a cell!"

"So it is; and you didn't go down in the ship, after all?"

"No; but I must tell you the story when you've had something to eat.
Give your horse to this youngster, and now come on to Quilca's hut; you
must be tired."

"I was," replied he, "but the sight of you woke me up. I wondered if
you'd be waiting to see the braves come home. That Quilca of yours is
a born soldier. He'd make a good general if they didn't train him!"

He rattled on, and I listened, glad just to hear the sound of his
voice, without reference to what he said.

Quilca bade us welcome to the hut, and his womenfolk brought in the
food and drink they had prepared.

Jose, as I have said, knew the Indian patois, which during the meal, he
used for the benefit of our host, whose Spanish was rather halting. He
talked of the war, and told how the Chilians had landed, and how the
Royalists were broken up and in full retreat. The campaign, he said,
was as good as over, and San Martin could be President of Peru any day
he chose.

At that I was much astonished, for knowing the Spanish leaders, I had
expected them to fight to the death; but it was pleasing news, all the
same, and I began to speculate on how soon we should be in Lima.

After breakfast Jose had a long nap, and then I took him for a stroll
in the valley, where we could talk without interruption.

I was anxious to hear about my mother, but first I told my own
story--the rescue by the Spanish soldiers, the coming of General
Barejo, and the power of the silver key, as also the escape by the
underground passage, just as I have related it here.

"Barejo's a dangerous man," remarked Jose thoughtfully. "He'll spend
the last drop of blood in his body to keep this country for Spain.
He's Loyalist and Royalist to the core. It's a pity, too, because he
is fighting for a lost cause."

"The more honour to him!" I answered warmly.

"Just so," exclaimed Jose, with a queer smile; "but, all the same, he
makes things more difficult for us."

"Well, put him on one side now. Tell me your own adventures, and where
you were when my message reached Lima."

"On the way there. When the schooner foundered, I reckoned it was all
over. I went down to a great depth, but, as luck would have it, came
up just clear of a broken mast. One of the sailors was holding to it,
and I joined him, though without any hope of being saved. You know I'm
pretty strong, but I was helpless in that wild sea. The