"Hath returned, and would be sharing thine imprisonment could Pizarro do his inclinations. But De Soto was more discreet than thou, Cristoval. On his arrival he paid his respects to the general in full armor, whilst his troop stood to horse in the plaza in front of the palace. ’T was a bluff and blustering parley, I’ve been told. The captain forced Pizarro to lame defence of his execution of the Inca, and to swallow more of his own choler than he will be through with tasting for a fortnight. But he had naught else to do, for De Soto would have killed him at a word. In the end the commander threw blame upon Riquelme, Almagro, and others—a burden unloved by any of them, it would seem, for they fell upon him in full cry and rammed the accusation down his throat. The lie was bandied among them like a shuttlecock. This one appeached that, that one the other, then all of them each one in turn. Their chorus reached to the plaza. A bag of cats were not more earnest and vociferous. Swords were out, and but for Candia and Gonzalo Pizarro’s blood had been spilt. Stew me! I would they had gotten well at it. What sayst thou to ’t?—a rare batch of back-clawing freebooters, not so, Cristoval? Aha! De Soto stirred them well.—But what wouldst guess was the outcome of the wrangle? Scorch me if Pizarro did not shift the blame upon that scamp, Felipillo, whom he accuseth of having falsified to incriminate the Inca!" Cristoval’s comment was a laugh of disgust. Pedro added an imprecation, and resumed. "And now to thine own business, _amigo_. De Soto spoke for thee, but with ill success. Thine offence was flagrant, dost see?—black, grave, and most flagitious! For the sake of discipline thou must come to trial. The most Pizarro would grant is a delay until the day after the morrow. But for De Soto it would have been yesterday. The moment was unfavorable for intercession." Cristoval had ceased eating and sat gloomily regarding the cook. "Useless to intercede," he said at last, "then, or at any time. My campaign is ended, Pedro. But I must see De Soto. Thou and he must save that unhappy girl." "We will do so, Cristoval. But now hear me. I have talked with De Soto. To-day he went to the general and insisted thou must have Christian fare, and that I be allowed admittance. Pizarro demurred, but when De Soto came away I went to the general, saying that I had been told I should have to be thy commissary—to lug offal to the bear, as Rogelio hath put it—and I swore a great protest that I’d not do it. Vowed that if I was forced to it I’d put poison in thy food." "Ho!" exclaimed Cristoval. "I declared thou ’rt mad, as ’t is said by the men, and that I feared for my life." "San Miguel!" growled Cristoval. "Is not my case bad enough without thy slander?" Pedro shrugged. "I painted thee well, _amigo_, and the general knoweth my fears. As a consequence—" "—I’ve lived on corn-bread and water, Pedro. Continue."