Now began a weary watch, broken by short spells of uneasy sleep and startled awakenings. Once, roused by voices in the court and hurried steps, he saw two Cañares, evidently servants, enter the dining-hall. They came out with the silver, just as a cavalier, a stranger to Cristoval, emerged from another room with a bundle of papers and wearing apparel. The man was in full armor and looked haggard and anxious, but seemed intent only upon the movements of the Cañares, whom he ordered impatiently to hasten. He followed them out at length, and again the court was quiet. After a glance at the whirling bank of smoke to the north, Cristoval stretched himself out once more and soon was slumbering. Toward midday he started out of a tortured dream and sat up. The sun was high in the north, rushing, as it seemed to his bewildered eyes, madly across the sky, a mere disc of burnished copper, now deepening into bronze, now flashing into a brazen glare through the scurrying cloud, but unutterably strange and unnatural. Before he had fully gained his startled senses, he was on his feet and had crossed himself a dozen times, only to grin blankly at his own consternation. Another instant revealed the real peril, grave enough. The flames seemed leaping from the roofs across the street, and the sinister roar and crackle were terribly distinct. Cristoval crossed himself again, took up sword and buckler, and ran to the door. The roofs opposite were untouched, but their immunity would be short. The crossing where the sentinels had stood was vacant. A glance in the opposite direction promptly dashed his hope. The street partly cleared of smoke for a moment, and at its foot were cannoneers and one of Candia’s guns covering the bridge across the Tullamayu. They were looking alertly toward the suburbs, and one held a lighted match. Cristoval rushed to the door in the rear. A survey from the end of the passage was sufficient. At the first corner to the south was a cluster of pikemen, evidently part of a column which occupied the cross-street. The prisoner slowly regained his concealment. For the next hour he gloomily watched the fire, until, convinced by the rate of its approach that it was farther away than he had thought, he dozed again. While he slept, the wind shifted to the north. Sometime in the afternoon—late, it seemed from the uncertain light—he was awakened by the report of a falconet, and smiled grimly. "The Inca’s forces are attacking," he muttered. "May no man of them fail to duck in time—and may they come this far! It would—Mother of God!"