A thorough reconnaissance of the country about occupied the next two days, for De Soto was determined that no doubt concerning its quiet should remain. At midnight of the second day he was seated with Cristoval in the latter’s quarters, discussing the expedition and planning for the morrow, to be spent in reconnoitring the country farther south,—then a day of rest, and the return march to Caxamalca. Cristoval rose to make his rounds when they heard a hurried step in the patio, and a soldier entered, followed by a _chasqui_. The youth was breathing heavily, and as he entered the lamplight his body glistened with perspiration. "The Viracocha Cristoval?" panted the _chasqui_, looking from one to the other and drawing a paper from his pouch. "Here!" said Cristoval. Taking the paper, he hastily broke the seal, reading the contents with alarm and rage. He finished and thrust it toward De Soto, who was anxiously watching his expression. "Read that, Soto!" he shouted, "and learn the black treachery we have left behind!" De Soto seized the paper. It was from Pedro. "CRISTOVAL: The Inca hath been brought to trial. Return with all speed. It is said that his conviction is determined, and that he is to be burned at the stake. "PEDRO." De Soto looked up at his friend, their faces reflecting consternation and anger. "’T is for this Pizarro ordered us away—curse his perfidious heart!" cried De Soto. "A thousand times curse him!" exclaimed Cristoval. "By Heaven, if ’tis true, I’ll kill him! Soto, I go to Caxamalca! Juan, have my horse saddled! _Pronto!_—quick!" he commanded, and hurried to his room. De Soto reread the message, muttered an oath, and followed him out. He met Cristoval buckling on his rapier. "Hold, Peralta!" he exclaimed; "thou ’rt not going thus, without thy harness! Wear thy corselet, at least." "No! I’ll ride light," returned Cristoval. "Wait! come to my room," said De Soto. Hurriedly opening his portmanteau, he drew out a package wrapped in oiled silk. He cut its fastenings with his dagger and unrolled a shirt of chain-mail. "Here! Off with thy doublet and on with this. It is Moorish, and of the best. It may serve thee, as it hath many times served me." It was on in a moment, and Cristoval quickly resumed his doublet. His horse was already at the door, surrounded by three or four troopers, tightening buckles and rubbing his legs, for he had been under saddle since morning. "_Adiós_, Peralta!" said the captain, grasping his lieutenant’s hand. "Be not rash, and guard thyself until I come. I will follow at dawn." Cristoval made no reply to the warning. "Farewell, Soto," he said, and swung into the saddle.