"Bravo, Rosa!" I cried, with a laugh; "there is nothing like speaking one's mind. I'll wager San Martin prefers the girl to her father. Have you seen the general?"
"Yes; he paid me a friendly visit on purpose to show his admiration for your dear father. He is a most remarkable man."
It was not until the evening drew to a close that my mother spoke of what lay nearest her heart—our plans for the future. She admitted with a sigh that I must in honour offer my services to San Martin. I was still young, but there were many boys fighting in the ranks, and some had already sacrificed their lives for the cause.
"It is hard to let you go again," said she, pressing me fondly to her, "and yet I must. God grant that the war may soon be brought to an end!"
"Amen to that!" I exclaimed fervently. "Fighting is not to my liking, but I cannot stand idly by while others risk their lives for my benefit."
"No," said my mother, kissing me good-night; "you must do your duty, my boy. Your father would have wished it."
A few minutes later I went to my room, and was just closing the door when José appeared. He looked hot and flushed, and I asked where he had been.
"To the camp," said he, with a laugh, "to see what's going on. I thought the colonel must have had some special news. Unless San Martin holds his hand, the Spaniards are lost. They can't stay at Callao, as there isn't food even for the garrison; they aren't strong enough to take Lima: they must retreat or starve."
"Well?" I exclaimed questioningly.
"Why, don't you see, directly they begin to retreat we shall crush them. Already nearly two hundred of their men have deserted."