FROM DAN TO BEERSHEBA
Colonel Zegarra was holding a levee of his admirers from the town when
Tim returned to camp.
"Well, my young friend, have you made any interesting discoveries?" he
asked, from among a group of ladies as Tim passed.
"Several, senor," replied Tim. "Among other things, what it feels like
to fly through the air on wheels."
"Very interesting," said the gentleman in amiable ignorance. "I was not
aware that your machine could fly. How marvellous is the progress of
invention!" he added, turning to the ladies.
"Wonderful!" they cried, clapping their hands.
"Will you show us how you do it, Senor Tim?" said the colonel's
daughter.
"I regret, senorita, that it is impossible here," said Tim, laying his
hand on his heart in the local way. "It requires a hill a mile long; a
number of the Prefect's men pelting down after you, and bellowing like
bulls; a ravine thirty feet wide spanned by a bridge; and some good
obedient fellows who will blow up the bridge at the critical moment.
These conditions do not exist every day, senorita."
The girl looked puzzled. Then a light dawned.
"Is it a joke, Senor Tim?" she asked with a smile. She knew something
of Tim's jokes in carnival time.
"A joke that won't bear repetition, senorita," he replied, and then
bowed himself away.
The eastern track being now impassable, he thought it sufficient to
leave a few men at the broken bridge to guard against any attempt to
repair it. The rest he withdrew to the camp. One of the vedettes on
the western track having been surprised and killed, he decided as a
precaution for the future to place the men in couples. He did not
enlighten Colonel Zegarra, when the visitors had gone, as to his flight
through the air, but simply informed him that the bridge had been blown
up to check a troop of the Prefect's horsemen.
Before he retired for the night he thoroughly examined the cycle, and
found that the tyres, though showing signs of wear, were as yet sound.
He gave it to one of the Japanese to clean, and then sought his couch,
worn out by the racking experiences of the day.
Next morning word was brought that the enemy were advancing in force
along the western track. Colonel Zegarra was not lacking in courage,
and the plan of action to be followed in the event of attack had been
settled in several conversations between himself and Tim. The ground on
both sides of the track for half a mile from the cross-roads was fairly
open, affording a clear field for fire. Though the enemy outnumbered
the Mollendists, the latter had the advantage of being the defenders.
Their position, protected by earthworks and the fringe of wood, was so
strong that an attempt to force it ought not to succeed. To harass the
enemy in flank, Tim had arranged to post himself with a small detachment
in a dense copse on the left of the track about a mile in front of the
camp. With luck he might not be discovered; if he was attacked, the
closeness of the trees would enable him to make a good defence. He
chose thirty of his own Japanese for this duty, knowing their good
fighting qualities and their absolute personal loyalty to him.
They had been stationed in the copse for some hours before the head of
the enemy's column appeared. The men were on foot. Tim had intended to
worry them as they advanced, but it now occurred to him that he would do
better to hold his hand until the attack developed. If Colonel Zegarra
should be in difficulties, a sudden assault on the enemy from the rear
might turn the scale.
The enemy opened out as they approached the cross-roads, intending to
surround the camp. They made a concerted rush, but in the lack of
artillery they were seriously handicapped, and after several attempts
had failed, they fell back to cover. Some retreated in the direction of
the copse. Tim saw his opportunity. Bidding his men wait until they
were within a few hundred yards, he then gave the order to fire. In the
shock of surprise the enemy fell into disorder, and fled in all
directions. Their confusion was communicated to the whole force, and
soon the discomfited rabble were in full retreat, suffering severely as
they crossed the line of fire from the camp.
Colonel Zegarra rose to the occasion. Ordering his men to mount, he led
them in pursuit. The retreat became a rout. Ridden down by the
horsemen, cut up by the steady firing of Tim's men in the copse, the
enemy were a disorganised mob before they reached their horses, which
they had left about two miles down the track. Some succeeded in
mounting, and galloped away. Others were headed off, and were made
prisoners. Within an hour of the first attack the Prefect's eastern
force was shattered, and no longer existed as a fighting unit.
There was great jubilation among the Mollendists. On returning to camp
Colonel Zegarra at once penned a flowery despatch to Mr. O'Hagan
announcing his victory. The courier had not been gone long when Romana
rode up in haste, bearing a verbal message from the commander-in-chief.
After long delay the Prefect was making a determined effort to force the
defile, and Mr. O'Hagan asked for a reinforcement of fifty men, if they
could be spared. It was arranged that Tim should start at once with
fifty horsemen. It seemed unlikely that the troops just defeated would
rally, but for assurance' sake he persuaded Romana to remain at the
cross-roads, to advise Colonel Zegarra if the enemy should attempt any
movement which must be met rather by craft than by courage.
Tim rode ahead of his troop on the motorcycle. When about a third of
the way to the defile, he suddenly discovered on his left a considerable
number of men on foot descending from the hills towards the highroad.
Their intention clearly was either to take the main Mollendist army in
the rear, or to make a swoop on the cross-roads and then to San Rosario.
Tim guessed that his father was unaware of this complication. The men
must have been for at least two days on the march, for the hills were
generally regarded as impracticable.
Tim halted for a few moments to make a rapid calculation. His father
and Colonel Zegarra must be warned. If he rode on, the enemy, though at
present a long distance away, would be on the road between him and
Colonel Zegarra by the time he returned. On the other hand he might ride
to the colonel and back before they reached the road, in which case he
would still have a chance of slipping by.
He remounted and dashed back at full speed, ordering his horsemen when
he met them to halt and be on the alert. Colonel Zegarra agreed to move
out with all his troops, and if he found the enemy on the road, marching
towards the defile, to hang on their rear. Then Tim set off again. He
commanded his horsemen to await Colonel Zegarra; it seemed more
important for the moment that the colonel should have his full number
than that the party should press on to reinforce Mr. O'Hagan.
The head of the flanking column was only half a mile from the road when
Tim dashed by. To some extent screened by trees and bushes, he became
the target for the enemy's fire as he passed patches of open country.
But he escaped unhurt, thanks to his speed and to the windings of the
road, which caused his direction to alter frequently, and baffled the
riflemen's aim. In a few minutes he was out of range, in a few more out
of sight.
On approaching the defile, Tim heard sounds of heavy firing. The
Prefect's attack was evidently being hotly pressed. He found the
Mollendist force some distance farther east than he had expected. They
occupied the rocks on either side of the road, and were firing along the
defile. Just as Tim arrived he heard the distant roar of a gun, and a
shell crashed high up among the rocks at his right hand. He slipped off
his bicycle, and hurried to find his father.
Mr. O'Hagan greeted the boy with especial warmth.
"Pardo gave me a terrible scare when he told me he had got you," he
said. "What happened?"
Tim related how he had been dealt with at the house.
"He had the cheek to come to you, then," he said. "Why didn't he go to
the Prefect?"
"I suspect he did. He wanted to make sure of his price."
"The wretch said my price had gone up. What did he ask?"
"The hacienda!"
Tim whistled.
"You kicked him out, I hope?" he said indignantly.
"Well, Tim, you see Colonel Zegarra's despatch with your postscript came
just in time, or---- But that's all over. How are things going?"
"We have fairly smashed the lot from the Inca camp. They attacked this
morning. Romana brought your message, and I was hurrying up with fifty
men when I saw a detachment of the enemy, about two hundred strong, I
think, marching over the hills towards the road, so I rode back and
asked Zegarra to bring up all his men and then came on ahead to tell
you."
"That's very bad news," said Mr. O'Hagan, somewhat perturbed. "I've as
much as I can do to hold my own here. As you see, they've brought a
couple of guns to bear on us."
"Where are they?"
"Up in the hills yonder. How they were dragged there I can't imagine.
They're at least a thousand feet up. The Prefect has more energy and
resource than I expected. When the guns opened fire this morning we had
to abandon the head of the defile. We're pretty safe here for the
moment, and can check any attempt to force the passage; but I dare say
the Prefect will find another position for the guns where they can
command us, and then we shall have to fall back again. With two hundred
men threatening our rear----"
"Couldn't you spare some men to deal with them?"
"That's a capital idea, Tim. It will take a long time to move the guns
to a new position. We'll try it. I'll take a hundred and fifty men
myself. You had better stay here; you've done your share."
"I'd rather come with you," said Tim.
"I dare say, but you had better go and report to the President what you
have been doing. He's rather down in the mouth, and your victory at the
cross-roads will cheer him."
Mr. O'Hagan soon set off with his men, all mounted. When he returned a
few hours later, he was flushed with success. The Prefect's hill column
found itself in the position in which it had hoped to catch the
Mollendists--bottled up between two forces, which equalled or exceeded
it in number, and were much fresher. Instead of attacking, the enemy
were attacked. Fatigued after their long and difficult march, they were
in no condition to make a prolonged resistance, and fell back before Mr.
O'Hagan's impetuous onset. They were seeking a strong position when
Colonel Zegarra dashed suddenly upon their rear. Hopelessly entrapped,
they lost heart. Some flung down their arms and surrendered, others
dispersed and sought safety in the hills.
With Mr. O'Hagan returned Colonel Zegarra and the greater part of his
force, a small detachment being sent back to keep an eye on the road to
San Rosario. President Mollendo, whose volatile spirits had already
been exalted by Tim's report of the morning's success, was carried away
by delight at the Prefect's second discomfiture on the same day. He
insisted on promoting Tim captain on the spot, and made an oration to
the troops which moved many of them to tears, and confirmed their belief
that they had in Carlos Mollendo a statesman of the highest rank.
While this orgy of sentiment was in progress, Mr. O'Hagan was discussing
matters with Tim quietly in the background.
"That's all very well," he said, jerking his head towards the spot where
Mollendo was perorating, "but it doesn't prevent the Prefect from
hauling his guns. I quite expect that to-morrow he will begin to shift
them in this direction, and when they begin to play we can't hold the
defile another half-hour."
"What then, Father?" asked Tim.
"Why, then we shall be compelled to fall back on San Rosario. The
Prefect has three men to our one; and the moment the tide seems to be
turning in his favour a lot of ours are sure to desert. It's the way of
things here. But for the guns we could hold him off for months, so long
as Galdos keeps up the supplies--though I'm afraid of ammunition running
short. The two checks the Prefect has had to-day are decided set-backs,
but we are not much better off unless we can take the heart out of him.
If we could only capture his guns, now!"
"Why not?"
"Well, if you can suggest a way, do so. But don't reckon without your
host. They're at least a thousand feet up, somewhere on that ridge.
The War Office of this republic being unable to supply field-glasses, I
haven't located them exactly. To climb the hill in face of the enemy
would be a pretty tough job in itself, and the guns are pretty sure to
be well guarded."
"I'll try it to-night," said Tim, "with a few of our Japs. Some of them
were in the war with Russia, and it won't be the first time they've had
such night-work."
"I don't want to disappoint you," said Mr. O'Hagan, pulling at his
moustache, "but it's too risky--indeed it is. What would your poor
mother say?"
Tim was so well accustomed to this appeal _ad matrem_ that it had quite
lost its effect.
"She'd jib to begin with, to be sure," he said, "but she'd give in in
the end; she always does when it's not an absolute question of right or
wrong. You'd better say yes, Father."
It was on the tip of his tongue to relate the adventures of the previous
day, but he reflected that the story might have quite the opposite
effect from what he intended. Mr. O'Hagan's last instructions to him had
been not to go adventuring, and though he felt that he could hardly be
blamed for adventures which had hurled themselves at him unsought, it
was probable that his father would not recognise any reasoning of that
kind. So he confined his arguments strictly to the matter in hand. Mr.
O'Hagan's opposition was really half-hearted. He had come to have great
faith in Tim's resourcefulness and luck. Ultimately he agreed to let the
boy do what he had suggested; the success of his scheme might prove to
be the turning-point of the struggle.
Helped by a half-moon, Tim set off about midnight with a dozen of the
Japanese who had served in the army, including three gunners. As
weapons they carried only revolvers and knives, with a good supply of
cartridges. One of them had a dark lantern for signalling the result of
the expedition to Mr. O'Hagan. Slipping down the road for some distance
in the direction of San Rosario, they turned to the right, and roped
themselves together for the climb into the hills.
It was the hardest job that Tim had ever undertaken. He had no compass,
and could only direct his course by the position of the moon. Its light
was not sufficient to enable him to choose the easiest way. There was
no path. At the head of the line he clambered up wherever he could find
foothold, sometimes, indeed, crawling on all-fours up slippery slopes,
scrambling over or between boulders, now and then brought up by a sheer
wall of rock impossible to scale. The party had often to rest and
recover breath, and the ascent was so arduous and slow that he was a
little uneasy lest the dawn should surprise them before they gained the
summit. To make matters worse the moon was dropping, and its incessant
change of position rendered it a far from trustworthy guide.
At last, after three hours of fatiguing work, they reached the crest of
the ridge, where they caught sight of the lights in the Prefect's camp
below them far away to the west. Tim guessed that the guns were placed
somewhere along the ridge. He stole along quietly, stopping now and
again to listen for signs of the men in charge. Presently he came to a
formidable buttress of rock projecting over the valley and rising many
feet above the general level. It appeared to be the highest point in
this part of the country, and if the top was flat, was the most likely
place to have been chosen for the gun platform. Whispering to his men
to move as quietly as possible, he led them along a narrow ledge on the
face of the cliff below the buttress, edging into the wall on his left
hand so as to avoid a fatal fall into the depths.
At the farther end of the ledge he halted. It was now almost dark; the
moon had descended below the hills on the opposite side of the road.
But by aid of the last lingering sheen he detected signs of recent
pick-work on the ground, just beyond the spot where he stood. Evidently
a squad of labourers had been employed to clear a passage for the guns.
There was no sound. Casting off the rope, Tim stole forward alone, and
soon discovered a rough path leading in the reverse direction towards
the rear of the buttress.
His heart pumping with excitement, he returned to the men, and whispered
his final instructions. There was to be no firing unless they had to
defend themselves against overpowering numbers. Then he led them on
noiselessly up the path. It ended sooner than he expected. He came
suddenly to a level space of some extent, on which he saw two guns,
pointing over the valley. Stretched on the ground behind them were ten
men. They were asleep. Secure in their supposed inaccessibility, they
had posted no guard.
Tim paused a moment, then ordered his men to steal round until they
completely encompassed the sleeping crew. At a low whistle from him
they sprang forward; there was a brief and almost silent struggle; and
the enemy, only half awake, found themselves prisoners. Not a shot was
fired; scarcely a wound was given.
Hurrying to the edge of the buttress with the lamp, Tim flashed it three
times into the darkness. He knew that his father at the end of the
defile, more than a mile away, would be anxiously watching. Then he
returned to the guns. By the light of the lamp, carefully screened from
the enemy's camp, the Japanese loaded the guns and swung them round
until they pointed to the west. When he started, Tim had expected that,
if he succeeded at all, he would only be able to spike the guns and then
run for it. But having captured the small party of gunners, he saw no
reason why he should not turn his success to account. It was now nearly
four o'clock. Dawn would break very soon. And he thrilled with delight
in the anticipated surprise in store for the Prefect.
The men waited impatiently. On this hill-top they would have earlier
light than the troops below. By the time that the first rosy gleam
stole out of the east the gunners were at their posts. This was work
after their own hearts. The guns were not the perfect machines to which
they were accustomed, and they laid them with especial care. The
shadows upon the camp at the head of the defile dissolved. As soon as
there was light enough, the two gunners fired almost at the same
instant, shattering the still morning. A thousand echoes reverberated
across the valley, and rolled diminuendo from crag to crag. Before they
died away Tim caught the faint sound of cheers from his father's camp.
The two shells had plunged into the centre of the enemy's position,
causing a wild rush for shelter. The Prefect's first feeling was
consternation. There was no artillery in San Rosario; whence had the
enemy obtained the guns? Why had not his own gunners replied? As he
looked up towards the platform on which they were posted he saw two
swift flashes, and two more shells whistled overhead and crashed on the
rocks just above him. His question was answered; the Mollendists, the
despised brigands, had captured his guns and turned them upon him. In
that bitter moment he wished, perhaps, that he had lent a less ready ear
to the suggestions of Miguel Pardo. All the enterprise and daring which
his enemy had recently shown was inspired, not by Carlos Mollendo, but
by the foreigners, and they, but for Pardo, might have been with him, or
at least not against him.
It was soon apparent that matters were serious. Shells were dropping
into the defile as fast as the gunners could load. Already they had
done much damage, and panic was spreading through the ranks. The men
were seeking cover; some were already running to the rear, where the
horses were tethered; none had any spirit for fight. While this disorder
reigned, there was a sudden cry that the brigands were charging up the
defile. The Prefect's troops vastly outnumbered Mr. O'Hagan's, but he
had no advantage of them now. They had no faith in their cause, no
enthusiasm for their leader. Disheartened by previous failure,
demoralised by the bombardment of their own guns, they were deaf to the
Prefect's passionate entreaties to stand firm. They answered him with
oaths and curses. Nor was the Prefect of the stuff of heroes. He was
not the man to gather about him a few choice spirits and steadfastly
defend the pass. Surrounded, almost swept away by the yelling mob of
his terror-stricken army, he elbowed his way through them, to gain the
tree to which his horse was tied. He had better have allowed himself to
be borne away on foot among his men. Mounted, he presented a
conspicuous object to the head of the eager little force charging up the
road. A dozen rifles were levelled at him; a dozen bullets sang through
the air; and when the Prefect's body was lifted after the defile was
cleared, it was found riddled.
The attack having been made on foot, no effective pursuit could be
maintained. So precipitate, indeed, was the flight of the cowed troops,
that only the laggards of the rear were in much danger, Mr. O'Hagan's
victory was almost bloodless. The fugitives poured into San Juan; the
wildest reports found easy credence there. It became known by and by
that the Prefect was killed, a piece of news at which more than his
enemies rejoiced. The magnates of the town were hurriedly called
together; they agreed to accept the new republic; and when, in the
course of the afternoon, Senor Mollendo and Mr. O'Hagan rode in at the
head of their troops, they were received with acclamations by the
populace, and with a flowery address by the officials. The wheel of
fortune had lifted the outlaw to the headship of the State.