Rimachi entered Cristoval’s apartment and reported his orders. Pedro followed him in. The cook had come at his best speed, but the cavalier was finishing his arming as he entered. "Wait for me, Cristoval!" he panted, as he donned his corselet. "Nay!" said Cristoval, latching his helmet and seizing his buckler. "This time we part, good old comrade. Thou hast risked thyself too often for friendship’s sake. I go alone. Farewell!" Pedro wrung his extended hand, swearing and almost weeping at being left behind, but before he could protest, Cristoval was gone. Outside, the whole world to the south seemed aflame. A monstrous, reddened cloud leaped and surged toward the heavens, apparently against the very ramparts of the fortress. The plain, its tents, the towers, the battalions of the garrison, and every inequality of the ground, were as clearly marked in the ruddy, reflected glow as if by dawn. Cristoval paused for an instant, overcome by the terrible magnificence of the spectacle and the grewsome roar and crackle of the fire, which had grown apace in the short time it had taken him to arm; then consigned himself to the Virgin’s care and hurried to the southernmost gate, followed by the Antis. Here the road drops abruptly down the cliff to the terraces of the Colcampata, several hundred feet below. Part of the way was by steps made treacherous by the unusual lights and shadows, and uncertain by the dense smoke drifting from the western suburbs; but Cristoval descended at a run, and was soon at the foot of the declivity. Here he was overtaken by his party, and paused to consider with Rimachi the possible avenues of entry. In front, the nearest buildings were a mass of flames. To the right, he could see the district called Huaca Puncu, already burning fiercely in a score of places. On the left, he remembered, was the stream Tullamayu, and after a brief consultation they hastened across the terraces. Through gardens and over walls, they were presently following a street to the eastward, stumbling in the murk. At the edge of the ravine was a low wall, surmounted in a second, and they rushed down the terraced bank to the stream. Cristoval was harrowed by a fear that the almost solid belt of fire before him would prove impassable. The few gaps were closing momentarily, forming a nearly continuous sheet of leaping, whirling flame whose heat reached even to where he stood. The narrow course of the Tullamayu presented the only breach, and this was already perilous, dense with smoke and illumined by a storm of falling sparks and burning brands. He glanced about at the Antis. Their faces were alight and their eyes gleaming with the fire, but they showed no sign of fear, and with a word to Rimachi, Cristoval started down the stream.