"No offence," answered Pedro. "A mere chance which hath befallen others of my race. Is that all?"
The boy hesitated. "No, not all. The bare bone of your leg, Viracocha—"
"Oho!" shouted Pedro. "The bare bone of my leg! God bless my soul! The bare bone of my leg, for a surety! Why, stew me! Now, 't is a sight, is it not—to see a man with a part of his skeleton sticking out into the glare of day! But, lad, what if I were to show thee my ribs? Nay!" he added, as the boy drew back aghast. "I'll not do it in the presence of ladies, never fear. Ha! The bare bone of— But is that all?" He lowered his voice. "Yonder damsel, for instance, just now passing—do not look too quickly—hath she been drawn by my leg, thinkst thou?"
The boy looked round cautiously at the girl lingering at the edge of the circle. "I cannot say for her," he said, "but if the Viracocha wisheth, I will ask her," and full of accommodation, he started in her direction.
"Stay!" cried Pedro, seizing him. "Santa Maria, no! Let it pass. I'll endure the doubt.—The bare bone of my leg, saith he! Oh, pots and skillets!" Pedro exhibited some symptoms of a coming laugh, but the attack did not develop, and he went on: "A marvel, in truth! But if it hath merited so much attention I'll show it worthy of more."
Steadying himself upon the boy's shoulder, Pedro unscrewed his peg from its socket, and as an exclamation of amazement and dismay arose from the crowd, tossed it high in the air, caught it, and set it whirling in his nimble fingers. The circle spread abruptly. The old Indio forgot his dignity and watched in stupefaction while the cook juggled his member with the skill of a mountebank. Transforming it into a weapon, he attacked a fancied enemy, hopping about, striking, and guarding, until the foe was laid low by one last fell stroke. From the role of a weapon it passed to that of a flute, and as Pedro's fingers ran over imaginary keys he whistled a Spanish air, then one of their own, to their infinite wonder and delight. He finished with a bow to the old Indio, and tendered the peg for inspection. It was taken gingerly, and the ice was broken.
The old man examined it with profound solemnity, while his daughter looked upon the gracious cook with a round-eyed fascination most grateful to his complacent soul. It ended with an invitation into the cantina, and, having screwed his peg back into place, Pedro ushered in the entire family and served a luncheon, at the end of which he was asked to their huasi, six miles out beyond the fortress. The Indio, Municancha, was a master-mason engaged upon the uncompleted fortifications. Thus the cook opened an acquaintance which he afterward found of value.
Pedro bade his guests farewell, bestowing a significant squeeze upon the hand of the daughter, Coriampa, and was pleasantly reviewing the circumstance, when a shout from his boy at the door hurried him to the street. His expected countrymen were approaching. A distant flutter of pennons and the gleam of steel showed above the heads of the crowd, and soon Pedro was cheering lustily as the company passed. In the lead rode Sotelo, the commander of the company, with Saavedra, commandant of the fortress, his travel-stained accoutrements contrasting with the latter's burnished armor. Following, and escorted by Father Tendilla, were half-a-dozen priests and friars, a few on mules and jaded horses, but most of them on foot. As they passed, Pedro suddenly ceased his greetings.
"Aha! Thou back, Fray Mauricio!" he muttered. "Hast renewed thy courage and venom, my small, liver-colored brother? I'd exchange thee for the devil himself, my friend, and so would José, had he his choice. Would thou wert back in Spain—or farther! I'll warn the armorer, be sure of it. And now, the cavaliers—two, four, six, eight. Not bad! But, father of famine, what a hungry lot! Hola!" he shouted. "What fare on the way, compadres? Saddle-leather and surcingles, I'll be bound. Cheer up! There's better beyond. Come, smile thou, my empty caballero in the rear! In a week thy waistband will renew acquaintance with thy pansiere. There's that in Peru to fill it, and some to be left over for the infantry. Oho! Here they are—our honest lads of the foot! Twenty in all—and that is to say, twenty larcenies the more for each day of the calendar. Bien! Were there no thieves we'd have no love for honest men. What cheer, pikemen? Did ye ever see a cold boiled ham? Ah, see them drool! They're blest with powers of memory, 't is sure. What, ho! A civilian! A leech, amigo? No? A barber!—next of kin. Gracias á Dios, a barber! Fall out, my friend; thy journey endeth here."
A weary individual in civil garb, his legs bare to the knees but for the fringe of rags that fell below them, turned out of the column.