"But, señor—" he began, staring at me in surprise.
"Get down!" I repeated sternly. "It is my order. Don't waste time, or I shall be obliged to fire."
Pedro was a brave man; indeed, all the Indians in Sorillo's band held their lives cheap. He did not exactly understand what was happening, yet he seemed to think that all was not right.
"The chief!" he exclaimed. "Does he—"
"Get down!" I cried once more, brandishing my weapon.
With a thundering shout of "The Silver Key! Help for the Silver Key!" he clubbed his musket and dashed straight at me, regardless of the levelled pistol.
One moment's pressure on the trigger and he would have dropped to the ground helpless, but I refrained; instead, I pulled the rein, and my horse swerved sharply, though not in time. The musket descended with a thud; the pistol slipped from my nerveless fingers; I seemed to be plunging down, down beneath a sea of angry waters.
How long I lay thus, or what happened during that time, I do not know; but I awoke to find myself beside a roaring fire, and to hear the hum of many voices. A soldier, hearing me move, came and looked into my face.
"Where am I?" I asked anxiously.
"Not far from Lima," said he. "A few hours since you weren't far from the next world. How did you get that broken head?"