ted the rank of lieutenant.

"I do not know, general," I replied.

"Your Excellency!" corrected one of the officers standing near.

"Let him alone!" cried Bolivar; "he is a soldier, and 'general' comes
more naturally to his lips.--Where are the dispatches?"

I presented them.

"Humph! enough work here for the rest of the day," said he on glancing
through them.--"Garcia," turning to one of the officers, "countermand
the reception; I shall be too busy.--Ah, here is a letter from Miller!
I see he commends you very highly, young man, and desires to bring you
to my notice. There is nothing I like so much as rewarding true
merit.--Garcia, make out Lieutenant Crawford's commission as captain in
the Hussars of Junin, for bravery on the field.--I congratulate you,
captain. I see by your face you are anxious to go."

After thanking him for my promotion, I said, "Yes, general; I have not
seen my father and mother for a very long time."

"Your father--ah, now I remember. He is no friend to me--would be glad
to see me out of Peru, in fact, eh? Well, I shall go some day. But he
is a true man for all that, and an Englishman. I love the English.
Perhaps it is as well for your father that I do. Tell him, Captain
Crawford, that Bolivar has some good points."

"He has already recognized them, general," I answered.

"He conceals his discovery well, then. But I will not keep you longer.
Present yourself at my levee in the morning, and don't forget to wear
that extra band of lace."

"There is no fear of that, general," said I, with a smile; "I am too
proud of the honour."

Apparently the remark pleased him, as he was very gracious when I took
my leave, though the officers-in-waiting looked at me as if I had been
overbold.

Out again into the street. The crowd had dispersed, and only a few
people were about as I once more mounted my jaded animal. Now for
home! Forward, good horse! My spirits rose with every step; the tired
feeling left me; I could have sung aloud for very joy.

The sight of the Montilla hacienda sobered my happiness somewhat. The
grounds were trim and well-kept, but the dwelling looked untenanted.
What had become of Rosa? Perhaps--yes, that must be it--she was
staying with my mother. I urged my horse into a spasmodic gallop, but
the poor beast soon resumed his old pace.

There was a horse behind me, though, that could gallop. I turned
quickly to see who the rider was, and laughed gaily.

"Wh