he number of their enemy almost to a man, and had
learned the most effective method of attack. Generally speaking, the
little body of Spanish soldiers had no chance whatever, either of
flight or of victory.

From time to time strange and startling rumours reached us. In
September we heard that the Chilian army had landed on the coast, and
soon afterwards that the Englishman Cochrane had swept the Spanish
fleet from the seas. Jose had often spoken of this daring sailor, who,
after performing many glorious deeds in the British navy, had taken
command of the Chilian fleet, and had done much to make Chili
independent of Spain. Now, with his ships and sailors, he was helping
to do the same for Peru.

On hearing these things I became impatient, not wishing to remain
cooped up in the valley while the Liberating Army was marching on Lima.

However, my deliverance, though slow in coming, came at length, but
before that time I had a most startling surprise. One morning, in the
last week of January 1821, I had gone out very early, half expecting to
see Quilca returning from one of his excursions. Most of the Indians
were astir, when suddenly a man came running from the mouth of the pass.

"Here they are!" he cried; "here they are!"

We pushed down quickly to meet them, I in the very front. Quilca
appeared first, riding slowly, as if his horse were tired out. His
men, lolling on their animals, followed, some of them with closed eyes
and half asleep.

Presently I caught sight of Sorillo's messenger, nearly at the end of
the line; and then I opened my eyes wide, thinking they had played me
false. Was I awake, or was I dreaming? Was I--

"Jack!"

That settled it! The Indians stared in astonishment, as with a
startled cry I ran past them to where in the rear a man had jumped from
his horse to the ground.

"Jose!" I cried, "Jose!" and for the life of me could say no more, but
stood staring at him as if he had been some strange, unnatural animal.

Had I the skill of an artist, I should love to draw his face as he
looked into mine. It was strong and firm and purposeful, but the gray
eyes softened into almost womanly tenderness.

"Why, Jack," said he, shifting the reins and laying a hand on my
shoulder, "you're quite a man! Your mother would be proud of you!"

"Have you seen her?" I asked.

"Yes; all's well at home. But we'll talk of that later on. So you've
turned Indian, eh?"

"It's better than living in