“This document calls for the payment of $10,000, and guarantees you life employment by the government of Peru, provided you save the Sumbay bridge,” said the prefecto as he handed me a paper duly witnessed by the priest.

“No, Senor, I cannot accept it,” I replied. “I will do my duty for the sake of humanity. It is part of my plan to be captured by the insurgents and should that paper be found on my person, I would be shot as a spy. If I succeed you can reward me.”

I left the Prefecto and his party, wishing them a safe journey, and sauntered carelessly back to the Inca hotel. I entered smoking a cigar and wearing a look of unconcern, pretended I was not aware of any revolutionary movement. There were several 125 men playing billiards in the parlors. I took a chair and sat down to watch the players. About 11 o’clock I asked to be shown to my room, and retired, knowing full well that I had been watched by a citizen of Puno since my entrance to the hotel, and I was satisfied I would soon be taken prisoner.

About 2 o’clock in the morning, I was awakened from a restless sleep by the entrance of twelve men armed with bare swords and revolvers. They were all talking at once. I sat up in bed and appeared to be amazed. The leader requested me to dress and accompany him. The streets were lined with people shouting the old familiar cry, “Viva Pierola,” as I was marched in the center of this crowd. The cry resounded down street after street. The city was wild with excitement. The escape of the Prefecto was on every lip, as we turned at a street corner and to the station. We had great difficulty in obtaining entrance, but a passage was cleared and I was ushered into the presence of the leader 126 of the revolutionary forces. He was about fifty years of age, some six feet in heighth, and powerfully built, but with a countenance far from pleasing.

With little ceremony, I was notified to get the Arequipena ready to depart from the station at 7 o’clock in the morning. The principal officers would go with her, I was told, and the regular train would follow with the troops.

I replied that as a British subject it would be impossible for me to comply, unless force was used; that I protested against this high-handed proceeding. I did this so that, in the future, no one could accuse me of aiding the rebels willingly. He replied that he did not care for the British government, that I would do as I was told or suffer the consequences. They then escorted me to the engine house, where I found my fireman Manuel already a prisoner; also Beaumont, the other engineer, and his fireman.

After getting the engine ready, I requested the officer in charge to allow us to 127 procure something to eat. His permission was given, then another procession marched through the streets to the hotel, where the rebel guards stood over us at breakfast.

The Arequipena was ready. Behind were the passenger engine and five coaches, which rebel troops were already entering. At breakfast I had managed to get a few words with Beaumont.

As the Arequipena was to go ahead, I would endeavor to get the officers out to eat at Vincocaya. I would give a signal for him to uncouple his engine and follow at full speed. It would be impossible to stop him and they would be at the mercy of the government troops, which would leave that afternoon, according to the instructions given the Prefecto of Puno from Arequipa.

The officers came aboard the little Arequipena and loaded on several barrels of powder, picks and shovels to destroy the abutments of the bridge.

There were eleven officers who came 128 aboard the coach, when to my surprise, I beheld along with three soldiers, Don Rodrigo Garcia, who was to guard me. I cannot describe my feelings. I know I am not a coward, but I was taken with a shock of nervousness. It was not of long duration. Indignation took the place of fear, but I realized how formidable a task I had undertaken to save Sumbay bridge. Howbeit, I determined more than ever to succeed, and the knowledge of that man being near me, gave me renewed courage.

Before starting he hissed to me: “Don Juan, we meet again.”

I did not answer. It was all I could do to keep from attacking him despite the disadvantage I was at. The thought of the bridge, however, restrained any hasty action.

We left the station with the troop train closely following. According to orders, our first stop would be at Juliaca station. I knew that when we reached there the telegraph office would be destroyed. Telegraph communication was cut off between Juliaca 129 station and Puno. Nearing the station, we stopped to take water from a tank. I asked permission from the leader to allow my fireman to go and draw some oil, explaining that I had none and it was necessary, that his going there would not create suspicion, and it would save much time. I was greatly surprised when he consented. I took a small piece of paper and wrote the following in English: “Van Buren, I am coming with rebels to destroy Sumbay bridge. Hurry up troops. Buchan.” After writing, I read aloud in Spanish: “Procure from Senor Southers, the station master, two quarts of engine oil for the Arequipena.” I handed it to Manuel who understood my meaning. He took the engine cans and walked to the office.

My heart beat rapidly. I fairly held my breath. Would he be able to see Southers before I took water? Would Southers understand my meaning and get the message off before we arrived at the platform and find the office destroyed? I delayed taking water as long as possible, then pulled slowly 130 down the track to the platform. The moment we stopped, the officers rushed in the telegraph office and disconnected the instruments from the wires. Don Rodrigo and his three soldiers never left me for a moment, which made me suspect that my every movement would be closely watched.

The fireman came down the platform, both engine oil cans in his hands. I asked him if he had seen Southers. He replied that he had and that everything was all right. I received the oil and looked at him. His look told plainly that the message was sent. I felt that a heavy load had been lifted and breathed freer. I looked at Don Rodrigo. I was satisfied that in a short time we would meet in a struggle that would be the final one between us.

After the office had been destroyed we started again, the troop train always close behind us. We stopped at Cabanillas, Maravillas and Santa Lucia and carried away their telegraph instruments; then we ran direct to Vincocaya. Arriving there the telegraph office suffered like the others. I 131 pulled down in front of the hotel, then told the officers that the passenger train was due in an hour, and that it would be impossible to proceed until its arrival. I showed him the time card to satisfy him I was telling the truth, and remarked that advantage might be taken of the time by having supper. Accordingly all of them, left the Arequipena except Don Rodrigo and the three soldiers. The officers left their arms in the little coach. Now was the time to act. Should I fail now, no other chance would present itself, for, after the arrival of the passenger train, the only stop would be at Sumbay bridge, when it would be too late. I figured that, after Van Buren had received my message from Juliaca the troops could not possibly arrive at Sumbay bridge before eight o’clock that night. It was four o’clock when we reached Vincocaya and the passenger would be leaving Sumbay station. Pucacancha was another station between Sumbay and Vincocaya. The grade being 160 feet to the mile, the train makes very slow time between 132 Sumbay and Pucacancha. It was my only hope to succeed in getting to Pucacancha before the arrival of the passenger train.

I was nervous. I got off the engine, then called to Manuel to hand me another oil can. I spoke to him in English to have everything ready. I was going to run away with the engine––would he assist me? This I asked while I was pretending to oil the engine, and I had to trust largely to Manuel’s intuition, as he knew but little English. He returned to the engine and raised a full head of steam. I noticed Don Rodrigo watching me from one of the side doors of the coach. I climbed back on the engine and put away the oil can, when Rodrigo said with a significant tone: “My time will soon come when I can avenge the insult I received at Tiravaya.”

I did not answer. I knew his meaning. When my services were no longer required, he would, with his cowardly instinct, devise a means to kill me. The three soldiers were a fair sample of the poor ignorant 133 Peruvians. They were armed with breech-loading rifles of French pattern, bayonets fixed. After Rodrigo had muttered his threat, he went into the little coach, sitting directly behind me, and could, by his position, observe every move I made. Manuel was standing on the left watching me. Although I had endeavored to make him understand, he was not aware of my plans. I looked back and saw the troop train taking water at the tank. I looked at Manuel, and he understood “the time had come.”

With my left hand, I threw the throttle wide open and with my right blew the signal agreed upon. With a prayer to God I threw myself upon the nearest soldier.