"If you belong to the Order of the Silver Key," I remarked, "and recognize the authority of Raymon Sorillo, all is well. He is my friend, and will give me shelter."

"The chief is in the mountains, senor, and not far off. I will get help, and take you to him. Meanwhile, eat a little coca; it will keep up your strength. I shall not be long gone."

"Thanks," said I, taking some of the coca, and chuckling to myself at this unexpected stroke of good fortune.

The fellow was as good as his word. He returned shortly with three Indians, armed like himself, and dressed in the same grotesque way.

They were all st.u.r.dy fellows, and two of them, raising me gently from the ground, carried me in their arms with the greatest ease.

Every step took me farther from the main track, and into a wilder part of the mountains, till at last my bearers stopped in a romantic ravine.

There were several huts dotted about in an irregular ring, but most of the men were in the open, seated round a blazing fire.

Three-fourths of the band were pure Indians, some were mulattoes, while a few were Spaniards of the lowest type. They looked what they were, bandits and outlaws, and I must say that my acquaintance of the morning was not the most villainous of them. They formed a striking company, quite in keeping with the gloomy grandeur of their home, shut in on every side by overhanging rocks and towering mountains.

"Who is that?" suddenly roared a deep voice, and I saw the gigantic leader stride from the ring of men. Approaching us, he looked me full in the face.

"A stranger?" cried he. "Why have you brought him here?"

"I must have changed much since we last met," I interposed. "But if you don't remember me, you will doubtless remember the present you gave me," and I showed him the silver key.

He looked at me again, and this time with a gleam of recognition.

"I know you now!" he cried.--"Make way there. Room for an honoured guest--room for the son of Don Eduardo!"

The name carried no meaning to the Spanish brigands; but the Indians received it with a great shout, for they knew how greatly my father had suffered in his efforts to make their lives easier. They would have pressed round me to touch my hand, but the chief waved them back, saying I wanted food and rest. They made a s.p.a.ce beside the fire, and Sorillo himself attended to my injuries.

"No bones broken," said he, after making an examination with as much skill as a surgeon. "We have only to reduce this swelling of the ankle. You can make yourself comfortable for a fortnight, at least.

Now you must have some food, and then we'll talk."

Now, I have no wish to give you a false impression of Raymon Sorillo.

He was a wild, lawless man, who had pa.s.sed his life in fighting against the Spanish government. He had extraordinary courage and ability, and no man of his band was ever known to question an order issued by him.

He had himself founded the Order of the Silver Key, and it was always my father's opinion that, but for the coming of San Martin, he would in time have transformed Peru into an Indian kingdom. I am at least certain that his ambition tended in that direction.

When the war broke out, numerous desperadoes flocked to him, and he was held responsible for many acts of cruelty. Whether he was deserving of blame I cannot say. Jose held him to be cruel, and he generally had that reputation. Perhaps it was only a case of giving a dog a bad name. However that may be, it is certain he had a high opinion of my father, and for his sake was exceedingly kind to me. But for him I might have lain long enough in the Spanish fortress, or perished in the sandy coast deserts. Another service he did, which we only heard of afterwards, and then by accident, was the guarding of my mother. From the time of my escape till the withdrawal of the Royalists from Lima, several of his men, unknown to her, kept ward over the hacienda. They had received strict orders to protect its mistress against every danger, even at the risk of their lives. In case of anything occurring, one was to rouse the natives belonging to the order in Lima, while another rode post-haste to the chief.

Remembering these things, and others not here set down, I can hardly judge this remarkable man without bias; but even his most bitter enemies could not truly say he was wholly bad. And it may be stated here that during my stay in the ravine I was treated like a prince.

The best of everything was set before me, my slightest wish was law, and even the fiercest of the white men, forming a small minority of the band, were compelled to behave peaceably in my presence.

After I had eaten and slept for a time, I told the chief the story I had heard from the young Spanish officer, Santiago Mariano, concerning my father, and asked his opinion.

"I would build no hopes on that," said he, shaking his head thoughtfully. "If your father is alive, we shall find him at Callao; but I doubt it."

"The governor was expected to capitulate when I left Lima last," I remarked.

"Yes; his provisions must be gone by now. Your San Martin is an old woman. Why did he allow Canterac to escape? My men and I have been marched about from place to place just where we could do no good. I shall not trouble to obey orders any more. We are not children to be treated thus."

Sorillo was very sore on the subject, and returned to it over and over again. In the evening one of the band arrived with the information that Colonel Miller had sent out search-parties to look for me, and that three men were waiting at the entrance to the ravine.

"Tell them," said the chief, "that Don Juan Crawford is with me. He has sprained his ankle very badly, and cannot move for several days; otherwise he is unhurt. As soon as he is well enough we will take him home."

"I wish the colonel would let my mother know," said I; "she would be less anxious."

"That is a poor compliment to me," observed Sorillo, smiling. "My messenger is already on his way to the hacienda with the news. I have told him to say you are in absolutely no danger, so that your mother will not be alarmed."

"Then I am more than ever in your debt," said I gratefully, for the chief's action showed a thoughtful consideration quite unexpected.

"We shall never pay all that is owing to the son of Don Eduardo Crawford," he answered gravely. "And now let me carry you to my hut.

A bed has been prepared there for you; it is a simple affair, but you will be comfortable."

I slept well that night. The pain had considerably decreased, and I had no cause for fear or anxiety. Sorillo slept in another corner of the hut, going out so quietly in the morning that he did not disturb me. Indeed the sun was high in the heavens when I wakened.

The chief's messenger had not returned, and another day pa.s.sed before he appeared; then, to my delight, he brought Jose with him.

"Well, Jack," exclaimed my old friend, on finding that I was really not much hurt, "you gave Miller a fine fright. He thought you were either dead or carried off. His troops are back in Lima. It seems Canterac was too good for you."

"He flung half his army at us," I responded rather sulkily, for one does not like being reminded of a beating. "It must have been a matter of ten to one. But never mind that. What news do you bring from Lima?

How is my mother? and how are events moving there?"

"Your mother is well, and sends her love to you, and events are shaping just as we could wish them to. We are masters of Callao."

"Then the forts have fallen? O Jose, tell me quickly--I am burning with excitement--was my father there?"

"Keep cool!" said he, smiling; "I don't want you to throw yourself into a fever. Yes, we found your father there."

"Thank G.o.d for that!" I murmured reverently. "You can tell me the rest at your leisure."

"There isn't much to tell," he replied. "It seems that your father was suddenly surrounded in the mountains by a body of regulars, and ordered to submit. Taken by surprise, there was nothing else to do; but while he stood hesitating, some one--not the captain in charge--shot him down, and he remembers nothing more till he found himself in Callao.

The governor, La Mar, happens to be a kind-hearted fellow; so he had your father's wound dressed, gave him the most comfortable cell, and altogether treated him so well that, in spite of a long illness, he is entirely recovered."

"This is better and better, Jose! I hope we shall have a chance of doing La Mar a good turn."

"Your father will be in a position to see to that, as San Martin has already made him a member of the government."

"That's all right then.--By-the-bye, have you seen Montilla?"

"Yes. The old fox plays the game well. He is delighted--so he says--to be able to hand over the estates, which he was keeping in trust for you, to the rightful owner."

"Do you think my father believes him?"

"I can't say. Your mother doesn't; neither do I."

"Nor I."

We remained silent for some minutes, when, Sorillo joining us, I told him the good news. At first he did not seem to comprehend. When he did, I thought he would take leave of his senses. Even Jose, who was not given to judging by outward show, was impressed by the man's genuine pleasure.

But the grand event took place some days later, when my father himself came to remove me to Lima. Sorillo marshalled his Indians at the mouth of the pa.s.s, and they escorted him up the ravine in a triumphal procession, amidst enthusiastic cries of "Long live Don Eduardo Crawford! long live the Indians' friend!"

There is not much to tell about our meeting. It was all very simple, though I suppose there were not at that moment two happier people in Peru. My father was exceptionally loving and kind-hearted, but he never made a fuss, while my English blood kept me from being too demonstrative.

"Well, Jack, my boy," he exclaimed, giving me a warm grip of the hand, "I reckon you never expected to see me again?"