Cristoval had seen the cavalcade nearly an hour before; saw them halt at the _tambo_, leave the road, gallop to the cottage, and surround it. Not long afterward it burst into flames, and he had little doubt that the unfortunate native, and perhaps his family, were being put to torture. He watched until the three troopers left the others and started toward the hills. Then he had awakened Rava. As they left the spot she was weeping and frantically wringing her hands. "Oh, Viracocha Cristoval," she sobbed; "are they burning and killing because of our flight? Let me go back! Oh, let me go back! My return may stay their cruelty." "No, no!" he replied, quickly. "They are not killing, and now that they have found our traces they will probably burn no more. Your return would not help, Ñusta Rava. Compose yourself, I pray you." "Ah, my poor people!" she wailed. "My unhappy country! The Sun hath indeed turned away his face! Ah me, ah me!" Cristoval crossed himself at the mention of her pagan deity, and whispered a prayer for her soul. She turned to him earnestly. "Viracocha, we will not seek aid until beyond the reach of those cruel men. We must endanger none of my father’s children. We will flee alone—die alone, if need be." Cristoval nodded assent, but thought of Pedro’s pouch, which was none too heavy. How to replenish it without the help of men would be a question. "By the saints!" he thought; "this lady’s escape is attended by difficulties, and now she setteth up problems of generalship that are unfamiliar. Ah, well, we’ll see what can be done." Then he said aloud, "We will consider it later, Ñusta Rava. For the present, it is better not to talk, for breath may grow precious later on." They pressed forward. The cottage was smouldering now, and left by the soldiery, who had apparently gone into the lower hills, for none was in sight. The top of the ridge was fairly smooth, though occasionally strewn with rock; but toward midday it developed into a succession of deep gullies, and their progress became labored, with halts of growing frequency. Before the afternoon was half gone Rava showed serious exhaustion, and they stopped in a thicket. Cristoval again spread his cloak, and once more she slept. In an hour he regretfully awakened her, and they took up their march. The sky was clearing, and presently Cristoval saw the expected. Far to the eastward, creeping over the first foothills, was a small, dark column of horsemen, sparkling here and there as the afternoon sun struck upon burnished helm and corselet, and deploying at last into a widely-extended line. Another column was moving to the southward along the highway, almost imperceptibly, as it appeared to Rava, but in reality at a gallop, as Cristoval knew. He watched for a time without comment, then led on. When darkness fell they rested again; then up with the rising moon and wearily onward.