Here, in gratitude for the kindness they had received at his hands, they not only took infinite pains to teach him their language, which he now spoke with admirable grace and fluency, but had told him all they could of the weapons and tactics of the Spaniards, and had given him many valuable hints as to their methods of attack, their formation of the line-of-battle and many other things which were eagerly seized upon by his keen intellect to be made good use of when he came to drill his own regiments. Later on the two Spaniards had gone with the Army of the South to war against the Usurper, but, unhappily for the fortunes of both Huascar and Manco, one had been killed in the first great battle of the war, and the other had been captured with the Inca, after which nothing had been heard of him. Nahua and Manco had not met for several weeks before his sudden entry into the city, and this was their first meeting in private, for there was no one else in the great garden save a few slaves and attendants, none of whom would have dared on pain of his life to approach without being summoned within anything but the most respectful distance of the person of the prince, nor would have ventured even to so much as raise his eyes and look upon him without permission. They had just saluted the rising sun, standing hand in hand in the central square of the garden, and as they turned to resume their walk Nahua, chancing to look up towards the north-eastern hills, suddenly uttered a soft little cry, half of wonder and half of alarm, and shrank closer to Manco’s side. “What is it, my Princess?” he asked tenderly, putting his arm round her shoulders. “Surely there can be nothing here to raise thy fears?” “Look yonder, my Lord,” she answered, raising her hand and pointing towards the ridge. “Look, there come the Strangers! Canst thou not see the glances of our Father sparkling on that strange white clothing of theirs such as was worn by the two who fought for our Lord?” Manco looked up and saw dotted along the ridge bright gleams of white light which his instinct, no less true than Nahua’s, told him could only be the sunlight reflected from the polished helmets and cuirasses of the mysterious strangers. He was not as unfamiliar with these as the rest of his countrymen were, for he alone among the warriors of the Sun possessed a cuirass and morion and sword of good Milan plate and Toledo steel, which had been bequeathed to him by José Valdez, the Spanish knight who had fallen fighting by his side in the great fight at Jauja. He and some of his followers had borne him tenderly out of the battle, and Valdez, who had many a time before buckled the armour on to him and taught him how to use the sword and shield, had besought him almost with his dying breath never to go into battle without them, and to his obedience to this behest the young Inca had owed his liberty or life in many a hotly-contested battle and skirmish since then.