"Moreover, general," he said blandly, "since your son, with commendable modesty, has declined the colonel's commission which I offered him, it will be necessary for form's sake to appoint an officer of that rank to command the second army. I recommend for that honourable post Señor Zegarra, a gentleman of proved loyalty, upon whom I have just conferred a colonel's commission."
Mr. O'Hagan was annoyed. Señor Zegarra, the second of the trio who had formed the deputation to Tim, was a retired architect, with no military experience. Still, he was an amiable man, and Mr. O'Hagan hoped by a little judicious and tactful handling to prevent any interference with his plans.
Tim laughed heartily when his father returned and told him of the President's action.
"Old Moll means to be boss," he said.
"Old meddler!" grumbled Mr. O'Hagan. "However, it can't be helped. I'll get Zegarra to make you chief of staff, and if you go gently with him you can see that he doesn't upset the apple-cart."
Tim was secretly not ill-pleased at the change. It would give him, he hoped, greater freedom of action. As commander of the force he would have been tied to it. He could not leave his men. And since he had already made up his mind to fetch the petrol cans which he had concealed in the shrubbery, and make use of the motor-bicycle again, he needed no consolation for being superseded.
Mr. O'Hagan made a point of seeking out old Pedro Galdos, and thanking him for arranging his escape from prison. Knowing that the caballero, poor as he was, would disdain a pecuniary reward, Mr. O'Hagan had hit upon a more excellent way. He asked him to accept the appointment of commissary-general to the forces, taking care to couch the offer in the flowery terms that a Peruvian loves. Galdos accepted with dignity, straightened his shrunken old frame, and went off to harass all the provision dealers in the town.
In the afternoon the two forces rode out, Mr. O'Hagan and the President at the head of about 350 men, Tim and Señor Zegarra with 150, including his Japanese. These were on foot; all the rest were mounted. Mr. O'Hagan marched towards San Juan, Tim to the cross-roads north of the town. On reaching his post, carrying out his father's instructions, he set his men to throw up a light earthwork at the intersection, and rendered the woods on each side impassable by an abattis. He sent a number of horsemen forward for several miles on both the eastern and western tracks, to watch for the enemy and give timely warning if they should approach from the Inca camp.
Señor Zegarra was, as Mr. O'Hagan had said, a very amiable gentleman; and when Tim, after the bivouac had settled down, announced that he wished to fetch his motor-bicycle, which might be useful in scouting, the new-made colonel gave a gracious approval. Tim was rather perplexed as to the best way to set about it. To begin with, he had no petrol; but that difficulty was easily solved. He picked out four of his most trusty Japanese, explained to them clearly where they would find the cans he had hidden, and sent them through his father's plantations to bring them in. They would also report what they could discover about the state of affairs at the house: he thought it scarcely likely that Pardo had ventured back again. It was probably deserted.
But, having the petrol, how could he bring back the motor-cycle? To walk to the cave would be a long and wearisome job: to ride seemed to mean that on returning he must leave the horse behind. He could not ride both horse and cycle. He might, of course, take horsemen with him, and leave his own steed with them; but the existence of the cave was known only to Romaña and two others, and he thought it would be as well to keep the secret which was not his own. But before the Japanese returned laden with the petrol cans he had solved the problem. He would ride out on horseback, carrying just enough petrol to last for the run, leave the horse with one of his vedettes some distance from the cave, and go on alone for the cycle. The horse could be brought back at leisure.