s he ate it Stephen thought the matter over. It did
not seem to him that with four soldiers and an officer watching him he
could have much chance of making his escape, and, even did he succeed in
doing so, he would almost certainly be retaken, as he could have but a
short start, and his dress and Chilian Speech would attract instant
attention. If overtaken he might be shot at once, and he therefore decided
that his chances would be better as a prisoner at Callao than as a
fugitive in a hostile country. Accordingly when the officer returned he at
once gave him his parole not to attempt to escape upon the journey.

"I am very glad that you have so decided," the Spaniard said. "I will send
you at once a suit of clothes to ride in. Your attire would at once
attract attention and might lead to unpleasantness. We have a long journey
before us, and may as well make it as agreeable as we can under the
circumstances."

Stephen thanked him heartily for the offer, which he gladly accepted, for
he felt ashamed of his appearance in his rough clothes, now shrunk and
water-stained. The servant who brought the suit of clothes brought also a
large basin of water, soap, and a towel, and Stephen was therefore able to
make his toilet in comfort. The suit was an undress uniform--white
breeches, jacket of the same material, with white braid, a pair of high
riding-boots, and a broad-brimmed hat. As soon as he dressed himself, his
guard conducted him downstairs. The officer and the four troopers were
already mounted, and a horse stood ready for Stephen. Without a word he
mounted, the officer took his place beside him, and the troopers falling
in behind, he rode out through the gate.

"I thank you heartily for your thoughtfulness in providing me with the
means of making myself respectable."

"You certainly look better," the young officer said. "Now permit me to
introduce myself. My name is Filippo Conchas; my uncle is the governor
here, and it is to that I owe the pleasure of this excursion with you."

"I should not have thought that a ride of five or six hundred miles was a
pleasure, Don Filippo."

"Oh, yes, it is, when one can go one's own pace, and travel only in the
morning and evening. Moreover, one gets terribly tired of a small
provincial town, especially in times like these, when things are not going
quite so pleasantly as one might wish, and one knows that half the
inhabitants are bitterly hostile to one. Besides, senor, I have an