"Viracocha," he said, as he offered his hand, scrutinizing the cavalier’s face. "I owe thee my life. My Lord Mocho, tell me whom I am to thank." "The Viracocha Cristoval, Sapa Inca," replied Mocho, "to whom Tavantinsuyu is—" He stopped. The Inca had dropped Cristoval’s hand as if stung, his face suddenly darkening with enmity. Cristoval stiffened, and his face slowly reddened at the affront. There was a flash in his eyes as they met the frown, and he formally saluted, saying:— "The Inca Manco oweth me nothing." Manco turned away abruptly. Remembered his obligation, and again faced the cavalier, as he said, without gratitude and with an effort plainly visible: "You have saved my life, Viracocha. My Lord Mocho, see that he and his companion are suitably rewarded. Assemble thy men." He moved away burdened by a debt heavier upon his proud heart than all the insults borne at Viracocha hands; haunted by the crucifix seen on Rava’s bosom—placed there by the one for whose death he had given fervent thanks to Inti a hundred times: by the hand which had now saved him from the sword of one whom he hated less. Black thoughts, with blacker ones beneath: his liberty a loathed thing! He pushed on alone, far in advance of the column which Mocho was hurriedly forming. Cristoval glanced after him, watched the Antis gathering up Mendoza, who was groaning feebly; saw the other Spaniard secured, and as the column moved off, turned to Pedro who was regarding him with inquiry. "By the saints, Pedro, I have little taste for such a host. I misdoubt our welcome. However," he added, after a moment’s gloomy thought, "I see no help for it." He recovered his lance, which he had dropped to catch up his mace, mounted, and they rode after the column. Mocho joined them at the first halt. His manner betrayed his uneasiness at the reception accorded the two Spaniards by his master, and he hastened to say: "The Inca is not yet aware of all his indebtedness, Viracochas; but I will make him so. You will not find him ungrateful." Cristoval inclined his head gravely, presently asking how the monarch had effected his release. "By ruse," answered Mocho. "He confided to the new commander of the Viracochas, Hernando Pizarro, that there is treasure concealed near Yucay, and was freed to guide the two soldiers to the hiding-place." "Aha!" said Cristoval. "Hernando back! Well, his greed hath overreached. What is in store for the Viracochas who came with the Inca?—death, no doubt?" "They will be left at Chinchero to make their way back to Cuzco as soon as the injured one is able to walk," replied Mocho. Cristoval was surprised, but made no comment.