"Yes, they are coming together."
"Are they far off?"
"How the devil can I tell?"
At hearing this, the people who had stopped him dispersed in all directions, crying. "Don Tadeo is coming!" without taking any further notice of the half-drowned senator, who implored them in vain to direct him to a place of shelter. No one replied to him; all were busy lighting torches, or rousing the inhabitants of the houses, either by knocking at their doors, or calling them by their names.
"Válgame Dios!" the senator murmured in despair; "these people are all mad to run about the streets in such weather as this! Am I going to be present at another revolution?"
And spurring his horse, which was almost knocked up, he moved on with much ado, shaking his head dismally, to seek some hospitable roof where he might dry his clothes and get a few hours of repose.
[CHAPTER XXIII.]
PLAN OF CAMPAIGN.
Don Tadeo's entrance into Valdivia was truly a triumphant one. Notwithstanding the rain, which fell in torrents, the whole population was drawn up in the streets as he passed through, holding in their hands torches, whose flames, agitated by the wind, shed a pale, broken light, which was mingled with that of the constant electric flashes. The cries of joy of the inhabitants, the rolling of drums, were mingled with the peals of thunder and the furious hissing of the tempest.