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Taken by surprise, the men stopped, and we heard one of them say, "No, no; he's no Spaniard. I can tell by his speech." "Quite right," cried the colonel. "I'm an English officer in the Patriot army. Who are you? Make haste; we don't want to stay here all night." "We're deserters from General Canterac's army," replied one boldly, "and want to give ourselves up." "Then you're just right.
"Can you eat something? I can only give you army food; but that will fill up the hollows. Now let me look at the damage. Faith, I compliment you on having a thick skull. A thinner one would have cracked like an egg-shell. Don't try to talk till you've had something to eat." "Just one question," I said faintly. "Who are the soldiers just moved out?" "Why, General Canterac's troops.
"What can your handful of men do against Canterac's army?" I asked Sorillo as we rode away. "Not much beyond cutting off a few stragglers," he replied, smiling; "but we shall obtain information of which our leaders in Lima seem to stand badly in need." Since these events happened I have asked myself many times whether I did right or wrong, and even now I scarcely know how to decide.
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