Chapter Eleven.

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, Señor,” 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, Señor?”“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 powerfulcacique, who had assumed the title of Tupac Catari; and though he was, as most of thecaciqueswere, 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.

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, Señor,” 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, Señor?”

“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 powerfulcacique, who had assumed the title of Tupac Catari; and though he was, as most of thecaciqueswere, 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 Señor, 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, Señor, 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 Señor, 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 drewourselves 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. Señor 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, Señor, 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.“Señor,” 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, Señor, 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.

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 Señor, 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, Señor, 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 Señor, 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 drewourselves 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. Señor 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, Señor, 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.

“Señor,” 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, Señor, 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.

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