“I shall suspend publication. All my obligations have been met, thanks to Harvey and his father, and I am in a position where I can close the plant and reopen it when peace shall be declared and business resume.”
“I think it would be wise for us all to go,” declared Mr. Dartmoor. “Nothing can be done with the mine until this unfortunate war shall come to an end, and we are constantly exposing our lives here. What will you do?” he asked, turning to Señor Cisneros, who had remained in Callao, hoping that the clouds of depression might lift.
“I shall return to Huari and wait for peace,” he replied. “We are safe in the mountains. I wish you all could go with me.”
They thanked him, but declined. Mr. Dartmoor had not been home save for a brief period since the Civil War; he wished his children to become better acquainted with the great republic to the north, and he was anxious that Mrs. Dartmoor should see more of the United States.
Plans were formed to travel overland to Payta, and some forty or fifty other Americans and English decided to accompany them. The day for departure had been set when two events occurred, the first of which put a temporary stop to preparations, and the second altered their arrangements materially.
One evening, during the last week in July, five young persons were gathered in the parlor of Mr. Dartmoor’s Chucuito residence—Carl Saunders, Louis and Harvey Dartmoor and their sister Rosita, and Bella Caceras. The presence of the girls in the Callao suburb was due to a temporary truce that had been agreed to by the commander-in-chief of the land forces and the admiral of the Chilean fleet, whereby it was agreed not to exchange shots for a fortnight.
This had no effect upon the blockade, but it made Callao a safe place to live in so far as the element of bombardment was eliminated, and, taking advantage of the lull in hostilities, those who had homes near the sea removed from Lima, so as to enjoy the bracing salt-laden air and have a brief respite from the crowded, soldier-burdened life of the capital.
The evening had been prefaced by one of those dinners for which John Dartmoor’s home had been noted before his financial difficulties had embarrassed him. To be sure, this day the dishes were not as numerous as they had been before the blockade, and that which was served cost four and five times the price of edibles in the olden times, but steaming pucharo was there, as of yore, and there was no lack of paltas and other fruit.
After the enjoyable hour at table, Mr. Dartmoor, Captain Saunders, and Señor Cisneros went to the billiard room, and Mrs. Dartmoor accompanied the young people to the parlor, from where, after a few minutes’ conversation, she went to her bedroom, having some sewing to do—for these days of preparations were busy ones, and, as all women know, it was upon the mother that the greatest burdens fell.
Toward eight o’clock, Harvey, who had stepped out on the balcony for a minute, suggested that they stroll over to Mar Bravo beach.