The priest now made a long speech, in which he told the Inca that the Pope, as head of the Christian church, had given the empire of Peru to the king of Spain, and that it was the will of God that the Peruvians should all become Christians and cease to worship the Sun. The Inca listened to this speech very patiently and asked the interpreter where the priest had learned all that strange news. The priest answered that he had learned it all from the Bible he held in his hand. Atahualpa then took the Bible, and, after looking at it curiously, held it up to his ear as if expecting to learn its secrets in that manner; but as he heard nothing, he threw it angrily from him and exclaimed haughtily, "I am very willing to be a friend of the king of Spain, but not his vassal; the Pope must be a very extraordinary man to give away a country that does not belong to him. I shall not change my religion, and if the Christians adore a God who died upon a cross, I worship the Sun, who never dies." At these defiant words the priest turned angrily to Pizarro and made a sign. And then shouting "Santiago," the terrible war-cry of the Spaniards that had so often urged them on to victory, Pizarro seized the Inca and called upon his soldiers to come forth from their hiding-places. In a moment the place was alive with the excited Spaniards, guns were fired, and the terrified Peruvians, startled at this unexpected attack, were trampled under the horses' hoofs and blinded by the smoke, and although the Inca's guard tried in vain to protect him, they were all killed or wounded, and of the remaining Peruvians--men, women, and children--very few who had entered the square left it alive, but nearly all were murdered by the relentless Spaniards. Then the gates were closed and guarded, and the Inca was taken to Pizarro's tent, where his robe and jewels were taken from him, and after being clothed in a plainer dress he was invited to take supper with Pizarro. Then the conqueror told his prisoner his true reason for coming to Peru, and Atahualpa heard it all with bowed head and sad face, and remembered, as he listened, the old legend of his race--how from across the seas fair-haired men were to come, bringing sorrow and destruction to the children of the Sun. The old prophecy had come true, and the last Inca of Peru was a prisoner in the hands of a strange man, with white skin and long brown hair. Pizarro slept well after his easy victory, happy in the thought that that day's work had made his name immortal, for never before in the history of the world had there been such a brilliant conquest as this. Even the name of Cortez would now stand second to his own.