“The rebuke is a just one!” replied de Molina, slightly bowing his head, and as the Inca turned sharply round he fancied he saw, even by the starlight, a deeper flush on the young cavalier’s sunburnt cheeks. “Yes,” he went on, “it is true that there is much to be laid to our charge in that respect, but your Highness must remember that guile was ever the weapon of the weak. What else were we when we first came here, a few score among multitudes?” “Can a full-armed man be weak among a multitude of children who have no arms to hurt him? Would a god armed with the Llapa and guarded by impenetrable armour be weak among a host of men? If that is so, then you were weak among the hosts of the Children of the Sun.” “That is true again in a measure, Inca,” replied de Molina, “and, more than that, I grant that we have not used the strength that our better knowledge has given us fairly or honourably against you, but that is a matter for our leaders, not for us. And yet,” he went on, lowering his voice and bringing his horse a little nearer to Manco’s, “not all the guile has been or is on our part. What of this treasure at Yucay? What of the thousands of men who are swarming in the passes and above the mountain roads we shall have to traverse? What of the rocks that are even now being poised ready to hurl down without warning upon us? What of the captured Spanish arms and armour already in Ruminavi’s possession----” “You have said enough, Don Molina,” interrupted Manco in cold, steady tones. “I see that I have been betrayed, and the great price that has been paid for this, my last hope of freedom, has, like Atahuallpa’s ransom, been paid in vain. Well, you yourselves are four to one, and these barbarians are your slaves, but I at least can die as the last of my race should do.” He never raised his voice, nor was there a trace of passion in his tone, but as he said these last words he drove the spurs into his horse’s flanks and swung him sharply round to the left, striking de Molina’s heavily on the forequarter and throwing it back on to its haunches, then he leapt him forward and wheeled again, and confronted the troop with battle-axe swung aloft. He knew that escape was hopeless for the hillside along the road sloped sharply upwards, and the Cañaris were already spreading before and behind to cut off his retreat. He believed that the plot had been discovered and that all was lost, and his only hope was to die fighting, and not as a captive. He had gained a little ’vantage ground up the hillside, and in another moment he would have charged the four Spanish cavaliers, and then to his utter amazement they all burst into a hearty laugh, and de Molina, who had been almost unseated by the violence of the shock, rode towards him with his right hand outstretched, and saying between his laughs--