elated beyond measure by an unexpected happiness, he overflowed with
good-will, amiability, and attentions. He embraced the officers like
brothers, almost with tears in his eyes. The released prisoners were
presented each with a piece of gold. At the last moment, suddenly, he
declared he could do no less than restore to the masters of the merchant
vessels all their private property. This unexpected generosity caused
some delay in the departure of the party, and their first march was very
short.

"Late in the evening Gaspar Ruiz rode up with an escort, to their camp
fires, bringing along with him a mule loaded with cases of wine. He had
come, he said, to drink a stirrup cup with his English friends, whom he
would never see again. He was mellow and joyous in his temper. He told
stories of his own exploits, laughed like a boy, borrowed a guitar
from the Englishmen's chief muleteer, and sitting cross-legged on his
superfine poncho spread before the glow of the embers, sang a guasso
love-song in a tender voice. Then his head dropped on his breast, his
hands fell to the ground; the guitar rolled off his knees--and a great
hush fell over the camp after the love-song of the implacable partisan
who had made so many of our people weep for destroyed homes and for
loves cut short.

"Before anybody could make a sound he sprang up from the ground and
called for his horse.

"'Adios, my friends!' he cried. 'Go with God. I love you. And tell them
well in Santiago that between Gaspar Ruiz, colonel of the King of Spain,
and the republican carrion-crows of Chile there is war to the last
breath--war! war! war!'

"With a great yell of 'War! war! war!' which his escort took up, they
rode away, and the sound of hoofs and of voices died out in the distance
between the slopes of the hills.

"The two young English officers were convinced that Ruiz was mad. How
do you say that?--tile loose--eh? But the doctor, an observant Scotsman
with much shrewdness and philosophy in his character, told me that it
was a very curious case of possession. I met him many years afterwards,
but he remembered the experience very well. He told me, too, that in
his opinion that woman did not lead Gaspar Ruiz into the practice of
sanguinary treachery by direct persuasion, but by the subtle way of
awakening and keeping alive in his simple mind a burning sense of an
irreparable wrong. Maybe, maybe. But I would say that she poured half
of her vengeful soul into the s