Before Jose was eight years old, his father was transferred, and the boy was sent overseas to Spain to attend school in Madrid.
But such an active American boy, accustomed to Indians and frontier life, could not stay long contented in a school in old Madrid. Besides, he had soldiers’ blood in his veins. He grew restless. He was only eleven; but he petitioned the Spanish Government to be allowed to enlist in the army.
His petition was granted, and he became a boy soldier.
His uniform was white and blue. His first campaign was in Africa. His first battle was with the Moors.
During the next few years he served so gallantly, that at sixteen he was made a lieutenant. So he became a boy officer.
THE PATRIOT WHO KEPT FAITH
In romantic Spain, there was everything to entice young San Martin to forget his native land so far away, and the little Indian village on the Uruguay.
The crimson and gold banners of Spain waved over victorious battle-fields, the drums beat triumphantly, the trumpets sounded to the charge. There was glamour of combat with Moors and other brave enemies. There were romances of knights and ladies, and legends of Aragon, Castile, and the Alhambra. There were serenades, fandangos, and feasts. While in the quaint Spanish towns, maidens with dark witching eyes half hidden by mantillas, peeped through the latticed casements. And they must have peeped out joyously whenever the stalwart, handsome, young San Martin went by.
But he never forgot his native land.
As the years passed, he kept deep in his mind the memories of his childhood. He heard that some of his countrymen in Argentina had formed a Patriot Army, and were trying to gain their independence from Spanish rule. He learned of their unsuccessful attempts and of their sufferings.