, and our only shelter was a cluster of
miserable Indian huts, where we passed all our time when not on duty.
Often I returned to my cheerless quarters cold, shivering, and
drenched, yet with no change of clothing.

To add to our misfortunes, it was rumoured that the various Royalist
armies, having united, were marching to attack us; so for days together
we were kept on the alert, riding for hours over the desolate country
and returning thoroughly exhausted.

One evening early in November I got back after a twenty miles' ride
with a small patrol, and found the camp in a state of confusion.

"What is it, Alzura? what's all the fuss about?" I asked, wearily
getting off my mule--for we rode horses only when absolutely necessary.

"Oh, my dear Juan, you will be delighted," he replied, his face
brimming with fun. "We are just going back to Challuanca. The viceroy
is somewhere in our rear with all his army, and we have to run for it."

"My animal is dead-beat," said I gloomily.

"You must walk, and lead both animals. Never mind, dear boy; the
excitement will keep you going," he answered, laughing.

"Hullo! is it you, Crawford? In luck's way again! And I've been
worrying about your being left behind," said Plaza, coming up.

I did not exactly see where the luck came in; but the sound of the
bugle cut short my reply, and I took my place in the column. That
march was the longest twelve miles I remember. Sometimes riding,
sometimes walking, aching in every limb, and more than half asleep, I
plodded along the rocky path, dreamily wondering at every step whether
I could take another. As soon as we arrived at Challuanca I just lay
down on the bare ground, and was fast asleep in a second.

It was daylight when the sounds of bugles awakened me, and I rose
sleepily. The army had disappeared, with the exception of our
squadron, which I afterwards found formed part of the rearguard.

"Come on, sleepy-head," sang out Alzura, "or you'll get no breakfast.
I've seen to your animals. A wonder they didn't kick you to death in
the night!"

"The poor beasts were too tired to have a kick left in them. Where's
General Sucre?"

"Going on to a place called Lambrama. Do you know Miller is a
prisoner?"

"A prisoner? I don't believe it."

"It's true, nevertheless. His scouting party has returned without him.
From what I can hear, we're in a tight fix."

According to rumour, Alzura was right; but after a long and wearisom