Tim whistled.
"You kicked him out, I hope?" he said indignantly.
"Well, Tim, you see Colonel Zegarra's despatch with your postscript came just in time, or---- But that's all over. How are things going?"
"We have fairly smashed the lot from the Inca camp. They attacked this morning. Romaña brought your message, and I was hurrying up with fifty men when I saw a detachment of the enemy, about two hundred strong, I think, marching over the hills towards the road, so I rode back and asked Zegarra to bring up all his men and then came on ahead to tell you."
"That's very bad news," said Mr. O'Hagan, somewhat perturbed. "I've as much as I can do to hold my own here. As you see, they've brought a couple of guns to bear on us."
"Where are they?"
"Up in the hills yonder. How they were dragged there I can't imagine. They're at least a thousand feet up. The Prefect has more energy and resource than I expected. When the guns opened fire this morning we had to abandon the head of the defile. We're pretty safe here for the moment, and can check any attempt to force the passage; but I dare say the Prefect will find another position for the guns where they can command us, and then we shall have to fall back again. With two hundred men threatening our rear----"
"Couldn't you spare some men to deal with them?"
"That's a capital idea, Tim. It will take a long time to move the guns to a new position. We'll try it. I'll take a hundred and fifty men myself. You had better stay here; you've done your share."
"I'd rather come with you," said Tim.