"It's like a funeral procession," he muttered impatiently; "and if they don't mind, 'twill be a funeral procession in reality. We shall be burying the independence of Peru."
The ridiculous part of it was that our column had been formed of all the light companies on purpose to swoop down on the foe. As far as I could judge, the swoop was much like that of a hawk whose wings had been carefully tied to its body.
However, we tramped along throughout the night, halting at daybreak without getting a glimpse of the exulting Canterac.
"Never mind," exclaimed the colonel, who hated to look on the dark side of things; "we may catch them during the day."
In this he was disappointed, as we proceeded in the same leisurely manner, just as if we were out for a quiet stroll on a summer's day. Several times Miller rode off to the staff, but on each occasion he returned looking more dissatisfied than before.
The men wondered, and at each halt the officers talked pretty freely among themselves, giving their opinions with refreshing vigour.
"Canterac has the start of us now," said one, "and we shall never overtake him. We had the game in our hands, and have simply thrown it away."
The grizzled major remained optimistic, saying, "You may depend that San Martin has some scheme in his head." But the rest of us were doubtful.
"If I had an enemy in a trap, my scheme would be to keep him there and not to let him walk out through an open door," laughed a young captain. "The war might have been finished to-day; now it's likely to go on for another twelvemonth."
"Well," remarked one of his comrades, "it's a comfort to think we shan't kill ourselves through over-exertion."