d
sorrowfully at its calm waters and fern-fringed border. I would have
liked to linger a moment at its margin, dwelling on past joys; but Jose
hurried me on, remarking there was no time to waste.

Only, as the great gates swung open, he let me stop, so that I might
bid a silent adieu to the beautiful home where my happy days of
childhood had been passed.

"Keep a brave heart," said he kindly; "we shall be back some day. And
now for a word of advice. Ride carefully and keep your eyes open. I
don't want to frighten you, but the sooner we're clear of Lima the
better I shall be pleased."

With that he put spurs to his horse, and with the clanging of the gate
in our ears we rode off on the road to Callao, while the gigantic
Indian followed about twenty paces behind.

CHAPTER II.

AN EXCITING VOYAGE.

It may be that Jose's fears on my account had exaggerated the danger,
as we reached Callao without interruption, and dismounted outside Mr.
Warren's villa. Here the Indian took leave of us, but before going he
unfastened a silver key from the chain round his neck, and pressed it
into my hand.

"It may happen," said he, "that at some time or other you will need
help. That key and the name of Raymon Sorillo will obtain it for you
from every patriot in the mountains of Peru. For the present,
farewell. When you return from Chili we shall meet again."

Without waiting for my thanks he bade adieu to Jose and then, spurring
his horse into a gallop, he disappeared.

From the man who opened the gate in answer to our summons we learned
that my father's friend was at home, and leaving our horses, we went
immediately into the house. This English merchant had often been our
guest, and it was soon abundantly evident that we had done right in
trusting him. He was a short, round-faced man, with a florid
complexion, twinkling eyes, and sandy hair. He was very restless and
irritable, and had a queer habit of twiddling his thumbs backward and
forward whenever his hands were unoccupied.

"How do, Joseph?" exclaimed he, jumping up. "Come to take that berth I
offered you? No? Well, well, what a fool a man can be if he tries!
Why, bless me, this is young Jack Crawford! Eight miles from home, and
at this time of night too! Anything the matter? Get it out, Joseph,
and don't waste time."

While Joseph was explaining the circumstances, the choleric little man
danced about the room, exclaiming at intervals, "Ted Crawfo