CHAPTER XXXIX
Again the Señora Descends
AS soon as Pedro was sufficiently recovered he was sent to Yucay. On the morning of his departure the Inca, with Cristoval, Paullo, and Mocho, entered his tent. Manco said farewell with a few warm words of commendation and gratitude that brought a mist before the eyes of the wounded cook, unclasping a gorget of pearls and emeralds. "Accept this, brave Viracocha Pedro," he said, "as a part expression of mine esteem and appreciation. It is but a trifle, but with it goeth much good-will."
Pedro gasped at the princely gift and stammered, part in Quichua, part in Spanish: "Why, stew—Nay, Señor Inca, I deserve it not! I am but a—a comrade of this man Cristoval. What fighting I have done, I tell you frankly, hath been mainly out of friendliness for him, and for the sake of being along to keep him out of trouble. This, my Lord Inca, is beyond my merits."
The Inca understood the gist of his words, and shook his head with a slight smile. "Not so, Viracocha! Thy merit is the greater for thy friendship. Thou shalt keep it. Farewell, and a quick recovery. Thou'lt find good friends in Yucay." He gave the cook his hand and departed abruptly to avoid his thanks.
Cristoval remained after the others, and Pedro stared at him blankly. At length he said slowly: "Now, spit me through the middle with a church-spire—I'd be less surprised! The man is reckless, Cristoval, or knoweth not the market-worth of gems. Do thou draw him aside and advise him that 't is a grand-duke's ransom, this bauble, and hand it back."
"Absurd, Pedro!" said Cristoval. "Rest thy mind, for 't is but a part of what he intendeth for thee."
"But I tell thee, Cristoval, it will burden my conscience. Had I come by it in honest looting in a Christian war—but this is akin to thievery. Thou'lt take it back to him, amigo!"
"Assuredly not, Pedro! Wouldst give him offence?"
Pedro looked troubled. "He knoweth not its worth, Cristoval. Moreover, should Pizarro learn that I have it, I'd not be safe a blessed minute. I should be invaded, overrun with fire and sword; given up to wrack, sack, and devastation; left a waste and ruin more ruinous than thou see'st me now. I've suffered losses a-plenty, my friend—not counting legs—without this novel liability. Do thou restore it."