“It must be, after all!” I heard him exclaim in Spanish. “Maria! yes, it is you! Si, si, and I rejoice greatly.”
“And you are Domingos; I am sure you are,” exclaimed Maria.
“Yes, that is true,” answered the old man. “I have come expressly to find you. I have brought bad news; but it might be worse, so be not alarmed.”
“What is it?” I asked eagerly. “Are my father, or mother, or sister ill?”
“No; they are all well,” said Domingos; “but sad events have occurred at Quito. There has been a great disturbance—a revolution—no new thing unhappily; and your father’s house has been burned down, and they have had to fly, and try to escape from the country. They are safe by this time, I hope. I came on to conduct you to them. I have been riding fast to try and meet you to prevent you taking the direct road to Quito. A body of troops are marching along the road, and if you were to fall into their hands you would be ill-treated. We will descend some distance by the way you have come, and take shelter in yonder forest which clothes the side of the mountain. We shall be safe there, and I doubt not obtain shelter in one of the huts of the chinchona gatherers.”
Domingos had given me this account in a few hurried words. I instantly called to the rest of our party who were ahead, and we were all soon collected in a nook in the side of the mountain, where we held a consultation as to what should be done. We quickly agreed to follow the advice of Domingos. Don José was greatly agitated at hearing what had occurred.
“They would treat me with but scant ceremony, were I to fall into their hands,” he observed; “and I am afraid that you would suffer also were I to be found in your company. However, we may easily escape in the forest should any search be made for us, and therefore let us lose no time in seeking its shelter.”
While he was speaking, I caught sight of some figures high up the mountain, at a point round which the path wound its way. I pointed them out to Domingos.
“They are the soldiers,” he exclaimed; “I see the glitter of their arms! We have no time to lose. Move on, my friends, move on! If we were overtaken it would fare hard with us.”
Don José, who had also been looking towards the point, made us a sign to follow, and rapidly led the way down the side of the mountain, our native muleteers being evidently as anxious to avoid the soldiers as we were. The Indians had, it appeared, taken an active part in the insurrection which had just broken out, and our guides knew, therefore, that, should they be caught, the party in power would very likely wreak their vengeance on their heads.