Here the speaker was interrupted by the entrance of a young officer.
"A chasque from Quilmes for the Señor General," he said.
"Admit him," said Liniers.
The officer stepped back and ushered into the room a slight-built man of a clear yellowish complexion, with long black hair which flowed down over his shoulders. He wore a striped poncho, which covered him completely down to his knees, below which appeared his boots, each made of the skin from the hind leg of a colt, a boot which had no seam in it, and was waterproof except where the great toe projected for the purpose of holding the stirrup. He held his hat in his hand, and as he came forward his huge iron spurs clanked at each step he took.
"I seek the Señor General Liniers," said he, looking round him with the greatest nonchalance, and tossing his poncho on to his shoulder to free his arm as he drew a letter from a pocket in the tirador which he wore round his waist.
"I am he," said General Liniers.
"A letter from the Señor Colonel Lopez."
"You can retire," said Liniers, as he took the letter, "but remain at hand, I may want you."
Liniers returned to his seat, and did not open the letter until the man had retired.
"Señores, with your permission," said he, as soon as the door was closed; then breaking the seal he opened the letter. As he read it his face flushed with a proud joy, then rising to his feet he looked steadily at each of the watching faces before him.