One evening early in November, 1879, several persons met at the home of John Dartmoor in Chucuito, a suburb in Callao.

From La Punta, a seaside resort, had come Captain and Mrs. Saunders, with their sons, Carl and Harold, the first-named a boy who was just graduating from his teens and the latter a much younger lad. Carl was the chum of Louis Dartmoor, Harvey’s elder brother; and these three, Carl, Louis, and Harvey, had experienced many adventures in Callao Bay together. Another adult guest was Don Isaac Lawton, a courtly British colonial, editor of the South Pacific Times, a man greatly esteemed by both Mr. Dartmoor and Captain Saunders, indeed by all the American and English residents of Peru.

A younger visitor was Bella Caceras, whose name has appeared in earlier chapters. Seated beside her on a couch in the little parlor this evening was Rosita Dartmoor, whose strong resemblance to her Peruvian mother was as marked as was her younger brother’s resemblance to his American father.

A dinner had preceded the social evening, and the occasion of the gathering was to celebrate Rosita’s fifteenth birthday. One who did not know how rapidly girls mature in these South American countries would have thought her several years older; indeed, in the United States she would readily have passed for a miss of eighteen or nineteen, and so would Bella Caceras, who was Rosita’s age. Both girls wore long skirts, and in Peru they were considered old enough to enter society. This winter would have witnessed their dÉbut, had it not been for the circumstances of the times preventing the social entertainments that for years had marked Lima and Callao as gay cities of the West Coast.

Peru, in this November of 1879, was a nation of mourning, a country plunged in despair. Eight months before she had taken up arms against Chile, to prevent the latter’s seizure of land to the south which was rich in nitrate of soda. Entering the contest with a well-equipped army and with a navy that was deemed by many the equal of the enemy’s, she had met a series of reverses that were disheartening, and in this early summer month—the seasons below the equator are the reverse of those to the north—it was evident that the country’s doom was sealed, and that any day a conquering army might move from the south and besiege the capital.

Fate had been unkind to the northern republic. One month after hostilities had commenced, the largest war-ship, the Independencia, had been lost on a reef near Iquique while in pursuit of a little Chilean gunboat that was hardly worthy the capture. In October, the Huascar, a turret-ship of great power, had been surrounded off Point Angamos, while steaming north, by nearly all the ships of the Chilean fleet and had been captured after a bitter engagement, but not until nearly one-half of her crew had been killed and she had been set on fire in several places.

It was during this engagement that Grau, admiral of the Peruvian navy, had been killed; and that is why Bella Caceras was in mourning, for he was her uncle. The loss of the Huascar had cast a gloom over all Peru, and the despair was heightened a few weeks later by the news that the gunboat Pilcomayo had been captured.

Meanwhile revolution had left its scar upon the country. Prado, the president, had fled to Europe, and an attempt by his ministers to form a government had been resisted by Don Nicolas de Pierola, who with a force of mountain men and some army and navy officers, who flocked to his standard, had attacked the palace in Lima, which they had captured after a bitter struggle; and as a result, Pierola was at this time dictator of Peru. The land forces had not been more successful than had the maritime. Reverses had been met in the south, and orders had been given to concentrate troops in the vicinity of Lima, to take part in the defence of the capital; for now that the Peruvian navy had been nearly annihilated, the ocean highway was clear, and it was possible for Chile to move transports as she wished.

Callao was the one strong point in the country. Defended by large modern guns in the castles, in the Chucuito forts, at Los BaÑos and at La Punta, the city was pronounced able to withstand any bombardment. But a blockade! That was what the residents feared, for with a cordon of ships in the offing commerce could not be maintained; supplies of food from the north and south and supplies from Europe, upon which the residents greatly depended, would cease.

As yet no Chilean ships had appeared off the port, except to reconnoitre, but rumors came from the enemy’s country that a squadron for blockade duty was forming, and more heartrending than all was the report that machinists were busy on the Huascar, putting her in trim, and that she would form one of the fleet. At this news Peruvians gnashed their teeth with rage.

It would be bad enough to have the ironclads Blanco Encalada and Almirante Cochrane dominate the sea within their sight, but to be compelled to witness a little turret-ship, once the pride of the Peruvian navy, steam near San Lorenzo island at the entrance to the harbor, flying the lone star flag of the enemy, would be the last drop in the bitter cup.

The gloom which overspread the country had little part in John Dartmoor’s home on this evening. They were all very happy, for any day they were expecting the return of Harvey from the interior, and a letter received from him had told them that his mission had been successful, even beyond their most fanciful expectations.

It was only the extreme of circumstances that had influenced Mr. Dartmoor to let his younger son undertake this hazardous trip. At the time of the lad’s departure he had believed he could postpone the evil day for several months, but a few weeks later came the news of the naval engagement off Point Angamos and the defeat of the Huascar, which caused a financial panic in Callao and Lima, and among the many forced to the wall was the American iron merchant.

He bravely faced the storm and was ably assisted by his wife and children, who cheerfully accustomed themselves to the new life that was made necessary. They gave up their handsome home and moved into a little cottage; Mrs. Dartmoor yielded her jewels, that more money might be paid their creditors; Rosita denied herself the pleasures which her father’s wealth in former years had enabled her to enjoy, and Louis, believing that he should no longer be a burden at home, secured a position as purser’s clerk on one of the steamers of the Pacific Steam Navigation Company.

A fortnight before this evening the same persons had met at Mr. Dartmoor’s home to bid good-by to Louis, who had planned to sail on the morrow, and while they were gathered in the little parlor a clerk had arrived from the ship chandler’s, where Mr. Dartmoor had found temporary employment, and had brought a letter received late in the afternoon. It was from Harvey, and the lad had written:—

“Dear Ones at Home: I have found it, or rather we have found it. The mine is here, just where the old Inca said it would be found. Mr. Ferguson, who is somewhat versed in such matters, says that millions are buried. From the study that I have had, I know that our assays have shown twenty-five per cent gold to seventy-five per cent gross.

“Of course it is difficult to work this mine, because no means of transportation exist, but as Mr. Hope-Jones says, ‘Gold is gold,’ and there will be no lack of capital to exploit what we have found. This letter I have written with the stub of a pencil, seated on the side of an ironwood tree. It is sent by a native, who has promised to take it to Chicla, from where it will be forwarded by post. We shall start home in about two weeks, after we have collected sufficient samples. My love for everybody, and I hope this letter will not arrive too late.

“P.S. Please ask Rosita to tell Bella Caceras, the next time she sees her, that I have appreciated her gift very much. It has been a constant companion.”

The joy which the receipt of this letter had given them all can well be imagined. John Dartmoor saw the rehabilitation of his fortunes at no distant day, and the reinstatement of his wife and children in the life to which they had been accustomed. The letter had also made it unnecessary for Louis to go to sea, but as he had promised the superintendent of the steamship company to take the position, and as it would have been difficult to find another person competent for the place on such short notice, he had made one voyage to Panama, returning the evening before this entertainment in honor of his sister’s birthday.

To another member of this party Harvey’s news had also brought happiness and relief from worry. Mr. Lawton had felt the burden of financial depression almost as much as had Mr. Dartmoor, and although he had weathered the first storm, yet every one knew that it was but the matter of a month or two before his publishing house would be compelled to close. The very day after the boy’s letter came to Chucuito, Harvey’s father had entered the editorial rooms and had said:—

“Don Isaac, can you hold out for a little while longer?”

“Yes, I think I can,” was the reply. “But what is the use? The end must come, and might as well happen now as later. Advertisers simply cannot pay their contracts, for all business is at a standstill, and there is a straight loss in the circulation with the currency so depreciated.”

“Well, I wish you to hold on until Harvey returns.”

“Why so, my friend?”

“Because I know that nothing would give my son more pleasure, after caring for his mother and sister, than advancing you all the money necessary to tide you over.”

“Do you think so, Dartmoor?”

“Indeed I know it, and can promise it for him.”

“Thank God!” exclaimed the Britisher fervently, but in a choking voice. His eyes were unusually brilliant, for they had grown moist. He was a bachelor, all his relatives were dead, and his newspaper was the one object that made life dear to him.

That evening Mr. Dartmoor said to his wife: “It seemed so strange for me to speak of Harvey lending money. But it is a fact, and he will really be lending it to us, for it will be his.”

“I am certain you know Harvey better than that,” Mrs. Dartmoor had replied. “You see if his very first act is not to insist that his interest be transferred to you.”

“But I would not accept it.”

“Nor should I wish you to. But he will have it arranged in some manner, that I know.”

Although Captain Saunders was not in financial distress, for he was paid in gold by the American Board of Marine Underwriters, for whom he was agent on the West Coast, yet the letter from the interior had made him none the less happy than it had the others, for John Dartmoor was not only a close friend of his Peruvian life, but they had been chums in boyhood, even as their sons were at this time; and for Don Isaac he had the same regard.

None of them in Chucuito permitted the news to alter their mode of living. Mr. Dartmoor remained at the desk in a ship chandler’s, and with his wife and Rosita lived in the little cottage, waiting until the adventurers should return from the interior. The good news had been noised about in Callao and Lima, and several offers had been made Mr. Dartmoor by persons anxious to advance money and secure a promise of an interest in the wonderful mine. But all these the American refused, saying that the property was not his, but his son’s, and he did not wish to make any arrangements until the lad should return.

It will be noticed that Harvey in writing had refrained from making mention of the encounter with the Majeronas. He had done this so that his parents might not be alarmed. And he had said nothing concerning SeÑor Cisneros. So that all they knew was that the mine had been located, that it was rich in gold, and that the boy was well.

“Let’s see, it’s a little over two weeks since the letter came, is it not?” asked Captain Saunders on the occasion of this birthday entertainment.

“Yes, two weeks ago Tuesday.”

“He said that they expected to leave within a fortnight?”

“Yes.”

“Then he is due now at any time.”

“I hardly expect him so soon,” said Mr. Dartmoor. “The Indian runner, accustomed to the country, and having nothing to carry, would be able to make much better time through the mountains than Hope-Jones, Ferguson, and my son, burdened with their camp utensils, and with the samples of ore. So I would not be surprised should another week elapse before their arrival.”

“You are doubtless correct. I had not thought of those matters.”

“Wouldn’t it be jolly though if they should arrive unexpectedly to-night!” exclaimed Carl Saunders, and Louis added, “I should say so.”

They were interrupted by a loud ring at the bell.

“I wonder if it can be possible!” exclaimed the elder Dartmoor boy, springing to his feet and rushing out into the hall. All conversation ceased, and they listened intently. But it was not the voice of Harvey that sounded when the door was opened. The tones, however, they recognized as those of a very dear friend, General Matajente, the smallest officer in the Peruvian army, a man who had been a captain in the navy during the administration of President Prado, but who had joined the land forces of Pierola and had rendered that leader such signal service that he had been rapidly promoted.

“Are your parents in?” they heard the general ask Louis, and the next minute he came hurriedly into the room, apologizing for having called at such a late hour, and expressing himself overjoyed at meeting so many of his friends at one time.

The general was an exquisite in the matter of dress, and wore black mustachios that were so long and stood out so prominently that he gave a person the idea of a walking cross. Although he was much undersized, yet those who knew him never gave the matter of his height any thought, for he was a most courageous and pugnacious personage. Both Carl and Louis had seen him facing an enemy, and had marvelled at his quickness and his dexterity. They had been present on the Pilcomayo, which he once commanded, when the captain had fought a duel with a naval officer who was much his superior in physique, yet who had been in the hands of the little man as a mouse in the paws of a kitten. They had also seen him lead the famous cavalry charge in Lima, and sweep right into a battery of guns, sabring the artillerists until all the pieces were silenced. When they thought of these things, Captain Matajente, as they always called him to one another, appeared as a giant, rather than a dwarf, which he was in reality.

“Had we known that you were in the city, general, we should have sent you an invitation on behalf of Rosita,” said Mr. Dartmoor.

“I know you would, and I am delighted that I happened in. The fact is I came from Lima only on the last train.”

“Are you going to remain long?”

“Only over night,” he replied. “I came to listen in detail to some remarkable adventures; as remarkable, I am sure, as any that ever happened to three young men; and I came also, Mr. Dartmoor, to introduce my cousin, Anton Cisneros, a resident of Huari, who has journeyed to the coast on a business trip.”

“I should be delighted——”

Mr. Dartmoor was cut short by the entrance from the hallway of a tall, dark-featured Peruvian, clad in a long poncho and wearing heavy top-boots, who was presented to those who were in the parlor.

“Rosita,” whispered Bella Caceras, “I believe that Harvey has returned. Look at the general. Don’t you notice a twinkle in his eyes? And what is Louis waiting out in the hall for? I hear voices, Rosita! I tell you, it’s your brother!” and the vivacious Peruvian girl darted from the room. A second later she gave a little scream of delight, then was heard to say: “I knew it! I knew it! Rosita, come here!”

“Ah! the little minx has spoiled my surprise!” said General Matajente to those in the parlor. “Harvey, come in and bring your friends!”

“Harvey here!” exclaimed Mrs. Dartmoor, rising quickly, and she ran to the door, followed by her husband.

Yes, Harvey was there, and so were Hope-Jones and Ferguson.

“Why, you have grown nearly a foot!” said Mr. Dartmoor, holding him off at arm’s length after the first welcome was over. “And you are almost black.”

Then all fell to talking at once, as is usual on such occasions. General Matajente explained that he had met the travellers by chance as they were leaving the Oroya Railroad station in Lima, after coming in from Chicla. That was at five o’clock in the afternoon, and he had taken them to his home, where they had removed the stains of travel. He had been pleasantly surprised to find that the companion of their interior journey had been his cousin from Huari, and from him he had learned something of the adventures of the four. Anxious to hear the story in detail, and also to be a witness to the joyful reunion, he had accompanied them to Callao and on to Chucuito. He had planned that Harvey’s entrance should be a surprise, but the keen ears of Bella Caceras had enabled her somewhat to turn the tables.

The five had dined in Lima, but were nothing loath to again sitting down at the board, and at ten o’clock all drew up chairs. Then, as every one insisted that the story of the adventures be told that night, Hope-Jones described their experience from Lima to Huari, and the captain took up the thread of the story from the time of their departure from the mountain town. Mrs. Dartmoor shuddered when the adventure with the puma was related, and the girls turned pale. But when it came to the battle with the Majeronas, the details were listened to with breathless eagerness, and Harvey felt his mother’s arm press him closer.

There were two scarlet faces in the room as the captain detailed the sequel to this fight and Harvey’s narrow escape from death; and then, for the first time, the men learned who had been the donor of the pincushion that had stayed the arrow’s flight, for Bella Caceras had jumped to her feet, and had run over to the boy’s side when she heard how he had carried her little gift, and what it had done for him. The two were for several minutes the objects of many good-natured jests, but they bore them bravely, and, all being interested in hearing of the further discoveries, the narrative was resumed.

It was after midnight before everything had been told, and before they thought of rest. Mr. Dartmoor insisted that SeÑor Cisneros should remain with him, and that Hope-Jones and Ferguson also should stay. As the house was too small to accommodate all whom the genial American wished to accommodate, Captain Saunders invited General Matajente to go with him to La Punta, and he also urged that Louis join them as Carl’s guest. This arrangement was finally agreed upon, and the party for La Punta withdrew, being accompanied as far as the little railway station by Don Isaac, who had refused all invitations and had said that he would prefer to walk to his rooms in Callao.

“For,” he explained to Captain Saunders, “I feel a strange buoyancy to-night; even as if I were a boy again.”

The editor had good cause for this. A few minutes before good nights were said, he had been taken to one side by Mr. Dartmoor, who had whispered:—

“I spoke to Harvey of my wish that you should share our good fortune, and he is enthusiastic at the idea.”