"By the soul of me!" growled Hernando Pizarro, the eldest of the commander’s four brothers. "Methinks, Francisco, thy dreams of conquest have overreached. Ho! good Father," he continued, turning with a grin to Valverde, the square-jawed chaplain of the expedition, "I’ll presently call upon thee for a shrift. Meanwhile, do thou pray a little." "Aye!" muttered Candia, the Greek captain of artillery, "pray a little, and have the other frocks at it with thee. We’ll need all your supplications, and,"—to himself,—"the devil’s aid besides." The priest did not reply even with a glance. The commander had ridden a few paces in advance and was looking over the vast encampment below with as little emotion in his thin, sallow face as if the Inca’s army were a flock of goats. When the leading files of the column first caught sight of the distant encampment a shout arose and was quickly carried to the rear: "_El Inca! El Inca! El ejercito del Inca!_" and pikes and halberds were brandished with fierce enthusiasm. But as realization of the magnitude of the host came over them the demonstration gave place to ominous silence, and they gazed with something akin to consternation. Pizarro noticed the change, and looked back over the ranks with a barely perceptible curl of his lip. "Forward!" he said to the trumpeter, and moved down the trail. The command wound its descent through the foothills, and at midday halted again. Pennons were affixed to lances, plumes to helmets, and the banners were uncovered and spread to the breeze. Here Cristoval demanded his horse, and, when Pedro protested, declared with emphasis that he was well, and if not well, then well enough; that in any event he would not go into the presence of an enemy borne in a litter, like a woman. So he mounted, though without his armor. The formation most favorable for action in case of attack was now adopted. The infantry and artillery were placed in the middle of the column with cavalry in front and rear; and, with a small advance guard, the army debouched upon the plain. No hostility met the Spaniards. As on the coast, they came upon knots of the natives gathered at the roadside, and these gazed upon the glittering, bannered pageant as if stupefied. When the outskirts of the town were, reached the afternoon was late, and rain, for some time threatening, set in with dreary steadiness. To their surprise they found here no sign of life. The last group of Indios had long been passed, and as the troops plashed along the muddy highway through the suburbs they were greeted only by silence and desertion. Cots and villas were numerous, but all closed and tenantless. They marched through a desolation emphasized by every mark of recent habitation. The people had fled at their coming as from a pestilence.