"Pass them," said the sergeant, and Duero called to his companions; then, not wishing to be interrogated, gave the officer good-night. The sergeant watched the _hamaca_ past the gate, and with a grimace to his sentinel, retired to the guard-room. Since the death of Atahualpa he had seen the like more than once. Inside the gate Duero dismissed his remnant of the Cañares. Taking up the silent and closely curtained _hamaca_, the Spaniards were presently pounding at the _veedor’s_ door. An Indio servant opened to them, and the litter was carried into the court. Apprised of its arrival, Rogelio hurried out. Duero ignored his greeting and demanded bluntly: "Where is the cage, Señor _Veedor_? Here is the bird." "Oh, my stars!" snuffled Rogelio, rubbing his hands and sidling round the _hamaca_. "Is she there, indeed?—and in good condition, Duero? Remember, that was part of the stipulation—that she should be unharmed, and in good condition." "As to being unharmed, I’ll answer for it," replied the soldier. "As for her condition, you can figure for yourself what it is like to be after such a journey. Where will you have her put? Come! We’re weary." "This way," said Rogelio, in a fluster. "The room is all prepared—a bower, Duero, a very bower! He, he! Wait! I’ll fetch a lamp." He scuttled away, reappeared with a light, and led the way to a door opening upon the patio. It was fastened with a heavy padlock. Fumbling for a second, he threw open the door. The _hamaca_ was carried in, the door closed, and while Rogelio edged round eagerly with the lamp, striving for a glimpse, Duero threw back the curtains and lifted Rava, almost lifeless, from the litter. She moaned as he bore her to the couch, and he hastened to remove the bonds and gag she had worn since nearing Xauxa. She gave no other evidence of animation. "Here—the light!" commanded Duero, gruffly, and took it without ceremony from the _veedor’s_ hand, bending over the girl in scrutiny. Rogelio hovered about, twisting his fat fingers, and straining to have a look at the pale, drawn face almost hidden by her disordered tresses. It was a face to move the compassion of a savage. The rough soldier felt its pathos, for he straightened up and said brusquely:— "She needeth looking after, ’t is a certainty. Fetch a woman at once, Señor _Veedor_." "A woman!" piped Rogelio. "Why, there’s no woman about. I have spoken for one, and may have her to-morrow." "No woman about!" exclaimed Duero, turning upon him sternly. "Do you say there is none to give this girl the care she needeth?" "To-morrow—" began the _veedor_ weakly. "To-morrow!—To-night! This night, _Veedor_, or she goeth to Xauxa." Duero’s black eyes travelled over Rogelio with an expression the latter did not care to meet. "To-night! Impossible, Duero!" he whined. "There is not a woman in the fortress save two just come from San Miguel, and they—" He shook his head.