"Prisoners! I asked the Inca’s leave to quit the palace at once, and was denied." "At once! To-night?" demanded Pedro. "Well, then stew me if I’m not glad thou wast denied! Here is our supper, scarce touched. Here are two beds, immaculate. Cristoval, thou ’rt rash, hot-headed, and too impetuous by far! Now what if the Inca had given thee thy leave?" "We should have taken it and gone," replied Cristoval. "_Como asi_! Just so," said the cook, in a tone of reproach. "We should have taken it and gone—supperless, bedless, two wanderers by night. As for being prisoners, the news would have kept until morning, and I for one, would have slept none the worse." Cristoval regarded him moodily. "Gods, but thou hast philosophy, for a captive cook!" "Philosophy!" retorted Pedro; "’t is common sense. But come! Let us fall to, and thou tell me whilst we eat." They fell to, and Cristoval recounted the interview. At its close Pedro remarked comfortingly: "Well, if this is durance, Cristoval, I’ve experienced worse, and so hast thou. Which bed wilt have? They’re alike. Shall we toss for it? I have a _maravedi_." "_Madre_! Thou’rt a cheerful cook," returned Cristoval, glumly. They tossed for beds, sought them presently, and while Cristoval lay restless and pondering, Pedro’s peaceful snore resounded through the halls of the Incas. The cavalier was awakened next morning by the voice of Pedro in the outer room, addressing an attendant and apparently amending his salutation into Christian terms. "Say, rather, ’May the Virgin guard you’; or, more briefly, ’_Dominus vobiscum_.’ Either is good, and the sooner thou learnest them the better for thy soul. Is that our breakfast? Art sure? Hast not strayed into the wrong room? Hum! Well, it hath little of the look of the prison fare I’ve—heard tell of, for a surety! Pleased with it, boy! Why, I’m pleased from crop to tail-feathers, and that’s clear through! A mere saying, my lad. Heed it not. Ah! My leg? It hath thine admiration? In my country ’t is worn as a mark of transcendent virtue. Few attain it. That will do. Just leave the door open when thou goest out." Presently Cristoval heard a low whistle of surprise, and Pedro stumped hurriedly to his door. "Cristoval!" whispered the cook, "Cristoval! He did it!" "He did what?" demanded Cristoval. "Left the door open, or I’m a scullion! Stir thyself!" The cavalier stepped out. The door was broad open, admitting sunlight, perfume, and the sound of the fountain in the court. "Move, man, and we’re free!" exclaimed Pedro, urgently. "There is not a soul in the patio." "Useless, Pedro!" said Cristoval, turning away. "The place is surrounded by guards, and the valley full of troops. We should not stir five hundred yards." "Oh, the fiend! We can try. ’T is a flaunt in the face of Providence not to try!" He looked stealthily into the court and drew back with an exclamation. "Here cometh Mocho! Shall I throttle him?"