The Motor Scout

, Mr. O'Hagan had bought his estate, consisting of some thousands of acres, at a very low price, and planted it partly with coffee, partly with sugar. His workers were Cholos (the native India

, crossed only by rough paths over which goods were carried on the backs of mules. Some of the planters had tried to introduce wheeled vehicles; but the custom

He did not much relish the coming explanations with his father. Mr. O'Hagan was by no means strict with his only son as a general rule, but

d the walls. To the right of this were the drawing-room and study. Beyond was another patio with a well in the centre, and a veranda looking on the garden. On the other side were the dining-room and bedroom

patio; she was often a very convenient buffer between him and his father; but she was not there, and he remembered that this

y as he entered, and was relieved to see n

d ride, Ti

m somewhat gloomily. "I s

ppose you overtook him and

but we were pounced on by four rough-looking fellows he called brigands. They let me off,

This is very vexing; I

ldn't have left the o

squeeze a ransom out of him. Upon my word, Tim, you're a great trouble to me, with your machine.

ouldn't help

ists, and in this country they may be our governors next week. You'll cost me

d a sigh

h the street in fine style. He was perched on the carrier, cling

y you brought him rig

ed I

rth did yo

Father. I really

f fun, especially when the fun is at his expense. You're terribly thoughtless.

mself with Irish impetuosity into the struggle between Peru and Chile; and having been a lieutenant of volunteers when living in London, he had made use of his military knowledge in his new domicile. He had been given a commission in the Peruvian cavalry, and had led

ity, and by and by, when he found an opportunity of speaking to Tim alone, he tried to pump him. But Tim did not like Miguel Pardo. He could scarcely have told why; it was an instinctive feeling which did not need explanation. When the young Peruvia

ork for the day in writing a letter. Then, locking up his books, he left the house by the servants' entrance and,

te. The two men were always so excessively polite to each other that Mr. O'Hagan shrewdly guessed them to be hostile at heart.

ut to take the air? Let me give you a friendly warning:

erhaps to the town. San Rosario is not Lima, unluckily. There I sh

ast, an assumption of superiority: every Peru

aid politely. "I myself was born at Li

" said Pardo. "I bi

f his hat a

ation. Ordinarily the bandying of words would have been kept up for several minutes. What was the

y to the hacienda, turned about, and dogged Pardo to the outskirts of the town. There the clerk entered a small house--a chacara belonging to one of the Indian agri

s corral hard by, caught and saddled a horse, and rode off, not towards San Rosario

re on meeting, near the plaza, a thin, wiry man of about sixty years of age, with whom he entered into earnest conversation. A few minutes later

e, Roma?a strolled to an orange orchard a quarter of a mile southward from the house. After waiting there impatien

ero?" said Ro

im, se?or, in

did h

Prefect'

with satisfaction.

dor gives out that he ver

?a s

o. Go back and keep

d Roma?a return