"That is about all there is in it," said I, feeling a little more assured. "It is marvellous what stories some men can build up from a word here and there! If Alzura lives till the end of the war, he should be a novelist." At this time I was a great deal in Lima, being employed by Colonel Miller in connection with the new expedition which Santa Cruz was to lead south. Several nights a week I slept at home, much to mother's satisfaction. My father continued to be busy in public matters, though he had resigned his office as a protest against the invitation to Bolivar. Now, it chanced, about a fortnight after young Alzura's disquieting talk, that I had occasion to go late at night to Callao, and Jose offered to accompany me. It is likely enough that my mother put the idea into his head, for though brave enough herself, she was always fearful on my account. However, I was glad to avail myself of Jose's offer. The night was fine, the sky was studded with stars, and the moon, nearly at the full, gave forth a splendid light. "You may go to bed, Antonio," said I to the old janitor, as he opened the gate. "We are not likely to return till morning." "Do you remember our first night ride to Callao?" asked Jose. "There was no need for any one to sit up for us then." "Yes, that I do. And the voyage in the schooner," I added gaily. "That was an adventure, if you like! We were as near to death then, Jose, as ever we have been since." "Yes," he said thoughtfully. "I have often wondered how we managed to escape." Passing through the outer gates of the park on to the highroad, we cantered our horses about a quarter of a mile, and then turned up a narrow lane which separated our property from that of Don Felipe Montilla. Suddenly checking his horse, Jose whispered, "See to your pistols, my boy; there are horsemen coming this way." CHAPTER XIX. FALSE PLAY, OR NOT? There was no actual reason why we should feel alarmed; but Lima was an unsafe place in those days, and people who travelled at night generally went well armed. As yet the bend in the road prevented us from seeing any one, but listening intently, we distinctly heard the sounds of a horse's hoofs. "There's only one, Jose," I whispered; and he nodded. I do not know that we should have taken any notice of the man, but for his efforts to conceal his identity. We came upon him suddenly, while the moon shone full in his face, and before he had time either to draw his poncho closer or to pull the slouch hat over his eyes. Both these things he did quickly, but meanwhile we had seen, and a look of keen surprise shot across Jose's face. Recovering himself instantly, he said cheerfully,-- "Good-night, senor. Fine night for a ride." "So you seem to think," replied the other surlily. "You have come from the town, I see," said Jose, for we lived eastward of Lima; "is all quiet there?" "Why shouldn't it be? Kindly allow me to pass; I am in a hurry," responded our morose stranger.