n forgot this singular
state of things. He traversed San Lazaro throughout, saw Andre Certa
there, enraged and armed, and the Jew Samuel, in the extremity of
distress, not for the loss of his daughter, but for the loss of his
hundred thousand piasters; but he found not Martin Paz, whom he was
impatiently seeking. He ran to the consistorial prison. Nothing! He
returned home. Nothing! He mounted his horse and hastened to Chorillos.
Nothing! He returned at last, exhausted with fatigue, to Lima; the clock
of the cathedral was striking four.

Don Vegal remarked some groups of Indians before his dwelling; but he
could not, without compromising the man of whom he was in search, ask
them--

"Where is Martin Paz?"

He re-entered, more despairing than ever.

Immediately a man emerged from a neighboring alley, and came directly to
the Indians. This man was the Sambo.

"The Spaniard has returned," said he to them; "you know him now; he is
one of the representatives of the race which crushes us--wo to him!"

"And when shall we strike?"

"When five o'clock sounds, and the tocsin from the mountain gives the
signal of vengeance."

Then the Sambo marched with hasty steps to the _chingana_, and rejoined
the chief of the revolt.

Meanwhile the sun had begun to sink beneath the horizon; it was the hour
in which the Limanian aristocracy went in its turn to the Amancaes; the
richest toilets shone in the equipages which defiled to the right and
left beneath the trees along the road; there was an inextricable melee
of foot-passengers, carriages, horses; a confusion of cries, songs,
instruments, and vociferations.

The clock on the tower of the cathedral suddenly struck five! and a
shrill funereal sound vibrated through the air; the tocsin thundered
over the crowd, frozen in its delirium.

An immense cry resounded in the city. From every square, every street,
every house issued the Indians, with arms in their hands, and fury in
their eyes. The principal places of the city were thronged with these
men, some of whom shook above their heads burning torches!

"Death to the Spaniards! death to the oppressors!" such was the
watch-word of the rebels.

Those who attempted to return to Lima must have recoiled before these
masses; but the summits of the hills were quickly covered with other
enemies, and all retreat was impossible; the _zambos_ precipitated
themselves like a thunderbolt on this crowd, exhausted with the fatigues
of the f