"Let these men go," said the Alcalde, pointing to Moses and the other two who were just about to be hung.
The supposed robbers were released and the real offenders placed on the backs of the mules.
"Run!" cried Moses, "run! run!" And he and his two companions fled in headlong haste to the water's edge, and encountered Toney and the other occupants of the boat, who were just landing.
"Where are you going?" said Toney, as all three leaped into the boat and seized the oars.
"I wouldn't stay here a week for all the gold in the mountains!" shouted Wiggins.
"Come back! don't be fools! it was all a mistake," said Toney.
"Oh, Toney, come with us! They will hang you if you stay here!" cried Moses.
"Don't make dunces of yourselves," said Toney.
"God bless you, Toney!" ejaculated Moses, as he and Perch commenced pulling vigorously at the oars, while Wiggins laid hold on the tiller.
They rested not during the whole ensuing night, and in the afternoon of the next day arrived at San Francisco. A steamer was about to sail, and they immediately went on board, and in a fortnight were landed at Panama.
Having procured mules, they proceeded across the Isthmus to Cruces.
Here they entered a public house, and behind the bar beheld a bald-headed man washing a bottle.
The bald-headed man looked up, and, uttering a cry of recognition, dropped the bottle, and, running from behind the bar, threw his arms around Wiggins's neck and hugged him fraternally.
When M. T. Pate rushed from the hotel in Callao, he had been rendered frantic by the ridicule of the merciless wags by whom he was surrounded. Blinded with passion, he was hurrying along, not knowing nor caring whither he went, when he ran over a buzzard in the street and fell flat on his face. Springing to his feet, he struck the bird a heavy blow with a stick which laid it dead in the gutter. These industrious scavengers are protected by law in the Peruvian cities, and hardly had Pate committed this outrage when he was seized by a couple of soldiers and carried to the calaboose. For many weeks Pate pined in prison, living on exceedingly low diet. He was plunged in the depths of despair, and supposed that he would have to end his days in captivity as an expiation for his offense. He could see but a single gleam of hope. An earthquake might come and shake down the walls of his prison, and he might thus effect his escape. But there appeared to be a dearth of earthquakes in the country just at that time. Pate had often, during a long drought, read the prayers in church for rain, and he now used the same formula and prayed for an earthquake. But no convulsion of nature occurred, although he would often put his ear to the floor, and eagerly listen for the rumbling sounds which usually precede a subterranean commotion. One afternoon an old American tar was put in the calaboose for riotous conduct while drunk. The sailor lay on the floor, in the same room with Pate, and slept soundly until about the middle of the night, when he woke up sobered and in the full possession of his faculties. Pate was on his knees, loudly and fervently praying for an earthquake. The old salt sat on the floor and listened until he began to comprehend, when he became much excited.