ll hear news of us from time to time."

"Good news too, I hope, colonel.--Good-bye, Zuviria, Alzura, and all of
you. I hope you've shipped a schoolmaster," and with that parting shot
I ran down to the quay.

The Peruvians were on board the _O'Higgins_; but there were several
other vessels, and presently they all stood out of the bay amidst a
regular salvo of cheering from the spectators.

I returned to Lima feeling rather gloomy, but Lieutenant-Colonel
Videla, who commanded our second battalion, gave me little time for
brooding. Fresh recruits were coming in every day, and the work of
attending to them kept me employed for weeks. There was still a
Patriot army encamped outside Lima, but it did nothing, though who was
to blame I could not say.

About the end of the year, vague yet disquieting rumours began to
circulate in the city. It was said that our troops in the south had
met with defeat, had been cut to pieces and practically swept out of
existence. The victorious Spaniards, uniting all their forces, were
making ready for a swoop on Lima. Everything was lost!

Don Felipe brought us the news, and it was easy to see, in spite of his
talk, that it did not displease him.

"We shall have to call in Bolivar now," said he, "or make peace with
the viceroy. Of course you and I will suffer. Our estates will be
confiscated; we shall probably be thrown into prison; but we are good
patriots, and will not shrink from our duty."

"If the others agree with me," replied my father, "we shall neither
call in Bolivar nor make peace. There is still an army left!"

"Just so, but we cannot trust it. The troops are almost in open
rebellion, and this news will not quiet them."

"We do not yet know that it is true."

"I am sure of it," said our neighbour hastily. "I have--that is to
say, there can be no doubt of it."

A week or two later--January 20, 1823, to be precise--there walked into
the quarters of the second battalion a young officer. His face was
white and drawn, his eyes were sunken; he looked so pitifully weak and
ill that at first I failed to recognize him.

"Well, Crawford," he exclaimed, "am I as changed as all that? Don't
you know your old chum Alzura when you see him?"

"Alzura?" I echoed, aghast.

"All that is left of him."

"Where is the first battalion?"

Spreading his hands out dramatically, he said, "Haven't you heard?
Don't you know what has happened at Torata and Moquegua?"

"I have he