"Then there would be a three-cornered fight, and the Spaniards would have the best of it!"
"That wouldn't be San Martin's fault. Do you think Bolivar cares how the country suffers as long as he comes out on top? Not he!"
"If that is so, San Martin is certainly playing the better part."
"The better part? a fig for the better part! He can beat Bolivar and the Spanish put together if he chooses. He is far and away the finest general in South America."
"And one of the best men, if he acts as you say he will."
But Guido was much too angry to take that view. When I added that without Bolivar's help we could hardly reduce the Spaniards to submission, he laughed scornfully and turned away.
On the evening of July 25, 1822, the Macedonia dropped anchor in the harbour of Guayaquil, and immediately afterwards two of Bolivar's officers came on board with a friendly greeting from their chief.
"Caramba!" muttered Guido beneath his breath, "it makes me mad! It's like the old custom of garlanding a victim before offering him up as a sacrifice!"
That night we slept on the schooner, disembarking the next day. The route was lined by Bolivar's soldiers, who saluted stiffly, and by thousands of people cheering wildly for their renowned visitor.
"There it is, you see," whispered Guido; "the people want San Martin. If they had their way, Guayaquil would be a part of Peru, with him as president."