"But, I say, I wonder if the gentlemen over heard talk of what my lady did?  She was, for a woman, and a young, beautiful woman too, just as brave as my lord.  Well, I'll tell you.  The first part I heard from a man, a soldier, a brave, faithful fellow, who was with her; the rest I saw myself.  She, with her baby, was up the country, at a place called Quilca, among the mountains, when, as she was at a ball at some great man's house there, she heard that the Spaniards had made up their minds to seize her and her infant, and to detain them as hostages.  To think with her was to act.  Going quietly out of the ball-room and changing her dress, she popped the nurse and child into a sort of palanquin, and mounting one of her horses, and ordering out all the rest, she started away in the middle of the night, and pushed on without stopping anywhere, or telling any one where she was going.  All that night and all next day she travelled on, mounting another horse whenever the one she rode grew tired.  At last she arrived at a dark ravine, just a split in the mountain some hundred feet deep, with a foaming torrent roaring below.  There was just the sort of rope bridge we had to cross yesterday.  Some of the people had gone down below to haul the horses over, and she had sent her own horse across, when what should they hear but the sound of the enemy's bugles.  Seizing her child, she ordered the palanquin-bearers to go over, and then followed close behind them herself.  Again the bugle sounded,--the enemy were close at hand.  She hurried on, but the movements of so many people crossing made the bridge swing fearfully from side to side.  She felt as if she must be thrown off into the raging gulf below.  More and more the bridge swung, and at length, overcome with terror, she sank down on the narrow pathway, clasping the infant to her breast.  I've heard people say they dream of such things.  Here was the reality.  The bridge continued to swing backwards and forwards with a fearful motion, and she clung to it for her life.  It was a great risk for any one else to venture on the bridge, but, in spite of that, Pedro, the soldier I told you of, crawled along, and, says he in his own language, `Give me the child, my lady, and I'll take care of it;' and crawling along with it in his arms, he placed it in safety.  Then he went back, and helped Lady Cochrane across.  Just then the advance guard of the enemy's troops appeared, winding down the sides of the mountains.  Pedro and the other men hacked away at the bridge; the ropes parted and fell into the torrent, and her ladyship was safe, while the Spaniards ground their teeth in vain.  On she pushed, till she reached the coast, and there she found the admiral's ship, and came on board.  We were all proud to have her; for you see, with all her beauty, there wasn't a bit of vanity or nonsense about her, and she would speak kind-like to any one of us, just as if we was her equal.  Soon after she came on board, the admiral heard that there was a rich Spanish ship just about putting to sea, and a very good sailer.  He knew if she once got ahead of us we should never catch her up, so, without waiting to land Lady Cochrane, we slipped our cables and made sail up to where the treasure-ship and several others of the enemy's vessels lay at anchor.  We beat to quarters, and got up to them about midnight all ready for action.  We were not long in beginning the sport, nor they in returning the compliments we paid them; for, besides the treasure-ship, the Spaniards had some gun-boats moored under their forts.  While we were firing away, the mother, just like her little son, wouldn't leave the deck, but stood there like any hero, animating the men.