Three shots were fired, but none of them struck the fugitives. Onward they rushed towards the lake with the jaguar bounding by their side. "Mount and after them!" shouted Pizarro. O'Rafferty and the Scot obeyed--threw themselves hastily on horseback, and gave spur in pursuit. We throw a veil over the deeds of atrocity which were that night perpetrated in Caxamalca. * * * * * Short and sweet, said I, as I laid down my pen: I question whether Dumas ever turned out any thing more dramatic. At all events, I have done a material service to the public, by exterminating Herrera the dragoon. I hardly suppose that, after this, the hidalgo will venture to bring him forward again. Peace to his manes! It was a tough job to kill him, but I think I have effected it at last, rather neatly than otherwise. CHAPTER V. THE CATARACT OF THE ROCKS. "Huzza, huzza! along the shore, across the desert wild, none meet the Inca and his bride, the free, the undefiled! Huzza, huzza! our steeds are fleet, the moon shines broad and clear; at every stride a tree goes by, we pass them like the deer! Hold up, hold up, my only love! the desert paths are near. I know the ways that skirt the rocks where foemen cannot ride. Nay, never wring thy hands and weep, my own devoted bride. We leave behind a ruined home, but freedom lies before; and hostile bands and savage arms shall never vex thee more. Why dost thou start so wildly, love? Why look in terror back? Fear'st thou the mailed enemies that follow in our track?" "Oh, my husband! there are two!" "Were there twenty, love, I fear not! Give thy willing steed the rein. Ho, Bicerta! noble creature, how he bounds along the plain! See, his eager eye is glowing with a fierce and sullen fire! Let the caitiffs dare to harm us, he will rend them in his ire. Onward, onward, love! the mazes of the forest now are past. Hark! I hear the hollow roaring of the mountain stream at last." They were nearing a gloomy crevice of the rocks, through which a rapid river found its way. The chasm was a fearful one. More than a hundred feet below, the torrent boiled and whirled. The precipices on either side were sheer--a fall was inevitable death. The Inca saw and felt the danger, but there was no retreat. Grasping with one hand the reins of Oneiza's horse, he smote with the other the flank of his own. The dagger of Herrera, which the Peruvian still held, did service as a spur--both animals cleared the gulf, and alighted panting on the farther side. "Deil's in your beast, O'Rafferty!" shouted the Scot, "pu' up hard, man, or ye're intil a hole as deep as the cauldron at the Yetts o' Muckart!"