"A fig for such Patriots!" cried I hotly. "Were I San Martin, he should be whipped back to the men he has deserted. Give me a loyal friend or a stout enemy, I care not which; but these _jellyfish_--bah! they are an abomination." "You are young, my boy, and not quite wise enough to understand these things. Is it not to Don Felipe's credit that he should openly confess his mistake?" "And save his estates into the bargain," said I wrathfully. "Let the Spaniards get the upper hand, and you will find him back in their ranks quickly enough." "A man must follow the guiding of his conscience, even if it lead to his advantage," remarked my mother quietly. "But if you are indignant with Don Felipe, you will be equally delighted with Rosa. She is still Loyalist to the core, and makes no secret of it. She told San Martin the other day that he was a busybody, meddling in affairs that did not concern him, and that the people of Peru could settle their disputes without his interference." "Bravo, Rosa!" I cried, with a laugh; "there is nothing like speaking one's mind. I'll wager San Martin prefers the girl to her father. Have you seen the general?" "Yes; he paid me a friendly visit on purpose to show his admiration for your dear father. He is a most remarkable man." It was not until the evening drew to a close that my mother spoke of what lay nearest her heart--our plans for the future. She admitted with a sigh that I must in honour offer my services to San Martin. I was still young, but there were many boys fighting in the ranks, and some had already sacrificed their lives for the cause. "It is hard to let you go again," said she, pressing me fondly to her, "and yet I must. God grant that the war may soon be brought to an end!" "Amen to that!" I exclaimed fervently. "Fighting is not to my liking, but I cannot stand idly by while others risk their lives for my benefit." "No," said my mother, kissing me good-night; "you must do your duty, my boy. Your father would have wished it." A few minutes later I went to my room, and was just closing the door when Jose appeared. He looked hot and flushed, and I asked where he had been. "To the camp," said he, with a laugh, "to see what's going on. I thought the colonel must have had some special news. Unless San Martin holds his hand, the Spaniards are lost. They can't stay at Callao, as there isn't food even for the garrison; they aren't strong enough to take Lima: they must retreat or starve." "Well?" I exclaimed questioningly. "Why, don't you see, directly they begin to retreat we shall crush them. Already nearly two hundred of their men have deserted." "More deserters? Why, we shall soon be able to form a battalion of turncoats for Don Felipe to lead!" It was now Jose's turn to look astonished, and his expression of amazement was so ludicrous that I laughed outright.