said
abruptly: "Crawford, the armistice is at an end, and we must retreat.
Tell Videla to send the stores and the sick to Arica the first thing in
the morning; then carry this order to Ilo. You will find three small
brigs there; they are to sail at once for Arica. Take Castro the guide
with you, and rejoin me on the march to Arica."

"Very good, sir," I replied, though my words belied my feelings.
However, I went out, gave Videla the colonel's message, and hunted up
the guide.

Castro was an educated Indian, trained by one of the missionaries, and
a very decent fellow. I found him sound asleep; but he rose at once,
looked to see if his bag of coca was full, loaded his pistols, and
saddled his horse.

"A pleasant night for a ride, lieutenant,"--the colonel had given me
that rank,--"and every yard will take us further from the Spaniards. I
hear that La Hera is getting ready to swoop."

"He will find his pigeon a hawk if he comes too close," I answered,
laughing. "Bring your horse, and wait for me at the hospital."

The night was still young, and many people, civilians and military,
were in the street, talking in excited whispers. It was plain that
they had heard of La Hera's approach, and were discussing what they
knew of the colonel's plans.

Soon, however, the town was left behind, and we had fairly started on
our journey. There was no danger in it, except that of getting lost,
which, with Castro for a guide, was not likely to happen. He knew the
district as well as, perhaps better than, I knew the streets of Lima.

We jogged along quietly till midnight, not wishing to tire the animals,
and then stopped near the edge of a sandy desert for an hour's rest.
By this time I had begun to hate the very sight of sand; it seemed to
me more dreary