The little mule was safe outside, so I mounted and hastened from the spot.

As I rode on, my spirits returned with the air and exercise, and my mind no longer dwelt on the events of the previous night; and the effects of the surumpe also began to wear off. Several rock-rabbits crossed our path, two of which Manco shot; and when we came to a height which sheltered us from the wind, we halted for breakfast. Having tethered the mule, we set to work to collect the dry grass and the stems of creepers growing from the clefts of the rocks for fuel. Manco had with him the means of striking a light, and a fire was soon kindled, over which we cooked the rabbits and boiled some cocoa in a tin pannikin, by the aid of which, with some Indian corn bread, we made a very fair meal. In an hour more we reached the edge of the Alto, or high plain, over which we had been travelling. Before us lay, deep and deeper, the dark valleys of the lower mountain regions, among which, scarcely discernible, were scattered numerous Indian villages. Far beyond a more level country stretched out, till it was lost in the distant line of the horizon. For several hours we descended, till we began to experience a very great change of temperature. We rested that night at a village inhabited entirely by Indians. It was situated among such inaccessible rocks that they had no fear of being surprised by the Spaniards. To my great grief, Manco told me that he must quit me by dawn on the morrow. I of course could not be so selfish as to wish to detain him.

"I have been, fortunately, able to find a trustworthy guide for you," he said. "He is a lad a year or so younger than you are, but very quick and intelligent. He is of a white complexion, though he has an Indian heart, for he has been among us from his childhood. When an infant he was discovered by some of our people in a wood near a Spanish village, and was brought hither by them. Their idea is, that either he had been deserted by his mother, or that his parents had been murdered by robbers, who, for some reason or other, saved his life. He is called Pedro. He speaks Spanish well; and should you fall among the Spaniards, he will be supposed to belong to their people. Should you discover your parents, of which I have no hopes, give him his liberty, and he will return to us; and if you abandon the attempt, he will lead you back to us. But I will bring him to you, and he will speak for himself."

On this Manco left the hut where we were lodging, and soon returned, accompanied by a youth, whose clear complexion and full black eyes showed that he was descended from the race who had conquered Peru.

"Are you willing to accompany me, Pedro?" I asked in Spanish. "You will probably have many dangers to encounter."

He looked at me attentively for some time, as if examining my countenance to judge if he could trust me, before he answered.

"Yes," he at length said. "I will aid you gladly in the work you are about. I care not for dangers. God will protect me, as He has before done."

I was much struck with his words and manner, and gladly accepted his services.

"But I have no means of rewarding you, Pedro," I remarked. "Some day I may have, but the time is probably far distant."

"A good action is its own reward," he answered, in an unaffected tone. "I require no reward. My chief and benefactor wishes me to go; and I desire to obey him."

Pedro was an unusual character. He possessed all the genius and fire of his Spanish fathers, with the simple education of an Indian uncontaminated by mixing with the world. The next morning he appeared habited in the dress of a Spanish farmer's son, which was the character he was to assume should he be interrogated. He rode a mule similar to mine. He and I set forward together towards the west at the same time that Manco started to return to the Indian camp. I found that Manco had supplied him amply with money to pay our expenses, when we should reach the territory inhabited by Spaniards; but he told me that we should require none while we wandered among the Indian villages.

"I thought that all the Indians were poor, and that even a chief like Manco would have little or no money," I remarked.

He smiled as he answered, "When men are slaves, if they are wise they conceal their wealth, lest their masters should take it from them. These mountains are full of rich mines of gold and silver, with which none but the Indians are acquainted. Many such exist, known only to particular families, to whom the knowledge has been handed down from father to son. Perhaps Manco has such a mine; but he is too wise to speak of it."

I did not think it right to inquire further about the source of Manco's wealth; but I was satisfied that he could spare what he had provided for me. My young guide, however, was inclined to be communicative, and he beguiled the way by a number of interesting anecdotes.

"O yes," he continued; "the Indians are wise to conceal their riches; for if the Spaniards discovered them, they would no longer be theirs. Not far from this, there lives a good padre, the curate of the parish. He is very much liked by all the Indians, though he has his faults like other men. He is very kind-hearted and generous, and is ready to administer to the sick in body as well as in mind; but he is sadly addicted to gambling. He will play all day and night with anybody who will play with him, till he has lost his last real, and has often, I know, to go supperless to bed. When the Indians know by his looks and his staying at home that he is in poverty, they will send him fowls and eggs, and bread and provisions of all sorts. One day he had just received his yearly stipend, when the evil spirit came upon him, and he went away to the nearest town and lost it all. He came home very miserable, and could scarcely attend to his duties. Fortunately for him, an Indian, whose sick child he had attended, had compassion on his grief, and told him to be comforted. The next day, as soon as it was dark, the Indian came to his house, bringing a bag full of rich silver ore. The padre was very grateful; but instead of spending it wisely to supply his wants, he took it into the town, and it went the way of his stipend—into the pockets of his gambling companions. Again he returned home as full of grief as before. The Indian soon heard of what had happened, for he loved the padre very much; so he brought him another bag of silver. The padre's propensity was incurable, and he lost that as he had done the first. The Indian's generosity was not yet worn out, and he brought him a third bag full of ore. When the padre saw it, he could scarcely believe his own senses.

"'I fear that I am robbing you, my kind friend,' he said. 'I shall bring you into the poverty to which I have foolishly reduced myself.'

"'O no, Senor Padre; there is plenty more where this comes from,' returned the Indian. 'What I have given you is but like a drop of water in the ocean to the abundance of rich ore which there lies concealed.'

"'If that be the case, my kind friend, why not show it to me?' exclaimed the padre. 'I shall soon become a rich man, and will no longer think of gambling.'

"After much persuasion, the Indian agreed to lead the padre to the mine, on condition that he would consent to be blindfolded both going and returning. The next night they accordingly set out, the Indian leading the padre by the hand. After walking for some hours, the bandage was taken from the padre's eyes, and he found himself in a spot he had never before visited. The Indian set to work, and clearing away a quantity of earth and bushes, exposed to the delighted eyes of the padre a cave full of glittering masses of pure silver.

"'There, Senor Padre, is the mine I spoke of. Take as much as you can carry, and we will return speedily home,' said the Indian.

"The padre filled a number of bags he had brought with him under his cloak, till he could scarcely stagger onwards with the weight. While also he was collecting the treasure, avarice seized his soul, and he forgot the dictates of honour. He was then again blindfolded; and he set forward on his return in the same manner as he had come. But though he had got as much silver as would have supplied him with food and clothing for many years, he wanted more. He contrived, therefore, as he thought unperceived, to break the string of his rosary, and as he returned he dropped one bead, then another, hoping thus to trace his way by means of them back to the mine. At last he reached home, congratulating himself on his cleverness. Of what use, he thought, is all that silver to the Indians? They are not the better for it, but I shall know how to spend it. He was eager to set out the next morning, when just as he was leaving his house, the Indian stepped in at his door.

"'Ah, Senor Padre, I am come to see how you are after your long walk,' said the Indian, smiling.

"'Very well, my son—very well, thank the saints,' answered the padre. 'I am just going out to take another.'

"'I hope it may be a pleasant one, Senor Padre,' observed the Indian. 'But I forgot—I came to return you your rosary, which you dropped last night.'

"And to the dismay of the padre, the Indian gave him all the beads which he had carefully collected. The padre had nothing to say for himself; but the Indian did not utter any other rebuke, though he never again offered to bring him any more silver ore."

"I think the Indian behaved very well; but I can find no excuse for the padre," I remarked.

With similar stories, which he told with far more spirit than I have at this distance of time been able to give to them, Pedro endeavoured to divert my mind from dwelling on the thoughts which he saw oppressed it. He certainly succeeded better than I could have expected.

Our road led us over a lofty height, at the summit of which we halted to rest ourselves and our mules. As we were sitting on the ground, and employed in eating our dinner, we observed a large condor high above us in the air. He approached us with outstretched wings, and at first I thought that he had been attracted by the provisions we carried, and that he was about to attack us. I cocked a gun Manco had given me, and prepared to shoot him should he come near us; but he passed beyond us, and presently he pounced down on the ground at some distance off. Instead, however, of his rising again with his prey in his talons as we expected, we saw him violently flapping his wings; and, to our great surprise, directly afterwards he was surrounded by a number of Indians, who began to strike him about the head with sticks to keep him quiet. Our curiosity induced us to run as fast as we could towards the spot, when we found that the condor had been caught in a trap laid on purpose for him. A hole had been dug in the ground, over which had been spread a fresh cowhide, with parts of the flesh still adhering to it. Underneath this an Indian had concealed himself with a rope in his hand. The condor, attracted by the smell of the flesh, had darted down on the hide, when the Indian below had firmly bound his claws together, and held on with all his might, the cowhide protecting him from the attacks of the bird's beak. The other Indians had been concealed near the spot to help their companion. They quickly secured the monster bird, and prepared to carry him off in triumph to their village. At first when we appeared, they looked suspiciously at us; but after Pedro had spoken to them, their looks brightened up, and they invited us to accompany them to their dwellings, which were on the other side of the height.

We gladly accepted their invitations, for they lived near the road we wished to pursue. I have so often spoken of the wretchedness of Indian huts, and of the coarseness of the food, that I need not describe them. They were no exceptions to the general rule. The scene before them was wild and dreary. At some distance off appeared a mass of long rushes, beyond which extended a sheet of water, the opposite shore of which was scarcely visible. Numerous flocks of waterfowl were hovering over the marshy banks of this lake, which I found was of very considerable extent, though inferior to that of Titicaca, the largest in South America.

Pedro and I were sitting round a fire in the hut with our Indian hosts, before retiring to rest, when a loud moaning noise was heard in the distance. The Indians regarded each other with terrified looks.

"What can cause that noise?" I inquired of Pedro. He shook his head, and turned to one of the Indians.

"It forebodes evil to the herdsmen," answered the man. "In yonder lake, which is so profound that no plummet has ever reached the bottom, there dwell huge monsters, neither beasts nor fish. No man has ever seen one near; but at night, when the moon is shining, they have been descried at a distance, prowling about in search of prey. When that noise is heard, which has just sounded in our ears, it is a sign that they have attacked some of the cattle feeding in the surrounding pastures; and to-morrow morning there is no doubt several will be found missing."

"But cannot the monsters be caught or killed?" I asked. "Surely it is foolish in the herdsmen to allow the cattle to be killed with impunity."

"Who would venture to do it?" exclaimed the Indian with a look of horror. "Besides, I told you, Senor, that no one has seen them near enough to observe their form; and sure I am that neither stones cast from slings, nor arrows shot from bows, nor bullets from guns, would pierce their hides."

"I should like to encounter one of these monsters," I replied. "A ball from a good rifle would soon enable me to judge what they are like."

"May Heaven protect you from such an adventure!" answered the Indian.

"If I ever return here, we will see."

I said this because I very much doubted the existence of the monsters he spoke of, and suspected that the moanings we heard arose most probably from some of the cattle which had sunk into the marshes near the lake, and were unable to extricate themselves. In every part of the world where I have since been, I have heard similar legends, and have in most instances been able to discover a very probable explanation of the mystery.

The rays of the sun were shining on the waters of the lake as we passed one end of it the next morning, and it now wore a far more cheerful aspect than it had done on the previous evening. The two next days of our journey were one continual descent, and we were now approaching the ruined village, near which the body of the faithful Ithulpo was said to have been discovered, and in which I supposed my parents had taken refuge.

I could no longer attend to any of Pedro's remarks, but rode on sadly and moodily, dreading to find the truth of the dreadful report I had heard, confirmed, yet not daring to believe in its possibility. It was now necessary to proceed with great caution, for we were in a part of the country which had been inhabited chiefly by Spaniards; but we found that they had all fled or been destroyed, and the blackened ruins of farm-houses and hamlets met our sight every league we proceeded. Here and there we encountered an Indian, of whom Pedro made inquiries; but from no one could we obtain information to guide us.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

DREADFUL SURMISES—TAKEN PRISONERS BY INDIANS.

We were passing over a somewhat level country, when Pedro pointed to a line of blackened walls and charred timbers in the distance.

"Yonder is the place you seek, Senor," he said, in a tone of commiseration which touched my heart. "You are seeking for parents whom you have known, and their memory is dear to you. I, alas! have never known any parents to love, and my heart is vacant."

I knew he wished to utter words of consolation, but I have no recollection of what more he said. My mind was too full of the work before me. I urged on my mule, for I felt an eager desire to search through the village; yet what information could I expect to find in those deserted ruins? As we approached, we saw a wretched half-starved dog skulking among the walls. He looked at us to see if we were friends whom he knew, and then fled away. Not a human being was to be seen. We passed through the desolate streets. Some of the walls had been cast down, and the roofs of all the houses had been burned and fallen in. The church only was standing; but the doors were open, and the interior presented a scene of horror which baffles description. Numbers of the unfortunate inhabitants had fled there as their last place of refuge, but it had proved no sanctuary to them. In every part of the building, on the steps of the altar, and by the altar itself, were seen heaped together the mangled remnants of the forms of human beings. Their dresses showed that they were those of men, women, and children; but weeks had now passed since they were slain, and their bones alone remained. The beasts and even the birds of prey had been there, or it would have been impossible to enter into that charnel-house.

Pale and trembling I wandered through it, scarcely able to draw breath from the foul air which filled the place; but no sign of those I sought could I find. At length I staggered out again into the open air, where Pedro, who was holding our mules, waited for me. I determined next to search each of the houses separately.

As we were wandering through one of them, an object met my sight which riveted my attention. It was a silk handkerchief. With a trembling hand I picked it up. It was exactly such a one as I remembered to have seen my sister Lilly wear round her neck. It was of an ordinary sort; a little three-cornered handkerchief with a pink fringe. There might be many such in the country. This might have been the property of some Spanish girl or young Chola, for there was no mark on it to distinguish it; but still, as I looked at it, I felt almost confident that it had been my sister's. How it had escaped being burned or trampled on I could not tell. Perhaps it had been dropped near one of the outside walls, which the fire did not reach, and had been blown by the wind into the corner of the room, where I found it. Pedro was of the same opinion. I placed it carefully in my bosom, though how it could prove of use I could not tell. We searched and searched in vain through every other house in the village; but no other trace or sign which I could recognise could we find. The whole day was thus spent, and night almost surprised us while we were still in the ruins.

Near the village was a meadow, where Pedro had led our mules to feed; and we had, besides, found some Indian corn, which we had given them; so they were in good condition to proceed. But after the example of the state of the country we had seen, it was impossible to say where we could hope to find shelter for ourselves. I asked Pedro if he would object to remain in the ruins all night.

"Oh, may the good saints defend us from such a thing!" he answered with a look of dismay. "After the sights we have seen, how can you think of doing so, Senor?"

"The dead cannot hurt us, you know; and we can easily fortify ourselves against any attack of wild beasts," I answered. "We will shut our mules up in a room of one of the houses where no people have been killed; and we can sleep in a room next to them. We shall find plenty of timber to barricade ourselves in, and they will give us good warning if any wild beast comes near to attempt an entrance."

For a long time Pedro was not convinced of the wisdom of my proposal; or rather, his dislike to the idea of remaining prevented him from being so. His objections were very natural; and I own that had I not been desirous of making a further search in the neighbourhood the following morning, I would myself have much rather proceeded, if there had been sufficient daylight to enable us to find another resting-place. This was, however, now totally out of the question; so Pedro was obliged to accede to my wishes. I fixed upon a house on the outskirts of the village, which had, it appeared, been the residence of a person of superior wealth and rank. Some of the rooms had been but little injured. One of them I selected as our abode for the night, and an adjoining one as a stable for our mules. Having collected some food for our trusty little animals, we brought them inside the house. We first cleared away the rubbish out of the rooms, and then placed against the doorway some timbers and planks, which we tore up from the floors, so as effectually to prevent the ingress of any wild beasts.

By the time we had thus fortified ourselves it had become perfectly dark; and I must own that a feeling such as I had never before experienced, crept over me, as I thus found myself shut up with my young companion in that abode of the dead. I knew that I must arouse myself, or it would master me completely.

"Come, Pedro," said I, "we must now light a fire. It will serve to cheer our spirits, and to keep us warm, for I feel the evening chilly."

The floor of the room we were in was composed of bricks, so that we could make our fire in the middle of it; and as there was no roof, we had no fear of being incommoded by the smoke. From among the rubbish I managed to pick out several smaller bits of timber, which had escaped being totally consumed, and some of the dry grass we had collected for our mules served as lighter fuel to kindle a flame. Having thus collected sufficient materials, we piled some of them up in the middle of the room, and kept the rest in a corner, to feed our fire as it required.

A flame was soon kindled; and as it burned up brightly, it contributed very much to banish the feelings which had before oppressed me, aided, I suspect, by the exertions which it had been necessary to make to collect the fuel. I have always found that exertion both of mind and body is the best, I may say the only, remedy for melancholy and foreboding thoughts. The light enabled us to find more fuel, which we agreed it would be requisite to husband with care, so as to make it last till sunrise. We had no wish to be again left in darkness.

The light, however, served to show us more clearly the desolation of the place. The walls were bare, and not a particle of furniture had been left; for the Indians had carried off from the village everything that had escaped the flames. Above our heads a few charred timbers only remained of the roof, beyond which the stars were seen shining from out of the dark sky.

"We might have been very much worse off," I observed to Pedro, as we sat by the fire eating the provisions which we had brought with us. After supper we lay down in the cleanest spot we could find, and tried to recruit our strength by sleep.

I was awoke by Pedro's hand touching my shoulder. I looked up, at first scarcely able to remember where I was. He had just before thrown some chips on the fire, which made it blaze brightly. I saw that he had his fingers on his lips to enforce silence, so I did not speak; but his looks showed that something had alarmed him. I soon discovered the cause, from hearing the footsteps of several persons in the neighbourhood. I was about to inquire, in a whisper, who they could be, when I observed him glance up at the top of the wall above us. I turned my eyes in the same direction, and then I saw, by the light of the fire, the elf-like locks and red-coloured countenance of a wild Indian, who was gazing down upon us. He looked as much surprised to find us there as we were to see him.

"Pray, friend, who are you, and what do you seek here?" asked Pedro, in the Quichua language.

The stranger made no answer, and presently afterwards a dozen other Indians sprung up to the top of the wall. They were dressed and painted as the warriors of a distant tribe, dwelling in the northern part of the country. After looking at us for an instant, they fixed their arrows in their bows, and were drawing the strings when Pedro shouted out to them:—

"Stay your hands. We are friends of the Indians, and under the protection of the Inca Tupac Amaru." At the same time he held up a gold ring with which Manco had provided him.

The Indians evidently supposed we were Spaniards, and were accordingly about to put us to death. They did not seem inclined to alter their purpose, for they drew their arrows to the heads; and I believed that our last moments had arrived, when the name of the Inca restrained them.

"We will hear what account you have to give of yourselves," said the man who had at first appeared, letting himself down from the top of the wall. He was followed by the rest, and others who had climbed up; and we were soon surrounded by a large body of Indians. I endeavoured to look as unconcerned and as little alarmed as possible, so I re-seated myself on the block of wood which I had before occupied. One who seemed to have authority over the rest, took a seat opposite to me, while they stood round the room Pedro forthwith began to give a history of our proceedings, and the cause of our present wanderings. The chief, after some time, appeared satisfied.

"We have vowed to destroy all the white men we meet," he exclaimed; "but though your skins are white, your hearts are with the Indians, and we will not injure you."

On hearing these words, I breathed more freely; for I had my misgivings that the Indians would not believe Pedro, and would torture us before they put us to death, as they had lately too often treated their white captives. We soon became on very friendly terms. The chief told Pedro that he and his followers belonged to the very war party which had destroyed the village; that they had swept the country for some way farther to the north, burning all the houses, and murdering all the white inhabitants they encountered; and that now, laden with booty, they were returning to their own homes in the far distant interior. The army now lay encamped at a little distance from the village, in a strong position, where they could not be surprised by any Spanish force which might be near them. He and his band had, he said, come to the place for the purpose of carrying off some of the spoil which they had concealed when last there. They had found it undisturbed, and were consequently in a very good humour.

I told Pedro to endeavour to learn from them, whether they had heard of any English people being in the village when they attacked it. Pedro put the questions I desired.

"If any English people were there, or other strangers, they shared the fate of the rest," answered the chief with a look of fierceness. I shuddered as he spoke. "It was not a time for us to distinguish people. We had years and years of bitter cruelty and wrong to revenge on the heads of the Spaniards. No one escaped. We came upon them in the night, suddenly and without warning. We surrounded the village, and then burst in upon them while they slept in fancied security, despising the poor Indians whom they so long had trampled on. As they rose from their beds and attempted to fly, we cut them down at the doors of their houses. We threw burning brands upon the roofs, and closed them in till the fire had destroyed them. We drove them shrieking through the streets, and shot them down with our arrows. Some took refuge in the church; but it did not save them. When the morning broke, not a soul remained alive. But we were not content. We had begun to taste the sweets of vengeance, and we rushed on through the country, burning and destroying in our course. We have still more work to perform. Our swords must not be sheathed till the Inca sits once more on the throne of his ancestors, and till not a Spaniard remains alive to boast that his people once held sway in the land."

As I watched the countenance of the speaker, it wore an almost terrific expression, full of an intense hatred, and a desire for vengeance; yet, before the outbreak, he had probably been like most other Indians, a mild, peaceable, and patiently suffering man. The account he had given of the destruction of the place almost banished the hope which still existed within my breast. Yet I resolved to persevere in my search. My dismay was very great, when I learned from Pedro that the old chief intended to remain in the village with his followers till the morning, and then to carry us along with him as prisoners.

"He believes our story," said Pedro; "but still he thinks that if we continue our journey, we may give information to the Spaniards of the road the army is taking. He will, I dare say, treat us well, and release us when he fancies we can run no chance of injuring his people."

The news caused me great vexation, for, though I had no fear that the Indians would injure us, I was afraid that we should be led a long way out of the road in which we could hope to make any effectual inquiries, if, indeed, further search was of any avail. I was anxious also to examine the country surrounding the place where the body of Ithulpo was said to have been discovered; and I told Pedro to entreat the chief, before he commenced his march, to allow us to go out for a few hours as soon as it was light, promising faithfully to return. Pedro made the request, but the old chief, when he understood the object, said it would be useless to grant it.

"Your friends were all killed," he said, "You search for those who are not to be found."

"Then we must appeal to the head chief commanding the army," I said to Pedro in Spanish. "Try and learn who he is."

After making inquiries, Pedro told me that he was a powerful cacique, who had assumed the title of Tupac Catari; and though he was, as most of the caciques were, descended from an Inca noble, he was only in a remote degree connected with Tupac Amain. He did not consider himself in any way under the orders of the Inca, and was inclined, it appeared, to set up as the Inca himself. It argued ill for the Indian cause, that there should be this division in their forces. From what I heard of him, I was afraid that there was very little probability of his granting the request which had been denied by his inferior, the old chief.

"If, then, we are to be treated as prisoners, we must endeavour to make our escape should any opportunity present itself," I whispered to Pedro, whom I had drawn aside.

Not to excite the suspicions of our captors, I pretended to be contented with the arrangement, when I found that there was no chance of altering the old chief's determination; and returning to the fire, I sat down, desiring Pedro to say that I was very tired, and wished to be allowed to sleep till daylight. The Indians apparently finding themselves in tolerably comfortable quarters, wrapped their ponchos round them, and lay down on the ground round the fire, to follow my example. I was, however, too much excited to sleep, and had lost myself in forgetfulness but a very short time when daylight appeared, and the whole party sprung to their feet.

Pedro and I were allowed to mount our mules, and accompanied by the Indians, who bore the spoils they had collected, set out to join the main body, which was already on its march to the northward. We came in sight of them about three miles to the west of the village, as they were passing over a wide sandy plain, bordered by a range of thickly wooded hills. There appeared to be about thirty thousand of them,—a body, as far as numbers were concerned, fully able to compete with any Spanish force which could be sent against them; but they were in a very undisciplined and disorganised state, and were, from what I heard, more intent on obtaining plunder, and on destroying the defenceless whites, than on pushing their first successes with vigour against the common enemy. There were some four or five hundred horsemen among them armed with spears; the rest were infantry, who carried slings, and bows, and axes, and heavy wooden clubs. The cavalry guarded the flanks, and the footmen marched in separate bodies under their respective chiefs, with banners at their head; but there were a great number of stragglers, and, as far as my eye could reach, I observed small bodies who appeared to be scouring the country in search of plunder or provisions. The booty was distributed among the soldiers, each of whom bore a load on his back, consisting of woollen and other goods, household utensils, furniture, and clothing of every description.

The chief, Tupac Catari, rode at the head of his forces, surrounded with banner-bearers. He was a fierce, wild-looking Indian, with a forbidding expression of countenance; and his dignity was not increased by his having dressed himself in the uniform of a Spanish officer, whose cocked hat he wore with the points resting on his shoulders. The lower parts of his legs were bare, except that he had sandals on the soles of his feet, fastened with leather thongs, and a huge pair of silver spurs to his heels. His wife came behind him in a sort of litter, covered with coloured cotton, and supported on men's shoulders. His followers were habited in every variety of costume, which they had picked up in their expedition; a few of the better organised bodies only retaining their national costume. Is this, I thought, the sort of character who is to aid in the liberation of his native land?

A force like his may, as it has proved, have the power to lay desolate a country, and to murder the defenceless inhabitants; but will they be able to sustain an attack from disciplined troops, when such are sent against them? The general—for so I may call him—halted when we appeared, and made inquiries of the old chief about us. A long conversation then ensued, the result of which was that we were ordered to accompany him. He wanted a secretary, we were told, to write despatches to the other chiefs, and to communicate with the Spaniards; and he thought that either Pedro or I should be able to answer his purpose. In vain we pleaded the necessity of proceeding as we had intended. He refused to listen to any appeal we could make.

"You may consider yourselves fortunate in not losing your lives," he at last answered. "We have sworn to kill every white man we meet; and you have to thank your friend Manco, on account of the love all the Indians bear him, that we have not killed you; so be content and say no more."

The old chief who had first taken us prisoners, finding himself thus unceremoniously deprived of our company, left us to our fate, and for some time we rode on in silence among the general's body-guard. Every man in the army seemed to be talking at the same time. They were, I found, boasting to each other of the deeds of valour they had performed, of the enemies they had slain, and of the booty they had collected. The general after some time called us to his side, and asked us if we could inform him what the Spaniards were about, and whether they were likely to attack the Indian armies.

"Tell him," I said to Pedro, "that the Spaniards will never consent to yield up the country to the natives. They are only waiting to assemble their forces, to endeavour to regain the places they have lost. If they have not men enough here, they will send to Spain for more, and for guns and artillery, and all the munitions of war. They will soon appear, well armed and disciplined; and a hundred of their troops will be a match for a thousand or even two thousand Indians. The only chance of success the Indians have is to be united, to act under one chief, and to follow up each advantage, till they have driven the Spaniards from their shores."

"Very good," said the general. "I will be that chief, and will follow the advice of the English stranger."

And he drew himself up proudly in his saddle, as if he was about to become Inca of Peru. I saw after this, that any advice I could offer to him would be thrown away; besides, I doubted much whether I was justified in offering encouragement to the Indians. I felt that they had been most unjustly and cruelly treated, and certainly desired to see them obtain their emancipation; but at the same time, I saw that there was little or no hope of their ever regaining their country, or restoring the ancient dynasty of the Incas; and that the attempt would only cause a vast amount of bloodshed, and too probably end in their total destruction. As an Englishman, too. I regretted that I had no business to interfere in a cause which, just as it certainly was, if maintained properly, was not my own; and I resolved, therefore, to be silent for the future.

The dreadful cruelties committed by the Indians had horrified me; and the romance with which I had at first invested their brave attempt at emancipation, had vanished on a nearer inspection of the means by which they were carrying it out. I never did and never can believe that the end justifies the means. God's righteous laws must be implicitly obeyed; and no reasons which we may offer can excuse us for neglecting them. Yet we may be allowed to believe that he weighs our actions of good or evil by the knowledge we possess through the light of His word; and acts which, committed by us, might be unpardonable, may, when perpetrated by ignorant savages, be overlooked through His mercy in the day of judgment.

From the time that the Christian and the civilised Europeans first landed in Peru, they treated the ignorant and heathen natives with the greatest cruelty; and thus taught by their task-masters, they, on the first opportunity, showed that they had not forgotten the lessons they had received, but treated them as they themselves had been treated. Had the Spaniards taught the Peruvians mercy, justice, and piety, by their own example, this terrible outbreak would never have occurred, and the weaker race would have become willing servants to the stronger. We ought always to bear in mind that it is by the just administration of good laws, and by the conduct of the rich, the educated, and the powerful, that the lower orders are educated, as much, or even more, than by the lessons given them by their nominal instructors.

Ministers of religion will preach in vain from the pulpit, and schoolmasters will find their efforts useless, unless the upper orders set a good example. I entreat my young friends to recollect that they belong to the educated classes, whose behaviour is sure to be imitated by those below them. If their conduct is unchristian, irreligious, or immoral, they will not only have their own sins to answer for at the day of judgment, but the sins of those whom they by their example have led astray. The dreadful excesses committed by the lower orders during the French Revolution were the results of the irreligious and immoral conduct and teaching of the upper classes in France. The Peruvian Indians, who were guilty of the terrible atrocities I have mentioned, were mostly, in name at least, Christians, and had Christian priests ministering to them; but their teaching appears to have had no effect in restraining them from acts totally at variance with all the principles of Christianity. How could they, indeed, have faith in a creed professed by men who, from the time of their first appearance in their country, had not scrupled to murder, to plunder, to ill-treat, and to enslave them?

It is worthy of remark, that when the Indians destroyed every other human being in the places they attacked, they in many instances saved the lives of the priests. I suspect, however, that they did so, not so much that they respected their sacred character, but because in their superstition they fancied they were possessed of supernatural powers, which might be exercised for their punishment if they ventured to injure them. There were many enlightened and patriotic men among the Indians; and from all I heard of Tupac Amaru and his family, they were worthy of a happier fate than befell them. I shall have to describe their subsequent history as I proceed in my narrative.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

ANOTHER BATTLE—WE ARE CAPTURED BY SPANIARDS.

It must be remembered that the war party whom Pedro and I were now so unwillingly compelled to accompany, was but an irregular portion of the Indian army, and that the chief commanding it was in every respect inferior to Tupac Amaru, and his brave sons Andres and Mariano, or his brother Diogo. I mention this, because otherwise I might give my reader a very unjust and incorrect history of the principal men engaged in the attempt I am describing to regain the long-lost liberties of the Peruvian nation.

The forces of Tupac Catari had crossed the sandy plain, and ascended the woody height I have mentioned, when we reached a rocky defile, through which lay the road we were to pursue. Instead of sending on an advanced guard to feel the way, as a more experienced general would have done, the chief rode carelessly on at the head of his followers. Pedro and I were allowed to keep together, and to converse in Spanish; for I suppose that Catari thought that we should not dream of attempting to escape from among his numerous army. He was wrong, however; for the idea of doing so was never absent from my mind.

"Pedro," said I, "you have been so true and faithful, and have shown so much regard for me, that I know you would not willingly desert me, and yet I do not like to lead you into danger unnecessarily; but tell me, do you think we could manage to get away from these people?"

"O Senor, do not suppose I would hesitate a moment to serve you on account of the danger," he answered, in a tone of much feeling. "What have I, without kindred or friends, to live for, that I should be afraid of risking my life? Yet at present I do not see what chance we have of escaping; though an opportunity may occur when we least expect it."

"Thanks, Pedro, thanks, my friend," I replied. "I was certain that you would be ready to aid me; and I hope some day to show my gratitude to you, little as I am now able to do so. But do not say that you have no friends. Surely Manco is your friend, and the Indians among whom you have lived, and the good priest who educated you."

"The good priest is dead. Manco is my friend, and so are the kind Indians; but I am the child of another race, and though I love the Indians, my heart yearns for the sympathy and affection of the people from whom I am sprung. When I was a child I cared not for it; but since I learned to read the history of my father's country, and more than all, since I met you, Senor, new feelings and aspirations have sprung up within my bosom. I cannot be content unless I am in the company of those who can converse, like you, on things beyond the narrow circle of the life I have hitherto led."

"I understand you, Pedro; and I think that I should feel as you do," I said. "If we can make our escape, you shall accompany me to other lands—we will go forth together to see the great world which lies beyond these lofty mountains."

"O Senor, your words have given me a new life," he exclaimed enthusiastically. "I will follow you anywhere you may lead, and serve you faithfully. And yet," he added in a tone of feeling, "I must not leave the generous Manco without again seeing him; I must bid farewell to my foster father and mother, and the Indians who protected me in my youth; I must return to them once more before I go."

"I would on no account induce you to be ungrateful, and I should myself be very unwilling to leave the country, even should I discover my family, without returning to bid farewell to Manco," I said in return.

"Then we will go back to Manco as soon as we can escape from these people; and we may thus with more speed be able to begin our travels," exclaimed Pedro.

We were both very young, and ignorant of the great world we talked of exploring; and we little knew all the difficulties we might be destined to encounter. The subject, once commenced, was a continual source of interest to us, and we were never tired of talking about it. It served also to prevent my mind from dwelling on my loss, the probability of which I could scarcely conceal from myself.

I have mentioned but a few of Pedro's observations, for the sake of showing his character. He had benefited to the utmost from the little education which had been given him by the priest of whom he spoke. His disposition was ardent and romantic, and full of generous sympathies; and possessing a clear perception of right and wrong, he was always anxious to do right. He had been made acquainted at an early age with his own history; and though he loved the Indians, he was proud of belonging to a superior race, among whom his great desire was to mix as an equal. He was tall and well formed, with very handsome features, to which his amiable disposition had given a most pleasing expression; so that, whether or not his parents were of good birth, he looked, at all events, in every respect the gentleman.

In early youth, when people are thrown together under difficult circumstances, friendships calculated to endure to the end of life are quickly formed; and thus, during the short time we had been together, we had become mutually much attached; indeed, I fancied that no one could have been many days in the society of Pedro without feeling a sincere regard for him.

So much were we absorbed in conversation, that we scarcely noticed how the time flew by. The leading parties of the Indians had now passed through a considerable portion of the defile, and the rear were about to enter it when we reached a spot more difficult and narrow than any we had yet arrived at.

"If any of the Spanish troops were on the watch to intercept the Indian forces, this is the very spot they should select," I observed to Pedro.

"May the saints forbid!" he answered. "The poor people would be cut to pieces, and we should suffer with them."

"I certainly do not wish it," I said; "though I think we might manage to escape in the confusion; but I thought of it, as it was exactly in such a spot as this that some months ago we were attacked by the Montoneros, when we were rescued by Manco and his followers."

"Oh, the Spaniards are too much disheartened and terrified by their late disasters to think of attacking the Indians," said Pedro.

"But suppose they were to attack our captors, do not you think that we could manage to climb up the cliffs, and hide ourselves among the rocks till the fighting is over?" I asked, without at all expecting that such a thing was likely to happen.

I had scarcely made the observation, when our ears were assailed by the loud rattle of musketry, and a shower of bullets flew about our heads, killing and wounding many of the Indians near us. In an instant they were thrown into the most terrible confusion, and the shouts and cries of fear rent the air. Catari, and some of the chiefs about him, in vain endeavoured to lead them on to meet their concealed enemies. So completely were they taken by surprise, that all their courage deserted them. They gave way to their first impulse, which was to fly from the danger. The rear ranks turned, and the rest followed, and fled as fast as they could, with the intention of getting into the more open country they had left. The Spaniards, a strong body of whose troops had been lying in ambush, on this showed themselves, and, with their swords in their hands, rushed down upon the confused bands of the Indians. Catari, and those immediately about him, fought bravely, for they had not a hope of escaping. His people threw themselves before him, and allowed the Spaniards to cut them to pieces in their attempt to preserve the life of their chief. Pedro and I were fortunately at the time a little in the rear of the advanced guard; and we had escaped the bullets which had laid low many of those near us. The Indians, however, were so completely blocking up the narrow defile in their eagerness to escape, that we saw it would be impossible to fly in that direction. Our only chance of saving our lives was to put in execution the plan I had just before been proposing.

"Let us throw ourselves from our mules, and try to climb up the cliffs," I exclaimed to Pedro.

Just then a bullet struck Catari. I saw him reel in his saddle, when one of his companions seized his horse's bridle, and attempted to lead him out of the fray towards the rear. But he was mortally wounded; and before he could be got from among the combatants, he fell to the ground. His death was the signal for the rest to fly; but they attempted to do so in vain. The Spanish soldiers pressed in upon them, and cutting them down without mercy, forced them back in confusion. A few of the Indians, driven to despair, still fought fiercely, and for a time impeded their progress, thus leaving a clear space near where Pedro and I stood.

"Now, now!" I exclaimed to Pedro. "We have not a moment to lose. If the Spaniards reach us before we have time for explanation, they will kill us. Jump from your mule and follow me."

I had observed that on one side the cliff was considerably broken, and that a number of jutting rocks would enable us to climb up to the summit, and afford us some sort of shelter in the meantime. I threw myself out of my saddle as I spoke, and Pedro following my example, we ran as fast as we could towards the rocks. It was the work of a moment to spring up them; there was an abundance of shrubs and creeping plants to help us. By laying hold of them, we drew ourselves from rock to rock. Our lives we felt depended on our activity; and under ordinary circumstances I do not think we could have accomplished the task. We had thus climbed up some forty feet or so in a shorter time than I have taken to describe it, when we reached a platform, above which, as we looked upwards, it seemed impossible that we could ascend. There was, however, the branch of a tree, which grew in a cleft of the rock.

"Take me on your shoulders, and I think I can reach it," I cried to Pedro.

He stooped down, and, as I sprung on his shoulders, he lifted me up till I caught hold of the branch. I drew myself up, and succeeded in throwing my body over the bough. I then, holding on tight with one hand, gave him the other, and lifted him up till he could catch hold of it also. The branch cracked and bent with our united weight; but we were anxious enough had it not done so, for we were now fully exposed to the sight of the combatants below. They were, however, too much engaged to observe us. When Pedro no longer required my assistance, I lifted myself till I could reach the branch of another tree still higher up, and from thence sprung on to the rock we wished to gain. Pedro kept close behind me, and imitating my example, we in a short time found ourselves behind a rock overshadowed by trees, where, from among the branches which hung down close to it, we could command a view of the greater part of the ravine without being seen, though we were not high enough to escape any stray shots fired in our direction.

By the time we got there, the last of the Indians who had stood their ground, were either killed or wounded; and the Spanish troops swept along the defile like a mountain torrent, overthrowing all they encountered in their course. Their shouts of triumph, and the shrieks of the Indians, reached our ears with terrible distinctness where we stood. During our ascent we had heard nothing; even the rattle of the musketry was unheeded. Now and then the Spaniards halted to load, and they again sent forth a volley, which in that narrow space took terrible effect; and once more they advanced to the charge. The Indians did not once attempt to rally, but fled like a flock of sheep chased by dogs; those in the rear falling the first victims, and the conquerors passing over their prostrate bodies. The rout was most complete; and over the distance which we could see from where we stood, it appeared that many thousands had been killed. Every foot of the ground was covered with them, and the conquerors had literally to wade through their blood as they rushed to the work of destruction. It was a dreadful sight; but still we could not withdraw our eyes from it. We were considering what we should next do; and in order to obtain a better view of the country beyond the defile, to judge whether we should proceed in that direction, I climbed up to a higher part of the rock, supposing that all the Spaniards had passed by; when, to my dismay, I saw some fifty men or so drawn up across the road. They were posted there evidently to guard the entrance of the defile, and to prevent their companions from being attacked in the rear by any fresh body of Indians. Though I was only exposed for a moment, they saw me; and as I jumped down several shots rattled against the rock. Their voices shouting to us, and ordering us to come to them, warned us that we could hope no longer to remain concealed. We, however, were in a very secure position; and we judged, from the difficulty we had in getting there, that they were not at all likely to be able to climb up to us.

"What is to be done now, Pedro?" I asked. "Do you think we could manage to scramble up among the trees, and so escape over the top of the cliffs?"

"Perhaps we might," he answered, looking up to examine the trees above us. "But what should we do when we got there? We should be without our mules or provisions or arms, and a long way from any habitation where we might obtain shelter. We should also very likely fall into the power of some of the broken parties of Catari's army, dispersed by the Spaniards; and they, enraged by the disaster which has befallen them, would, seeing that we were whites, kill us without asking us any questions."

Pedro's arguments were very strong; but still I thought we should be only falling from the frying-pan into the fire, if we put ourselves into the power of the Spaniards. While we were still discussing what we should do, we heard them again calling to us.

"Come down, you Indian thieves, come down and be shot, or we must climb up after you," they shouted.

"More easily said than done," observed Pedro; "but do not let us show ourselves, or they are very likely to shoot us without further questioning. If we could make them hear us from where we are, we might tell them that we are whites, who had been taken prisoners by the Indians."

"Stay then," said I, going to the side of the rock nearest to where the Spaniards stood, keeping my body carefully sheltered behind it, I put my head among the leaves, so that they could not see me, and shouted out—

"We are friends! we are friends!—whites, escaped from the Indians. We were afraid you would mistake us for enemies, so we hid ourselves."

"If that is the case," said an officer, stepping forward, "come down, we will not hurt you."

"What shall we do?" said I to Pedro. "We are safe where we are for the present, for their bullets cannot reach us; and I am certain no Spanish soldier will be able to climb up in the way we did to this spot."

"We shall get very hungry though, if they try to starve us out," he answered; "besides, it will look as if we were guilty of some crime if we appear afraid of coming down."

"There is no help for it, I see," was my reply. "We must put a good face upon the matter. Senor officer," I shouted, "your men have already shown that they can aim very correctly, and we would rather not run the risk of another peppering; may I beg that you will take care that they do not fire at us by mistake. If we have your word for it, we will descend, as you desire."

"I pledge you the word of a Castilian that they shall not fire at you," answered the officer.

"That satisfies us; we will descend," I shouted back. "Come, Pedro, we must take care not to break our necks though, which we shall do if we slip," I said, as I swung myself on to a bough of the nearest tree below the rock.

It is nearly always more difficult to descend a cliff than to climb up; as in the former case one cannot see where one's feet are to rest; and one may chance to find one's self on a jutting ledge, from whence the height is too great to leap off to the next standing-place below, and one has to climb up again to search for another way down. We had the advantage of knowing the rocks on which we were to rest; yet our descent took much more time than had our ascent. At one place Pedro had to hold fast by a tree while he let me down; and I, in return, had to grasp firmly a jutting rock, and to catch him as he dropped down to me. At length, with no slight exertion and risk, we reached the bottom, where we found the Spanish officer and several of his men, who had been watching us with some admiration, and wondering, as they told us, how we had contrived not to break our necks. They would scarcely believe that we had got up by the same way.

"I thought none but monkeys could climb such a place," observed the officer.

"We English have a way of doing extraordinary things when we try," I replied, trying to look as unconcerned as possible.

"English, are you indeed? I thought you must be so."

"Yes, Senor, I am an Englishman at your service," I said; for I had agreed with Pedro that it would be better to give a correct account of ourselves, than to attempt any deception.

There is an old saying—"Tell the truth and shame the devil." Now, although there can be no doubt that there are occasions when concealment is excusable, yet these are very rare exceptions, which occur but seldom in most men's lives; and as a general rule a strict adherence to the truth is the only just and safe course, even though it may apparently lead one into a difficulty. There is something degrading in a falsehood or prevarication, which must injure the self-respect of a man of proper feeling. It is a sin! There is no disguising it. People often tell falsehoods to conceal what they have done wrong, but that does not make the sin less; it is only adding one sin to another. I say—and I know that am right—Tell truth, and stand the consequences.

I therefore told the officer my true history. How my father's house had been taken possession of by the Spanish troops; how the Indians had attacked and burned it; and how they had carried me off desperately wounded. Then I described how I had been nursed by an Indian and his wife among the mountains till I had recovered, when the dreadful report reached me of the destruction of my family; and how the Indian had allowed me to set out for the purpose of discovering what had really been their fate, when, in the course of my search, we had been captured by Catari and his followers. The officer seemed much interested by the account I gave him, and to feel real compassion for my loss.

"And the youth with you, who is he?" he asked.

I told him, a Spaniard, who in his childhood had been carried off by the Indians, and educated by the good priest of their village.

"It is a very strange story you tell me," he remarked. "However, I believe you, for your face assures me that you speak the truth. You both must now accompany me to the place where I am ordered to wait with my men for the return of the rest of the troops. I hear the bugles sounding the recall, and they probably have by this time completely dispersed all the Indians who remained together; but their orders were not to venture beyond the defile, lest the brigands should reassemble and cut them off. We must march at once, for the colonel commanding our force will soon be there."

I was very well satisfied with his manner of speaking, and felt certain that we should be kindly treated. Fortunately for us, our mules had managed to get out of the way of the troops as they passed by. With much sagacity they had, when we jumped off their backs, crept into a wide crevice in the cliffs, and we found them close to the spot feeding on the leaves of some shrubs which grew among the rocks. On our claiming them as our property, the officer allowed us to mount them; and he invited us to ride by his side at the head of his men. His questions were sometimes very puzzling, for I resolved not to give him any information which might prove injurious to the Indians. I could not, however, deny that I had seen a large Indian force collected very different to that of Catari; and I warned him, that should the Spaniards ever meet it, they would find a victory far more difficult than the one they had just achieved.

"Do you think you could lead us to the place where this army you speak of is encamped?" he asked suddenly, after a considerable silence.

"Senor," I replied, with a look of indignation, "has anything I have said induced you to believe that I could be capable of so dishonourable and ungrateful an action! The Indians treated me with mercy and kindness. Is such the return you would expect an honest man to make?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Why, no," he replied; "to confess the truth, I should not expect you to do so willingly, and I would myself rather not be asked to do such a thing; but I am sorry to tell you that there are others, my superiors, who are not so likely to pay respect to your scruples; and I am afraid that they will insist on your acting as our guide if it is thought expedient to march against the new made Inca."

"But surely I have the power to refuse to do any such thing," I exclaimed indignantly.

"But you might be compelled to do it," he urged. "It would be dangerous for you to refuse. Our generals are not in a mood to be trifled with."

"I trust that no power could compel me to act so treacherous a part," I replied calmly. "You, Senor, I am sure, would not so advise me."

He seemed to be a man imbued with the old chivalrous spirit of the Castilians; and my appeal to his honourable sentiments pleased him.

"You are a brave youth, and I will do my best to serve you," he replied. "I am in duty bound to tell my colonel what I know, but you can assure him that you could not find your way back, which I think you probably would not be able to do."

This conversation caused me much anxiety, though I resolved at all hazards not to betray my friends. I could not also but regret that I had been so incautious as to have allowed myself to confess that I had seen the army of the Inca. I should have been more on my guard; and, without departing from the truth, I might have declined answering any questions which could draw the information from me. The frankness and kind manner of the officer threw me off it, however; and I found myself placed in a position I had not at all contemplated. I received a lesson which I hope may be useful to any of my readers who may be placed in similar circumstances. The officer, whose name I found was Don Eduardo da Vila, and a captain of the regiment with which he was serving, was only doing his duty in cross-questioning me; and I believe that he was very sorry that the information he had obtained was likely to prove injurious to me.

We soon reached the spot he had spoken of, where we were to wait for his colonel. It was a rocky height with precipitous sides, of which a portion of only one was accessible, so that it was a complete natural fortress. It commanded the entrance to the ravine; and had the Indians possessed any knowledge of warfare, they would have taken another route, however circuitous, rather than have attempted to pass so formidable a position without first ascertaining that it was not occupied by an enemy. It was nearly dusk, and the chief body of the Spanish troops had not yet returned from their work of bloodshed. Don Eduardo began to be uneasy.

"Can the rebels have rallied and attacked them?" I heard him say to one of his inferiors. "I thought I heard the bugles sounding as we left the ravine."

"There can be no doubt about it. If they had been attacked, the sound of the firing would have reached us," was the answer.

"They have probably pursued the enemy further than they intended," said Don Eduardo, walking a short distance off from where we stood. He was evidently becoming anxious on the subject.

"What do you think about it?" I asked Pedro, who had overheard what had been said.

"It is possible that the Indians may have rallied and cut off the Spaniards," he answered. "Yet I do not think that they will have had the courage to do so. At first I was almost hoping it, as I thought we might have a better chance of escaping, but then I remembered that though many of the Indians might have been my friends, the Spaniards are my countrymen. I trust no disaster has befallen them."

Don Eduardo and his lieutenant returned after the consultation; and the latter, with a sergeant's party, was ordered to proceed along the ravine, to ascertain what had become of the main body. We watched the lieutenant and his men enter the ravine and advance, till they were hid by a turn of the cliffs. Don Eduardo then called us to him, and asked us our opinion as to what was likely to have occurred. We both assured him that we did not think the Indians would have rallied. What we said appeared somewhat to relieve his mind, and sitting down on a rock, he lighted a cigar, and offered some to us, which we declined, as neither Pedro nor I smoked. The men meantime had piled their arms, and lighted fires to boil their cocoa and to cook their provisions. Some were thus employed, others were smoking, and others had thrown themselves on the ground to rest after the fatigues of the day. We learned that they had received notice of the march of Catari's army from an Indian spy, many of whom were in the pay of the Spaniards. They had watched for them for several days, and at last the colonel commanding the force had resolved to occupy the post where he attacked them, till they should attempt to pass. The view around the spot we occupied was very picturesque. It was also a very strong natural position, while its picturesqueness was increased by the horses and baggage mules picqueted under the trees, the gay costumes of their drivers, the camp-fires, the piles of arms, and the groups of soldiers, in varied attitudes, scattered here and there.

The sun had set and the short twilight had come to an end, when the tramp of men's feet at a distance reached our ears. We listened anxiously. It was that of trained soldiers; and in a short time we saw them looming through the gloom of the evening. As they drew near, the advanced guard uttered a shout to warn us of their approach, which was responded to by the party on the hill. Soon afterwards they appeared on the summit, and as they marched into the centre of the space, they piled their arms, and joined their comrades round the fires. Each man came laden with the spoils they had retaken from the Indians.

After a portion of the troops had filed by, there came, with two soldiers guarding each of them, some fifty Indians who had been taken prisoners, and preserved to grace their triumph. Poor wretches, we found that though their lives were for the present spared, their fate was sealed, and that it was intended by a public execution to strike terror into the hearts of their countrymen. Those who could not move fast enough were dragged forward by ropes fastened to their wrists, or urged on at the point of the sword. When they halted, they were all huddled together like sheep in a pen, and a strong guard placed over them to prevent their escape. From the words we overheard, the soldiers appeared to be recounting eagerly, to those who had been left as a reserve, the adventures of the day. Pedro and I were shortly summoned by Don Eduardo to attend the colonel; but fortunately he was too tired and hungry to interrogate us closely, and after a few questions he dismissed us, with permission to join several of his officers round their watch-fires.

We were surprised at seeing only three or four wounded men; and we learned that, with the exception of one killed, they were the only sufferers among the troops. They were in high spirits, as this was the first success the Spanish forces had met with since the commencement of the outbreak. They boasted that they had killed several thousands of the Indians, though their own loss had been so small. They had followed them beyond the defile, where the remainder, entirely broken and dispersed, had saved themselves in the recesses of the forest. The officers civilly invited us to partake of their supper, Don Eduardo having recommended us to their notice; and afterwards, the picquets having been placed, we all wrapped ourselves in our cloaks and lay down to sleep.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

A BATTLEFIELD AT NIGHT—OUR EXPERIENCES OF A PERUVIAN PRISON.

I am not fond of dwelling on horrors; but I should fail to give a true picture of warfare and its effects, were I to neglect to describe those scenes which are its never-failing accompaniments. I tried to sleep; but at first the blaze of the fire, the voices of those around me, and the din of the camp, kept me awake; and when that had ceased, all the soldiers except the sentries, and even the Indian prisoners, having dropped off asleep, there came up from the depths of the mountain gorge a sound which, as I suspected its cause, effectually banished repose. Though rendered faint by distance, it came through the quiet night air with a distinctness which was truly terrible. I listened with painful attention. There were the shrieks and groans of human beings in their mortal agony, and the suppressed roar and hissing snarl of the fierce puma and the sanguinary ounce, as they disputed over their prey. Many Indians, I guessed too surely, had crawled, desperately wounded, into the crevices of the rocks, where they lay concealed as the Spanish troops passed by, and escaped instant death to suffer a lingering and more terrible fate at the last. All night long those melancholy sounds continued, and though they might have been heard by my companions, they did not appear to disturb their repose. I scarcely knew whether to envy or commiserate their apathy.

The night at last passed away. The soldiers started to their feet at the sound of the bugle's call, a hasty meal was taken, baggage mules were laden, the men fell into their ranks, and the order to march was given. Pedro and I mounted our faithful little beasts, and rode by the side of Don Eduardo, who, after he had got the troops into order, called us to him.

We descended the side of the hill, and took a direction towards the west, very much to my satisfaction, for I was afraid that we should have again to pass through the gorge; and my heart sickened at the thought of the sad spectacle we should there have to witness. There was no road, and the ground was very uneven; but the men and animals seemed accustomed to it, and managed to scramble along at the rate of about two miles-an-hour. We marched for about five hours, when we reached the bank of a river, where a halt was called, and the men were ordered to pile arms and cook their dinners, scouts being sent out to give notice of the approach of any Indians. The river ran through a broad valley, having on either side high cliffs, and below them grassy land sprinkled with trees. On the top of the cliffs was a wide belt of forest, beyond which, stretched out to the south, a vast extent of sandy desert. As we passed over it, I observed the remains of numerous small canals, which Pedro informed me served in the days of the Incas to irrigate it, when what was now a barren plain was covered with fertile fields.

The spot where we had approached the river was at the mouth of a narrow stream, which wound its way down from the mountains, its course marked by a line of trees, which it served to nourish. While the troops were resting, the colonel summoned Pedro and me into his presence, to make more inquiries about us. I mentioned that he was a very different sort of person to Don Eduardo. He was a stern, morose man, none of the kindlier sympathies of human nature finding a place in his bosom. He was sitting on a rock, under the shade of a tree, with his secretary, with paper and a pen in his hand, kneeling by his side, and making a table of the rock, ready to take notes of what we might say. He questioned us narrowly, and all we said was put down. I gave him the same account that I had to Don Eduardo.

"And so you have been living among the Indians, and encouraging them in their rebellion against their rightful sovereign, I doubt not," he observed, fixing his piercing eyes on us. "Young man, your name is not unfamiliar to me."

I felt no little alarm on hearing these words, which was increased when he desired his secretary to turn to some notes he had in his portfolio.

"I thought so," he exclaimed. "You are the son of an Englishman who is accused of conspiring with the Indians to overthrow the government of the country. Your father has met with his deserts, for I see that he and all his family were murdered by the wretched people he had encouraged to revolt; but you, let me assure you, will not escape the punishment which is your due. You have been treated with too much leniency by us; you and your companion are now prisoners. Guard lead them off, and take care that they do not escape."

The information so brutally given me, confirmatory of my worst fears, almost overcame me, and I believe that I should have sunk to the ground, had not the soldiers who were ordered to take charge of us supported me as they led me away. I was far too much absorbed by the dreadful news, the truth of which I could not doubt, to be able to contemplate the very dangerous position in which I was placed. I did not attempt to answer the colonel, nor to exculpate myself; indeed, any appeal to him would have been of no avail. Pedro and I were marched off, and placed by ourselves under the shade of a rock, where several men were stationed as sentries over us. The officers with whom we had before been associating on friendly terms seemed to regard us with looks of pity, but they dared not speak to us. When the troops again marched we were guarded by two soldiers, who rode by our sides with drawn swords, while we were not allowed to address each other. The time occupied by that journey was the most miserable portion of my life. Hope had almost deserted me. All those I loved best on earth were gone; and at the end of it I had nothing to expect but a long imprisonment in a loathsome dungeon, or perhaps death. The next evening, when the soldiers halted to bivouac for the night, as Pedro and I were sitting disconsolately on the ground at a short distance from each other, with our guards between us, I saw Don Eduardo approaching. He told the soldiers to withdraw, and sat down by my side. I saw by his manner that he had undertaken a task which was not altogether to his taste.

"I have got permission from the colonel to speak to you," he began. "He considers himself authorised not to act very rigorously with you if you will accede to his proposals."

"What are they, Don Eduardo?" I asked, at once guessing their tenor.

"Why, he understands you have seen the army of the rebel chief, Tupac Amaru, and are acquainted with their intentions," he answered.

"I own that I have seen large numbers of Indians collected together, but I am entirely ignorant of what they were about to do," I said. "But pray go on, Don Eduardo."

"The proposal is similar to what I made you when we first met," he replied, the colour rising to his cheeks. "If you can conduct a Spanish force to where they are to be found, or can contrive to put some of their chiefs into our power, you and your friend shall forthwith be set at liberty."

"You, I am sure, Don Eduardo, can expect but one reply from me to such a question, and you know that it is the only one which, while I remain an honourable man, I can give."

"I am afraid so," he answered, looking down much grieved. "I am to add, that if you refuse, as soon as we arrive at the town of San Pablo, you will be tried and shot as a rebel."

"Before I have been found guilty?" I asked.

"I fear your guilt in our eyes has been too well established by your own confession," he observed. "Let me advise you to think over the subject well. It is hard for a youth like you to die."

"Tell me, Don Eduardo, do you believe me guilty?" I asked.

"You have been in communication with the Indians and you wish them well," he said, avoiding an answer to my question.

"I wish the Spaniards well, and have never instigated the Indians to rebel by word or deed," said I. "But you have not told me if you think me guilty."

"I do not. From what I have seen of you I think you incapable of doing so wrong a thing," he replied, kindly taking my hand. "I wish to save your life."

"I warmly thank you for what you say, Don Eduardo," I exclaimed; "but I cannot do what is proposed. If I am not guilty it will be more easy to die; but I trust that, as an Englishman, the government will not venture to put me to death unless my guilt is clearly proved."

"In these times no respect is paid to persons," he said. "You must not trust to such a hope; yet I would take a more satisfactory answer back to my colonel."

"I can send no other answer than what I have given," I replied; "you would from your heart despise me if I did."

At this he looked very melancholy. "Well, I fear it must be so, yet I will do all I can for you," he said, as again pressing my hand in token of his good-will, he rose to leave me.

Having ordered the sentries to return to their posts, he went to where my companion in misfortune was sitting. He conversed with him for some time; and though I had great confidence in Pedro, I was afraid that he might ultimately be tempted or threatened into compliance with the colonel's demands. I wronged him; for I afterwards learned that he remained firm to his honour. The night passed away without any adventure; and wearied out by bodily fatigue and mental anxiety, though the hard ground was my couch, I slept till daylight. My conscience was, at all events, clear of wrong, and I never recollect to have slept so soundly. I awoke more refreshed than I had been for some time, and with a lighter heart in my bosom. Even hope revived, though I had little enough to ground it on. The air was pure and bracing, my nerves felt well strung, and the face of nature itself wore to my eyes a more cheerful aspect than it had done for many days. The troops advanced more rapidly than they had before done, and towards evening the spires of several churches rising from the plain, the rays of the sun lighting them brilliantly up, came in sight. They were in the town of San Pablo, the houses in which soon after appeared. As we approached, a number of the Spanish inhabitants came out to hear the news, and seemed highly gratified at the result of the expedition. The unfortunate Indians who were brought in as prisoners, chiefly attracted their attention; and I was shocked to hear the abuse they heaped on them. The miserable beings walked on with sullen and downcast looks, without deigning to reply. They had no hope—they had lost the day, and they knew the fate which awaited them.

As we marched through the unpaved, dirty streets, the inhabitants came out of their houses to look at us, and to offer the troops refreshments and congratulations. We found the town full of people of all colours, of whom a large number were Indians who had refused to join the revolt.

In the centre of the town was the usual large plaza or square; and on one side of it was a building which we were told was the prison. Towards it we were at once conducted. One side of the square was without buildings, a broad stream running past it, beyond which were cultivated fields, and gardens divided by walls. In the centre was a fountain, continually throwing up a jet of crystal water—a refreshing sight in that climate. The prison fronted the river. On one side was a church, and on the other the residence of the governor of the town, or of some other civil functionary. On either side of the buildings I have mentioned, were long rows of houses of various heights, though mostly of one story, very similar to those I have already described. Three streets, running at right angles to each other, led into the square. I have not without reason been thus particular in my description.

The soldiers who had us in charge, led us across the square, amid the shouts and jeers of the people. Even the blacks, the half-castes, and the Indians, came to stare at us with stupid wonder, calling us rebels, traitors, and robbers. The unfortunate Indians who had been made prisoners, went before us. The massive gates of the prison were thrown open, and they were forced within. We came last.

My heart sunk within me as we entered those gloomy walls. The interior was already crowded with human beings, many of them Indians, found with arms in their hands, or suspected of an intention of joining the rebels. We advanced along a low, arched gallery, intersected by several gates; and having passed two of them, we turned to the left, along a narrower passage, at the end of which we reached a small door. The gaoler, who showed the way with a torch, opened it; and, to my dismay, I saw that a steep flight of steps led down from it to some chambers below the ground.

"We are to be shut up in a dungeon, I fear," I whispered to Pedro.

"So that I am with you, I care not where I am," he answered.

Four of the soldiers followed us, to prevent our running away, I suppose; though we should have had but a poor chance of escaping even had we tried. The rest faced about, and marched back through the passage. I hesitated on the top of the steps, so narrow and broken and dark did they look.

"Come along, Senores, come along!" said the gaoler; "but take care how you tread, for the steps are somewhat worn, and you may chance to break your necks some days before their time."

Though inclined to make merry at our expense, he held his torch so as to afford sufficient light for us to see our way. The soldiers laughed gruffly at his joke, bad as it was; and this made him attempt one or two others of a similar character.

"The gentlemen have not perhaps been accustomed to live in a palace, but they will find one here, with plenty of servants to attend on them; so I must beg to congratulate them," he said, chuckling as he spoke. "They will have plenty of playmates, though some of them will not remain very long, I suspect. They have a way here of making a speedy clearance at times."

We had now reached the bottom of the steps, and another small door, plated with iron and secured with two stout iron bars, appeared before us. The gaoler removed the bars, and taking a key from his girdle, opened the door.

"Go in there, Senores," he said. "It is somewhat dark at present, but you will get accustomed to it by-and-by."

Saying this, he forced us into the dungeon. I went in first, and stumbled down a couple of steps, nearly falling on my face. While I was holding out my hand to save Pedro from doing the same, the door was shut behind us, and barred and bolted as before. We found ourselves in almost total darkness, a small aperture near the ceiling alone affording a dim gleam of light, which served to show us the gloomy horrors of the place. Two massive pillars supported the low arched roof, which seemed covered with moisture. The size of the place we could not tell, as the darkness prevented our seeing the walls at either side. The floor was unpaved, and composed of damp earth strewed with filth. We stood for some minutes holding each other's hands, without speaking, and without moving. We felt bewildered and stupified with the calamity which had befallen us. Pedro was the first to recover himself.

"They cannot keep us here for ever," he said, breaking the long silence. "Others have been in worse places, and have escaped. Let us hope, Senor, for the best." He spoke in a cheerful tone, which had a reviving effect upon me.

"We will hope for the best, Pedro," I exclaimed. "Something may occur to deliver us. We must consider, however, what we have to do. I propose that we first make a tour of inspection round our dominions. It will give us some occupation, though idleness seems rather encouraged here."

"I would rather find the way out of our dominions, as you call them, than become better acquainted with them," said Pedro. "However, I am ready to set out whenever you please."

"We may possibly find the way out during our inspection," I remarked, as we began slowly and cautiously to move round the walls of the cell.

It was narrow but long, and extended, as I concluded, along part of one side of the inner court. We found two other pillars towards the further end, and we felt several rings secured in the walls, with heavy chains attached to them. Of their use there could be no doubt; and we congratulated ourselves that we were still allowed to have our limbs at liberty. In our walk we stumbled over an iron bar, and our feet knocked against some other rings attached to stones sunk in the floor.

"So some of the inmates of the mansion have been chained down like maniacs to the ground," Pedro observed. "We are indeed fortunate in escaping such treatment."

Though we searched most minutely, we could discover nothing which might suggest any means of escaping. We had just concluded an examination, and had returned to our seats, when the door of the dungeon was opened, and the gaoler appeared, bringing a jar of water and two loaves of brown bread.

Pedro examined his countenance. "Stop," he exclaimed, as the man was going away; "Sancho Lopez, I do believe you are an old friend of mine."

"In truth yes, and you saved my life," answered the gaoler. "But I must not stop—but I must not stop. Be at rest, I do not forget the matter."

Pedro afterwards told me how he had saved the Spanish gaoler's life in a snow-storm in the mountains, and we agreed that it was a great thing to have him as our friend.

We had been in the dungeon about a fortnight, and though it was damp and unwholesome in the extreme, we did not appear to have suffered in health.

One morning Sancho entered our cell with a cheerful countenance.

"I bring you good news, Senores," he said. "I have just received a visit from a young officer, who has, it appears, been making interest in your favour; and he has gained permission for your removal to a more airy abode. He seemed very anxious about you, and said he pitied you very much, though he was unable to obtain your liberty, which he wished to do. I hurried here to tell you this, as I thought it would give you pleasure. I must now go back to get the chambers ready for you, and will return with two of the under gaolers to conduct you to it. One caution I have to give you. Do not mind what I say to you before others, and never answer any of my remarks."

Without waiting for our reply and thanks, Sancho closed the prison door, and left us to ourselves.

"We have to thank Don Eduardo for this. I am sure he is the officer Sancho spoke of," I remarked.

"I think so also," answered Pedro. "I am glad that he has not asked us to pass our word not to escape."

"So am I," I observed. "While we were on our road here, I often contemplated the possibility of getting out of prison; but then I did not expect to be put into a dungeon like this."

For some time we could talk of nothing else but the prospect of making our escape.

Two hours or more had passed away, and Sancho had not returned. We knew that he would not willingly have deceived us, but we began to be afraid that the governor had rescinded his permission for our occupying a room open to the air, and that we might be doomed to remain in our dungeon for weeks or months longer. At last we heard footsteps approaching the cell; the door was opened, and Sancho and his two assistants appeared.

"You are to accompany me, Senores," he said, in the gruff tone he had used at our entrance. "You are fortunate in coming out of that place alive; though some I have known would rather have had to remain there than be obliged to march out into the square yonder."

The assistants laughed as he said this, and we soon had too great a reason to know to what he alluded. Sancho led the way with a torch in his hand; and his assistants followed, holding us tightly by the arms, as if we would have tried to escape from them. I certainly could not have done so had I tried, for when I came to mount the steps, I found my knees trembling under me from weakness, arising from being shut up so long in the damp dungeon, though I had till then thought myself as strong as ever. We traversed a number of passages, and mounted a second flight of steps, when we reached a small door plated with iron. Sancho opened it, and exhibited a room about six feet broad and eight feet long, with a window strongly barred at the further end. There were two chairs and a bedstead, with a straw mattress on it.

"Put the youngsters in there," he said gruffly to his assistants. "It is a room fit for an hidalgo of the first order. They may see and be seen if they choose to put their noses through the gratings."

On this the gaolers very unceremoniously thrust us in, and Sancho, without saying a word more, closed the door upon us. It appeared such an age since we had beheld the blue sky and the smiling face of nature, that we eagerly rushed to the window to discover what view could be obtained from it. We found, to our no small satisfaction, that it was not more than twelve or fifteen feet from the ground, and that it looked out on the great square I have before described. I have never forgotten the sensations of delight with which I inhaled the fresh air as it came through the open bars, and gazed once more on the bright sky, and the clear water of the river, the fields, and the trees beyond, and the human beings who were thronging the open space below us. They all appeared so full of life and activity, and the murmur of their voices seemed like music to my ears, so long accustomed to the silence of the dungeon. The bars of the window were very strong, and placed very close together, so that, as Sancho had observed, we could only just get our noses through them. We were, however, glad to get them out as far as we could, and every moment I found the breeze restoring to my limbs their accustomed strength. My first impulse was to shake the bars to try and find whether any of them could be moved; but I restrained myself, lest some one from below should observe us and suspect that we were thinking of escaping. As we stood there, we heard several voices in piteous tones asking for alms; and by pressing our faces close to the bars, we discovered that some of the prisoners in the neighbouring rooms were letting down hats and baskets by lines at the ends of poles, like fishing rods, to collect food and money from the passers-by. We were still eagerly watching the scene, when I felt a hand laid on my shoulder. I started back, and saw Sancho. We had been so interested that we had not heard him enter. He placed his finger on his lips to impose silence.

"I have been so occupied that I could not come before," he whispered. "I have brought you some white bread, and some meat, and fruit, and fresh water, and a little brandy to mix with it, which have been ordered by the friend who has obtained for you the indulgence of this room. Here are the provisions." He put down in the chair a basket covered with a cloth. "I cannot remain, for a fresh set of prisoners have lately arrived, and I am employed in looking after them."

"Who are they?" I asked. "More Indians, I fear."

"Yes, Senor; there are a hundred of them. Poor fellows, I pity them, for they will certainly be shot in the great square out there before many days are over. There is a young chief among them. I grieve for him most, for he is a very fine fellow. He walked along as he came to prison like a prince, and heeded not the shouts and revilings of the mob who followed him and his companions. Their misery will soon be over, for they are to be tried to-morrow, and they have not a chance of escape."

"Can you tell me his name!" I asked anxiously; for I instantly thought of Manco.

"No, I cannot," he answered. "I only know that he was taken a few clays ago in a skirmish with the enemy, who are not many leagues off. It is feared even that they may attack the town, though we have too many soldiers here to give them much chance of success."

"I trust they will not," I exclaimed, thinking of the dreadful scenes which had before occurred. "But can you learn the name of this young chief? I fear he is a friend of ours."

"Oh, do not acknowledge him, then," said the gaoler, "as you value your lives. You cannot benefit him, and may run the risk of sharing his fate."

I saw the mistake I had committed; but still I pressed Sancho to learn who he was, and he undertook to comply with my wish, provided I followed his advice. I again asked him to inform us who was the friend who had interested himself in our favour; but he replied that he was not at liberty to say, and he then hurried from the room.

The news he had brought made us very sad, for we could not help contemplating the scene of bloodshed which was about to occur, which was of itself sufficiently horrible, even should my suspicions that Manco was a prisoner not prove correct. We were doomed not to have our anxiety relieved, for Sancho did not again make his appearance during the day. He was probably afraid of being observed if he visited us too frequently. We ate the food Sancho had brought us most thankfully, and it much contributed to restore our strength; but we had lost all pleasure in looking out of the window on the square, which was so soon to be the scene of the slaughter of so many of our fellow-creatures. We found a bundle of blankets and some clean linen hid away under the bedding; for the latter, which to us was a great luxury, we had no doubt we were indebted to Don Eduardo. At night we threw ourselves on the bed, and tried to sleep; but my rest was very disturbed, and I constantly dreamed that I heard firing, and saw the unhappy Indians being shot down before the windows. Towards morning, however, I fell into a deep slumber; and, probably owing to the change of air and the improvement in our food, we both slept to a much later hour than usual. We were awakened by the confused sound of the voices of a concourse of people, and jumping up, we hurried to the window. From thence we saw a large crowd collected in the square, who seemed to be eagerly watching the doors of the prison. We could distinguish the tones of those nearest to us; and from the words which reached us, we learned that a sort of trial had taken place the previous evening of the prisoners lately captured, as well as of those in Tupac Catari's army, and that they were all condemned to be shot. No one seemed to pity them; but, on the contrary, all appeared to exult at the prospect of the slaughter which was about to commence.

"The pretended Inca, Tupac Amaru, has been taken," said one man.

"No; that is a mistake," was the answer. "But another chief has, though he fought like a lion, it is said."

"Who is he?" asked another.

"A relation of the Inca's: one of the viper's brood," replied the first.

"They say two strangers were made prisoners leading on the rebels," observed a third. "They are to be shot also, I hope."

"No doubt of it; but the viceroy has thought it necessary to send to explain the matter to the English consul at Lima; and his answer has not arrived," remarked a fourth.

"It is known that it cannot arrive for three or four more days; and care will be taken to shoot them before that time," said the former speaker.

"Can they allude to us?" I asked of Pedro, feeling my heart sink within me.

"There is no doubt about it," he replied. "We must be prepared for the worst; but I do not think they will dare to kill one of your great nation. They will shoot me though, as I have no friends to help me."

"Nor have I, Pedro; but I would rather say, Let us hope for the best," I answered. "They would gain nothing by killing either of us, and it would be very unjust to kill you and let me escape."

"It would be very unjust to kill either of us; but they care little for justice, and they wish to strike terror into the hearts of their enemies," he remarked calmly.

"Such cruelty as they are about to perpetrate will only exasperate the Indians the more," said I. "If they were to treat them well, and let them go, they would be more likely to put down the rebellion."

The crowd was every moment increasing, as people were coming in from all directions. Among them were a large number of Indians, mestizos, and other half-castes, who seemed to look on with the same unconcern as the Spaniards. My eye had been attracted by a man whose florid complexion and dress showed that he was a seaman of some northern nation, and I hoped an Englishman. He shouldered his way through the crowd with a confident, independent air, as if he felt himself superior to any about him. At length he came close under our window, and caught my eye watching him. He stared at me fixedly for some time, and I thought recognised me to be a countryman by my light hair and fair complexion. Once he put his hand up to his mouth, as if he was going to hail me, as he would a man at the masthead; but he again let it drop, having apparently changed his mind, and, returning his hands to his trousers pockets, he rolled away with the unmistakeable air of a British seaman. I longed to call after him to tell who I was; but, afraid of being heard by others, I restrained myself.