His parole was demanded again, and he was strictly forbidden to stray beyond the limits of the enclosure. He was given a dinner consisting of mutton boiled with vegetables, and toasted maize, with water from a stream, almost dried up by the summer heat, that flowed into the broader river below. Mollendo offered him a Manilla cigar, which he put in his pocket.
He was allowed to roam about the encampment. So well placed that one might approach within a few yards without discovering it, it overlooked the surrounding country for hundreds of square miles. On the east he could see the track by which he had come, winding east and south-east through the hills. On the west a few steps cut in the rock led to what had once been an Inca road, running into the path that led southward to the highway to San Juan. Southward flowed the hill-stream, through a rough and precipitous gully. To the north the ground rose steeply to inaccessible snow-capped peaks.
Tim passed a restless and unhappy day. He supposed that Mollendo had sent one of his men to demand the ransom from his father; but no information was given him. The only mitigation of his captivity was afforded by the brigands' experiments with the motor-cycle. None of them was able to ride it; few were anxious to try. They were good horsemen, no doubt; but Tim soon came to the conclusion that they would never make motor-cyclists. He watched with amusement their first attempts in the middle of the courtyard. One man tried to mount the bicycle when stationary, and became violently angry at each failure to maintain his balance. Then he got two of his comrades to support him, one on each side, and thrust at the handles. No movement resulting, his supporters pushed the machine for a few yards, then let it go. It toppled over, and the rider's leg being crushed between the cycle and the ground, he swore bitterly, and retired to digest his discomfiture.
Señor Mollendo looked on at all this with much disappointment. The confiscated machine, apparently, was not to be so valuable an acquisition as he had supposed. He smiled with pleasure, however, when the machine was set in motion by a series of accidents. While one man was in the saddle; held up on both sides, another happened to discover the petrol tap, and turned it on. The supporters pushed the bicycle for a few feet, the engine began to fire, and the rider chancing to move the throttle switch, the machine started forward with a suddenness that caused the two men at the sides to lose their grip. There were shouts of delight from the onlookers; but the rider was so much amazed at his own inadvertent skill that he lost his head, and could neither stop nor steer his unmanageable steed. Only by sprinting across the courtyard at full speed did Tim save man and cycle from being dashed disastrously against the stone wall.
After this the machine was left severely alone, until Tim, weary for want of something to do, offered to instruct the men in its manipulation. This won Señor Mollendo's warm approval, and Tim spent several hours of that day and the next in teaching the younger members of the party how to ride. They had no personal feeling against him; and with the prospect of their lean treasury being increased by £250 on his account, they began to regard him with even more kindliness than his willingness and good temper had already won.
On the third day the messenger sent by Señor Mollendo to claim the ransom, returned, bringing with him not merely the money, but a rumour of the manner in which the midnight raiders had been received at Mr. O'Hagan's house. That they were part of the Prefect's escort was an open secret. Mollendo called Tim to him and asked if the story was true. Tim saw no reason to conceal anything, and gave a full description of what had happened, only suppressing the fact that his information had come from the gobernador.
"You showed remarkable ingenuity, my young friend," said Mollendo, greatly tickled by the picture of the spluttering crew stumbling out into the darkness. "I quite understand why your good father should consider you worth £250. He has sent the money; you are free. And as a mark of my appreciation of your service to the cause of liberty by discommoding the usurper's minions, I have much pleasure in returning"--("How much?" wondered Tim in excitement)--"your motor-cycle. Four of my supporters will assist you to the path below. When you meet your father, convey to him my salutations, and assure him that the money will be put to a good use in upholding the flag of freedom."
He shook hands warmly, bowed with his hat to his breast, and with a polite a reveder, the Spanish equivalent of au revoir, he ended Tim's captivity.
CHAPTER VII
THE PREFECT MOVES