We promised the dying man to obey his wishes to the best of our ability, though, as we could not venture to present ourselves in any city of Peru as witnesses, I had very little expectation that Pedro would ever recover his property. That night Don Gomez breathed his last. I will not speak of the bitter anguish poor Pedro suffered, at the death of a parent so lately found and so soon lost. The Indians made a grave in a green mound on the neighbouring mountain; and there we buried the unfortunate man.
Several days more passed away; and at last one of our scouts came hurrying in, to give notice that he had seen some persons approaching along the valley, in the far distance. On the edge of the ledge, and at the mouth of the cavern, stones had been piled up, to hurl down on the heads of any who might appear in the guise of enemies. I looked eagerly out, for I hoped they might prove to be Ned and his guide; for I had begun to be very anxious for my friend’s safety. As the persons drew near, to my great satisfaction, I recognised Ned and his guide. They appeared footsore and weary, and came on very slowly. I went out to meet him at the bridge.
“I can’t say a word, mate, till I’ve had some food and rest,” he answered. “And this poor fellow here, he’s worse off than I am.”
After Ned and the Indian had eaten, they lay down to sleep, and it was four hours before the former awoke and gave me an account of his adventures, which I translated to Manco and Pedro.
“Well, mates,” he began, “I’m glad to get back with a whole skin on my body; and never may I have to see again the sights I’ve witnessed since I’ve left this place. The sooner, for my part, we get out of the country, the better. It was all very well when we had to climb up and down the mountains; I didn’t mind that; but as soon as we got down into the plains, we couldn’t go a hundred yards without meeting with the dead bodies of our fellow-creatures—Red-skin or White-skin, it’s all the same to me. I can’t bear to see men, women, and young children murdered like sheep and lambs. The Spaniards had cleared out and burnt every Indian village on the road. We had to pass near the place where the battle was fought, and there were thousands and thousands of bodies of Indians. The birds and beasts of prey could scarcely consume them. At last we got near the city, and my Red-skin mate there stowed himself away under a rock in a thick wood; and taking the bearings of the place, I went on by myself. I met no one till I got to the walls, for the Dons still kept inside, afraid of the Injuns, though they’d killed so many of them. When the guards at the gates asked me what I wanted, I said I’d come from the mountains, where I’d been hiding away during the row, and that I was looking out for a night’s rest in a civilised place, before I set out back to my own country; which was true enough, you know. They then took me to the governor of the city, and he questioned me right and left; but I stuck to my story. So when he found he could get nothing out of me, he let me go, telling me to come and see him in a couple of days or so. I found there were to be great doings the next day, and what do you think they were? Why, these Christians were going to burn the Inca and his whole family, because they tried to get back their rights. It wasn’t a sight I wished to see, you may depend on it; but I couldn’t help myself. Well, in the morning there was a large crowd in the great square; and in the middle there was a quantity of stakes and wood piled up, and near them a high platform. Presently a number of Indian people were brought out of the prison—men, women, and children—and were marched up to the stakes, and bound to them with cords. Last of all came a man, whom I soon saw was the Inca, for he was dressed as he was on the day of the battle, and looked a real king, every inch of him. They made him stand up on the platform, and look down on what was going on below.
“They first shot all the children, and then they set fire to the wood, and burnt the women, and then the men; and, would you believe it, among them was the wife of the Inca, and his children, and his brothers, and nephews and nieces. He didn’t utter a cry or a groan, but kept looking on as if his eyes would start out of his head; but they, poor creatures, shrieked out for mercy from men who hadn’t got any in their natures.
“When the rest were dead, they put some faggots under the platform, and burnt the brave fellow where he stood. The people shouted and rejoiced as if they had done something to be proud of. I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I hurried away from the place; for I heard that all the Indian prisoners in the city were next to be shot, and that there were some hundreds of them. I got into talk with a number of people. From some I heard one thing, and from some another; but what I made out was, that young Andres, the Inca’s son, with several other chiefs, were still in arms in the south; but that the Spaniards had sent for troops from all parts of America; and that, by fair means or foul, they were resolved to destroy every Indian, till the war was finished. When I found that I could learn nothing more, I waited till night, and climbed over the walls. I then ran on as fast as my legs could carry me, till I got back to the wood, where I found my guide. Thinking I might be pursued, as I have no doubt I was, we made a very roundabout course, and kept a bright look-out for enemies on every side. We managed to keep clear of them, however, but were very hard up for food; and I’m not sorry, let me tell you, mate, to find myself safe back again here.”
Such was the substance of Ned’s account. Prepared, as in a great degree Manco had been, he was dreadfully affected by it, and for some time could come to no resolution what course to take. Had he been alone, he would at once have decided to join Andres, and endeavour still to make head against the Spaniards; but Nita and his child were in the other scale. At last he announced his resolution of quitting that part of Peru, and taking refuge far beyond the borders of civilisation among some of the wild tribes of the interior, in regions where the foot of the white man had not yet penetrated.
“There I will remain,” he said, “till a more favourable opportunity occurs for rescuing my country from the oppression of the stranger. Be assured that time will come. My boy may have grown to manhood, and my hair may have turned grey, or we may both have passed away; but Spain cannot for ever keep her iron yoke on the necks of our people. In the meantime we shall have collected arms, and have learned the art of war from our conquerors; and avoiding the errors which have now overcome us, we shall be able to cope with them successfully.”
He promised, moreover, to accompany us till we should be fairly embarked on the great river of the south. I then asked Pedro what he proposed doing.