e
march we reached Lambrama, where General Sucre halted. During the
afternoon, while we rested in the valley, a great shout from the troops
on our right brought us to our feet, and we saw a soldier on a
beautiful white horse descending a pass into the valley.

"That's General Miller's horse!" I cried excitedly.

"And the general's on its back!" said Plaza. "Viva! viva Miller!" And
the cry was taken and repeated by thousands of lusty throats.

I had witnessed San Martin's brilliant reception, and had seen Bolivar
feted by his admirers; but this outburst was the most remarkable of
all. One would have thought the general was a personal friend of every
man in the army.

Each battalion, as he passed it, broke into renewed cheering, the men
flung their caps into the air, and the whole scene was one of amazing
enthusiasm. The general rode along slowly, and his smiling face showed
how greatly he was touched by his reception.

"The man's a marvel!" exclaimed Plaza admiringly. "Look at him! One
would think he had just come from a pleasure-trip instead of being
hunted through the mountains. I warrant the viceroy would count his
capture cheap at half a million dollars."

"Say a million, and it would still be cheap," said Alzura; and most of
us agreed with him.

General Miller apparently brought important information, as, shortly
after his arrival, orders were issued for a fresh start. I need not
dwell long upon our sufferings during that disastrous retreat. The
Royalists had outmarched us, and, hoping to stop our advance, closed
many of the defiles and destroyed the bridges by which we should have
crossed the numerous rivers.

Several times we caught a glimpse of the enemy, and one night the
hostile armies bivouacked within two miles of each other, but separated
by a deep and rugged valley. The terrible march was so weakening us
that many officers hoped the enemy would attack at once. But this the
viceroy, who was a clever old soldier, would not do. His plan was to
wear us down by degrees and only fight at an advantage.

For several days we remained watching each other, but on November 25th
the Royalists disappeared, and Sucre immediately made preparations to
cross the valley. A swollen river lay in our path; the bridge was
destroyed, and there was no material with which to build another.

The crossing was simply terrible. The weather was intensely cold, and
even at the ford the infantry were breast high