"I thank thee for thy confidence," he said gravely. "Thy name shall not pass me, but I am glad to know it. Thou hast been a friend, and if thou’lt believe me, hast made one." Pedro accepted the hand without a word. Cristoval poured the _chicha_, they touched their cups and drank. After that, little was said, and, the supper finished, Pedro arose. "Now," said he, "I must go. I have been made lord chamberlain to the Inca until he shall be better provided, and must be up betimes. _Adiós_, Cristoval." "Wait!" said Cristoval. "I will escort thee, my Lord Chamberlain. I’ve need to go to my quarters." "It will be a knightly courtesy," answered Pedro, "for I have no gizzard in me for crossing that square unattended. Not that I am afraid, look thou, Cristoval; but that boy is as whole-souled a coward as ever looked behind in the dark, and he maketh me nervous with his gasps and snorts. I have no superstition, but they do say that the souls of infidels wander in eternal restlessness." "The souls of all men dead by violence wander until masses be said in their behalf," replied Cristoval, "and hence the souls of infidels must wander eternally. But have no uneasiness, amigo. Ghosts fear a sword as a live Italian the evil eye, and dread the sign of the cross even more. Come!" They set out with Pedrillo carrying a lantern, and took a street leading toward the plaza. Just before they reached it Cristoval halted at a small door and pushed it open. "Come this way, Pedro," he said, "and we can avoid the barricade of dead at the end of the street." "Heaven be praised!" responded Pedro. "On my way to the guard-house I thought never to pass it with my heart in my body. ’T is not as if these people were slain in battle, Cristoval. I fear not a battlefield." "This is thrice more grewsome," assented Cristoval. "But come! Enter!" "Thou first, prithee, my friend! ’T is villanously dark—and thou hast two good legs for running!" "_Bien_! Then follow!" and Cristoval entered the building. The door opened into a passage leading to the patio. They traversed the latter, and crossing an apartment, found themselves at the doors opening upon the plaza. Cristoval swung one of them open. Pedro took a step forward, then recoiled with a suddenness that sent a quick chill down the back of the redoubtable Cristoval, who was not without dread of the supernatural. "_Nombre de Dios_! What is that?" gasped the cook, peering out into the darkness and clutching his companion’s arm. "What is what? Where?" demanded Cristoval. "There—in the plaza!" whispered Pedro, making signs of the cross by the score.