I had just returned from an interview with the colonel, who had asked me to undertake for a short time the duties of his private secretary. It seemed a simple task then, but afterwards I regarded it differently. For the next three weeks I was attached to the colonel, who took me with him everywhere. A secretary is generally supposed to write, but my work consisted in riding. Day after day, from morning till night, we were on horseback, now travelling over sandy deserts to the seashore, again penetrating into the heart of the mountains--hungry, thirsty, and tired, and always in danger of falling into the hands of the enemy. As a measure of precaution our little force retired to Tacna, where, much to my satisfaction, the colonel received from Lima news of an armistice. This, of course, extended to all parts of the country; but I was mistaken in thinking it would increase my leisure, as my time was still kept fully occupied. In one way this was a good thing, as it kept me from brooding over Santiago's story, though even at the busiest times the thought of my father's fate would creep into my mind. I saw nothing of Jose, who had been left behind with some Indians to hold a mountain pass, but occasionally I paid a brief visit to the Spanish prisoners for a chat with the friendly major. We had been at Tacna a month, when one evening Colonel Miller said abruptly: "Crawford, the armistice is at an end, and we must retreat. Tell Videla to send the stores and the sick to Arica the first thing in the morning; then carry this order to Ilo. You will find three small brigs there; they are to sail at once for Arica. Take Castro the guide with you, and rejoin me on the march to Arica." "Very good, sir," I replied, though my words belied my feelings. However, I went out, gave Videla the colonel's message, and hunted up the guide. Castro was an educated Indian, trained by one of the missionaries, and a very decent fellow. I found him sound asleep; but he rose at once, looked to see if his bag of coca was full, loaded his pistols, and saddled his horse. "A pleasant night for a ride, lieutenant,"--the colonel had given me that rank,--"and every yard will take us further from the Spaniards. I hear that La Hera is getting ready to swoop." "He will find his pigeon a hawk if he comes too close," I answered, laughing. "Bring your horse, and wait for me at the hospital." The night was still young, and many people, civilians and military, were in the street, talking in excited whispers. It was plain that they had heard of La Hera's approach, and were discussing what they knew of the colonel's plans. Soon, however, the town was left behind, and we had fairly started on our journey. There was no danger in it, except that of getting lost, which, with Castro for a guide, was not likely to happen. He knew the district as well as, perhaps better than, I knew the streets of Lima.