The señora sniffed scornfully. "Is that Peralta? I scarce knew him without his beard. He seemeth friendly enough with these fripperied Indians. He might be in better company—and so mightst thou, Pedro. ’T is little credit to you both." "We are prisoners, Señora." "Prisoners, forsooth! Well, if I were a man! But thou ’rt too good-natured, Pedro, for thine own good. And thou ’rt a love to rescue me," she added, tenderly. Pedro stepped back a pace and looked uneasily about. "Nay, Señora Bolio," he said, hastily, "it was not I. It was Peralta. Wait. I’ll call him." "Oh, thou’rt so modest, Pedro! I tell thee, it was thou! But hold! God ha’ mercy! I had almost forgotten to tell thee. Thou ’rt undone! They have entered thy lodging in Xauxa, broken into thy chests, and taken thy belongings." "Furies and devils!" exclaimed the cook, sharply. "Who have?" "Those runnion pikemen from the fortress." At once flashed over him the use he had planned to make of his savings in aiding Cristoval to escape. He spun around once on his peg and swore with such violence that the cavalier and Father Tendilla hurried up. "My son, my son!" cried the priest, placing a hand upon his shoulder. "Thy tongue is imperilling thy soul." "Name of a saint, Pedro! What hath happened?" demanded Cristoval, anxiously. "Happened!" shouted Pedro. "Scurviness hath happened. Thievery hath happened. Sack, plunder, housebreaking, and depredation have happened. Those rakehells of the infantry have robbed me. Oh, hoop me with hoops lest I burst before I’ve killed a pikeman!" He ceased abruptly and went to his mule, leaving the señora to explain. She did so with brevity and emphasis, and Cristoval turned to the priest in disgust: "We’ve brought a mangy pack, Father Tendilla, to set loose upon these hapless people. They turn to robbing one another before they’ve done robbing the country." The father shook his head sadly, but made no reply. The advance guard moved on, and Matopo passed with his officers, casting a curious glance at the señora as he bowed. She responded with a haughty inclination and compressed her lips. It required all the persuasive eloquence of her three countrymen to induce her to mount and enter the column; but finding separation from Pedro the alternative, she at last consented, declaring vigorously that the barbarian who undertook to make a prisoner of her would repent his insolence and remember the circumstance. She swung into her saddle, disdaining assistance, and they were soon on the march.