“I have but a scratch and a bruise or two so far, brother,” said Juan, with a good attempt at a laugh, “and this jaw of mine is so sore and stiff that I could not bear a chin-piece on it, and what is the use of a leader who cannot cheer his men on? But enough of me for the moment. What we have done is as thou seest. We have forced the gate and cleared the two terraces, though, it grieves me to say it, not without loss. Still, here we are and there is the citadel yet to be taken. What say you? Shall we attack forthwith ere the heathen have time to recover themselves?” “Ay, that were best,” replied Don Hernando, “when you start a savage running keep him going, and we may as well scale the wall while it is yet unguarded.” While this conversation had been going on between the two leaders the archers and crossbow-men of the two parties had been busy collecting the arrows and bolts which they had shot, pulling and cutting them out of the flesh of those they had slain with them, and so Don Hernando, now taking the chief command, ordered them to scale the third undefended wall and spread themselves out in skirmishing order on the little plain above it. After them went the musketeers, of whom there were now five-and-twenty, and then Don Hernando, leaving half a score of mounted men to watch the horses and keep the terrace clear, dismounted and led the rest of his men, to the number of over sixty, to the final assault on the citadel. While they were clearing the wall and dragging the ladders after them the archers, crossbow-men, and musketeers had been advancing slowly across the little plain towards the citadel, driving the now disheartened Peruvians before them. For generations the great fortress had been rightly believed to be impregnable. Horde after horde of the savage tribes of the east had dashed themselves to fragments against its triple walls and until now no enemy had ever yet set foot even upon its first terrace, and yet here a mere handful of these unconquerable strangers stood triumphant on its topmost tier. To them it was the work of demons rather than of men, and, following as it did upon unnumbered defeats and only a single victory, it was little wonder that in such a moment the hearts of the bravest failed them. The three Spanish ranks advanced almost without resistance to the walls of the central citadel. The other two towers had been deserted, but round the base of the central one the remnants of the garrison were drawn up ten or twelve deep in a solid human wall of desperate, though it might be despairing valour, and its three terraces and broad, flat roof were filled with men who had there taken their last stand ready to die to a man for the country and the homes which they could no longer save.