"Now attend, thou unfortunate—I am going to plunder thee. I’ve need of thy horse, which is up yonder—and of thy harness. Thou’lt be wise to make no hindrance. Dost comprehend? _Bien_! Then sit up whilst I unhelm thee. Ware, now!—no sudden movement!"
Cristoval rose to his feet, still giddy, and set to work, De Valera submitting quietly, while Rava looked on in wonder.
"_Alli!_" quoth Cristoval, as he tossed the last piece upon the heap of armor. "Now, Ñusta Rava, thy girdle, I pray thee, to bind him. No groaning, Señor! It doth misbecome thee. Now, thy hands behind thy back. So! Now for thy feet.—Good! Hast a kerchief? Then we’ll have a choke-pear.—Silence! Dost think I’ll have thee waking mournful echoes through the night? Thou hast shouted more than is good for thee already. And next, whilst I make the choke-pear I’ll question thee—and see thou makest cheerful response, or— First, hast cherished against me any peculiar animosity? I mean before this solemn afternoon."
"No, good Cristoval," replied De Valera, with candor.
"Then why partaking this hunting holiday?" demanded Cristoval, eying him severely.
"The reward, _amigo_. A thousand _castellanos_ to a poor man—"
"A thousand!" exclaimed Cristoval, with contempt. "Is that all Pizarro hath offered? By the saints, he’ll double it before I have done! Well, _bastante_! Thou didst seek reward! _Bien_! But now thou ’rt unhorsed thou canst hope for reward no longer and canst answer freely. How many are in pursuit?"
"Nearly all have been, saving Juan and Gonzalo Pizarro, De Soto, José, and a few more.—But hold, Cristoval, the Cañares are out and after thee. I give thee warning."
Cristoval drew a long breath, his face darkened, and he stood in reflection. He threw down the choke-pear with which he had purposed gagging his captive. "We’ll not trouble thee with it. Thy news is not welcome, Valera, but thy warning is. We will go, Ñusta Rava."
"First, I will attend to your wound," she said, and tearing a strip from her robe, soon had it bandaged. In a few minutes Cristoval was in his enemy’s armor, and taking up the lance he said: "_Adiós_, Valera! Thy comrades will find thee in the morning." He assisted Rava to the trail, secured his sword and belt, and once more they were on their way, leaving De Valera leaning mournfully against a rock, a prey to varied fears.