On my arrival at the manager’s office, I found him in consultation with the Prefecto of Arequipa and the General in command of the regular army. I was informed that another revolution was about to be attempted in Peru in favor of General Pierola.

The General said he had a valuable package which must be delivered to the Prefecto of Puno, that in the event the package was captured it would ruin all their plans. Would I undertake to deliver it for the government? I turned to the general manager and, speaking to him in English, said: “There is some mystery connected with this. Before I pledge myself to do this, it will be necessary to have a clear understanding.” He repeated my request to the General, who informed me that a 115 secret message had come over the wires that a revolution had broken out again, and this time the insurgents had taken possession of several points to prevent the government troops from reaching Puno; that the package I was to take was a notice to the Prefecto of Puno, for himself and those in favor of the government, to proceed to a designated place, where the government troops would arrive, and march by stages to Puno.

I realized the danger connected with this undertaking and accepted the responsibility with some trepidation. A generous reward awaited me if I succeeded, but it was understood in accepting the perilous message, no instructions were to be given me; that I was to use my own judgment and, if danger threatened the package, to destroy it before it should be captured.

The little Arequipena had long since been rebuilt, and I at once proceeded to put her in readiness for the journey. Manuel, my fireman, was a native of Arequipa, a powerfully built and sturdy fellow. He 116 had been much among the British and American railway men and could understand English.

After leaving orders as to the time of starting, I called on an English friend and confided my mission. I asked him, in event of my death, to write to my relatives in Scotland, giving the details. He did everything in his power to dissuade me, but I told him his talk was idle. No use, I had made up my mind. Upon seeing the Arequipena ready, the men in the shops questioned me, but I evaded their questions.

I went to the office of the general manager and he gave me the package, unaddressed, done up securely, and sealed with red wax. I placed it in the inside pocket of my vest. The manager asked me to be careful with myself. He would much rather I should not go, but in my state of mind, I was only too glad to get my thoughts off the sad remembrance of Felicita’s fate.

I left Arequipa at ten o’clock that night, cautiously and silently leaving the station. I arrived at Puno the following evening 117 and lay over at Juliaca Junction a few hours. At this point the station master asked me where I was going. I replied that I had orders for Puno. Leaving Juliaca, I arrived at Puno at exactly five o’clock. I blew the whistle for the station. I noticed that it was crowded with people, but saw no one I would suspect of being a revolutionist. I put the engine in the shed, and then went and washed up. I hid the package in a secure place, where it was impossible for anyone to find it, as I had planned to go to the hotel, eat supper and then learn my chances for getting to the Prefecto, before I took the package from its hiding place. The station of Puno, like all terminal stations of the Arequipa railway, was fenced in by corrugated iron, about eight feet high, and it was necessary to go through the station outlet, which was only opened on the arrival and departure of trains, or another outlet guarded by a dog and night watchman. I went out by the small gate, familiarly bidding the watchman good evening. This gate only 118 employes had the right to use. I walked up town to the hotel Inca. I met several gentlemen who knew me and asked one to play a game of billiards before supper. No one seemed to think that my coming was anything more than the usual routine of railway business.

After darkness, I lit a cigar and strolled down the street where the Prefecto lived. I observed the sentry at the front entrance and upon close observation, I found that the rear of the house could be approached by a little back street connecting with a small alleyway by means of which the house could be entered from the front.

I retraced my steps to the station but did not go near the gate. I went around to the engine shed, where an opening had been made by the boys so they could get to their rooms when out late nights and avoid answering the questions of the watchman. When I reached the Arequipena, the wipers were cleaning her. I spoke to the foreman, and getting the package, went out the same way, no one noticing my departure. Then 119 going through, the narrow street I went up the small alley and, seeing no one, presented myself at the main entrance of the Prefecto’s house. Here the sentry barred my passage and demanded the password. I told him to call the officer of the guard, and when he appeared I explained that I had important business with Senor Prefecto, and desired to see him personally.

“Who are you?”

“The Senor Prefecto will answer that question,” I replied.

I had folded the package and hid it in the lining of my overcoat which I had thrown over my arm. The officer withdrew for a few minutes, but soon returned and allowed me to pass the sentry. Halting in front of a large door, a signal was given and it was opened by another officer. I was ushered in, and from there into an adjoining room, where I was told to wait.

Presently there came in a priest, then an officer with side arms, and last Senor Prefecto, who asked me the nature of my business. I replied that I had a message for 120 the Prefecto, which could be imparted to him alone. When my errand was communicated to him, he could do as he chose.

There was much hesitation before my request for a private audience was granted, but on being searched, overcoat and all, the Senor Prefecto finally agreed to see me alone. When the others had retired, I took the package from the lining of my overcoat and gave it to him.

I watched him closely as he read the contents. His face became blanched, and his hands shook in abject fear, although nothing else could have been expected from him, as he was an arrant coward.

After reading the document, he called the others. He handed it to the priest, who asked where I came from. I told him. Then he wanted to know if anyone had seen me enter here, and whether the arrival of the Arequipena was known. I told him I thought no one would pay any attention to the arrival of the train but would consider it the ordinary routine railway business. A consultation was held, and 121 after they found that I knew the contents of the message I had brought, they admitted me to their council. They asked me to get the Arequipena ready, and they and the principal officers would flee to Arequipa. I told them that such a course could not be pursued, as all the telegraph offices were in the hands of the insurgents, and that our departure would become known, the engine surrounded and all taken prisoners. They agreed it would be impossible to escape that way, and decided that about midnight they would escape on horseback. Just then an officer arrived and reported that the insurgents had taken possession of the station, and two engines, one being the regular passenger. One of the engine runners had been taken prisoner. Their spy had reported that it was their intention to take both engines and several coaches loaded with soldiers and arms; also, large quantities of powder had been put on the Arequipena for the purpose of destroying Sumbay bridge––to prevent the passage of government troops.

I was forgotten for the time being, their fear for their own safety outweighing all other considerations. Another officer came in and breathlessly added the climax. The regiment of regulars had joined the insurgents!

I was now doing some rapid thinking. If Sumbay bridge was destroyed and the fact not known in Arequipa, the government troops would come along and, with the engine crew, be hurled into eternity. The bridge being about one hundred and seventy-five feet high and six hundred feet long and on a curve with deep cuts on either side and a heavy down grade, it would be impossible for any train to stop, unless warned beforehand.

This was the murderous scheme of the insurgents.

I learned it was the intention of the insurgents to proceed to Vincocaya in the morning, destroy as they went along, the telegraph offices, wait at Vincocaya until the arrival of the regular passenger train from Arequipa and then proceed to Sumbay 123 bridge. They evidently had calculated with a great deal of precision, and if their plans carried, victory would certainly be theirs.

All these things were filling me with apprehension. I knew I would be captured, but how could I save the bridge? I was determined to try at all hazards.