The noble answered with emphasis in the affirmative.
"Then 't is done!" shouted Pizarro, unable to restrain his excitement. "Done! Agreed, my Lord Inca! We accept your offer. Make good your terms, and you are a free man—at liberty to go and come without let or hindrance. Here is my hand upon it. Wait!—We'll give you an instrument in writing. Zapato, step out and send an orderly for my secretary. Hernando, mount a chair and scratch a mark with thy dagger where the Inca put his hand. My lord, deign to raise your hand again. By the gods, Señores! What say you to 't? A hundred thousand demons! D'ye believe your ears? We are all rich men! Ask the noble again, Peralta, whether he can do it!—Ask another of them! Saith he yes? Art sure? Blood and wounds and gods of war! Ha, ha! What say ye to't, Señores?"
Pizarro's cold reserve had gone. Cristoval had rarely seen him smile before: now he laughed, even roared, not pleasantly; and his pale countenance showed unaccustomed color. The veedor had pulled several times at his sleeve, unheeded.
"Pizarro!" he whispered. "Pizarro! Hold off a bit! He would have offered more, I am sure of it!"
Pizarro turned upon him with impatience: "Oh, a curse upon thy money-gluttony, Rogelio! Hath it no bounds? Art insatiable? Be silent!"
"He had opened his mouth to offer more, I'll swear it! Oh, misery!" snuffled the veedor, as he turned away.
The room was in a hubbub. Every man was on his feet, talking at the top of his voice and gesticulating. Now the chicha flowed without stint. When the secretary entered and set about the work of drawing up the agreement they crowded upon him, explaining, suggesting, and advising, until in despair he appealed to the commander, and they were ordered back while Pizarro dictated the document. Rogelio was a notary, and the paper was duly attested and sworn to, the Inca looking on with interest, and making his mark at last in accordance with a confusion of instructions from the wrought-up Spaniards. The business finished, he retired with a faint significant smile to Cristoval; but his going was almost unnoted by the others, and they lingered over their chicha and their jubilation until the small hours, when the guard was summoned to carry certain ones to their quarters. Rogelio was hauled from a corner, and awoke to bitter tears and incoherent reproaches hurled against Pizarro's want of commercial sense. Pedro had appeared upon the scene at its close, and directed the veedor's removal.
"What, my fat pet!" exclaimed the cook in commiseration. "What, Rogelio, my barrel of grease! Melting thus in tears? Wasting thy blubber in futile drippings? Prithee, now, check thy thaw! A most melancholy deliquation, my friend! A sad prodigality of tallow! Come, stay thy liquefaction! Swab, wipe, stop thy leaks, desiccate, run dry, my civil officer of the Crown; thou'rt growing soggy!—What! Damn Pizarro? Agreed!—Damn the Inca? Fie, my cherub!—Damn everybody? Ah! But with one exception, and that's Pedro, the cook. Now thou 'rt hiccoughing, and I'm done with thee. Adiós, Rogelio, my lard-firkin! Good-night, my Cupid!" and Pedro stumped away.
Without loss of time Atahualpa despatched his chasquis to Cuzco and other important towns, bearing orders that temples be dismantled of their gold and silver decorations, that palaces be stripped of their utensils; that, in short, the precious metals be drawn from every possible source and forwarded with all speed to Caxamalca. The report of the fabulous offer of ransom went abroad among the Spanish soldiers, received by most of them with incredulity and jeers; by a few, with riotous demonstrations of joy. The room was promptly measured. It was found to be about seventeen feet broad, by twenty-two feet long, and the height indicated by the Inca in the neighborhood of nine feet from the floor. This space was to be filled with gold in two months, and a smaller room adjoining to be twice filled with silver.
It was days before there were returns from the Inca's orders;—days of restlessness for him, for he was desperate to see the fulfilment of his terms begun. Pizarro's eagerness was hardly less, but it was tempered with much doubt of Atahualpa's ability to produce so vast a treasure.