“To put it quite plainly, Señor,” said de Molina bluntly, “and to speak as one who has already devoted himself to such death as may be honourably found in battle, were I myself commanding this troop I would send my men back to Cuzco under a trusty lieutenant, then I would swim the river and fight the champions of the Inca, beginning with himself, on the condition that if I overcome three of them in succession this whole land should henceforth be held as tributary to our Sovereign Lord. But if I were Juan Pizarro, and yet knew as much as I do of the Inca and the dispositions he has most evidently made to receive us, I should without further ado turn my horses’ heads back to Cuzco and fight my way thither with as little loss and delay as might be.” The young captain looked at him long and seriously before he replied, then he said, almost solemnly for him-- “De Molina, that sounds but little like counsel of thine--thou whose blade was ever wont to show red earliest in the battle. Moreover, it is such counsel as I, entrusted now with my first command, could not accept without dishonour. I have been sent here to bring this proud young Inca back a captive, and I must do it. To return without striking a blow would be to make my name--and that is his Highness’s name, mind you--a by-word in the camp. No, whatever be the odds or the hazards, we must fight.” “Very well, Señor,” replied de Molina, with a somewhat ceremonious bow, “you asked for my candid counsel and I have given it. The rest is nothing to me. Did you go back I would cross the river alone and fulfil my oath. If you fight, I may still hope to do so. But in this case, since you have more than half the day left, I would most earnestly counsel you to lose no time. Cross the river at once. It may be that the Inca’s troops, flushed with conquest, may give us battle in the plain. If so we may inflict so crushing a defeat on them that Yucay will be another Jauja, though you will never take the Inca alive. If we camp here till morning we shall find the fortresses behind us occupied, and, when we are in the thick of the battle, another host behind us waiting till we are wearied with fighting to cut us off from all retreat. Nevertheless,” he went on, speaking still more earnestly, “my best counsel to you is to go back to Cuzco, for by the time you reached it you would find it already beleaguered. That is my reading of the Inca’s last words to us.” “Nay, friend Alonso,” replied Juan Pizarro, reaching out his hand and laying it on de Molina’s shoulder, “that cannot be. We were sent here to fight, and fight we must, whatever the odds and whatever the upshot.” CHAPTER IX. THE BATTLE OF THE VALLEY