At the hotel in Lima the Professor and his friends found the supercargo of the ship who had come to hunt up the passengers. The captain had been in trouble; the crew having mutinied and refused to work because they were not allowed the privilege of a cruise on shore. The controversy between the quarter-deck and the forecastle was finally adjusted, and the crew agreed to go to work on condition of afterwards having one day of liberty. The supercargo said that they were now on shore in Callao, and that the vessel would sail on the following morning. Upon receiving this information, the passengers made preparations to proceed on foot to Callao; it being impossible to obtain any vehicle on that day, as everything which had wheels or hoofs had gone to the bull-fight and had been left behind in the general stampede which ensued. The Professor inquired for M. T. Pate, but he was not in the hotel, and from information received, it was supposed that he had already left the city and proceeded to the port. Lima, unlike most American cities, is encompassed by a wall. Just beyond the gate, which opens on the six miles of level road leading to Callao, are a number of mounds heaped up by the ancient inhabitants of the country for the purpose of hiding the remains of mortality. But as these poor pagans were unwilling to leave the world as unadorned as they had entered it, numerous excavations had been made by their Christian successors, who had stripped them of their heathenish ornaments, and carried them off, to be converted into the images of saints. The Professor and his companions turned aside from the road and proceeded to an inspection of the place. Hercules had already thrust his long neck into one of the excavations, when, with a loud exclamation, he drew suddenly back as if he had certainly seen a sight. The Long Green Boy now peeped into the aperture, and, starting back, looked as if he were about to exclaim, "Angels and ministers of grace, defend us!" But lo! it starts up--it moves towards them--long, lean, and spectral!--in robes as white as the driven snow, like the shivering shade of an ancient Inca come hither to mourn over the extinction of his race. Hercules assumes the posture of a racer ready to make a desperate spring, and only waiting for the word "Go!" The Professor throws himself in the attitude of Hamlet in his interesting interview with the ghost. Botts clutches the hilt of his bowie-knife and stands prepared to battle with whatever may come forth. But hold! rash man, forbear! No horrible apparition of an unbaptized infidel is this, but a pious Christian and a poor countryman in distress. It is the unfortunate M. T. Pate stalking forth with no covering except a single shirt.