CHAPTER XXI
RUN TO EARTH
Young Tim was at an age when boys are a trifle sensitive about their personal appearance. He was glad that on returning to camp his ravaged complexion was obscured in the dark. Nobody seemed at all concerned about his protracted absence. Colonel Zegarra was playing at cards with a friend from the town; the other officers and the men were amusing themselves after their fancy. Tim made a round of the camp, and was almost surprised to find that sentries were properly posted. The vedettes along the roads had been changed at the intervals arranged; military routine had been observed. The only departure from custom, perhaps, was Colonel Zegarra's allowing Tim to append a postscript to his nightly despatch. Tim had intended to say nothing of his recent adventure; but reflecting that Pardo might visit his father for the purpose of extorting a ransom, he thought it just as well to certify his safety.
During the night, when his turn for guard duty came, he pondered the general situation. With a zeal natural in a young officer, he wanted to "do something": inactivity was boring; he wished the sluggish enemy would wake up. He wondered by which route they would march when the movement did at last begin: by the eastern track or by the western? In thinking over the probabilities, it suddenly struck him that by destroying the wooden bridge a few miles beyond Durand's house he could render the eastern road--the more likely one--impassable. The ravine was about thirty feet wide. The one other spot at which it could be crossed was several miles to the east, approachable only over very rough country. By preventing the passage of the enemy by the bridge he would compel them to return to the cross-track and come by the western route, at a loss of many hours.
To destroy the bridge would be a very simple matter. It wanted only a good charge of powder. But Tim reflected that it would be a pity to blow it up prematurely, in case the enemy elected to come by the other route after all. The bridge might be useful to his own side. So he decided to ask Colonel Zegarra's permission to mine it, to clear of all cover a space on each side of the ravine, and to leave a small detachment of his own Japanese at some distance on the south side with orders to fire the mine at the critical moment. One of the mounted vedettes might be posted at the top of the long incline beyond, to ride at full speed to the bridge as soon as he should discover signs of an approach in force. Such a headlong gallop would be dangerous in the dark, so Tim thought of replacing him at night by an infantry outpost of four men. He would station them say a hundred yards north of the bridge, and theirs would be the duty to fall back and blow it up if danger threatened.
He was explaining the scheme next morning to his complacent colonel when news arrived through his chain of vedettes that small parties of the enemy had been seen moving down from the Inca camp towards the upper junction of the paths. There was no indication of a general forward movement. They were merely feeling their way, having apparently discovered, perhaps by the want of news from the town, that something unusual was afoot. The wooden bridge being only a little more than five miles from Colonel Zegarra's position, there would probably be time to make all preparations for the explosion before the real advance of the enemy began. The colonel agreed to the suggestion. Tim was surprised at his extraordinary complaisance, his perfect contentment with the state of figure-head. Afterwards, with more knowledge, he felt considerable respect for President Mollendo's tact. Zegarra had been appointed to the command merely for the sake of appearances--to avoid any discontent among the Peruvians at being led by a foreigner. His compliance with every proposal of Tim's had been prearranged.
Tim chose the men for the work, took them out, and explained to them on the spot what he wished them to do. Then he left them. He had resolved to ride up the western road again, and see for himself what the enemy were about. Being convinced that their advance would be made along the eastern road, he intended to scout as far as the cross-track, and perhaps to ride some distance along it, till he came to a spot where any movement from the Inca camp would be visible to him.
His cycle had been well cleaned by one of the Japanese. He overhauled it finally himself, tested the sparking and the brakes, assured himself that the engine worked with the least possible noise, and that there was plenty of petrol. Having filled the chambers of his revolver, and put on a well-stocked bandolier, he took leave of the colonel and set off.
He felt safe for at least a dozen miles. There were four mounted vedettes along the track, the last of them being posted about a mile beyond Romaña's cave. If the enemy was moving on this route also, the fact would already have been reported.
The day was still young, and Tim, none the worse for his trouble of the previous afternoon, rode on in high spirits. Though continually rising, the track was not really steep for the first fifteen or twenty miles. He kept up a good speed, stopping every three miles to exchange a word with the vedettes, and had just reached the spot where he expected to find the last of them, when he was startled at seeing a man lying in a curiously huddled fashion at the side of the track a few yards ahead. He was slowing down, intending to stop and look more closely at the prone form; but suddenly there was a shot, and a bullet whistled past his head.