So fast did Natividad flee, that Dick and the Marquis could hardly keep up with him. Uncle Francis, bringing up the rear, was muttering to himself:
“Damn nonsense, sir, damn nonsense. They’re not going to frighten me.”
Arequipa was _en fête_; the entire population of the city and its campina (suburbs) was packed in the main square and the adjacent streets to witness the triumphal return of the victor of the Cuzco--brave General Garcia, who had already been christened “the good Dictator,” and who had promised his partizans that within a fortnight he would sweep out of the country President Veintemilla, the two Chambers, and the whole parliamentary system which, he declared, had ruined Peru.
This was language the Arequipinos loved and understood. Politics had always flourished in that part of the country, and all revolutions began there. And the turbulent inhabitants of Arequipa felt that it was a terribly long time since they had had a “savior” to cheer.
Now they had one; a particularly picturesque one, who was to appear on horseback. So they had all donned their Sunday clothes, and the women had flowers in their hair and more flowers in their arms to scatter before the hero.
The Indian population, having sold its hens and vegetables in the market-place, joined the throng.
The square, for the occasion, seemed to have straightened out its tumble-down arcades, badly shaken by the last earthquake. The illusion was aided by brilliant-hued carpets, flags, banners and festoons which blazed in all directions and gave new life to the dilapidated walls. The cracked old towers of the church, the carved wooden balconies, flower-adorned galleries, and decorated windows were black with people. Above the city rose the Misti, one of the world’s highest volcanoes, wearing a fresh cap, glistening with the snows of the night.
Bells chimed and cannons roared out. Then came silence, broken again by the sound of bugles and the roar of a thousand voices. The procession of the troops had begun. Contrary to European custom, it commenced with all the impedimenta of the camp. It was like a rout:--Indians leading mules loaded down with baggage, provisions, and kitchen utensils; then a regiment of women bent under the weight of knapsacks, babies, and sacks of food.