scrapes, and a cause of bewilderment and trouble to the grave householders of the town. More than once they had politely complained to Mr. O'Hagan of his escapades: scrambling over their roofs, hunting for lost balls in their gardens without much regard for their carefully tended flower-beds, and engaging in many other nimble exercises which are natural enough to an English--or Irish--boy, but are rare with the less active Latins. Thrashings and admonitions were equally ineffective; he would promise not to repeat a certain offence, and keep his word, but only to break out in a new direction. Mr. O'Hagan at last despaired of further correction, and yielded to his wife's advice, to leave Tim to the sobering hand of time.

As he grew older Tim became less mischievous, without losing his wild spirits and love of frolic. To see him coast down the hills on his free-wheel bicycle with no hold upon the handle-bar filled the Peruvian boys with fear and amazement. And when, on his sixteenth birthday, his father surrendered to his importunities, and presented him with a motor-bicycle, there were not wanting many who foretold that young Tim would sooner or later break his neck. Tim laughed at them. He had come through his most daring exploits without any hurt more serious than scratches and bruises; and being very clear-headed and possessed of iron nerves he was accustomed to scoff at the warnings of timid people.

In spite of his prankishness, there was no more popular person in San Rosario. Nobody could dislike the boy with his fair Irish face, his honest eyes twinkling with fun, and the shaggy head that scorned hats and defied sunstroke. The Peruvian ladies would have made a pet of him if he would have allowed them; and their husbands, in a country where everybody, man, woman, and child, smokes, often made him presents of cigars, which he accepted gratefully, and dutifully handed over to his father.

His was the only motor-bicycle in the province, an object of a fearful awe to the young Peruvians. A crowd of these would surround him as he prepared to mount, and scatter with shrieks when they heard the clatter of the engine. Elderly ladies crossed themselves and drew their mantillas closer as they saw him flashing by, and the authorities of San Rosario were thinking of framing a bye-law for the protection of the inhabitants from furious driving. But they were slow to move; to-morrow would do; and Biddy Flanagan declared that no action would be taken until the gossoon had killed somebody dead.

On this June day, Tim had left home early in the afternoon for a twenty-mile trip into the hills. He was returning, and had just run down a steep and winding declivity which joined the highroad to San Juan, the provincial capital, when he caught sight of the gobernador, Señor José Fagasta, ambling ahead on his mule in the homeward direction. In half a minute he overtook the magistrate, and being always very sociably inclined, and having a certain liking for the large good-tempered gentleman, he stopped his machine, dismounted, and after a salutation in Spanish stepped on beside the rider, not finding it easy to keep pace with the mule's rapid march.

The gobernador was returning from the capital to his own little township, and it was not long before he confided to the boy the object and result of his visit.

"Brigands, my young friend," he said amiably.

"Are they caught, señor?" asked Tim.

"No, no; but they soon will be, the rascals!"

Tim pricked up his ears. Of late the so-called brigands had been very troublesome. They swept down from their unknown lairs in the mountains, falling unawares on some remote hacienda, and waylaying the trains of pack-mules on the roads. Tim, like many another honest boy, felt a sneaking admiration for these lawless adventurers, and was not wholly displeased that they had hitherto defied all attempts to track them and bring them to book. Besides, they were "against the government"; and there were many good Peruvians who had reason to abhor the officials under whose exactions they were then suffering.

"What is going to be done, señor?" he asked.

"What am I going to do, you should have said," replied the magistrate. "You will see, my boy. They sent for me to-day at San Juan, and I have had a long consultation with his excellency the Prefect. 'Señor Doctor,' said he, 'you are the man to catch these ruffians. I leave it to you.'"

There was an accent of pride in the gobernador's tone, and he looked at Tim with the air of a man demanding admiration.

"Why do they call you doctor, señor?" asked Tim. "You don't attend us."

"No, my son. I am a Doctor of Laws of San Marcos University. Yes, they have confidence in me," he continued. "And the brigands will soon have me to reckon with." He touched significantly the butt of his revolver. "I will hunt them down; I will catch them; I shall have no mercy on them, and they will find that such villainy is not to be allowed to go unpunished within twenty miles of Señor Doctor José Fagasta. I am a man of peace; nobody could be more mild and humane; but when I see the beneficent laws of our republic transgressed and defied, then I remember that I am chief magistrate; I become severe; I may even be called terrible."

"What will you do with them?" asked Tim, impressed by the gobernador's vigorous words, and fascinated by the shining weapon that peeped out of his pocket, and the long sword that dangled from his belt.

"They shall be shot, my boy. Not without trial, no; we shall be just even to the most villainous desperado. We shall catch them, and bring them in irons to the town. We shall give them a fair trial, and condemn them: that goes without saying; then we shall place them blindfolded in the plaza, and----"

"Shoot them!" added Tim, as the magistrate paused mysteriously.

Señor José nodded with official gravity, and for a little there was silence between the two, Tim conjuring up the anticipated scene, and wondering what the sensations of a man about to be shot must be.

CAPTURED BY BRIGANDS

Suddenly, from behind a cluster of rocks at their left hand, there sprang into the road four men, who without a moment's warning flung themselves on the travellers. Two seized Tim, the other two dragged the gobernador from his mule, and in a trice had him on the ground at their feet. The attack was so sudden and unexpected that there had not been time even to cry out; but now the gobernador raised his voice in horrified protest, and Tim regained his wits and took stock of the situation. The men were attired in ragged tunics and breeches, with sashes about their waists, and feathered hats of varied hue. They were swarthy wild-eyed fellows; mestizos--men of mixed Spanish and Indian blood; and Tim knew at a glance that they must be members of the very gang of outlaws whom the magistrate had so valorously undertaken to extirpate. They began to talk to one another rapidly in a jargon which Tim, familiar as he was with Spanish, could not understand. But the upshot of their consultation was seen