“Did I not know that there is no stouter heart or stronger arm under our banners than thine, Molina, I should say that thou has brought too gentle a mind to such work as ours is and has to be. They who would hew out empires for their masters in the strange and new-found lands of the earth must do it with hands cased in gauntlets of steel. The silken glove is for the court and the palace. Ends, not means, must be the care of those who stake honour, fortune, and life itself on such hazards as ours. “And look you,” he went on, speaking quicker and louder, as though he wished those about him to hear as well, “let us make no mistake as to that which now lies before us. Yonder valley looks a paradise, but it is the armed camp of a conquering tyrant to boot. If the envoys have not lied to us, Atahuallpa is yonder at the head of a host of eighty thousand men, full-flushed with the pride of victory, and we are a hundred and sixty soldiers and gentlemen of Spain, cut off from all succour and with but one road to take--and that road lies forward!” “And thou shalt find none readier to follow thee along that road, Señor, than he who will strike none the less hard for God and king because he would win the land by other means if he could,” replied Molina, bending his head in deference to his Captain’s reproof. “Spoken like as gentle a knight and as brave a cavalier as Spain herself can boast of!” said Pizarro, smiling one of his rare smiles. “I did not mean to reproach thee, only to show thee how great a difference there may be between that which a man would do and that which he must. Thou knowest well that I could think no evil of one of those who came with me across that line on the sands of Gallo.” Then, without waiting for any reply, he pulled his horse aside and joined his brother Hernando, who was riding a little way behind him. “A strange man!” said Candia, in a low voice. “One of those instruments that God fashions sometimes out of vile material to hew out the rough shapes of His mysterious purposes--a base-born bastard, whose first work in life was tending swine, and now raised by the strength of the great heart that God gave him to be a hidalgo of Spain and, as I for one truly believe, ere long to be conqueror of realms wider than Spain itself. Fear not, Molina, put thy scruples in thy pouch, since thou presently hast but little else to put there. God makes great men only to great ends. Leave the means to destiny, and believe thou art not marching under the banner of such a man as Francisco Pizarro for nothing.” “That I well believe,” answered Molina. “We here are but instruments. Thou art right. It is not for the tool to question the intent of the hand that uses it. Thinkest thou we shall reach the city to-night?”