'Amen! Poor boy! Amen!'
I turned, and—there stood Townley.
'You wonder to see me here,' he said, as he took my hand. 'Nay, but nobody should ever wonder at anything I do. I am erratic. I did not come over before, because I did not wish to influence your mind. You have been ill, but—I'm glad to see you weeping.'
I did really sob and cry then as if my very heart would burst and break.
I was well enough in a day or two to hear the rest of the news. Townley, who was very wise, had hesitated to tell me everything at once.
But if anything could be called joyful news now surely this was—mother and Flora were at Villa Mercedes, and would be here in a day or two. Townley had come on before, even at considerable personal risk, to break the news to us, and prepare us all. Mother and sister were waiting an escort, not got up specially for them certainly, but that would see to their safety. It consisted of a large party of officers and men who were passing on to the frontiers to repel, or try to repel, the Indian invasion.
We all went to meet mother and sister at the far-off cross roads. There was quite a large and very well-armed party of us, and we encamped for three days near an estancia to await their coming.
It was on the morning of the fourth day that one of the 253 Gauchos reported an immense cloud of dust far away eastwards on the Mendoza road.