The expedition of which Colonel Miller spoke had been planned on a large scale for the purpose of crushing the enemy in the south, and the first battalion of the Peruvian Legion formed part of it. Naturally I had quite looked forward to sailing with it, and was not at all pleased, therefore, to be left behind. I had many friends, some of them not much older than myself, among the officers of the first battalion, and on the morning of the embarkation I went over to Callao to see them off. They were delighted at the thought of active service, and of course chaffed me unmercifully. "Take care of the town, Juan," said one; "we shall want it when we come back." "Some day, when you are a man, we will take you with us," laughed Ensign Alzura, a merry, round-faced youngster of sixteen; "but we must have seasoned men for this trip, dear boy." "Should the Spaniards arrive while we're away, ask them to wait till our return," remarked another. "I don't wonder you are so excited," said I coolly; "I felt the same before I knew what a battle is really like." "Bravo, Crawford!" cried the colonel, who had joined us unperceived; "that's a round shot for them. They haven't heard the whistle of the bullets yet, eh? Well, good-bye; it's time you were getting ashore. You'll hear news of us from time to time." "Good news too, I hope, colonel.--Good-bye, Zuviria, Alzura, and all of you. I hope you've shipped a schoolmaster," and with that parting shot I ran down to the quay. The Peruvians were on board the _O'Higgins_; but there were several other vessels, and presently they all stood out of the bay amidst a regular salvo of cheering from the spectators. I returned to Lima feeling rather gloomy, but Lieutenant-Colonel Videla, who commanded our second battalion, gave me little time for brooding. Fresh recruits were coming in every day, and the work of attending to them kept me employed for weeks. There was still a Patriot army encamped outside Lima, but it did nothing, though who was to blame I could not say. About the end of the year, vague yet disquieting rumours began to circulate in the city. It was said that our troops in the south had met with defeat, had been cut to pieces and practically swept out of existence. The victorious Spaniards, uniting all their forces, were making ready for a swoop on Lima. Everything was lost! Don Felipe brought us the news, and it was easy to see, in spite of his talk, that it did not displease him. "We shall have to call in Bolivar now," said he, "or make peace with the viceroy. Of course you and I will suffer. Our estates will be confiscated; we shall probably be thrown into prison; but we are good patriots, and will not shrink from our duty." "If the others agree with me," replied my father, "we shall neither call in Bolivar nor make peace. There is still an army left!" "Just so, but we cannot trust it. The troops are almost in open rebellion, and this news will not quiet them."