At San Rosario the day passed without incident. There was great excitement in the town, but no breach of order. Everybody knew by this time that the attack overnight had been led by the young foreigner, and he was so popular a person that the majority of the citizens were not at all displeased with his proclamation. The gendarmes who had held the gobernador captive in his house having fled, Señor Fagasta came forth into the plaza, and made an attempt to assert his authority. But being assured by Dr. Pereira that the reins of power were now definitely in other hands, he retired to his patio, exchanged his official dress for his old alpaca coat and a Panama hat, and solaced himself with strong cigars and many copitas of brandy for his compulsory withdrawal from public life. During the day sundry groups of Peruvian youths and other idlers ventured timorously along the street from the country end, and gazed open-mouthed at the gates of the barracks and at the smiling Japanese posted at the windows; but after a time Tim thought it advisable to keep the street clear, and posted a couple of his men at the end to keep off intruders.
Early next morning word was brought from his advanced scouts that the Mollendist army had been sighted far up the western track. Every few minutes further reports arrived. Tim, all tingling with excitement, paced up and down the guardroom, wondering whether he ought to remain at his post, or whether he might ride out to meet his father. Presently he heard that a crowd of the townsfolk were pouring out into the country to hail the Liberator. At this news boyish impetuosity prevailed over all considerations of form. Rushing to the stables, Tim sprang on a horse and galloped out, down the street, and through the rabble.
He met the ragged company a mile from the cross-roads, marching, horse and foot, at the heels of Mollendo and Mr. O'Hagan.
"Hallo, Father!" Tim shouted as he dashed up.
"You young scamp!" cried Mr. O'Hagan, who was nevertheless delighted with the scamp. He had begun to think that Tim's action in forcing his hand was going to bear good fruit: he had picked up several recruits on the way.
"Thank God you're safe!" he continued, clasping the boy's hand. "It was terribly rash of you, my boy: what your poor mother would say I don't know: I don't like to think about it. You have fairly taken the wind out of my sails; you ought to be generalissimo, bedad! Seriously, you have set the ball rolling to some purpose. Mollendo is in ecstasies."
Mollendo had tactfully ridden on, so that the meeting of father and son might be private. And being met at this point by some of his chief supporters in the town, he went forward with them, leaving word that he wished Lieutenant O'Hagan to follow him to the gobernador's house.
"You had better cut off and get a wash, my boy," said Mr. O'Hagan. "You're as black as a sweep."
"I don't wonder. I haven't had time to wash; but I'll ride back to the barracks and soon follow you. Old Moll looks considerably bucked."
"He is. A word of advice: don't call him Old Moll in the hearing of the men, and don't laugh when he addresses you."