About this time (1639) the third invasion of the Mamelucos took place, and Father Alfaro, who had been left in charge of the missions on the Uruguay and Paraná, was shot by a Mameluco with a crossbow, and fell dead from his horse. The Governor of Paraguay, on hearing of it, marched with an army, and, having killed two or three hundred of the Mamelucos, took the rest prisoners, and carried them back to Asuncion. There, to the disgust of all the Jesuit historians, he menaced them with the wrath of Heaven and let them go. The feelings of a churchman, when his own privilege is thus usurped, may be compared to those of a strict game-preserver who sees his coverts poached. It is not so much the damage that is done as the personal insult and the humiliation which he suffers in his pride. In this year, too, the Indians of the missions rendered their first armed service to the State which afterwards so often drew on them in its necessity and treated them so ill. The Governor of Buenos Ayres, Don Pedro Estevan Davila, was setting out upon an expedition against a tribe of Indians who had taken refuge in the islands of the Lake Yberá. Eighty of the Indians were sent, and, being well led and armed, contributed considerably towards success. Next year a second contingent was required by the Governor of Tucuman, and duly sent to his assistance. History seems to repeat itself, and foolish soldiers and others never to gain experience; for the Governor (Padre del Techo in his ‘Historia Paraquaiæ’ tells us), having made war in Flanders, could never be dissuaded that the same system was not suitable for warfare in America. Accordingly, he set out in good order, but neglected to send out scouts, and consequently fell into the middle of the Calchaquis strongly entrenched within a marsh, attacked them with a rush, lost heavily, and had to retire to Tucuman. But all this time Father Montoya and Diaz Taño were striving in Rome and at Madrid with the Pope and with the King.