"The shriek of the boy as he went to his death told them what had happened. Ah, it was not the first time some of them had heard such a wail!"
"Sergeant," said Alzura, "you tell such lively stories that I wonder at any one becoming tired of your society!"
"You are pleased to be merry," replied the man, "and I, too, can be the same, only not when speaking of the morass. Come, let us forget it for a while. Although you are my prisoners, you will not find me a harsh jailer."
This was quite true, but not all his kindness could make up to us for loss of liberty. Barriero and the other three prisoners seemed quite resigned to their fate, but Alzura was always hankering after the delights of Lima and home, while I, too, longed very much to see my parents and friends. So we often sat for hours watching the margin of the lake, envying the men who went ashore. They carried on their heads whatever bundles they had, and we carefully noted the landing-place, as well as the track across the morass which they appeared to take.
"It seems easy enough, doesn't it?" Alzura would say; "but in the dark it would be different! Think of the quagmires, Juan! Caramba! the sergeant was right. We had better give up our dreams, Juan, eh?"
I felt sure that this was wisely spoken, but somehow the next day we again went to look at the opposite shore and possible freedom. That horrible morass had a wonderful fascination for us. We thought of it by day and dreamed of it by night; but the weeks slipped away, and still we were prisoners on the islet.
The new year came, and in May 1824 we were joined by another captive. This was a treat for us, as he brought news from the outside world. He told us there had been many disturbances, that Bolivar was now undisputed ruler and leader of the Patriots, but that the end of the war seemed as far off as ever.
"If they keep us till the country is at peace," said he, "we shall die of old age on this islet."