e hut I met General Miller.

"Poor fellow!" he said, when I told him of Santiago's state. "I will
come with you. I remember him well."

Just as we were moving on, we met General Sucre accompanied by a
Spanish officer, who on seeing Miller ran forward and embraced him.

"I know you!" he cried. "I am Valdes. You and I must be friends."
Then turning to General Sucre, he added, "This Miller has often kept us
on the move. I am called active; but he was a regular wizard--here,
there, everywhere, without giving a clue to his intentions until he
dealt us some sly blow."

I looked at this celebrated Spanish general with a great deal of
interest. He was a small, spare man, with keen eyes and rough,
weather-beaten face. He wore a broad-brimmed beaver hat, a coarse gray
surtout, and long brown worsted leggings. He stooped slightly, and to
judge by appearances, one would never have thought he was perhaps the
finest soldier in the Spanish service.

Sucre left the two chatting, and presently Miller said, "I was just
going to visit one of your men, a Colonel Mariano. Do you know him?"

"Mariano? He was my best cavalry officer. It was he who helped me to
cut up your rearguard some time ago, and to drive back your left wing
yesterday. I'll come with you."

"He will be very pleased to see you, no doubt.--You go first and show
us the way, Crawford."

Santiago lay with closed eyes, breathing so faintly that at first we
thought he was dead.

"Santiago," I softly whispered, "do you know me? I have brought you a
visitor."

His eyes opened slowly, and there was a fleeting smile in them, but he
did not speak.

"Colonel!" said Valdes, stepping to the side of the bench. The sound
of that voice brought the poor fellow for a short time from the Valley
of the Shadow. By some extraordinary means he managed to sit up
without assistance, raised his hand to the salute, and in a clear,
ringing voice exclaimed, "At your service, general!"

It was the last act of his life. On placing my arm round him to
prevent him from falling, I found he was dead.

"A fine fellow," said General Miller quietly.

"A thorough soldier to the end!" cried the Spanish general.

I said nothing, but mourned none the less the true friend I had found
in the ranks of our enemies.

We were very quiet in camp that day. The excitement of battle had
passed, and we were counting the cost of our triumph. Many familiar
faces were missing, and the death