The fire had burned itself out and left two-thirds of Cuzco in ruins long before Cristoval was in condition to mount. In the meantime, it had required all of Pedro’s persuasion, entreaty, expostulation, and threats, to keep him on his couch. Haunted by the conflagration and visions of Rava in the perils which he had just escaped, he taxed the cook’s abundant patience to extremity. The Spaniards’ daily sorties were inflicting heavy losses upon the Inca’s devoted troops, most of whom, for the first time confronting cavalry and firearms, were led by ignorance into useless sacrifice. When Pedro brought accounts of these engagements the cavalier groaned and fumed, fumed and groaned, and at last declared vehemently that he would lie inactive no longer. The brunt of his unrest fell upon Pedro, for the old Morisco, having seen him in good hands, had stolen away with replenished quiver, to lurk among the ruins and spread death and terror among the ancient enemies of Granada. One day, intelligence came that the Sachsahuaman had been stormed by the Spaniards and taken. Juan Pizarro had lost his life leading the assault. Mocho and his Antis had been relieved a few days before, and Mayta, the new commander of the fortress, driven with a remnant of its defenders into the citadel, and seeing that the place was lost, had wrapped himself in his cloak and plunged from the battlements to death. Pedro brought the tidings,—a double sorrow to Cristoval, for Juan Pizarro had been steadfastly his friend. The cavalier rose abruptly. "Look thou, Pedro! To-morrow I ride. These poor devils of Indios are throwing brave lives away for want of knowledge. ’T is as if they were children dashing themselves over a precipice without warning. They know not even where a Spaniard is vulnerable in his armor. Why, man, were they mine enemies ’t would sicken me to see them fight at such hopeless odds! And now, with Juan dead, Rava will be more than ever in danger. I go to-morrow." Pedro scrubbed his forehead vigorously and growled: "Cristoval, thou ’rt an unringed bull-calf, and I’m of a notion to choke-pear and strait-jacket thee. What canst do in thy condition? Thou’rt sore-footed from thy burns, and wilt shed thy blisters like a lizard his skin before thou ’rt in the saddle an hour. Thou ’rt bad enough, and not over-amusing as it is; but what wilt be with legs like two peeled carrots?" "No worse than now," replied Cristoval, doggedly, "and at least not idle." "But what dost think to do?—to fight thy way to the Ñusta Rava?" "That, if possible. At any rate, to teach these people that cavalry is not to be stopped with bodkins, nor chain-shot with wisps of straw." "Well," admitted Pedro, thoughtfully, "it would be a God’s mercy."