"Either refuge in some remote province of Tavantinsuyu, or Panama. We could harbor in some village near San Miguel until a ship came in; then get aboard in secret. Only one thought goeth against my conscience, and that is of the peril and hardship to which Rava would be again exposed. Ah, Madre! I know not, Pedro—I hesitate. This flight would be not only from Pizarro's men, but perhaps from the Inca as well. I doubt not that she could find faithful supporters in the venture—but it would be a struggle; to say naught of taking her from home, friends, and country, into another world. It is much to ask. But, what thinkst thou, old friend?"

"I think," replied Pedro, gravely, "that she could easier bear such suffering than her present sorrow. But you may not need to leave the country. The Inca may prove friendly."

"I fear his friendship would help little with Pizarro dominating."

"True!" said Pedro, shaking his head. "Thou must go to Panama—and thence to Spain, for thou'lt be safe no nearer. Now, weigh this for a plan: Thou'lt go to Cuzco. Doubtless Huallampo will furnish thee an escort. I will go with thee as far as Xauxa, wait for thy return with the Ñusta, then we will go to the coast together. I will watch at San Miguel for a ship, and will arrange thy passage with—the Señora de Peralta. I have some moderate savings, Cristoval,—enough to purchase the aid of a shipmaster. I can pay him double what he would get for thy head, and have some left to silence others. What sayst thou to't, amigo?"

Cristoval seized his hand, overcome with gratitude. "Pedro, thou'rt—"

"A cook!" interrupted Pedro, returning his grasp with sudden animation. "A cook shorn of a leg by the iniquity of Fate. A cook with but half his share of footprints. A pruned cook. A remnant. Naught more, Cristoval. But what thinkst thou of it?"

"By Saint Michael! Pedro, thou'rt—"

"A cook!" said Pedro again. "Let it go. Come! Discuss, comment, bandy a word or two about the plan. Thou 'rt staring like a choked calf."

Cristoval's face clouded. "It will not do, my good comrade," he said. "Thou must have no part in it, save with thy counsel. Thou hast already ventured too much for friendship's sake. The affair at Caxamalca might have cost thee dearly." Pedro had not told him of the thumbscrews. "And furthermore, I cannot use thy gold. I am penniless, and could never repay thee. Advise, and no more."

"Why, stew me to rags, Cristoval!" retorted Pedro, with irritation, "thou dost talk as if we were not friends."