30 ^- 
 
 
 
 s c? 
 
 tymm 
 
 o 
 
 ^ ? 
 
 %a3Awn- 
 
 
 
 
 \ ^><r s f /Or-*! 1 irr - i ir 
 1^1 iCfel iMil lAJh
 
 \V\E-UNIVERS//, 
 
 I-TP I 
 
 f/Or-'l 
 111 0- g 
 
 Ntm^
 
 THE 
 
 SECRET OF THE ANDES 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 
 BY F. HASSAUREK, 
 
 Author of " Four Years among Spanish Americans," etc. 
 
 CINCINNATI : 
 ROBERT CLARKE & CO. 
 
 1879.
 
 COPYRIGHTED: 
 
 F. I1ASSAUREK. 
 
 1879. 
 
 STEREOTYPED BY CAMPBELL A CO, CIN., O.
 
 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 DREAMS. 
 
 Que es la vida? Un frenesi. 
 Que es la vida? Una illusion, 
 Una sombra, una fiocion 
 Y el mayor bien es poqueno; 
 Que toda la vida es sueno 
 Y los suenos sueno son. 
 
 CALDERON DE LA BARGA, La vida es Sueno.

 
 BOOK I. 
 
 DREAMS. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 STORM CLOUDS. 
 
 IT was in the spring of 1592. The city of Quito, in 
 the Spanish Yiceroyalty of Peru, in South America, was 
 trembling with excitement. Angry crowds of wildly ges 
 ticulating men, of high and low degree, filled the public 
 squares and blockaded the streets. Defiant exclamations, 
 such as " Down with the Alcabala! Death to the Chape- 
 tones!" (natives of Spain), were heard in every direction. 
 A new member of the Eoyal Audience, the supreme 
 judicial and executive tribunal of the Province, had just 
 arrived from Spain. He had brought official confirmation 
 of the report that a great and crying breach of faith was 
 contemplated by the Home Government. The crushing 
 tax called Alcabala was to be introduced in the Viceroyalty 
 of Peru ! And yet, by an express stipulation of the Eoyal 
 grant to Don Francisco Pizarro, the conqueror, Peru was 
 to be exempted from the imposition of the Alcabala for one 
 hundred years, which term had not yet expired, and would 
 not expire during the lifetime of this generation. 
 
 The people of Quito were impoverished and in debt. 
 Their fathers had been disappointed of their golden ex 
 pectations. The men of Benalcazar had founded the city 
 in the vain hope of discovering, sooner or later, the hid 
 den treasure of Atahualpa and Euminagui. To that ignis 
 fatuus they had sacrificed the lives of thousands of unfor- 
 
 (3)
 
 4 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 tunate Indians. For that unattainable object the first set 
 tlers had impoverished themselves by long and fruitless 
 explorations, and by the neglect of more useful and legit 
 imate pursuits. Now, coined money had become almost a 
 curiosity among them. Their business transactions were 
 reduced to a most primitive system of barter and ex 
 change. Could such a people afford to pay a tax of four 
 or more per cent, on all sales a tax which was levied 
 and re-levied on the same article as often as it changed 
 hands, until it reached its final consumer? Impossible! 
 Death in battle was preferable to slow starvation. The 
 Alcabala must not be collected. Besistance forcible re 
 sistance was the general cry. It was taken up eagerly 
 by hundreds of old soldiers who had served in the civil 
 wars of the conquerors, and of whom many who had 
 fought on the losing side were left penniless, and ready to 
 engage in any brawl that promised rapine and booty. 
 
 It was about an hour after sunset, when two young 
 gentlemen, of the highest nobility, on their way to the 
 Plaza of San Francisco, elbowed themselves through the 
 throngs of indignant and excited men. The one was Don 
 Julio de Carrera, perhaps the best liked young cavalier 
 of Quito, modest, affable, refined, a lover of books in an age 
 of barbarism, honest and honorable. Beloved, although 
 penniless, his father having died in poverty, the young 
 man depended on the liberality of an uncle, a childless 
 bachelor, and, next to the Marquis de Solando, the richest 
 man of the whole province. The other was Carrera's 
 intimate friend, Don .Roberto Sanchez, an impulsive, high- 
 spirited, frank, and dashing youth, the son of Don Alonzo 
 Sanchez, who was an influential member of the Cabildo, 
 or Municipal Council of Quito, famous for his eloquence, 
 and known as one of the boldest and most determined op 
 ponents of the contemplated introduction of the Alcabala. 
 
 The two young gentlemen arrested their steps before 
 the mansion of the Marquis de Solando, where they in-
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 5 
 
 tended to spend the evening. The great wealth of the 
 Marquis and the extraordinary attractions of his daughter, 
 Dolores, had given him the leading position in the society 
 of Quito. His daily evening receptions (tertulias) were 
 attended by a larger circle than those at any other house. 
 This evening, too, a very numerous company was assembled 
 when the two young cavaliers entered the salon. The la 
 dies of the house excepted, the party consisted exclusively 
 of gentlemen, who eagerly discussed the all-absorbing 
 topic of the day. The Marquis, a thorough loyalist, ad 
 vocated submission. The Senor Alonzo Sanchez, the 
 father of young Eoberto, who had just entered, spoke en 
 ergetically in favor of resistance, and was warmly sup 
 ported by most of the gentlemen present. High words 
 passed, and the discussion threatened to become loud and 
 angry, when it was interrupted by a new visitor, whose 
 presence and official character forbade its renewal. This 
 newcomer was the Count Joaquin do Valverde, a young 
 officer of the best blue blood of Spain, who had been sent 
 by the Viceroy of Peru to command the Spanish arque- 
 busiers and other regular troops stationed at Quito, and to 
 instruct the native militia. The young nobleman had 
 come to America to recuperate his broken fortunes, but as 
 he stood high in the favor of the all-mighty Viceroy, the 
 Count's future was considered secured, and the mothers of 
 marriageable daughters looked upon him as one of the 
 highest prizes attainable in the matrimonial lottery. This 
 prize, however, it was generally believed, would fall to the 
 lot of Dolores Solando, for whose favor Count Valverde 
 had but two prominent rivals, the Senor Don Julio de 
 Carrera, and the Senor Don Manuel Paredes, who was 
 among the visitors in the room, and will presently be in 
 troduced to the reader.
 
 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 CHAPTEK 11. 
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS QUEEN. 
 
 " I hope I shall be the first," said Dona Dolores to Count 
 Valverde, after the customary exchange of salutations, " to 
 tell your Excellency the news of the great adventure our 
 friend, the Sefior Carrera, has met with." 
 
 ''I shall be delighted to hear it," said the Count, not at 
 all edified by the prospect of hearing an adventure dis 
 cussed of which he was not himself the hero. 
 
 "Your Excellency must know that the Sefior Carrera is 
 fond of solitary rambles. He is a poet, Senor Count, and 
 we all admire his verses. He loves to explore the lonely 
 recesses of Mount Pichincha; and there he met with his 
 wonderful adventure. He came upon a maiden radiant 
 with beauty, an apparition from Fairy Land. He has 
 been in love with her ever since, and the ladies of Quito 
 are dying with jealousy. The maiden, of course, was un 
 known to him, and, what makes his adventure more mys 
 terious, she was an Indian." 
 
 " An Indian ?" 
 
 " Yes, Senor Count, an Indian of exquisite beauty, maj 
 esty, and grace. He had come upon her suddenly, near 
 the entrance of a ravine. 'He stood before her struck 
 dumb with admiration. Still, we suspect he would have 
 recovered his faculty of speech. We are even inclined to 
 believe that he would, upon the spot, have made a declara 
 tion of love, had not the wonderful ci'eature suddenly and 
 most capriciously and unaccountably disappeared." 
 
 " Disappeared ?" 
 
 " Yes, Sefior Count, disappeared, vanished into nothing-
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 7 
 
 ness, sailed away in a cloud, or sunk into the center of 
 the earth. Was it not provoking? The belt of Senor 
 Can-era's sword broke at the most inconvenient moment, 
 and caused that bloody weapon to drop to the ground. 
 He stooped to pick it up, and when he looked up again 
 the apparition was gone. There was no trace of her any 
 where. There was no bush, no tree, no rock in the ravine 
 behind which she might have hidden herself, and yet she 
 was gone, vanished into air, as I said. What does your 
 Excellency think of it?" 
 
 " I hope," said the Count, " it was not one of Senor Car- 
 rera's poetic fancies, inspired by " 
 
 " No, Senor Count," interrupted Dolores, " there is proof 
 positive and tangible- of the reality of the apparition a 
 dagger found by his Grace on the very spot where the 
 maiden had stood. We have made him produce the corpus 
 delicti. There it is." 
 
 " This is Moorish steel," said the Count, examining the 
 weapon w'ith the eye of a connoisseur, " of excellent temper 
 and approved fashion. How could it fall into the hands 
 of an Indian ?" 
 
 " Ah ! this is the very complication of the mystery, 
 Seiior Count," rejoined* Dolores, who loved to address her 
 self to the representative of real, genuine, old-country no 
 bility. " We have come to the conclusion that that won- 
 dei'ful Indian must either be a witch or the mysterious 
 Shyri Queen of Quito, of whom we have heard so much 
 and seen nothing." 
 
 " She may be both," added the Sefiora Catita, the aunt of 
 Dolores, who sat beside her on the sofa. 
 
 '' To my shame, I must confess to your Ladyships," an 
 swered the Count, "not to have heard of this Shyri 
 Queen." 
 
 "Your Excellency has not resided with us long enough," 
 resumed Dolores, "to become familiar with our Indian tra-
 
 8 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 ditions. The Shyri Queen is supposed to be a grand 
 daughter of Atahualpa, the Inca, secretly brought up in 
 the family of some great cacique, or among the unsubdued 
 Indians of our oriental provinces, so as to prevent her from 
 being seized by the authorities. The Indians of the an 
 cient empire of Quito recognize and revere that mythical 
 queen as their rightful sovereign. At her command they 
 would rise in rebellion; at her command they would kill 
 us all, and burn our houses if they could. Her mere 
 name, whether she b.e a myth or a reality, is a threat to the 
 peace and security of these provinces." 
 
 " And why do they call her the Shyri Queen, if your 
 Ladyships will allow me?" 
 
 "Her ancestors, the ancient kings of Quito, were called 
 Shyris. Their kingdom was overthrown by the Peruvian 
 Incus about forty years before the arrival of the Spaniards. 
 The last Shyri was slain in battle. His only child, a 
 daughter, was taken for a wife by the victorious Inca, and 
 thus became the mother of Atahualpa. But it is not the 
 mysterious Indian Queen or Princess, it is her dowry, 
 Senor Count, in which we are principally and intensely in 
 terested. If there is such a being as the Shyri Queen, and 
 I have no doubt of it, although no white man or woman 
 has ever seen her, she possesses the secret of the hidden 
 treasure of Atahualpa, for which our gentlemen have been 
 searching in vain during three generations. What a grand 
 discovery it would be, if her disappearance where the 
 Senor Carrera had seen her, should indicate the presence 
 of a subterranean passage, through which the treasure 
 might be reached. Come, Senor Sanchez, you are learned 
 in history, and can speak from a knowledge of the chroni 
 cles of the Cabildo, give his Excellency an account of what 
 is known of the origin and character of that treasure." 
 
 "Let me beg of your Grace," insisted the Count. 
 
 "O, please do !" shouted the compan}*; and all leaned
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 9 
 
 forward eagerly to listen to an authoritative statement of 
 the great problem of their lives, the one great object of 
 their aspirations. They all had heard the story before. 
 They had listened to it many a time. They were familiar 
 with all its details ; but they never grew tired of listening 
 to it again. They could not hear it often enough. They 
 drank in every word, as it fell from the lips of the venera 
 ble Alcalde. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 EVIDENCE. 
 
 " YOUR Excellency is, of course, familiar," began Senor 
 Sanchez, the Father, " with the circumstances of the orig 
 inal conquest of Peru. Atahualpa was a prisoner in the 
 hands of Don Francisco Pizarro at Cajamarca, and being 
 a man of natural shrewdness, the Inca could not fail to 
 observe the great greed of our people for gold, and the 
 thought struck him that through this he might gain 
 his liberty. Hence he proposed . that, as his ransom, 
 he would fill the room in which they kept him, as high 
 as his arms could reach, with vessels and ornaments 
 of gold and silver. To bring these treasures together, 
 orders were sent to all parts of the empire to rifle the 
 palaces and temples of their precious contents and 
 send them to Cajamarca. These orders were obeyed 
 everywhere except here in Quito. And yet here, where 
 the great Inca, Huyanacapac, Atahualpa's father, had 
 spent the last thirty years of his prosperous reign, immense 
 treasures had been accumulated. But a usurper had seized 
 the reins of government here, and refused to comply with 
 the royal mandate. This usurper was Euminagui, a name 
 which, in the Quichtia language, means " The eye or face
 
 10 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 of stone." He was a great general, who had been with 
 Atahualpa when the poor Inca was taken prisoner by the 
 cunning stratagem of Don Francisco Pizarro. Euminagui 
 was in command of the army stationed at Cajamarca ; but 
 without attempting to strike a blow for his master, he re 
 treated to this pi-ovince, with the intent of making him 
 self the King or Shyri of Quito. He seized the royal 
 treasures and the Virgins of the Sun, killed all the wives, 
 sisters, brothers, cousins, and other relatives of Atahualpa, 
 and considered himself secure in his usurpation, in view 
 of the small number of foreign invaders by whom the Inca 
 had allowed himself to be entrapped. Eumiuagui offered 
 a desperate and very skillful resistance to the Spanish 
 troops that were sent against him ; but when he found that 
 these invaders were irresistible, and that all his efforts were 
 unavailing, he killed the Virgins of the Sun so that they 
 should not fall into the hands of the Spaniards, and he hid 
 or buried the great treasure of Quito somewhere in the 
 mountains. To this present day nobody has discovered 
 where, although the search has been incessant. Euminagui 
 was captured and put to the rack ; but an Indian never re 
 veals a secret of his race. He died without opening his lips. 
 Hundreds of his captains and followers were tortured until 
 they expired; but either they did not know the secret or 
 they would not reveal it. And so our men of high and 
 low degree are still delving and burrowing in the earth; 
 but thus far to no avail. We know that the treasure 
 existed hundreds of Indian eye-witnesses admitted that. 
 We know that it must be hidden somewhere, but we are 
 unable to find it." 
 
 A long pause followed, during which each of the com 
 pany seemed to be pondering over the great secret and 
 dreaming the dream of its discovery. The silence was at 
 last broken by the Count. 
 
 " I must trouble your Grace with a question. I heard,
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 11 
 
 while in Lima, that the scepter of the Incas could not de 
 scend to a female, and yet their Ladyships speak of a, Shyri 
 Queen as the successor of Atahualpa." 
 
 "Your Excellency is right as to the law of Peru, which 
 several hundred years ago was also the law of the kingdom 
 of Quito ; but it was changed by the eleventh Shyri, who 
 had no sons, brothers, or nephews, but an only daughter 
 by the name of Toa, to whom he was fondly devoted. In 
 order to secure her succession, he made a new law, which 
 received the sanction of all the great nobles of the realm. 
 It stipulated that upon the extinction of the male line, the 
 Shyri's daughter should succeed her father and reign 
 jointly with the husband of her own free and untram- 
 meled choice. The husband whom the old Shyri recom 
 mended to his daughter Toa, was Duchicela, eldest son of 
 Cundurazu, King of Parruha, a kingdom extending from 
 Riobamba to Paita and the coast. By this marriage the 
 two crowns were united, and the house of Duchicela was 
 thus placed upon the throne of Quito. The mysterious 
 granddaughter of Atahualpa, if she does exist, may confer 
 the Indian kingdom of Quito in a similar manner by the 
 free bestowal of her hand." 
 
 " Aud she might," interrupted Dolores, " bestow it on 
 his Grace, the Senor de Carrera, the only cavalier to 
 whom, thus far, she seems to have shown herself. How 
 would your Grace fancy the title of Don Julio I of the 
 house of Carrera and Duchicela, Shyri-Inca of Quito and 
 Purruha ?" 
 
 A burst of laughter rewarded this pleasantry, while 
 Carrera blushed and looked uneasy. Some of the gentle 
 men seemed inclined to elaborate the suggestion ; but Do 
 lores was too prudent to allow it, and turned the conver 
 sation back into its original channel. 
 
 "Your Excellency must not believe that we Creoles in 
 vent all these wonderful stories. The Indians firmly be 
 lieve in the existence of their Shyri Queen, and I can only
 
 12 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 say I share their belief. Let me furnish your Excellency 
 with a living witness of my faith. There is my nurse, 
 Mama Santos, an Indian of high nobility. She is a grand 
 daughter of Cozopangui, who was governor of Quito under 
 Atahualpa and Ruminagui. Call her, Raimundo. She 
 will tell your Lordships what she has told me a hundred 
 times, no more, no less. She will betray no secret of her 
 race, if she knows any, but she will bear testimony to the 
 reality of the Shyri Queen." 
 
 Mama Santos, who now made her appearance, and at 
 the command of Dolores took her station behind the sofa, 
 was a woman of uncertain age, like all Indian women 
 after they have passed their teens. Her features had 
 probably been beautiful once, but her beauty had faded. 
 Her eyes were still attractive, and bore an expression of 
 sadness and resignation. Her bearing was full of defer 
 ence, but self-possessed, dignified, and indicative of quiet 
 determination. 
 
 " Mama Santos ! These gentlemen wish to take a glass of 
 wine with thee in honor of the royal house of Atahualpa- 
 Duchieela. Raimundo ! A goblet for Mania Santos ! Fill 
 the glasses of these gentlemen !" 
 
 Mama Santos bowed impassively, and taking her glass, 
 she said: "Your Lordships honor me by your kindness. 
 May your Lordships live many years!" 
 
 "Thy good health, Mama Santos," said Carrera, "and 
 honor to the memory of thy ancient kings." 
 
 "Mama Santos," continued Dolores, "wilt thou tell 
 these gentlemen who would now be entitled to wear the 
 royal diadem of the Shyris, if this country did not belong 
 to our Lord, the King of Spain?" 
 
 " The Lady Toa Duchicela is the successor of Atahualpa 
 Niuita* Doloritas." 
 
 " Who is the Lady Toa Duchicela ?" resumed Dolores. 
 ^J'She is the granddaughter of Atahualpa." 
 
 * An endearing, and yet respectful diminutive.
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 13 
 
 "Hast thou ever seen her?" 
 
 "'No!" 
 
 "How dost thon know, then, that she lives?" 
 
 "How does Niuita know that King Philip II lives? 
 Niflita has never seen him." 
 
 "Bravo! bravo!" exclaimed the Marquis. "Well said, 
 Mama Santos." 
 
 " But there is a gentleman here, Mamita," answered 
 Dolores, "who has seen him. This is the count Valverde, 
 Mamita, a gentleman from Spain, who has seen His 
 Majesty very often." 
 
 " I am your Lordship's servant," said Santos, with a 
 graceful bow. 
 
 " Where is the Shyri Toa now, Mamita?" asked Dolores. 
 
 " I do not know, Nina." 
 
 " Wouldst thou know her if thou shouldst see her?" 
 
 " I can not tell, Nina." 
 
 " Suppose a common Indian should pretend to be the 
 Shyri Toa." 
 
 " No Indian woman would do that, Nina." 
 
 "Suppose the Shyri Toa should die, how wouldst thou 
 know it ? ;! 
 
 " I should soon know it, Nina." 
 
 "But how?" 
 
 " How would Nina Doloritas learn of the death of His 
 Majesty of Spain. Somebody would tell her. Somebody 
 would tell me that the Shyri Toa was dead." 
 
 " Is she married ? " 
 
 "No, Nina." 
 
 " Not married ! Seiior Don Julio de Carrera ! Take 
 heed of this important statement. The Shyri Toa is still 
 at liberty to bestow upon your Grace her hand and kingly 
 title. Many thanks, Mamita Santos. We shall not detain 
 thee any longer." 
 
 Mama Santos returned her glass to the servant, bowed 
 to the company, and withdrew. At this moment the clock
 
 14 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 of San Francisco struck ten. A horn was sounded in the 
 street; ever}' one in the room became silent, and the voice 
 of the watchman w:is heard to sing : 
 
 "Ave Maria, Santisima! 
 
 Las diez ban dado, 
 
 Noche clara y serena, 
 
 Viva el Hey de Espana! "* 
 
 " The stay-bell ! " exclaimed all the gentlemen. 
 
 " We have taken no heed of the flight of time," said 
 Senor Sanchez. " How embarrassing. I had no idea it 
 was so late." 
 
 " You are my prisoners, gentlemen," said the Marquis, 
 "and I shall keep you under arrest till morning." 
 
 CHAPTEE IT. 
 
 X 
 
 GAMBLING. 
 
 After the ringing of the stay-bell (toque de la queda} the 
 use of the streets was forbidden by municipal ordinance to 
 the inhabitants of Quito and other Peruvian towns. Heavy 
 penalties awaited the transgressor. If armed, his arms 
 were to be taken from him; if unarmed, he was to be put 
 in the stocks for a number of days. A third repetition of 
 the offense was to be visited with banishment. The turbu 
 lence of the original conquerors, their frequent insurrections 
 and civil wars, and the violence and licentiousness of the 
 soldiers of fortune who had participated in these com 
 motions, made it necessary to enforce such regulations, 
 with great severity, against persons of all ranks, and es 
 pecially against those who enjoyed the high privilege of 
 bearing arms. Hence when visitors had lingered at the 
 
 *Ave Maria, most holy. The clock has struck ten. The night is 
 calm and clear. Long live the King of Spain.
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 15 
 
 houses of their friends until it was too late to go home, it 
 became a duty of hospitality to provide them with accom 
 modations for the night. 
 
 This duty the Marquis most attentively complied with. 
 His house was one of the largest at Quito, and might have 
 accommodated double the number of guests ; but the gentle 
 men present, after a graceful recognition of the kindness 
 and liberality of their noble host, soon relinquished the 
 thought of retiring to bed-rooms, but crowded around the 
 card-table, which in those times possessed the same irre 
 sistible fascination for Spanish-Americans that it exerts 
 nowadays. Even the ladies, with the exception of the 
 Marchioness, who, being an invalid, soon excused herself 
 and withdrew, took part in the exciting pastime. Carrera 
 alone, for a while, contented himself with the part of a 
 looker-on. He had vainly attempted to address a few 
 words privately to Dolores, who skillfully eluded him and 
 divided her attentions with becoming impartiality. The 
 young gentleman, disappointed in his attempts, then drew 
 his friend, Roberto Sanchez, into one of the deep win 
 dow-embrasures to ask him for a loan of money. " I 
 hardly dare to ask thee for an additional favor," he said, 
 " but how can I exclude myself? If I lose, it may be 
 some time before I can repay thee. I want but a trifle to 
 keep up appearances. Still, do not inconvenience thyself, 
 unless thou art fully able to help me out." 
 
 " Most assuredly," answered Eoberto, " I shall help thee 
 out to the best of my ability. But beware of that villain, 
 Paredes. He and that Spanish Count must be watched 
 closely. I should not trust either of them, unless I could 
 keep my eyes on them steadily." 
 
 The game had commenced, first moderate!} 7 , but soon in 
 creasing in intensity and passion, until it had completely 
 riveted the attention of the players to the exclusion of 
 everything else. So much has been said and written on 
 the theory of luck, that it would be fruitless labor to
 
 16 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 add to the literature of the subject. Why some men will 
 alway lose, while others will nearl}- always win, is one of 
 the problems that are doomed to remain unsolved. Poor 
 Carrera was one of those who almost always lost. For 
 some time he held his own that evening, but at last the tide 
 set in against him, until the loan from Sanchez was nearly 
 exhausted. Then came a brief run of luck, but it was cut 
 short by his turn to take the bank. His rivals, the Span 
 ish Count and Manuel Paredes, now played strongly 
 against the banker, and when his turn closed, he was in 
 volved in a heavy debt to Paredes, and had but a few pieces 
 left to continue the hopeless struggle. 
 
 The ladies withdrew unnoticed, and the game went on. 
 A collation was served at one o'clock which was rapidly 
 taken. The Marquis and nearly all his guests, with the 
 exception of the Spanish Count and the Senor Manuel 
 Paredes, lost heavily. To these two the battle for the 
 spoils seemed to be confined, and was waged with con 
 tinually fluctuating success. As to Carrera, it was a repeti 
 tion of his old experience; hope deferred, anger, mortifica 
 tion, cautious timidity alternating with the imprudence 
 and recklessness of despair, silent self-reproaches, and bitter 
 remorse, coupled with vows to abstain forever afterward 
 often made, and broken as often as they are made, and a 
 sinking heart while he forced a sickly smile on his lips, 
 and endeavored to appear composed. His hands and feet 
 were cold, while his head was burning. Deeper and 
 deeper he became involved in debt to Paredes, vainly 
 hoping that his luck would change at last. And so the 
 game was kept up until daylight broke upon the scene, and 
 chocolate was served to the exhausted players. 
 
 When Carrera left the house of the Marquis, he owed 
 a hundred and fifty ducats to Paredes in addition to his 
 debt to Sanchez the younger, a formidable sum of money 
 in those days. 
 
 Haggard, pale, wearied, crushed, he threw himself upon
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 17 
 
 his couch, and tossed about restlessly; but sleep would not 
 come to his relief and silence the voice of remorse. The 
 cards still danced before his eyes, and the monotonous 
 exclamations of the players reverberated in his ears. Had 
 he but conquered his false shame, and refused to play! 
 Had he but stopped after the loan of Sanchez was exhausted. 
 The question, "How shall I pay these debts?" again 
 and again arose before his mind, and his racked imagina 
 tion suggested no solution. Would he have to tell his 
 uncle ? Must he appear before that stern and austere man 
 and accuse himself of reckless profligacy? His uncle was 
 a devoutly religious man. .The convents entertained high 
 expectations of rich endowments from him. Would he not 
 devote his fortune to works of faith and charity rather 
 than bestow it on the spendthrift who had no idea of the 
 value of wealth or of the difficulties of its acquisition. 
 
 And now, the physical effects of dissipation added misery 
 to Carrera's mental agony. His head throbbed and ached, 
 and shivering he covered himself with additional blankets, 
 and lay waking, fretting, despairing, disgusted with himself 
 and the world, while the busy hum of life had revived in 
 the streets, and the glaring rays of the equatorial sun 
 broke through his windows. 
 
 CHAPTEK V. 
 
 A BARREN DISCOVERY. 
 
 The day was far advanced, when Carrera rose from his 
 bed. He summoned his Indian servant, and ordered him 
 to bring his breakfast. 
 
 " How pale }'uu look, Master," said the boy. " Is your 
 Lordship sick ?" 
 
 <; I am not aware of it."
 
 18 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " Yes, Master, your Lordship looks very pale. Your 
 eyes are dim. Your step is uncertain. If 3-011 are sick, 
 Master, you had better consult Mama Eucu ; she will make 
 your Lordship well." 
 
 "Dost thou think so, Mariano?" 
 
 " Yes, Master," replied the boy. " I know it. "When 
 the plague ravaged the country a few years ago, she saved 
 every one who came to her, while all those who took the 
 medicines of your white leeches, died. She cured me, 
 Master, when my own mother had given me up." 
 
 When the Lord had abandoned Saul, his despair prompted 
 him to consult the witch of Endor. 
 
 " Fleeter e, si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo." Not 
 those basking in the sunshine of prosperity, but those 
 around whom the clouds of adversity gather, will seek 
 aid or advice from the powers of darkness. The card- 
 player, especially, is naturally prone to superstition. It 
 was customary in those times to consult Moorish Astrolo 
 gers, fortune-tellers, and Indian sorcerers. The Church 
 fulminated its censures against these practices, but even 
 the Church was powerless against the weaknesses of the 
 human mind, as it had been powerless against its vanities. 
 
 Mama Rucu, the great Indian sorceress, whom pries' s 
 and nobles had consulted in sickness and distress, and 
 whose immunity rested on her real or supposed knowl 
 edge of the secrets of all the leading families of Quito, 
 would she be able to help him ? Probably not. flow 
 should she? And yet, why should he not try? Even if 
 she gave him no satisfaction, he would lose nothing by the 
 experiment. He still could fall back On his last and only 
 resort, the dreaded confession to his uncle. But she might 
 give him a charm to soften that stern man. Yes, he would 
 consult the old witch ; and, this resolution once arrived at, 
 he determined to carry it out immediately. He also de 
 termined to avoid his friends, as much as possible, until he
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 19 
 
 had seen his uncle and obtained the means from him to 
 pay his debts of honor. And then he would forever re 
 nounce gambling. Why should he play? Was he not a 
 lover of books? Did they not look sadly at him from 
 their shelves, reproaching him with having neglected their 
 delightful companionship of late? No, he would return 
 to his silent friends again, and remain faithful to them 
 hereafter. He snatched his Horace from the shelves, and, 
 opening the book at random, he alighted on that well- 
 known ode, which had steadied the minds of so many be 
 fore him, and would be comfort and solace to yet unborn 
 thousands : li ^Equam rebus in arduis servare mentem" etc. 
 
 His servant had opened the window, and the bright, 
 bracing, sunny air of Quito, revived his drooping spirits. 
 The freshness and vigor of youth returned and filled him 
 with new hope. He left his house, and, avoiding the 
 main streets, he soon reached the rear of the acclivity of 
 San Juan, and passing the villa and gardens of Don Man 
 uel Parades, he began the ascent of one of the mountain 
 spurs which rock-crowned Pichincha sends forth into the 
 plain of Quito. He was not far from the scene of his ad 
 venture with the -mysterious Indian maiden, when, to his 
 utter astonishment and surprise, he heard the usual quiet 
 ness of this lonely neighborhood broken by the sound of 
 loud and angry voices. 
 
 Let us precede him. 
 
 Manuel Paredes had eagerly listened to the narratives 
 and surmises of Dolores and Sanchez the night before. 
 There was, evidently, some subterranean hiding-place in 
 the ravine where Carrera's maiden had disappeared. The 
 supposition that the Inca treasure might be buried there 
 was not at all improbable. If the girl whom Carrera had 
 seen was Toa Ducbicela, the mysterious Shyri Queen, it 
 was also probable that she knew the secret. Manuel Pare 
 des was a man of action. Books and poetry were nothing
 
 20 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 to him. He dealt in the realities of life, and his main and 
 only object was to promote the interests of Manuel Pare- 
 des. He determined to investigate the m} 7 stery. He had 
 obtained, from Carrera, an accurate description of the lo 
 cality, which was very near his own summer-house. He 
 would make excavations. He would sink shafts in every 
 direction, and if there was a subterranean passage in or 
 under that ravine, he was determined to discover it. He 
 summoned his Mayordomo and four of his Indian farm- 
 laborers with spades and crow-bars, and ordered them to 
 follow him. But he was not without a competitor. Just 
 when he was about to leave his garden -villa, on the hill, 
 Count Yalverde made his appearance. 
 
 " I have come," said the Spaniard, " to ask your Grace to 
 take me to the place the Seiior Carrera described to your 
 Grace last night. If a treasure is to be found there, I want 
 to search for it, and I ask your Grace to join in the search. 
 If your Grace is willing to investigate the matter, I can 
 order my sappers and miners to work for us systemati 
 cally." 
 
 Paredes was not at all pleased. What he intended to do 
 he wanted to do for himself, and not for, or with another. 
 Yet, the Commander of the royal garrison at Quito, and the 
 protege of the Viceroy of Peru, was not a personage whom 
 it would be profitable to offend. He would submit to his 
 company in the day time, but he would secretly continue 
 the search at night. The chances of the Count should not 
 be even, if Manuel Peredes could help it. So he consented, 
 and the party proceeded to the place. 
 
 Foot by foot the soil was probed with spade and crow 
 bar, Paredes testing one side of the ravine and the Count 
 the other, while the Indians, puzzled and bewildered, did 
 as they were ordered. The search had not proceeded more 
 than a few rods from the entrance of the ravine, when the 
 crow-bar, in the hands of the Mayordomo, struck a hard 
 substance in the hill-side, and a hollow sound accompanied
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 21 
 
 the blow. The Mayordomo uttered an exclamation of sur 
 prise. A repetition of the blow produced the same result. 
 
 " I have struck a hard substance," said the Steward, 
 "which is not a rock." And tearing up the sod with the 
 bar, he laid bare a dark and smooth surface which had the 
 appearance of bronze. 
 
 " It is bronze ' " shrieked Paredes. " Come with your 
 shovels and clear away the earth." 
 
 The vegetation covering that particular spot was scarce 
 and the earth dry. It readily yielded to spade and shovel 
 and exposed a plate of bronze of about four feet in length 
 and two feet in width. 
 
 " Santa Maria ! " exclaimed the Count ; " this is a dis 
 covery." 
 
 " This seems to be a door or a lid covering an aperture ! " 
 said the Steward. " Listen how hollow it sounds ! " 
 
 " Force it open ! " said Paredes. The plate seemed to 
 be imbedded slantingly in the side of the ravine. The 
 Steward vrewed it carefully, touched it with his bar inch 
 by inch, and finally stemmed his foot against it, when to 
 the astonishment of evei^body the upper part suddenly 
 gave way, and, sinking to a flat level with the base, opened 
 a dark passage into the mountain side. The excitement of 
 the men at this discovery knew no bounds. Pale, tremb 
 ling with eager anticipation, with bated breaths and pal 
 pitating hearts, they stared into the darkness of the aper 
 ture. Suddenly a shrill, hoarse laugh interrupted the 
 breathless silence. Instinctively white men and Indians 
 shrank back in terror and looked about to see from whom 
 the grating sound had come. They did not have to 
 look long. It was right above them. Just upon the 
 brink of the ravine, on tho side in which the opening had 
 been discovered, and almost perpendicularly above it, 
 stood a figure which sent a shudder through Count Val- 
 verde's frame. It was a woman ; at least she wore tho
 
 22 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 garments of a woman, but her face, shriveled with age, 
 would not have betrayed her sex. Her hair was short, 
 thick, and white. Her countenance was that of a mummy, 
 only her eyes, wildly rolling and shooting the fiercest 
 glances, showed that her face was alive, terribly alive. 
 She rested her left side on a crutch ; in her right hand she 
 held a stick, which helped to support her tottering form. 
 
 The four Indians, on beholding her, at once uncovered, 
 and bowed their heads, and stood in reverential silence. 
 It was Mama Eucu, the Indian witch, the prophetess, the 
 medicine woman, the last of the great sorceresses of her 
 race. Again she gave a laugh, short and shrill, and arous 
 ing in the awe-stricken breasts of these who beheld her all 
 the superstitious fears of the sixteenth century. 
 
 Three times she raised the heavy stick in her right hand, 
 and then exclaimed in Quichua, her shrill voice reverberat 
 ing from the mountains: 
 
 "Pachacamac! Pachacamac! Be thou the witness of the 
 truth of my words! The spirits of the mountains speak ! 
 The spirits of the volcano are aroused! You seek what 
 you have not lost. You seek what you shall never find. 
 You are disturbing the repose of the vanquished and the 
 dead. There must be a victim ! One of you shall be the 
 victim ! One of you shall be stricken from the land of the 
 living for this profanation of the mysteries of Pichincha. 
 "Who shall it be? I hear the voice of the spirit and shall 
 announce the coming judgment. He who passes first through 
 the sacred gate you have opened, shall die before the rains 
 of winter descend again upon the plains of Ana-Quito. He 
 shall die, not surrounded by friends and mourners, but he 
 shall die a horrible death in the hands of infuriated enemies, 
 and biting fire shall lick the skin from his flesh and the flesh 
 from his bones. Hear it, ye mountains! Hear it, ye men 
 of Quito! Hear it, Viracoehas ! Pachacamac the groat is 
 my witness ! " 
 
 And, as if the mountains had understood it, the rumbling
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 23 
 
 thunder of Cotopaxi, so frequently heard at Quito, broke 
 forth at this very moment, increasing the terror of her list 
 eners. Count Valverde had not understood a word of what 
 she had said, but he stood rooted to the spot, and could not 
 avert his gaze from her terrible features. Everybody stood 
 aghast, as if bound by some fearful spell. Again the old 
 woman waved her stick three times, and then hobbled 
 away slowly, laughing and muttering to herself as she 
 went. Paredes was the first to recover his self-possession, 
 and, with a forced laugh, said to his Indians : " The good 
 old woman is getting craz} r . It is all stuff and nonsense." 
 
 " What did she say?" said the Count. 
 
 " Oh, nothing! " replied Paredes. " It was nothing but 
 wild and incoherent talk. She wanted to frighten us from 
 the work we have begun, but her threats are powerless 
 against Christians, who believe in the Savior and His Holy 
 Mother! " And, with these words, he crossed himself, de 
 voutly pronouncing the formula. The Count and the Stew 
 ard followed his example. The Indians still stood motion 
 less. 
 
 " And now, Andres ! " Paredes said to one of his Indians, 
 in Quichua, " thou art the smallest of us, and canst easily 
 squeeze through this hole. Go in and see what it is." 
 
 " No, amo mio ! " * answered the Indian. "A thousand 
 pardons, amo, but 1 shall not go ! " 
 
 "What!" thundered Paredes, "the villain refuses to 
 obey my command ? " 
 
 " Mercy, amo mio, for God's sake, mercy ! " 
 
 "Mercy in hell, you scoundrel! " shrieked Paredes. "I 
 am the master, and I command thee to go into this open 
 ing, and see what there is inside. Don Tomas, make the 
 villain go ! " 
 
 The steward approached the Indian, who shrank back in 
 terror. 
 
 *Amo means master.
 
 24 TFIE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 " Do not be a fool, man ! " continued Parades. " No 
 harm shall come to thee. We shall all follow thee. I shall 
 follow thee myself, if thou art afraid, and hold thee up, so 
 that thou shalt not drop into a precipice." 
 
 At this moment Carrera made his appearance on the other 
 side of the ravine, just opposite the elevation where the old 
 witch had stood, and looked upon the scene beneath him 
 with eager astonishment. 
 
 The Indian dropped on his kness and implored his mas 
 ter for mercy. But the Steward seized him on one side and 
 Paredes on the other, and thus attempted to drag him to 
 the dreaded opening. Suddenly the poor fellow threw him 
 self on the ground, and with tears streaming down his face, 
 declared that he could not and would not go. 
 
 " This thing has gone too far ! " said Paredes, pale with 
 rage* " If I tolerate such insubordination from any of my 
 Indians, I shall soon have to till my lands in person. We 
 shall have to provide against a repetition of such mutiny. 
 Mayordomo, take this fellow back to the villa, tie him to 
 a post, and let him taste five hundred lashes, well laid on 
 and well counted." 
 
 "And what is the cause, Don Manuel ?" asked Carrera, 
 whose presence had not been noticed by anybody, " of such 
 exceptional severity ? " 
 
 " You here, Don Julio?" replied Paredes, gruffly. "I 
 have always claimed pnd. exercised the right to manage 
 ray Indians in my own way, and without any interfer 
 ence" 
 
 " There is no necessity for any irritation, Don Manuel. 
 I have just arrived here. I do not know what has hap 
 pened. I only hear that your Grace is about to inflict a 
 most cruel punishment on a helpless Indian, and I do your 
 Grace the justice to suppose that you have given the order 
 in the heat of passion. I am sure, Don Manuel, you would 
 regret its execution. It might kill the man." 
 
 " If I kill my Indians, Don Julio, this is my affair, and
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 25 
 
 although I honor the motive of your interference, I can not 
 tolerate it. This Indian belongs to me." 
 
 11 But the Senor Paredes must be aware of the fact that 
 the Indians are not slaves ; that they are vassals of the 
 crown, to which they pay tribute, and that your Grace has 
 no right to treat them in such a barbarous manner, un 
 worthy of your gentility and standing in society." 
 
 " Senor Can-era, I have spoken. I do not wish to quar 
 rel with you, as I have an account to settle with your ju 
 venile friend, Eoberto Sanchez, ad I believe in one thing 
 at a time. I must repeat, therefore, that your interference 
 is inadmissible. This Indian belongs to me, and I shall 
 punish him for his outrageous insubordination." 
 
 " But what has he done ? " 
 
 " No matter what he has done. It concerns me, not you. 
 Mayordomo, take him a way." 
 
 " Senor Paredes, you are about to violate the laws of the 
 King, and, worse than that, you are violating the laws of 
 religion and humanity. How much is this Indian worth 
 to you?" 
 
 " Does your Grace want to buy him ? " 
 
 " I would, if you would sell him to me." 
 
 "He is not for sale, Don Julio ; and even if he were, you 
 are without money to make the purchase. Your Grace 
 seems to have forgotten that you owe me a hundred and 
 fifty ducats. You had better pay your old debts before you 
 contract new ones." 
 
 " This is a very ungentlemanly reminder, Don Man 
 uel. Every cent I owe you will be paid. You know 
 I can not do it to-day ; but it shall be done in less 
 than a week. In the meantime, I shall not stand by 
 and allow you to commit a plain violation of the law. If 
 I can not prevent it in a friendly manner, I must resort to 
 other means. Will you do me the favor to come out of the 
 ravine, or do you prefer that I should come down to you." 
 With these words, Carrera drew his sword.
 
 26 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 "As j'ou please ! " answered Paredes, drawing his. 
 
 " One moment, gentlemen !" exclaimed the Count. 
 
 " No interference, Senor Count," said Paredes. " Your 
 Excellency knows the Viceroyal orders forbidding peace 
 makers to interfere on such occasions. DOCB your Excel 
 lency wish to violate the law ?" 
 
 " Indeed, not," replied the Count. " But I wish to say a 
 word to you in private," and approaching Paredes, he 
 whispered : " Give in, Don Manuel, your Grace knows that 
 he is right. I admit that such punishments are very fre 
 quently inflicted by masters upon their Indians, but it is 
 done in violation of law, and it might get your Grace into 
 trouble. The Viceroy is determined to protect the Indians 
 against what he calls excessive cruelty, and if your Grace 
 gives way to your passion, you place yourself at the mercy 
 of any enemy who may choose to instigate a prosecution." 
 
 " But how can I give way to threats ? It would be cow 
 ardice to yield." 
 
 "Fight him, if you must, but consent to the pardon of 
 the Indian first. Your Grace can punish him at any other 
 time." 
 
 Paredes yielded to this advice, and coming out of the 
 the ravine, he said to Carrera : " I am at your Lordship's 
 disposal. But before we begin, I wish to say that oAving 
 to the advice and request of Count Valverde, I have con-' 
 eluded to pardon this Indian. I have not done it for your 
 sake, Julio de Carrera, because I never yield to threats. 
 And to show your Grace that your challenge hag not in 
 fluenced my determination in the least, I shall now respond 
 to it as becomes a gentleman." And with these words he 
 threw himself into position. " Be on your guard, Don 
 Julio!" 
 
 The Indians sent up a wail. 
 
 " One word, Don Manuel," said Carrera. " As the ob 
 ject of mj- interference has been attained. I should grasp
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 27 
 
 your hand and thank you for your noble self-restraint, 
 rather than meet you as an enemy." 
 
 " Well said, Don Julio ! :) exclaimed the Count. " Take 
 his hand, Colonel Paredes." 
 
 " Seflor Carrera has challenged me to fight," replied 
 Paredes. " If I do not hold him to his challenge, he will 
 
 O ' 
 
 claim that I have acted under compulsion with reference 
 to that Indian." 
 
 " Y~ou are mistaken, Don Manuel. I pledge you my 
 word of honor that I shall never refer to this unpleasant 
 occurrence. I have always looked upon you as a friend, 
 and if our friendship shall terminate, it will be your fault, 
 not mine. I am ready to proceed ; but as I may have been 
 the aggressor, I offer you my hand before I strike. "Will 
 you take it?" 
 
 " Embrace, gentlemen, embrace," urged the Count. 
 
 " You are always amiable, Don Julio," said Paredes. 
 I accept your hand, and shall forget \vhat has happened." 
 Thus saying, he- approached Carrera, and the two em 
 braced with all the appearance of cordiality, but both of 
 them well aware that there was no love lost between them, 
 and that the slightest breeze would fan into a fresh blaze 
 the half-smothered fire of hate. 
 
 " And now. Don Manuel," said the Count, ".I shall en^ 
 courage these Indians a little. They want encouragement 
 more than lashes. I do not understand the Quichua lan 
 guage, and do not know what the old witch has said to 
 them ; but I can see that she has appealed to their super 
 stitions. Let me show them the folly ot their fears;" and 
 thus saying, he entered the opening. And again, by a 
 wonderful coincidence, Cotopaxi sent forth, its roaring 
 thunder, while the terrified Indians vainly exclaimed: 
 " Stay, Seiior, do not go ! It is death and destruction." 
 
 A smile of grim satisfaction distorted the features of 
 Paredes, but disappeared as quickly as it had come. 
 
 Count Valverde returned after a few moments of painful
 
 28 THE SECRET OE THE ANDES. 
 
 suspense. u It is the entrance," he said, " to a subterranea n 
 passage, which widens as it lengthens. But it is too dark 
 to see; light up a torch." 
 
 " But this time, Seiior Count," said Paredes, after having 
 lit the torch, " your Excellency will allow me to lead the 
 way. You, men, may follow us." 
 
 The fears of the Indians had disappeared. The curse of 
 Mama Euca attached only to the first man who should pass 
 through the opening. The Count, in their eyes, had know 
 ingly offered himself as the victim, and so they had nothing 
 to fear. Hence, they willingly obeyed their master's com 
 mand. The Mayordomo and Carrera, who had also de 
 scended into the ravine, entered last. And again the 
 thunder of Cotopaxi reverberated from the mountains. 
 
 The subterranean passnge expanded after a few steps. 
 It became high enough to allow the men to walk erect. 
 Cautiously, they threw the light of the torch on the path 
 before them, lighting up every foot of ground and of the 
 earth-walls around them as they proceeded. Suddenly 
 the noise of rushing waters struck their ears. At the same 
 time the ground disappeared before their feet. They had 
 reached the brink of a precipice. The passage was inter 
 sected by a deep ravine, of considerable width, through 
 which a mountain torrent rushed into deeper and darker 
 abysses with noisy rapidity. They bent over the brink, 
 arid looked down into the chasm. They could see the 
 water below them, and feel the spray on their cheeks, 
 but the light of their torch was too dim to enable them to 
 form an estimate of the chasm's depth. One thing was 
 clear, there was no way to descend into it. The passage 
 in which they found themselves, terminated abruptly, and 
 there were no steps or projections in the steep rocky bank 
 by the aid of which a descent might have been attempted. 
 Moreover, the rapidity of the torrent would not allow them 
 a foot-hold, even if they should let themselves down by 
 means of ropes and ladders. Thus far their discovery
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 29 
 
 seemed to have proved a barren one. They tested the 
 sides of the passage with their spades and daggers. They 
 plowed up the ground under their feet ; but the soil was 
 hard and rocky, and defied their instruments. Other 
 torches were lit, and the digging and boring continued for 
 over an hour, without the slightest result. No side-passage 
 leading out of the corridor which enclosed them could be 
 found. Again and again the subterranean ravine was in 
 spected, but it was of no avail. Tired and disappointed, 
 they abandoned the ungrateful task. 
 
 "Don Tomas," whispered Paredes to his Mayordomo, 
 " take these Indians out and forbid them under threats of 
 death to disclose to any living soul, but especially to any 
 white man, what we have seen here to-day." And after the 
 Mayordomo had taken the Indians out of the dark passage, 
 Paredes addressed his companions : " Now, gentlemen, we 
 may stop for to-day. We have found nothing, but this is 
 no proof that we shall find nothing hereafter. We must 
 come back a'nd give this hole a thorough overhauling. For 
 the present, however, we may come to one conclusion. Let 
 us keep this matter secret. If we tell of it, the whole 
 town will be here to-morrow, and we shall be cheated out 
 of the possible fruits of our discovery. There is no danger 
 that Mama Eucu will tell. These Indians never reveal 
 anything. And as to my own Indians, I vouch for them. 
 To-morrow, or whenever it may suit your pleasure, we may 
 come back again. And, in order to avoid suspicion, it will 
 be well for us to appear among our friends and acquaint 
 ances in the forenoon. We can meet here in the afternoon. 
 I shall send one of my Indians to you, Senor Count, for 
 some of your mining tools, but I should not advise the in 
 troduction of any new parties, even in a subordinate ca 
 pacity. Are your Lordships agreed ?" 
 
 The Count and Can-era consented, and the party left the 
 passage. Before they stepped into the open air, Paredes 
 stopped to examine the door. It was a simple plate of
 
 30 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 bronze, upon which the turf had been so carefully arranged 
 as to hide the plate completely on the outside. The plate 
 was inserted into a groove of masonry-work at the base, so 
 contrived that it fell back into its original position as soon 
 as it was lifted from the ground. The turf which hid it 
 must have been of one piece, for it had not only concealed 
 it, but it completely fitted in with the surrounding vege 
 tation. The plate, when covering the aperture, stood in a 
 position slanting slightly toward the mountain, so as to re 
 tain the sod on It. It was altogether an admirable, yet 
 simple piece of workmanship, highly creditable to the in 
 genuity of its Indian inventors. 
 
 Paredes carefully replaced the plate, and, with the aid of 
 Can-era, covered it with the original sod, filling up the in 
 terstices produced by the Mayordomo's iron bar with earth 
 and vegetation. The Indians silently looked on, waiting 
 for orders. 
 
 Count Valverde turned to the Mayordomo while the two 
 noblemen were at work covering up the entrance, and, 
 slipping a gold piece into his hand, asked him : 
 
 " What did that old woman say ?" 
 
 " Why should your Excellency care to know ?" 
 
 " But I want to know it, man. It must have been some 
 thing terrible ; for why should that Indian have braved 
 the wrath of his master rather than enter the passage? 
 Tell me the whole of it." 
 
 " I dislike to obey your Excellency. Your Excellency 
 might be sorry for it." 
 
 ' Thou doublest my curiosity. Give me a full transla 
 tion." 
 
 The Mayordomo reluctantly complied with Yalverde's 
 command, and slowly and hesitatingly reproduced in Span 
 ish the terrible curse of the old woman. 
 
 The Count's face turned white as he listened. Cold per 
 spiration started from his forehead, and his stout heart 
 sank as the man proceeded. Silently he followed the party
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 31 
 
 on their way borne, and to their attempts to draw him 
 into conversation he returned but short and inappropriate 
 answers. Silently he descended the hill with them on their 
 return to the city, and soon left them, after a short exchange 
 of civilities. What was it that made this brave man shrink 
 within himself and seek the privacy of his chamber? 
 What made him sit for hours that night, gazing into va 
 cancy, his head resting on his hands ? He did not notice the 
 fleeting hours and the approach of darkness. Ho did not 
 notice the entrance of his servant with lights, and it was 
 late at night before he aroused himself from his lethargy, 
 prostrated himself before a wooden crucifix suspended over 
 his bed, and sent up a long, fervent prayer. 
 
 Was it the remembrance of some occurrence in his past 
 life, that had thrown him into this unusual revery ? Wo 
 shall know in time. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE FOOL. 
 
 CARRERA was ashamed to tell his companions that he had 
 been on his way to Mama Rucu's cottage when he fell in 
 with their exploring party ; but as he could not have as 
 signed a suitable excuse for leaving them on the mountain, 
 he returned to the city with them, concluding to postpone 
 his visit to the Indian sorceress to the following day. 
 
 Carrera's wealthy uncle was the possessor of several 
 houses in the city of Quito, one of which he had placed at 
 the disposal of his nephew. 'At the door of this mansion 
 the young gentleman was welcomed in a mysterious 
 manner by his servant, Mariano. 
 
 " What is it, Mariano ? Who is that queer figure in the 
 doorwa}"?" 
 
 "Mariano looked around cautiously, and then laying
 
 32 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 his fingers to his lips, he said : It is El Loco (the Fool) ; 
 he brings a message for your Grace." 
 
 "A message for me ? From whom and who is El JJoco?" 
 
 " Does not your Grace i*emember him ? He is Mama 
 Hucu's Yanacona (servant or slave)." 
 
 "A message for me from Mama Eucu ! " said Carrera, 
 surprised. ""Well, we shall hear her messenger." And 
 thus saying, he entered the doorway, which, passing the 
 great staircase, led into one of the court-yards (pateos), 
 common to all the houses of Quito. 
 
 He beheld a queer figure. It was that of a little man, 
 almost a dwarf, of uncertain age, with a real or feigned ex 
 pression of mental aberration on his face, relieved by oc 
 casional flashes of cunning shrewdness. The man was 
 dressed miserably almost in rags. His head was very 
 large. His face was ugly but not repulsive. His feet, of 
 course, were bare. His arms were fleshless, but bony and 
 muscular. His chest and the upper part of his body be 
 tokened great strength, and seemed" to have developed at 
 the expense of his legs. He wore a tattered hat, which he 
 politely doffed at the approach of the nobleman, to whom 
 he bowed with a good-natured grin. There was fierceness 
 in his eyes, although their regular expression was that of 
 dreamy abstraction. Carrera remembered to have seen the 
 man before, but he had never taken special notice of him. 
 He also remembered that the imp had been pointed out to 
 him as a harmless lunatic, who was allowed to roam the 
 streets, an object of indifference or contemptuous pity, and 
 would starve if it were not for the support and protection 
 of Mama Rucu. Some looked upon him as the familiar spirit 
 of the old witch, but the general belief was that he was too 
 foolish to be of any service to her, other than that of a 
 common menial. 
 
 " Good evening to your Grace," said the Fool, for he 
 seemed to be known by no other name, slowly turning his 
 tattered hat in his hands. "May your Grace live many
 
 BOOK I. DEEAMS. 33 
 
 years. My mistress sends her regards to my Lord. My 
 mistress hopes that my Lord and all his family are in the 
 enjoyment of good health, and that my Lord has passed a 
 good night." 
 
 " It is well," interrupted Carrera. "Spare thy compli 
 ments and tell me what thy mistress wants of me." 
 
 "My mistress wishes to know," said the man slowly, 
 "why your Grace has not come. My mistress has been 
 waiting for my Lord these last two hours." 
 
 Carrera stood aghast. How could Mama Eucu know that 
 he had intended to visit her ? He fixed a sharp, piercing 
 glance on his servant, Mariano, who received it as uncon 
 cerned as if it were not intended for him. 
 
 "My mistress is still waiting for his Loi'dship," con 
 tinued the Fool. 
 
 "Why, man," said Carrera, "I do not understand thee." 
 
 " Your Lordship's Fool can speak the language of the 
 Viracochas (the white men) if Your Lordship should pre 
 fer." The conversation thus far had been in Quichua. 
 
 "I understand thy Inca language well enough," answered 
 Carrera, "but I do not understand why thy mistress should 
 have waited for me, and what thy mistress can want of 
 me." 
 
 " I am my mistress' servant," replied the Fool." " I carry 
 her messages. I know nothing of the business of my mis 
 tress." 
 
 " Well, give my regards to thy mistress, and tell her that 
 I shall see her tomorrow." 
 
 " But my mistress waits for your Lordship now," said 
 the man, nodding and grinning. 
 
 " It is too late now, I might not be back before the ring 
 ing of the night-bell." 
 
 "But your Grace will not come back at all to-night. 
 Your Grace will pass the night at the house of my mistress." 
 
 "Man, they rightly call thee a fool. I spend the night 
 at Mama Rucu's cottage ! What dost thou mean ?
 
 34 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 "I am a fool," the Indian rejoined meekly. I am yonr 
 Lordship's fool, and the servant of my. mistress. Your 
 Grace, I hope, is not afraid of Mama linen." 
 
 " But how can 1 stay there over night ? It is unheard of!'' 
 
 " And will remain unheard of! Your Lordship's visit to 
 Mama Kucu will not be known to any living soul, except 
 Mariano. To-morrow morning your Lordship will return 
 to this house, hale and hearty, and a much wiser man." 
 
 " Thou art bold, my boy!" 
 
 "I am a fool, my Lord." 
 
 Carrera stood irresolute. The invitation was so extraor 
 dinary and preposterous that he was undecided whether 
 to laugh or to get angry. And yet hotv could Mama Rucu 
 have divined his intention to visit her! It was strange 
 like a weird romance. His meditation was interrupted by 
 Mariano, who now approached the group, hat in hand. 
 
 " Will your Grace allow me a word " 
 
 " Certainly, my boy !" 
 
 "I have served your Lordship honestly and faithfully!" 
 
 "I have no complaint to make, Mariano." 
 
 "Your Grace has been the very best of masters to me, 
 and I love your Lordship " 
 
 " I believe it, Mariano. I should have said, ' I know it !' " 
 
 " Then allow your faithful servant to say but one word : 
 Your Lordship can trust yourself blindly to Mama Rucu." 
 
 Carrera made no reply. 
 
 "It is the first time that Mama Rucu has sent such a 
 message to any living Viracocha, lady or gentleman. 
 Mama Rucu seems to entertain a regard for your Lord 
 ship, which she entertains for no other gentleman of Quito. 
 Others seek her, while she has sent for your Grace. She 
 refuses so many, and she invites my master. For the Vir 
 gin's sake, go, amo; no harm will come to you." 
 
 " But if it should become known" 
 
 " The Fool is right ; it will never be known. Your
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 35 
 
 Lordship can trust me, and as to Mama Rucu, her word is 
 sacred." 
 
 " But if she is a witch" 
 
 "Master, I am a Christian, like jour Grace, and think 
 the new faith more powerful than the faith of my fathers ; 
 but as a Christian, I can tell your Grace that Mama Rucu, 
 heathen as she may be at heart, has done more good to her 
 fellow-beings than all your lawyers, doctors, and monks 
 will ever do. Go, Master !" 
 
 "Well, then," said Carrera, who, whatever his religious 
 scruples may have been, was too proud to allow his servant 
 to suspect him of fear, "bring my cloak and my mother's 
 cross and rosary. I shall fasten it to my belt, and defy 
 whatever of witchcraft there may be in the cottage." 
 
 Mariano was delighted, and hurried up the staircase to 
 comply with his master's orders. 
 
 "And now the Fool will beg your Lordship to listen to 
 him again!" said the messenger. "The streets are 
 crowded by mobs; it will be dark in a minute, and we 
 might be detained. If your Lordship will follow me, 1 
 shall lead your Grace through lanes and byways. Your 
 Grace will please to keep an eye on your Fool. If the 
 Fool slackens his pace, Your Lordship will do the same. 
 If the Fool hastens, your Grace will please to hasten like 
 wise. Is his Lordship ready?" 
 
 " I am ! Lead on ! Good night, Mariano !" 
 
 "The Holy Vii-gin bless you, Master!" said Maria-no; 
 and after Carrera had left, he pressed his arms to his 
 breast and muttered with a sigh : " Great Sun ! Great 
 Pachacamac! Let Mama Rucu's undertaking thrive, 
 whatever it may be !"
 
 36 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MAMA RTTCU. 
 
 It was a clear, beautiful night. The rainy season was 
 over. The rays of the moon played tenderly on the snowy 
 robes of Mt. Antisana in the east. The quietness of the 
 mountain solitude, where Mama Hucu's cottage stood, was 
 interrupted only by occasional detonations from Mt. Coto- 
 paxi. The great volcano had been active of late, and had 
 filled the public mind with apprehensions of new eruptions 
 and earthquakes. Clouds of smoke, too, were issuing from 
 the crater of Pichincha, while the city of Quito quietly 
 slumbered, as it were, in the lap of its dangerous neigh 
 bor. 
 
 The cottage of the old Indian woman stood in the en 
 trance of a ravine, which partly hid it from the outside 
 view. It was built of adobe, like most of the Indian huts, 
 although larger in size than others. It had no windows, 
 but only a door, which gave it light and air, and served as 
 a chimney when fires had to be built inside, and the smoke 
 could not escape sufficiently through the breaks of the 
 thatched roof. On a bench of adobes in front of the hut 
 sat the old witch when Carrera approached, with her 
 hands resting on her staff and her head leaning on hoi- 
 hands. She sat motionless and silent, and had no word of 
 welcome for her visitor. 
 
 " Here we are, Master," said the Fool. " I shall leave 
 you for the present. 1 shall not be far off, if your Grace 
 should want me." 
 
 " (rood evening, Mama Rucu !" said Carrera, who could 
 not entirely conquer a certain superstitious awe when he 
 found himself alone in this secluded place with one whom
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 37 
 
 public opinion designated as the greatest sorceress of the 
 kingdom of Quito. 
 
 Mama Rucu slowly raised her head, looked at him for "a 
 few moments, and then, with a strange tone of kindness, 
 said : 
 
 " Thou hast made me wait a long time." 
 
 " How could I know, Mother, that you were waiting for 
 me?" 
 
 " Didst thou not intend to come here early in the day?" 
 
 "How do you know that, Mamita? Had Mariano in 
 formed you?" 
 
 The old woman uttered a contemptuous laugh : "Mar 
 iano ! Do I want Mariano to teacli me what I know ? My 
 eyes are dim with age, but they can see farther and deeper 
 than thine will ever see. I knew thou wouldst come. It 
 was so ordained by a power unknown to you of the new 
 faith. Thy tarrying on the way was unnecessary. Seek 
 ing for treasure! Ha, ha, ha! A vain attempt! That 
 treasure exists, my son. I can tell thee that it exists, but 
 no Viracocha shall see it until its rightful owner shall show 
 it to him. You might as well attempt to level Mt. Pichin- 
 cha into the valley of Chillo, as to discover that secret. It 
 is the secret of our race, and our race will keep it until we 
 choose to reveal it. Wouldst thou see thy good friend Paredes ? 
 Heturn to the spot where you met this afternoon. Thou 
 wilt find him there in the bowels of the earth with torches 
 and spades probing every inch of ground and finding 
 nothing. To-morrow his occupation will be gone. To 
 morrow the passage will bo closed and no trace of it will 
 ever be discovered." 
 
 Carrera was lost in astonishment. He did not know 
 what to make of this woman, and the belief inJier witch 
 craft grew firmly upon his mind. 
 
 "I have confidence in thee, my son. Thou art better 
 than thy race, although I fear thou art weaker than thy 
 inferiors. Thou hast acted well on many occasions. Think
 
 38 TDE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 not that our rucc is ungrateful or nndiscerning. Stupid, 
 torpid, brutal my people may appear ; but there is a fire 
 within them which, let the proper time arrive, will burst 
 forth into devouring flames. Look thou at yon volcano. 
 It sleepeth ! Peace and quietness reign in the valley ; an 
 inoffensive cloud of smoke and vapors curls up from the 
 mouth of the crater; in it and around it everything is in 
 repose. Yet, let Pachacamac but give the word, and roar 
 ing thunders will strike terror to the human heart; flames 
 will burst forth from the crater ; a rain of ashes will darken 
 the air ; rocks and pumice-stone will be thrown in every 
 direction, and the destructive earthquake will shake the 
 land, burying cities, swallowing rivers, rending mountains 
 asunder, and creating dreary lakes where flourishing vil 
 lages had stood. Such is our race. We are the children 
 of Pichincha, Cotopaxi and Sara Urcu, hiding the thunder 
 bolts of Death under the snowy robe of Peace ! " 
 
 The old woman relapsed into her revery, and a long 
 pause followed, during which Carrera stood irresolute, un 
 certain whether to remain or to go. At last she continued : 
 "I speak to thee, my son, as I have not spoken to any liv 
 ing Viracocha. I have confidence in thee. Thou art bet 
 ter than the others. Thy heart is pure and good ; and a 
 great future awaits thee. But it must be carved out by 
 thyself. Listen ! The Viracochas are the conquerors. 
 We, of the Shyri race, are the conquered. The two races 
 are enemies. But Pachacamac in his infinite goodness, 
 sometimes allows men and women to be born who may be 
 the harbingers of peace, and put an end to the deadly feud 
 by divine conciliation. If I mistake not, some such doc 
 trine is taught by the priests of the new faith. But thy 
 race belie it by their actions. I have heard the white men 
 preach the law of love, while they hunted down, racked, 
 burned, and enslaved my people. Their love is death. But 
 there are times when Pachacamac creates men and women 
 who can change sadness into joy, hatred into love, war into
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 39 
 
 peace. These men, like Maneo of Pern, and Duchieela of 
 Purruhd may become the benefactors of their race, if they 
 accept the mission which God has assigned to them. A 
 great mission has been reserved for thee, my son. Whether 
 thou wilt accept it or not, I can not tell. The future has 
 not yet been fully revealed to me. I fear thou wilt shrink 
 from the dangers and struggles of the task. I confide in 
 thy goodness, but not in thy resolution. Still it is meet 
 that I should disclose to thee what will await thee in either 
 case." 
 
 "I do not understand you, Mamita." 
 
 " Thou shalt not understand me, at present. The time 
 has not yet come to reveal what Pachacamac, or Christ, as 
 th}* race call Him, expects of thee. What hast thou come 
 for? To consult me about little trivial things ! About thy 
 self-inflicted misfortunes, thy losses at the gaming table, 
 thy troubles with thine uncle, thy foolish longing for a girl 
 who is unworthy of thee! Ha, ha, ha! Dost thou think 
 that I would bother with these trifles? Dost thou imagine 
 that for such I should have waited here by the hour, strain 
 ing my old eyes to discern the great future, and preparing 
 the wonderful potion, which, for the time being, will make 
 thy vision as clear as mine? Foolish boy ! I pity thee. I 
 love thee for thy kindness to my people ; but I do not care 
 for thy trifling and childish sorrows, when the deep sorrows 
 of millions require my attention, when the welfare of my 
 race is at stake. And yet I shall be good to thee, Vira- 
 cocha. Thou needst not fear the old Cam a sea ;* she will 
 not harm a hair on thy head. She will try to relieve thy 
 troubles and protect thee from the results of thy follies. 
 She will try to make a man of thee; but thou must BE a 
 man, Julio de Carrera, and stand by what thy heart ac 
 knowledges to'be right. Thy people say, I am in league 
 with the Prince of Darkness. Believe it not, my son ! It 
 
 * "Witch or sorceress.
 
 40 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 is not for evil, but for good that I strive. I want to dry 
 the tears and gladden the hearts of millions. I know our 
 race has succumbed to yours, and the Indian is not strong 
 enough to drive the foreigner from the land of my fathers. 
 But 1 see a way of securing the happiness of both races, of 
 restoring my people to their rights as human beings, with 
 out injury to thee and thine. This is the great object which 
 I seek to accomplish before I die. My sands of life are run 
 ning fast. My days are numbered. I have not much time 
 to lose. Art thou ready to behold what I shall show thee 
 to-night? Two visions thou shalt see. Two roads are be 
 fore thee. Wilt thou take to the right? I shall show thee 
 what awaits thee at the end. Wilt thou take to the left? I 
 shall show thee what there is to the left. If thou art a 
 coward, if thou fearest like a child, if thou believest the 
 stories with which monks and nurses or fools may have 
 frightened thy ignorant mind, retrace thy steps. Go home 
 to thy bed and forget what thou hast heard. If thou art a 
 man who believes in God, no matter how thou callest Him, 
 and in doing good to thy fellow creatures, come with me. 
 The potion is ready, the veil will be lifted, thine eyes shall 
 see! Art thou prepared?" 
 
 Carrera hesitated, doubted, feared. But he had gone so 
 far that he would have considered it dishonorable or cow 
 ardly to recede, and this consideration prevailed over his 
 scruples of religion and the terrors of superstition so pow 
 erful in those days. 
 
 " I am prepared, Marnita !" 
 
 " Then, come," she said, rising from her seat. " Thou 
 art welcome to the house of Mama Rucu. There was a 
 time when I should have received thee in a palace. It is a 
 miserable hut to which I invite thee now. And yet I might 
 live in splendor. I might buy more acres than thine eyes 
 could survey, if I would take for myself what belongs to 
 my race. But I shall share the fate of my kindred, and
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 41 
 
 live as they live, sleep as they sleep, and die as my betters 
 have died. Come in !" 
 
 CHAFTEE VIII. 
 
 THE FIRST VISION. 
 
 Carrera turned to follow her, when she motioned him to 
 stand back : " Wait ! One word before I receive thee under 
 my roof. I ask thy promise, as a cavalier, that what thou 
 shalt hear or see to-night shall remain buried in thine own 
 bosom. Whatever I do for thee to-night, is for thee alone, 
 and must remain thy secret as well as mine." 
 
 "Your caution is unnecessary, Mother," said Carrera. 
 "Nobody shall know that I have been here. I promise 
 silence, on the honor of a gentleman." 
 
 " G-ood ! And now. come in !" 
 
 They entered. The interior of the hut was divided into 
 two compartments by a curtain, and, like all Indian cot 
 tages, was without flooring. The cuyes (a species of guinea 
 pigs, which almost every Ecuadorian Indian owns), fright 
 ened by the appearance of n stranger, took to their holes. 
 A dim candle burned on a primitive table. On an adobe 
 bench, protruding from the Avail, a bed had been impro 
 vised. Pots and crockery of Indian workmanship were 
 piled up in a corner. The old woman lifted the curtain. 
 A slow fire of aromatic woods was burning under a small 
 kettle, and a couch of sheep-skins and shawls was placed 
 near the fire. 
 
 " Make thyself comfortable, my son ! " said Mama Eucu. 
 " Take off thy sword, hat, and cloak. Nobody shall touch 
 these things. There is a bed which I have made for thee. 
 Thou wilt need it." She then hobbled to the fire, and took 
 a calabash, which supplied the place of a drinking vessel,
 
 42 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 and, with a ladle, poured into it some of the liquid that was 
 boiling in the kettle. 
 
 " What I have here is a great and powerful decoction. 
 It is made from a vine growing far, far away from here, on 
 the banks of the river Napo, on the other side of yon 
 mountain range. The vine is called Samarucu, the consola 
 tion of old age. Prepared, with the addition of a few in 
 nocuous herbs, it confers upon those who drink of it the 
 gift to see the future. It is harmless. I have been taking 
 it for many years." 
 
 The author of this truthful narrative might here insert 
 that the Samarucu is still in use among the uncivilized In 
 dians of the Napo Province. The most wonderful virtues 
 are ascribed to it by the natives. Its effects are similar to 
 those produced by the hashish of the Orientals. 
 
 " Take a sip !" said Mama Rucu, " and we shall see how 
 it affects thee." 
 
 Carre ra obeyed. 
 
 "Now, listen. The person thou shalt see now is proba 
 bly the one uppermost in thy mind at present. Whoever 
 she may be, she will be the clue to what thou shalt see 
 next." 
 
 Suddenly Carrera made a start, and, throwing out his 
 arms, he made a few hasty steps toward the rear wall of 
 the hut, and exclaimed : " Dolores ! " 
 
 " I thought so ! " said the old woman. 
 
 " She is gone ! " said Carrera, passing his hands over his 
 face and rubbing his eyes. "And how natural and life-like 
 she stood before me there, near the wall. I could have 
 sworn she was there in reality." 
 
 "It is well ! " muttered the witch. " Thou art suscepti 
 ble. Thou shalt see a great deal. Now, drink the rest. 
 Take it all. Leave not a drop in the cup. It is a most 
 precious draught." 
 
 Carrera obeyed, without hesitation. 
 
 " Stretch thyself upon that bed. Put thy cloak and
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 43 
 
 sword under thy head. Lie still, and wait for what will 
 come. Close thine eyes. It is well ! And now listen to 
 ray words. It was Dolores that appeared first. Well, 
 then, the great Moon, under whose rays we are now repos 
 ing, and whose power is in the draught thou hast taken, 
 will show to thee, in a long series of visions, what awaits 
 thee, if thou iinkest thy fortunes to those of the woman, 
 Dolores. Lie still, my son, and confide in me. I shall as 
 sist thee, if the potion should prove too strong for thee." 
 And, with these words, the old woman sat down on her 
 couch before the fire. Perfect stillness reigned in the cot 
 tage, interrupted only by the chirping of the crickets, and, 
 at rare intervals, by the detonations of Mount Cotopaxi. 
 
 A feeling of delicious languor came over Carrera, and 
 lazily he stretched himself and closed his eyes. He soon 
 felt as if he were at home again. There was his room, his 
 bookcase, his bed, his windows. There was Mariano, too, 
 beckoning him to corne. He followed him into the recep 
 tion room. A lady, deeply veiled, stood before him. An 
 other veiled lady stood in the door. The first lady lifted 
 her veil, and he beheld Dolores. She spoke to him. She 
 spoke long, earnestly, appealingly ; but he could not catch 
 her words. She drew nearer to him. Her hands were in 
 his. Her eyes met his, and, in the next moment, she was 
 in his arms. But soon the scene changed. A mass of peo 
 ple filled the street before -his house. They cheered him 
 wildly as he showed himself in the door. Hats were flung 
 up, and thundering vivas rent the air. But suddenly the 
 faces and voices of the men changed from joy to madness, 
 from acclamations to fury and imprecations. Knives and 
 daggers were raised against him. He could discern the 
 brutal face of Castro, the notorious chief of the ruffians of 
 Quito, who looked at him with the fierceness of hatred and 
 rage. Carrera was seized by the mob. His clothes were 
 torn from him. He was hurled into the street and carried 
 away by a surging mass of humanity. He felt a stinging
 
 44 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 pain in his back. He felt the hot blood trickling down his 
 limbs. The maddened crowd surrounded him with wild 
 shrieks. He felt like one oppressed by a terrible night 
 mare. He uttered a loud, piercing scream. Mama Hucu 
 quietly arose from her couch, walked up to his bedside, and 
 placed her hand on his burning forehead. It had a sooth 
 ing effect. The anguish under which he had been laboring 
 passed away; but he felt crushed and helpless. The pain 
 ful vision had disappeared. His tormentors were gone ; 
 but his strength would not return. He lay in a pool of 
 blood, his own blood, in an out-of-the-way part of the city, 
 under a garden wall. He heard the voices of the fiends 
 that had tormented him, but they were away in the dis 
 tance. At last he saw two ladies hurry by, followed by 
 two or three male servants. He recognized Dolores again. 
 She looked at him. She must have seen him. Why did 
 she not stop ? He called her by her name. She must have 
 heard him. Why did she not stop ? Again a dreadful 
 feeling of anguish came over him. He fainted away. 
 
 How long he thus lay in a swoon he could not realize. 
 Suddenly it was clear to him that he was in Mama JRucu's 
 cottage again. But the scene was changed. Several In 
 dian men and women were in the room whom he did not 
 know. They bent over him wistfully and shook their 
 heads, exchanging low whispers. Where had they come 
 from? "What did they want? He tried to raise him 
 self from his bed ; but again he felt Mama Eucu's hand 
 upon his forehead, gently pressing down his head, and he 
 heard her whisper: "Be quiet!" A long pause followed, 
 during which he saw nothing. Impenetrable darkness 
 surrounded him and kept him inclosed until it became 
 painful. At last lights broke through the darkness. 
 What lights were they? Tapers? Yes, tapers burning 
 upon an altar. He was in a church. He saw the pictures 
 and the statues of the saints. He found himself kneeling 
 before the altar, with Dolores by his side. The priest
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 45 
 
 stood over them. The peals of the organ reverberated 
 through the edifice. It was a wedding he witnessed his 
 own wedding, and Dolores was the bride ; and the organ 
 kept on pealing and pealing without end, until he saw 
 nothing. Darkness surrounded him again, but the organ 
 continued to play. At last he saw a new sight. A man 
 was groping his way through the darkness. It was 
 Paredes. How he hated him! And yet he followed him, 
 his sword clutched in his right hand, ready to stab him 
 to the heart. Inexplicable pangs lacerated his bosom, but 
 he could not realize what made him suffer. And now 
 Dolores appeared again, but there was no love in her eyes. 
 The expression of her face was haughty and cold. He 
 joined her, and they walked on together in silence and 
 estrangement for many a weary mile, over mountains and 
 rivers, and through forests and defiles, and every now and 
 then he saw, peeping through the branches of the trees or 
 through the bushes, as if lurking along the road, the hated 
 face of Pa'redes. 
 
 At last a forest received him, such ?s he had never seen 
 before. It was a forest of gigantic trees and impenetrable 
 brushwood. The reports of arquebuses broke through the 
 stillness. Indian arrows whirred through the air. It was 
 war, with its terrors, that now came on him. He felt that 
 u battle was raging around him. Sometimes he was in it ; 
 sometimes it was far away from him. At last an Indian 
 woman stood before him. Her face and figure were familiar 
 to him. Her appearance carried him back through a long 
 vista of years. His heart went out to her. She spoke to 
 him. He heard her voice. It was a voice of inexpressible 
 kindness and sadness. She spoke but one word. She said : 
 " Fly !" Sadly he pointed to a tattered banner which was 
 stuck into the earth. She averted her face and wept. He 
 took her hand, kissed it, and bathed it with his tears. 
 Deep, unfathomable regret, and the abject sadness of 
 despair now [seized upon his soul, and his whole frame was
 
 46 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 shaken with sobs. The woman in the meantime hud dis 
 appeared, and again the din of battle sounded through the 
 forest. Again he was bleeding from many wounds. lie 
 dragged himself from tree to tree, passing through a, rain 
 of arrows. He heard the howls of savages. Naked Indi 
 ans, such as he had never seen before, with war-paint on 
 their faces, closed in upon him. His sword broke. He 
 dropped upon his knee and uttered a last prayer. Then 
 blow fell upon blow, until consciousness and life ebbed 
 away. A leaden heaviness weighed him down ; a deathly 
 sickness seized him, and he broke into a loud and agoniz 
 ing groan. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE SECOND VISION. 
 
 AT this moment Mama Kucu dashed a handful of cold 
 water into his face, and he awoke. "Bathe thy hands and 
 face in this basin of cold water. Thy first vision is over." 
 
 Carrera did as he was told, and the effects of the potion 
 passed away, leaving only a certain faintness, which he soon 
 overcame. 
 
 " By the Virgin, Mother, you have made me see strange 
 things 1" 
 
 u jSTot_I," said the old woman ; " it was not I. It was the 
 wonderful power of the Samarucu. Art thou ready for 
 the second draught?" 
 
 "How long have I been asleep?" 
 
 "Perhaps an hour." The old woman had filled her cala 
 bash from the fluid in the kettle again, and presented it to 
 her visitor. " Take a mouthful at first." 
 
 " Must it be now ?" 
 
 "It need not be now; but thou wilt require a good ;
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 47 
 
 sound, long sleep after the two visions, and the sooner they 
 are ended the better it will be for thee." 
 
 " Shall 1 have to suffer such agonies again?" 
 
 "Not this time. I do not know what thou hast seen; 
 but as, during thy sleep, I pierced the veil which covers 
 thy future, 1 am almost certain that thy second vision will 
 be pleasanter than the first. Take a sip, my son !" 
 
 "Your will shall be done, Mamitu! Here is to your 
 health !" He swallow.ed a mouthful of the potion, and 
 handed the calabash back to the woman. Again the effect 
 was instantaneous. Again he gave a sudden start, and, 
 stretching forward his arms, he exclaimed : "The mysteri 
 ous Indian maiden ! There she stands !" 
 
 "Glory to Pachacamac!" shouted the witch. "Hail to 
 thee, Viracocha !" 
 
 "Who is this wonderful apparition? Her forehead is 
 encircled with a diadem, holding a large emerald of ex 
 quisite beauty." 
 
 " The emblem of her royal race. May the great Sun 
 bless the last of his living children !" 
 
 "She is gone!" said Carrera, with a sigh of disappoint 
 ment. " Oh, that I could see her again !" 
 
 " Thou shalt see her again, my son ! Thou shalt see her 
 again !" repeated the old woman, chuckling with satisfac 
 tion and delight. "Just finish this wonderful draught; 
 the potion of life; the key to the future; the unraveler 
 of all mysteries; the godlike Samarucu. Do not spill a 
 drop of the precious liquid." 
 
 Carrera obeyed silently, and drained the cup to the last 
 drop. 
 
 "And now do as thou didst before. Lie down and keep 
 quiet." 
 
 And again he imagined he was in his bed-room. Again 
 Mariano beckoned him to step into his reception-room. 
 Again he saw the two veiled or masked ladies. And again 
 Dolores approached him and spoke to him, long, earnestly,
 
 48 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 appealingly. He could not understand her words, but 
 they seemed to produce no impression upon him. At last 
 she turned to depart, and politely he escorted her down 
 stairs. With a formal bow he took leave of her. Shortly 
 afterwards the scene changed. Again his house was sur 
 rounded by a tumultuous mass of men, whose cheers and 
 acclamations greeted him as he showed himself in the 
 doorway. But this time their welcome did not change to 
 rage. He was carried away by them, but only smiling 
 faces surrounded him, and only joyful sounds struck his 
 ear. He was borne along, on the shoulders of men, until 
 the procession halted in front of the government palace. 
 At the same time another procession filed into the square. 
 It was a long procession of Indians, headed by warriors 
 carrying a palanquin, similar to those on which the ancient 
 Incas were carried by their faithful subjects, and in it stood 
 erect and majestic, yet full of indescribable grace and 
 modesty, the mysterious Indian maiden with the emerald 
 diadem. 
 
 On the steps of the palace she alighted, and was received 
 by him. Hand in hand they ascended the staircase, under 
 the enthusiastic acclamations of the multitude, while sa 
 lutes were firing and the church-bells ringing. His heart 
 swelled with pride and tenderness. 
 
 The scene changed, and the din of battle again fell upon 
 his ear. Yet it was not a hopeless and agonizing struggle 
 as before, but victory seemed to be with him wherever he 
 went. Again he traversed the tropical forest ; but this 
 time the beautiful Indian maiden was at his side. The 
 dark face of Paredes disturbed him no longer, but the 
 bright and open countenance of young Sanchez smiled on 
 him and his companion. Suddenly the ocean expanded 
 before his view. Ships were in the harbor, men-of-war 
 carrying many guns, But it was not the well-known flag 
 of Spain ; it was the cross of St. George and other strange 
 emblems that floated in the breeze. A number of boats
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 49 
 
 set out to receive him and his Indian bride, and the guns 
 of all the ships belched forth their thunders as he stood on 
 the deck of the main vessel, surrounded by smiling men 
 in strange uniforms and speaking unknown tongues. The 
 sounds of martial music rent the air, and the vivas would 
 not end. 
 
 Other battles followed, ci'owned with new victories. 
 Thousands of Indians followed him, wherever he went. 
 The troops of Quito were pitted -against the regular troops 
 of Spain. But they were not unaided. Those strange 
 soldiers, who spoke unknown tongues, were with him and 
 made his army successful in every encounter. At last he 
 found himself at Quito again, but not in his own house. 
 It was a palace he inhabited, and men of first quality sur 
 rounded him and did him reverence. 
 
 He was not oppressed by darkness and anguish, as 
 during his first vision, but brightness and happiness 
 greeted him. every where. The beautiful Indian was again 
 at his side, and threw her arms around him. A feeling of 
 delicious repose spread over him, and he fell into an en 
 chanting swoon, which was followed by a loss of conscious 
 ness, and a long, unbroken, dreamless sleep. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 TOA. 
 
 Whether he slept hours or days, he did not know. When 
 he awoke the rays of the sun greeted him through the 
 open door of the cottage, and the Fool stood smiling before 
 his bed, awaiting his orders. 
 
 Can-era gazed at him lazily, but said nothing. He had 
 not yet realized where he was. He tried to recall the
 
 50 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 scenes of the previous night, but a pleasant feeling of 
 languor prevented all mental exertion. 
 
 " Good morning, your Grace ! " said the Fool after a 
 pause. "I hope your Grace has passed a good night." 
 
 Carrera again looked at the man, and tried to remember 
 who he was. The Indian seemed to understand his inquir 
 ing gaze: "I am your Lordship's Fool," he said in an ex 
 planatory manner. " I brought your Lordship to Mama 
 Kucu's cottage last night." 
 
 <; What time is it?" asked Carrera at last, without at 
 tempting to rise. 
 
 "It must be seven or eight o'clock, your Lordship." 
 
 "Have I slept here all night?" 
 
 " Most certainly your Excellency slept here all night." 
 
 " Where is Mama Eucu ? " 
 
 " She went out to collect medicine herbs with the dew 
 drops on them. There is great power iu the morning 
 dew." 
 
 ''Have I been here alone?" 
 
 "Not alone, my Lord. Your Lordship's Fool was in 
 attendance, preparing your Lordship's breakfast." 
 
 "When will Mama Eucu be back ? " 
 
 " I do not know, Master." 
 
 " But I want to see her before I go." 
 
 " I do not know, Master." 
 
 " Did she go far away ? " 
 
 " I do not know, Master. But I know a cup of chocolate 
 will revive your Lordship's spirits. Shall I bring it?" 
 
 The Fool set the table, and Carrera, who had not supped 
 the evening before, partook of a most inviting breakfast. 
 After he had finished, the Fool cleared away the dishes, 
 and disappeared. The young man then tried to recall the 
 events of the preceding night. He remembered that he 
 had passed through two distinct concatenations of dreams 
 or visions, but they had become somewhat obliterated and 
 blended in his mind. He endeavored to separate them in
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 51 
 
 his recollection, and to trace the order in which the sights 
 he saw had succeeded each other. He owned that they 
 were unintelligible to him. The occurrences in which he 
 had played a part, seemed to be entirely inexplicable. 
 How could such things happen, and why should they hap 
 pen to him? His visions could not have been the fore 
 shadowing of real events. They must have been the result 
 of the beverage he had taken. They appeared unnatural 
 and unreal to him as the hallucinations of a heavy night 
 mare. The object of his visit to Mama Eucu had not been 
 accomplished. He had come to consult her about his own 
 affairs, and she had given him a potion which, for the time 
 being, must have disordered his brain, and filled it with 
 the phantoms of a madman's fancy. And yet there was a 
 continuity of evolution in what he had seen which was 
 astonishing. But what could it all mean? How could he, 
 a peaceable and inoffensive youth, become the hero of 
 events of such magnitude and violence? 
 
 "While he was thus pondering, a female voice of wonder 
 ful melodiousness struck his ear, the same voice that he 
 had heard in his dreams. 
 
 " Is Mama Eucu at home ? " 
 
 " She is not ! " said the Fool. 
 
 " When will she be back ? " 
 
 " I do not know." Suddenly the Fool gave a half-sup 
 pressed exclamation of surprise, and then whispered some 
 words which Carrera could not hear. He determined to 
 see the possessor of that voice, and stepped before the door 
 of the cottage. But he saw nothing extraordinary. A 
 female, dressed in the garb of a common Indian, stood be 
 fore him. Her face was covered with a shawl in the 
 fashion which the Indians had learned from the Spanish 
 women, leaving but one eye exposed. And even that was 
 shaded by the folds of her heavy shawl ; and Carrera, 
 blinded by the glaring rays of the sun as he emerged from 
 the darkness of the hut, could not discern anything.
 
 52 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 The Fool stood hat in hand, looking doubtfully from 
 one to the other. 
 
 After a long scrutinizing look at Carrera, the woman 
 said : " I shall wait ! " and again, Carrera was satisfied that 
 it was the voice he had heard in his dreams. 
 
 " Will you take a seat, Nifla?" he said beckoning her to 
 the bench in front of the house. 
 
 (i Thank you, Sefior." said the woman, and sat down ; but 
 she bowed her head so low that Carrera could not look into 
 her uncovered eye. The Fool, by this time, had disap 
 peared. 
 
 "You are not of Quito, Nina," continued Carrera. 
 
 " I have followed Dolia Carmen Duchicela from Eio- 
 bumba," replied the woman, without looking up. 
 
 " Do you belong to her suite ?" 
 
 " I do not." 
 
 " To whom do you belong ?" 
 
 " To myself first ; to the Shyri Toa next." 
 
 " The Shyri Toa !" exclaimed Carrera. " Is there such a 
 person as the Shyri Toa?" 
 
 " There is." 
 
 "Where is she?" 
 
 "Everywhere, and nowhere. She is a wanderer without 
 a resting-place in the land of her fathers." 
 
 Carrera was strangely fascinated by the melodious in 
 tonation the Indian gave to her words. But still more the 
 mystery of the Shyri Toa attracted him. Should he be the 
 chosen one of all the men of Quito for whom it was to be 
 solved ? This woman knew her, and belonged to her suite. 
 He would pursue his inquiries. 
 
 " Why does she hide herself?" 
 
 " Why does she hide herself?" repeated the woman mus 
 ingly. " Why does she hide herself? Because she wants 
 to live. Not for herself. Life has no charm for the home 
 less fugitive; but she wants to live for her race, whose 
 rightful sovereign and last hope she is. If she were to show
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 53 
 
 herself in public, she would be seized and imprisoned by 
 the Spaniards. She would lose her liberty, and very prob 
 ably her life. 
 
 But why, Nifla?" 
 
 " Because, while she lives, the Indians recognize her as 
 their rightful Queen. Her commands would be obeyed 
 from the banks of the G-uayasand Esmeraldasto the moun 
 tains of Pasto ; from the Tumbez to the Napo. While she 
 lives, her people have a head which thinks, a mind which 
 plans for them, a will that directs them. Destroy her, and 
 the Quito Indians are n herd without a shepherd, and their 
 subjection will be complete. While she lives, the Indian 
 heart still hopes. With her death, dies the last hope of our 
 race." 
 
 "And do you really think the Spaniards would kill her?" 
 
 " Did they not kill Tupac Amaru in Peru? What had 
 he done? Peaceably he had held his court in the inacces 
 sible fastnesses of the Eastern Cordillera, whither no white 
 man had ever penetrated, except as an applicant or a fugi 
 tive. They inveigled him by treacherous promises. They 
 entrapped him into their power. He trusted the promises 
 of the men who had betrayed Atahualpa. For such con 
 fiding credulity he paid with his life. They murdered him 
 without cause, without trial, without excuse. The Vira- 
 cochas thought their dominion was not secure while Tupac 
 Amaru lived, and, therefore, they murdered him. Would 
 they not do to Toa Duchicela, the Shyri Queen of Quito, 
 what they did to Tupac Amaru, the Inca of Peru ? No, 
 Senor, Toa must hide from the Spaniards, if Toa wants to 
 live." 
 
 Carrera was deeply moved, not only by the words of the 
 Indian, but by his rapidly growing conviction that this wo 
 man, of such unusual intelligence and elegant grace, who 
 hid her face from him so carefully, could not be a low-born 
 Indian. If her appearance was not another vision, a mere
 
 54 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 continuation of his dreams of the previous night, ho felt 
 assured that she must be the Shyri Queen herself. 
 
 "And, moreover," continued the woman, " what are your 
 countrymen seeking now? What have they been seeking 
 since Benalcazar entered the burning ruins of ancient 
 Quito? The Treasure, the great Treasure of Atahualpa 
 and Ruminagui ! If they could seize Toa Duchicela, 
 they would put her to the rack. They would break her 
 Jimbs on the wheel to extort from her the secret of the 
 Treasure. Of course they would fail. Toa would die with 
 sealed lips, as so" many of her race have died. But why 
 should she needlessly expose herself to these tortures? 
 She is safe as long as the secret of her abode remains the 
 secret of her own race. No Indian will betray her." 
 
 " But was not Rumiiiagui betrayed to the Spaniards by 
 his own servants ?" 
 
 " Yes, but he was a usurper, a tyrant, a rebel who had 
 put to death all of the members of the royal house whom 
 he could get into his power. The Indians owed no allegi 
 ance to Ruminagui." 
 
 ' It must be a sad and joyless existence," said Carrera, 
 sympathetically, " to hide away in huts and hovels or in 
 the wilderness." 
 
 " It is, Sefior," said the woman, deeply affected. " It is ! 
 I know the Shyri Toa well. She is but human, and but a 
 woman, with the instincts, desires, feelings, hopes, and the 
 heart of a woman, yearning for love, for domestic happi 
 ness, and peace. She is not a savage, Sefior. She appre 
 ciates the comforts, the luxuries, the refinements of civili 
 zation. It is natural that she should lon<? for a home, that 
 
 O i 
 
 she should long to live in a pleasant and permanent abode, 
 by the side of a husband, the mother of children, and sur 
 rounded by loving friends; that she should yearn for rest 
 and security, instead of being driven forth into the snowy 
 paramos of the mountain, or into the rainy lonliness of the 
 tropical forest. Why should she not long for a sheltering
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 55 
 
 roof over her head, for a homestead, however modest, 
 which she might permanently call her own, instead of for 
 ever shifting from place to place ; from the mountain to the 
 valley; from the ravine to the jungle ; fleeing at the ap 
 proach of danger, like the wild beast of the forest, ever 
 changing her abode for fear of discovery, ever hiding like 
 a criminal, ever wandering like an outcast in the land which 
 is her's by right divine ?" 
 
 " Lady," said Carrera, with deep emotion, " you make 
 me ashamed of my own race. Oh, that I could say that 
 the fears of your Qtreen were unfounded." 
 
 "But you can not, Senor, you know you can not. The 
 Shyri Toa might trust herself to you, perhaps to a few no 
 ble Viracochas, but she can not trust herself to your rulers, 
 or to your people. The mystery of her existence is her 
 only safety." 
 
 " But thus far she has not trusted any one of us. She 
 has not shown herself to white men at all." 
 
 "Are you sure that she has not? You, Senor, may have 
 seen her yourself. But if she keeps away even from the 
 best of your race, even from those who have shown sym 
 pathy for the Indians, and a feeling heart for their suffer 
 ings and there is no lack of such good men she does it 
 for their sake. She is safe enough herself. No power on 
 earth could take her while she confines her secret to her 
 own race. But she might compromise her white friends, if 
 she had any. They might be questioned by the authorities, 
 and exposed to vexatious inquiries and demands. They 
 might even be required to assist in her arrest, and their 
 refusal would involve them into difficulties. The Seiiora 
 Toa is too proud to expose her friends to dangers 
 on her own account. She would not exact sacrifices from 
 those who owe her no allegiance. As to the Indians, she 
 has a right to their sacrifices, and requites them by a con 
 tinuous self-sacrifice. To watch over the welfare of her 
 race ; to neglect no means and no opportunity to ameliorate
 
 56 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 their condition, and to lessen their sufferings, or to direct 
 the hurricane of their long pent-up indignation, if it should 
 have to break forth, is the great and on\y object of her ar 
 duous, joyless, restless, and, perhaps, hopeless life." 
 
 "And I hope," said Carrera, "that noble, magnanimous, 
 self-sacrificing lady will also be discreet and generous 
 enough not to sacrifice the lives and fortunes of thousands 
 of both races, in a fruitless endeavor to array an unarmed 
 and undisciplined mass of untutored Indians, against the 
 genius and organization of a superior civilization which, so 
 far, has proved invincible, not only in the New World, but 
 likewise in the Old." 
 
 "Don Julio de Carrera," said the girl solemnly, and for 
 the first time turning her uncovered eye upon him, brilliant 
 with the fire of enthusiasm, indignation, and unyielding 
 courage, "you are a stranger to me; a stranger to the 
 Shyri Toa. I know you only by report. I know your 
 heart beats with sympathy for the outraged and the op 
 pressed, and that more than once you have protected the 
 children of my race, in spite of personal danger to your 
 self. The Shyri Toa knows it, and respects you for it ; 
 and if it should ever be in her power to show you her 
 gratitude, she would do so. But what her plans may be 
 for the unknown future ; what she will do, or not do ; from 
 what sacrifices she will shrink, and what sacrifices of lives 
 and happiness she will make, are questions she will debate 
 with her own conscience, and with those who represent the 
 ro}-al house of Atabualpa and his nobility in her councils. 
 Death, under circumstances, may be preferable to life, and 
 the destruction or self-immolation of a race may be prefer 
 able to eternal oppression and degradation. But the Shyri 
 Toa is not a wild visionary, Sefior Carrera ; she will weigh 
 these matters well. The time may come, and, perhaps, has 
 come, when the white natives of this country will be as 
 impatient of Spanish oppression, with all its crushing ex 
 tortions and humiliations, as the Indians are of their
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 57 
 
 hard task-masters. Then, perhaps, both currents may bo 
 directed into the same channel ; then, perhaps, a combina 
 tion may be effected for the deliverance of both. But I 
 shall not trouble you with these dreams, Seiior ; I see 
 Mama Kucu slowly descending the slope of Rucu Pichin- 
 cha, and our chat will soon be at an end." 
 
 " Seiiora," said Carrera, " I have listened with wonder, 
 and what you said has taken root in my soul. 1 shall pon 
 der over your words ; but I want to see the noble lady who 
 has spoken them. There is no use of further disguise, 
 Lady Toa ! No one but a Queen would have spoken as 
 you have. 1 am a gentleman who, whatever his failings 
 may be, has never been charged with a breach of faith. 
 Your Ladyship's secret will be safe with me. I shall die 
 rather than betray it. 
 
 " I know it, Don Julio ! I know you must be loyal as 
 as your heart is good, and to you, the first of all the Vira- 
 cochas of Quito and Peru, I have shown, and shall again 
 show, my face. Behold ! " she said, throwing back her 
 shawl, and then slowly dropping it down to her waist. " Be 
 hold, then, the unfortunate, the restless, the Shyri Queen, 
 Toa Duehicela, the granddaughter of Atahualpa, the in 
 habitant of caves, forests, paramos, and ravines, the poor 
 est, and yet the richest, the weakest, and yet the most 
 powerful inhabitant of her kingdom." 
 
 There she stood before him. It was the same maiden 
 that had appeared to, and disappeared from, him so mys 
 teriously but two days before. It was she whom he had 
 seen in his visions under the influence of Mama Kucu's 
 potion. There she stood before him, a picture of boauty, 
 with the expression of indescribable sadness and resignation 
 in her smile, but the fire of indomitable courage and de 
 termination in her eye. There she stood before him, grace 
 ful, elegant, and refined, with the long and heavy hair of 
 the women of her race streaming down her back and lend 
 ing an additional charm to her agile and plastic figure.
 
 58 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 Carrera drank in her features with an unfeigned expression 
 of admiration, which could not have been offensive to any 
 woman, however devoid of vanity she might have been. A 
 long pause followed, during which his eyes rested on her, 
 while she received and returned his searching and admiring 
 look with modesty and dignity. At last she extended her 
 hand to him. 
 
 " Shall we be friends, Don Julio de Carrera ? " 
 "A more devoted friend," answered Carrera, kissing the 
 proffered hand, " your Highness will and could not have 
 among the men of my race." 
 
 " We shall see, Don Julio," she answered musingly, " we 
 shall see. It is dangerous to be a friend to Toa Duchicela." 
 " It is danger by which true friendship is tried and 
 proved." 
 
 " I shall hope to return your friendship. But there comes 
 Mama Rucu and we must part. Mama Rucu, although not 
 strictly a member of my royal cabinet," she added with 
 a roguish laugh, "stands high in my confidence and I con 
 sult her on all occasions. I have important secrets of 
 government to discuss with her to-day," she continued 
 with another charming laugh, " and I regret that our inter 
 view must terminate." 
 
 " But shall I not see your Highness again ?" 
 " Of course you shall, if you care to continue our ac 
 quaintance." 
 
 " Can I be of any service to your Highness?" 
 " Do not call me by that title. It sounds like a mockery 
 from the lips of a white man. To me you can be of no 
 service, Don Julio. I ask no service for myself. But you 
 can be of great service to my unfortunate race," she said 
 impulsively and enthusiastically, and then she added, hesi 
 tatingly, " if you wish to be. Listen ! Before we enter 
 into a compact, we must know and understand each 
 other. I may have deceived you. Perhaps I am an 
 imposter, and not the Shyri Queen. My plans, if I
 
 BOOK I. DREAMS. 59 
 
 should disclose them to you now, might appear vis 
 ionary. After you have seen what I intend to show you, 
 you will judge them differently. To-morrow I shall show 
 myself to my people. I shall do so publicly in the Church 
 of San Francisco. And yet it will be done in such a man 
 ner as not to attract the slightest notice or attention, as far 
 as your people are concerned. Dona Carmen Duchicela, 
 of Riobamba, my grand-aunt, the only Indian princess 
 whose title your government has recognized, has pre 
 sented a necklace of wonderful emeralds to the Convent, 
 for the image of the Yirgin, and high mass will be cele 
 brated for the souls of her deceased relatives and ancestors, 
 at ten o'clock. The Church will be crowded with Indians, 
 who will go there to see Dona Carmen Duchicela, as your 
 people will believe. But these Indians will come to see 
 ME; for I have had it given out that I shall show myself 
 on that occasion. Come and judge for yourself. Bring 
 your best, your most honorable, your most reliable friend. 
 I have to depart from the policy of entire seclusion, which 
 I have pursued until now. My future plans require that I 
 should enter into certain relations and negotiations with 
 some of your best men. Bring only one friend, for the 
 present ; but choose well. You shall know that I am what 
 I claim to be. My people shall be my credentials. After 
 you have seen the moral power I wield, I shall let you 
 judge of the material resources that are at my command. 
 Meet me on the day after to-morrow on the mountain-path 
 where I appeared to you first ; but come alone. Come 
 shortly after night-fall. I have trusted myself to you ; 
 will you trust yourself to me?" 
 
 " I will, Lady." 
 
 " Then do as I have told you. And now go, and leave 
 me with Mama Rucu. Good bye, Don Julio de Carrera. 
 Do not forget that you have promised to be my friend." 
 
 When Carrera returned to his room, he beheld, to his 
 great surprise, that a small tripod vase, or vessel of antique
 
 60 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 Indian workmanship, stood on his table. He lifted the lid. 
 Tho vase was filled with gold coins, of the reign of Charles 
 the Fifth. Carrera drew back in amazement, while the 
 blood rushed to his face, coloring it deeply. A letter lay 
 under one of the legs of the vase. He drew it forth, and 
 opened it. It was written in excellent Spanish, and in a 
 large and round, although somewhat unpracticed and un 
 steady hand. I read thus : 
 
 " Senor Don Julio de Carrera. The actions of princes 
 must not be judged by the rules applicable to those of ordi 
 nary individuals. What would be boldness and immodesty 
 in a lady of private station, maybe but an act of dignity and 
 self-respect on the part of a Queen. 
 
 " Don Julio dc Carrera has proved himself on more than 
 one occasion the kind friend and protector of my race. It 
 is my duty, as the head of that race, to express to him our 
 gratitude. Gratitude, however, as we understand it, con 
 sists in deeds, not in words. I have learned that our friend 
 is the victim of embarrassments, from which he should bo 
 relieved. It is in my power to help him by an insignificant 
 loan, and I consider it my duty to do so. 
 
 "Do not be offended, Don Julio. I mean no offense or 
 disrespect. I can spare the small amount involved in this 
 transaction until the time when it may suit your con 
 venience to repay it. If upon the arrival of that time 
 Toa Duchicela should be no more, you will devote this fund 
 to the alleviation of the sufferings of such of my subjects as 
 may be most deserving of your sympathy or commiseration. 
 
 " Forgive this intrusion into your private affairs, and in 
 order to show me that you have forgiven it, I beg you not 
 to mention the matter, and not even to allude to it at our 
 next interview. 
 
 " I am your sincere friend, 
 
 TOA II, 
 " Queen of Quito and Purruhd."
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 KEALITIES. 
 
 A Hi quedaba el misero difunto 
 Y alii con el sus frivolos intentos, 
 Sus fabricas, sus vanos pensamientos, 
 Sus torres, sus chimeras, todo junto: 
 A1K de solo un golpe, en solo un punto 
 Mostraba la ruyndad de sus cimientos, 
 Que lo que en semejante vasa estriba 
 Su misma pesadumbre lo derriba. 
 
 DE OS'A, El Arauco Domado, 
 
 Canto XVI., p. 265-
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 REALITIES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 JUAN CASTRO. 
 
 BEFORE we proceed with our narrative, we must return 
 to Paredes, and ascertain his doings during the night which 
 Carrera spent at Mama Rucu's cottage. On Don Manuel's 
 return home, after the barren discovery of the subterranean 
 passage, described in a previous chapter, he ate a hasty sup 
 per, and sent for his Mayordomo, whose arrival he awaited, 
 while nervously pacing the room. 
 
 " Don Tomas," he said, " you and I must follow this mat 
 ter up. If there is anything in it, I should divide it with 
 you, rather than with those strangers." 
 
 "Well said, Senor, and many thanks for your Lordship's 
 kindness and confidence." 
 
 "To-morrow they will be with us again. Hence, if we 
 want to get ahead of them, we must work to-night." 
 
 " I understand, Senor ! " 
 
 " Well and good ! But there is a matter that must be 
 attended to first." 
 
 "What is it, Senor?" 
 
 "Our companions of the afternoon might be tempted to 
 do the very same thing. I should like' to know that they 
 are comfortably stowed away in their beds. Suppose you 
 get on your horse, Don Tomas, and try to see them both. 
 Make any excuse you see fit. Tell their servants that you 
 have a message from me, which you are instructed to de-
 
 64 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 liver personally. If they are in bed and asleep, you need 
 not wake them. If they are up, you might say that I ask 
 them to breakfast with me to-morrow." 
 
 "I understand, Seflor," said the Mayordorno, as he left 
 the room." 
 
 He was not gone very long, when the valet of Paredes 
 made his appearance, and announced that Juan Castro 
 begged to be admitted to his Lordship's presence. 
 
 Juan Castro, the king of the rabble of Quito, who will 
 play an important part in this story, a butcher by trade, 
 was a ruffian, with all the fierceness and viciousness of a 
 ruffian ; but the general saying that bullies are cowards 
 was not corroborated by his case. If he was reckless of 
 the bones and lives of others, he was as reckless of his own. 
 To break a horse fresh from the potreros of the coast, to 
 bait an untamed steer fresh from the paramos of Mounts 
 Cayambi or Antisana, to engage in a brawl with four or 
 five men against him, were feats from which he shrank no 
 more than from abusing a defenseless woman or beating an 
 unresisting Indian. His brutality made him an object of 
 fear, while his great physical strength and power of will 
 made him a leader of the populace, whom he could sway 
 at pleasure. While he was the terror of all those of his 
 class who dared to oppose him, he was a protector and 
 shield to those who did his bidding and followed his lead. 
 In the French .Revolution he would have been one of the 
 noisiest partisans of Marat ; at Quito he was the ally of all 
 those who sought to disturb the public peace or to foment 
 riots and insurrections. 
 
 To Paredes he presented himself with cringing submis- 
 siveness. 
 
 " Well, Castro, I see you have kept your word like a man. 
 You have not betaken yourself to a sanctuary or left the 
 city. How do your matters stand ?" 
 
 " I thank your Excellency most gratefully for the kind-
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 65 
 
 ness you have shown to me, and for which I shall consider 
 myself eternally your Excellency's debtor." 
 
 " Enough of that, my good man ! Give us an account 
 of your troubles. Is Mama Catita dead ? " 
 
 " No, your Excellency, thanks to the Virgin ; for her 
 death would have put an innocent man to a great deal of 
 trouble." 
 
 " Had she been beaten very severely ? " 
 
 " Well, your Grace, I do not know. I am ashamed to 
 say that I had taken a little too much of her abominable 
 rum yesterday afternoon ; besides, it was dark, and there 
 was so much confusion that I can not remember how it 
 came. We were all to blame, but I did less than any of 
 them." 
 
 " Does she charge it on vou ? " 
 
 O 
 
 " She did at first; but I went to see her very early this 
 morning, before she could make her statement to the au 
 thorities. 1 told her but you must not betray me Seiior 
 that I would pay her, innocent as I was, rather than get 
 into trouble. She then commenced to haggle about the 
 amount, and 1 paid her half of it down, and promised to 
 pay her the other half next week. Hence, when the no 
 tary came, she said that she preferred no charge against 
 me, and that she was too weak to submit to an examina 
 tion." 
 
 " Well, Castro," said Paredes, in his blandest manner, " I 
 think you are still in a very bad predicament. If she should 
 feel death upon her, she would tell, and it would go ill with 
 3 T ou ; for there is no doubt in my mind that you are the 
 one who did it. But the Alcalde del Crimen is my particu 
 lar friend, who will do anything to oblige me. He will, if 
 it becomes necessary, at my request, leave a loop-hole for 
 your escape. It may be a somewhat difficult matter, but 
 having taken an interest in you once, I am determined to 
 help you through" 
 
 " May God and his Holy Mother bless your Grace through
 
 66 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 eternity. Juan Castro will be your most devoted, your 
 most faithful servant, whose eyes, and ears, and arm, and 
 dagger, if necessary, will always be at your disposal." 
 
 u Take a glass of this fine liquor, man," said Paredes, 
 whose friendly condescension increased as the interview 
 progressed. 
 
 "A thousand thanks for your Excellency's kindness to 
 one so humble as myself. May your Grace live many 
 years, and death to your enemies !" 
 
 " How is your sister, Castro ; the girl whom they call 
 the ' Flower of Machangara ?' You have every reason to 
 be proud of her." 
 
 " Well, your Grace, she lives with my mother, and 
 mother and I do not agree very well " 
 
 "lunderstand. Butstill a brother naturally takes a jealous 
 interest in the honor and reputation of a sister. You may 
 not care for her much at present, but let her be made 
 the subject of questionable remarks or insinuations, and 
 your feelings of indifference would at once give way to in 
 tense concern. "Would they not?" 
 
 " Of course they would. But why does your Excellency 
 ask these questions?" 
 
 " Well," said Paredes, evasively, " I have no special object 
 in doing so. I do not think there is much truth in the 
 rumors I have heard." 
 
 " Humors ! Has your Grace heard any rumors about 
 my sister?" 
 
 " Not exactly rumors, Castro ; only surmises, you know ; 
 perhaps mistaken surmises at that." 
 
 " Your Grace would oblige me very much by acquaint 
 ing me with the nature of these surmises," said Castro, 
 getting uneasy and excited under the artistic treatment of 
 Paredes. 
 
 " Does your sister still receive the visits of youn g Ro 
 berto Sanchez ?"
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES, 67 
 
 " I have not been to my mother's house for many months, 
 Serior. I never heard that my sister received his visits." 
 
 "Well, there may be no harm in them, Castro. They 
 may be pure friendship, you know. But if a nobleman 
 constantly visits a girl whom he could not possibly marry, 
 the neighbors, you know, will draw their inferences" 
 
 " I see ! I see !" 
 
 " These inferences may be entirely mistaken ; and in this 
 case, I have no doubt, they are; bat, nevertheless, such in 
 ferences will be drawn, and spoken about, and repeated 
 until they become a matter of public notoriety. It can not 
 be very pleasant for a brother to know that his sister has 
 been made the object of such notoriety." 
 
 Castro ground his teeth, but said nothing. 
 
 " Under the circumstances, perhaps, you would do well 
 to watch over the conduct of your sister, and to exercise a 
 little brotherly authority over her. You might make her 
 save appearances, at least. Your sister is too good to be 
 the mistress of any nobleman, Eoberto Sanchez not ex- 
 cepted." 
 
 " I kiss your Excellency's hands for having opened my 
 eyes to this matter. I had not heard of it before, and had 
 not thought of it in the way a brother should think of such 
 matters." 
 
 "And now, Juan Castro, take another glass of this ex 
 cellent mistela, and then leave me, for I have several im 
 portant matters to attend to, this evening. Wheneveryou 
 are in trouble, come to me, and 1 shall protect you to the 
 best of my ability." 
 
 Castro left and a few minutes afterward the Mayor- 
 domo returned from his mission. He had gone to Car- 
 rera's house first, but Mariano would not let him see his 
 master, claiming that he was in bed. The man then went 
 to the barracks, and easily caught a glimpse of Count 
 Valverde, who sat alone in his room, brooding in silence. 
 " Something must have afflicted my master, to-day," said
 
 68 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 his servant to the Mayordomo. " He is not like himself at 
 all. I neversuw him so before." 
 
 The Mayordomo felt satisfied that Mama Ilucu's curse 
 had made a deep impression on the mind of the Spaniard, 
 and left him to his meditations without delivering his 
 Master's message. Don Tomas then returned to Can-era's 
 house, but his repeated attempts to penetrate to that 
 gentleman's bedroom were frustrated by the astuteness 
 and fierceness of Mariano. 
 
 Still Paredes, on hearing his servant's report, saw no 
 cause for apprehension, and so the two returned to the 
 mountain that night, with a relay of fresh Indians, who 
 were threatened with death if they should dare to betray 
 the secret of the expedition. 
 
 But their work of the night proved as fruitless and un 
 satisfactory as their labors in the afternoon. Nothing was 
 discovered. No clue to the secret of the subterranean 
 passage could be found ; and, exhausted, angry, and dis 
 appointed, they returned to the villa shortly before day 
 break. 
 
 Mama Rucu was right when she told Carrera that his 
 friend Paredes was in the bowels of the earth, burrowing 
 and digging for what he should never find. 
 
 Next morning when Paredes returned to the spot, he 
 found the bronze plate gone and the passage closed. The 
 ceiling of the passage seemed to have caved in and choked 
 it up completely. How this destruction had been accom 
 plished, and by whom it was done, Paredes could not dis 
 cover. Baffled in his avaricious hopes, he hastened to in 
 form his two companions of the check with which their 
 explorations had met. And now we shall leave both him 
 and Carrera, in order to secure a better acquaintance with 
 other characters of our story.
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 69 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 DOLORES. 
 
 TWENTY-FOUR hours have elapsed since Carrera's return 
 from Mama Rucu's cottage. It is morning. Mass has 
 just been said in the private chapel of the M.arquis, be 
 cause the condition of the Marchioness makes it extremely 
 difficult and painful for her to leave the house. The old 
 lady has retired for a long conference on spiritual and 
 other matters with her confessor and friend, the curate of 
 the parish. Dolores and her aunt, Dona Catita, are in 
 their dressing-room, the latter combing the long and beau 
 tiful hair of her niece. The two ladies are dressing for a 
 call they intend to make on Doiia Carmen Duchicela, of 
 Hiobamba, an Indian princess, related to the royal house 
 of Atahualpa, who has come to spend a few weeks at the 
 Capital, to offer her devotions at the celebrated shrine of 
 San Francisco. 
 
 Dolores is the ruling spirit of her father's house. Her 
 mother, a confirmed invalid and a lady of indolent dis 
 position, leaves everything to her daughter's care. Her 
 father, a vain and weak-minded, but very ambitious man, 
 worships her as the brightest ornament of his family cir 
 cle, and the most accomplished lady of Quito. He rec~ 
 ognizes her superior intellect, seeks her advice on almost 
 all occasions, and invariably defers to her opinion. His 
 sister, Dona Catita, a worn-out flirt, who can hardly bring 
 herself to realize that her day is gone, clings to her niece 
 because, through her and with her, she can still connect 
 herself with all there is of social attractions and love-and- 
 merry-makirig in Quito. Moreover, Dona Catita has little 
 or no property of her own. She is dependent on her
 
 70 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 brother, and, as he is ruled by his daughter, Dona Catitu 
 is politic enough to propitiate the power behind the throne- 
 Add to all this the adulation which Dolores receives at the 
 hands of the young gentry of Quito, and we have an 
 almost irresistible combination to make her, what thou 
 sands of others would have been in her place, a spoiled 
 child. 
 
 But Dolores is a child of the Ecuadorian table-lands, 
 quick-witted, clear-headed, self-reliant, with never-failing 
 presence of mind, cool cold almost reflecting, reasoning, 
 perhaps calculating, never carried away by passion or illu 
 sions, young in years, but old in her views of life and her 
 opinions of human nature. When we say young ic years, 
 we leave room for allowance, Dolores is no longer in her 
 teens. She has already tasted the cup of bitterness and 
 disappointment. She is a widow. After a short year of 
 married life, her husband fell a victim to the prevailing 
 mania for dueling. Unprepared for the dreadful shock, 
 Dolores saw his bloody corpse brought home to her 
 father's house, and years could not efface the impression 
 that fearful event produced. His death was a severe 
 blow to her hopes, because he died before his father, and 
 left her nothing. She had not loved him passionately, but 
 the loss of a husband was to her the loss of that compe 
 tency and independence which had been within her grasp. 
 Now she looks to the future, not through the rosy haze of 
 youthful hopefulness and confidence, but with a constant 
 regard to her own position in life, and its difficulties and 
 probable embarrassments. Her father loves her blindly, 
 and dotes upon her and gratifies all her wishes ; but her 
 father will not live forever, and on his death her brother, 
 now in Lima, will be the head of the family. On him she 
 would then be an humble dependent; and if he should 
 marry, which emergency must arise sooner or later, what 
 would her position be ?
 
 BOOK 1. REALTTIES. 71 
 
 "Is it not strange," said Doiia Catita, "that Senor Car- 
 rera has not been here for two evenings in succession?" 
 
 " Why do you find it strange, Auntie?" 
 
 " Because he hardly ever misses a night." 
 
 "Well, the night after their gambling extravagance he 
 probably needed rest, as we all did ; and, by the way, he 
 played not only unluckily, but also very foolishly. He is 
 no match for Paredes or the Count. 
 
 " And why did he not come last night?" 
 
 "Do 1 know? And why should I care, Auntie ?" 
 
 " Well, my child, you are certainly aware that he loves 
 you." 
 
 "At all events, he wishes me to believe it." 
 
 " Surely you do not dislike him?'' 
 
 "Oh, no, Auntie! I like him very well. I am not in 
 love with him. I have often told you, Auntie, that I am 
 not in love with anybody. Julio de Carrera is a gentle- 
 tleman, but whether he would be eligible as a husband re 
 mains to be seen." 
 
 " I am curious to hear your objections to him, Doloritas ; 
 for I must confess that, of all your admirers, he impresses 
 me most favorably." 
 
 "You love me, Auntie dear, do you not?" 
 
 " What a question, my darling ! " 
 
 " Well, would you wish me, whom you love, to be the 
 wife of a poor man ? " 
 
 " Is it settled that Carrera will be a poor man ? " 
 
 " Is it settled that he will be a rich man? His uncle is 
 a rich man. He may leave everything to Don Julio. But 
 his uncle, although old. is yet robust and full of vitality. 
 He may marry again and have children of his own. He 
 is a very pious man, and may leave most of his property. to 
 convents and churches. O, dearest Aunt ! 1 can not, I will 
 not be poor. I have been reared in affluence. I have been 
 accustomed to have all my wishes gratified. It would 
 break my heart to change to poverty, and to live, like so
 
 72 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 many of our noble families, that have nothing but their 
 titles and what little they can grind out of a few wretched 
 Indian*." 
 
 "But, darling, Don Julio maybe his uncle's heir after 
 all, and you should consider this very great probability, 
 and not throw him away entirely. There is a difference 
 between not committing one's self and giving no encour 
 agement at all. He may lose heart, and be weaned away 
 from you entirely. Nearly every girl in town would be 
 delighted with him for a husband, and if you starve his 
 affection some one else will get him into her net, and by 
 encouraging him, and meeting him more than half way, 
 secure him." 
 
 "You are not altogether wrong, Auntie ; perhaps I have 
 been too reserved with him." 
 
 " I have noticed that you treat the Spanish Count with 
 a perceptible preference." 
 
 " I must confess that 1 am interested in the Count. He 
 is a real Count of old Castile. 1 often think how greatly 
 I should prefer a life in Spain to this dull, slow, uninterest 
 ing, out-of-the-way city of ours." 
 
 "But, my child," said Dona Catita, "you want a rich 
 husband, and the Count has nothing but his title." 
 
 "Does he not stand high in the favor of the Viceroy? 
 And is it not probable that His Highness will soon help him 
 to a profitable position ? Do not most of these Spanish 
 officers enrich themselves in the colonies ? " 
 
 " That may be all true, Doloritas, but it may take a 
 long time, and you should not wait until your youth and 
 beauty fade. There is no danger of it just now ; but you 
 are no longer so very young, my child. Look at me, and 
 take a warning example. If I have remained an old maid, 
 in this country, where ladies are so scarce, it was my own 
 fault. I frittered away opportunities until they ceased to 
 present themselves."
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 73 
 
 A long pause followed, which was broken by Dofta Ca- 
 tita : " What do you think of Paredes, child ? " 
 
 " He is a man, Auntie. He has all the energy of a man. 
 He lacks the graces of scholarly refinement, and, perhaps, 
 is not as scrupulously honorable as Carrera; but he will 
 make his way in life. He looks to success, and his own 
 affairs are prospering, while those of almost all his young 
 friends are sadly deranged." 
 
 Here the conversation of the two ladies was interrupted 
 by the entrance of Santos, the nurse, whom our readers 
 already know: "Nina, your father, the Marquis, wishes 
 to see you for a few moments." 
 
 " I am coming, Mamita," said Dolores, arising hastily, and 
 throwing a shawl over her head and shoulders, she repaired 
 to her father's room, which was in another part of the spa 
 cious mansion. 
 
 The Marquis received her at the door. " One moment, 
 Daughter, dear," he said, leading her to his room. "Your 
 young head generally sees more clearly than mine, with 
 all its gray hairs. 1 am puzzled, and I want your opinion 
 and advice." 
 
 " What is it, dear Papa, you wicked flatterer ? Do you 
 want to turn the head of your own child ?" 
 
 " Listen," he said. " You know I have seen the new 
 member of the Eoyal Audience, but I have not told you 
 what passed between us. The first time I waited on him, 
 he told me that I stood high at Court ; that the King had 
 frequently heard of me, and had even condescended to order 
 his Secretary of State to write me a confidential letter in 
 his name concerning affairs of grave importance. This 
 letter the new Auditor has brought with him from Spain, 
 and he said he would give it to me as soon as he had 
 opened his trunks and boxes. The next time I called upon 
 him, he said nothing about the letter, but he seemed to bo 
 in raptures over my horse, ' Chimbo,' your favorite. Ho
 
 74 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 said that the possession of such a horse would make him 
 perfectly happy " 
 
 " Papa, you have not given ' Chimbo ' away?" 
 " What could I do. Daughter dear? He is the new Aud 
 itor, and I have cases pending in the Royal Audience. It 
 would have been highly impolitic not to conciliate him. 
 And so I said the horse was his, and should be at his dis 
 posal the moment he sent for him." 
 
 "And so my poor Chimbo is gone," said Dolores, with a 
 sigh. " It is too bad !" 
 
 " Before I left the Auditor, I ventured the question 
 whether he had already unpacked his trunks and boxes ; 
 but he said that he had not yet had the time. He said that 
 he would first of all open the box containing his dispatches 
 and correspondence, and that I should have the King's let 
 ter the next time I called on him." 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " When I called on him .a day or two afterward, he re 
 gretted that he had not yet been able to find the letter. lie 
 said that he had searched for it, but had not found it in his 
 dispatch-box. He promised, however, that he would go 
 over his papers again in order to find it." 
 " Did you see him since ?" 
 " Yes, my child, yesterday." 
 " Had he found the letter ?" 
 
 " No, child, he seemed to be much alarmed about it, and 
 said that the unaccountable disappearance of the letter 
 had caused him extreme uneasiness, because he was satis 
 fied that the letter contained matters of vital interest to 
 me, and of great importance to the colony." 
 "And you did not understand him, Father ?" 
 "Understand him ! What do you mean ?" 
 " That he has had this letter in his possession all this 
 time ; that he has not mislaid it at all ; that it is ready for 
 delivery to you ; but that his Excellency, the Auditor,
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 75 
 
 wants money for placing it in your hands. That 'a what I 
 mean, Father, dear." 
 
 " Fool, fool that I was !" exclaimed the Marquis, beating 
 his forehead with his fist. " You are right. The Spaniard 
 wants money, and the thought that this was the cause of 
 his procrastination had never entered my mind. But who 
 could have thought of such meanness? Caramba ! Don 
 Alonzo Sanchez is right, after all, about these Spanish cor 
 morants ! And now, Doloritas, what shall I do? Perhaps 
 the whole thing is an invention. Perhaps the letter he 
 speaks of is some indifferent and unimportant circular or 
 routine document of no moment, gotten up for the express 
 purpose of extortion. Shall 1 pay him money to get it?" 
 
 " You gave him the horse, Father, because you said you 
 had cases pending in his court, making it desirable to gain 
 his good will. If you do not give him money for the 
 King's letter, you will not gain his good will, and you 
 have sacrificed my noble Chimbo to no purpose." 
 
 " You are right, Daughter ; you are always right. What 
 a wonderful head for business you have. But suppose we 
 are both mistaken. Suppose I should offer him money, 
 and he should refuse it" 
 
 Dolores gave a ringing laugh : " Then send me to a con 
 vent, Father, for the rest of my days. Now, Father, if I 
 had to do this piece of work, I should do it in this way : I 
 should make up my mind first how much it will take to 
 satisfj 1 " the Spaniard's rapacity. Then I would tell him 
 that I wanted him to look upon me as his confidential 
 friend ; that the voyage to America must have cost him a 
 great deal; that it must; cost him a great deal to establish 
 himself in a strange city ; that he would require money, 
 and that nothing would please me better than if his Ex 
 cellency would condescend to accept a loan from me for 
 his present needs. You must also tell him that you have 
 no immediate use for the money, and that he might keep 
 it as long as he pleased. You will then sec, Father, how
 
 76 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 soon the King's letter will bo in your hands. If tbe letter 
 contains* nothing, then consider that you have spent your 
 money to win your cases. If the letter is important, you 
 mast have it, and you can not get it in any other way. 
 We shall have to buy it from the Spaniard, Papa." 
 
 The Marquis paced the room uneasily, and finally, stop 
 ping before his daughter, Raid : " You are right, child ; 
 3*ou are right. I shall do as you say. A small amount of 
 money would not accomplish the purpose. I shall have to 
 give him a great deal, and it inconveniences me very much 
 to do so at present. Still, there is no help for it. I shall 
 do it at once. Will you be here when I return?" 
 
 " I intended to call on Dofia Carmen Duchicela, the In 
 dian princess, with Aunt Catita." 
 
 "You will not find her at home now. She will attend 
 high mass at San Francisco at ten o'clock, and it will 
 nearly be twelve before she returns to her house. Wait 
 till I come back, and then make your call. I may want to 
 speak to you again after I have seen the Auditor." 
 
 " I shall wait for 3*ou, Papacito !" said Dolores, kissing 
 her father as he turned to go. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE KING'S LETTER. 
 
 Dolores was right. 
 
 The Marquis poured his golden rain into the lap of the 
 Spanish judge, and the result was that the latter imme 
 diate^' found the letter. "He had found it where he had 
 least expected it to be. He had inadvertently misplaced it. 
 How COULD he have been so absentminded? How COULD 
 he have searched for it everywhere except where he had
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 77 
 
 originally placed it? Sheer forgetful ness. Senor Marquis 
 most unaccountable forgetful ness." 
 
 And now to the letter. It was a most astounding docu 
 ment. The Marquis read it and re-read it, and could not 
 make up his mind whether to rejoice over the confidence 
 of his sovereign, or whether to be bewildered by the re 
 sponsibility his Majesty compelled him to shoulder. The 
 Marquis was still turning the sacred document in his loyal 
 hands when Dolores opened the door : 
 
 "Well, Father." 
 
 " You were right as to the Auditor, my child. He is a 
 greedy scoundrel, who, I fear, will continue to bleed me. 
 But that letter, child ! It contains the most difficult, the 
 most responsible task ever forced upon me, and it is of 
 such a nature that I can not, dare not consult about it with 
 anybody. O, that I could at least have the support of 
 your opinion !" 
 
 ''And why can you not, Father? My opinion is the 
 cheapest and the nearest commodity at your command." 
 
 "Yes! yes, my child ! But I do not know whether I 
 can let you read this letter. You are a woman, a young 
 woman. You might unintentionally betray the important 
 secret it contains. 
 
 "Father," said Dolores, sternly. "If I have ever been 
 unworthy of your confidence, why have you continued, 
 unsolicited, to honor me with it until this very day, when 
 the result has proven that I was not mistaken ?" 
 
 " It is true, child, you are a wonderful woman, and I can 
 not do without you. But will you swear, Dolores, never 
 to breathe these secrets of state to any living soul, either 
 directly or by hints, allusions, or indirections?" 
 
 " I shall swear if you command it, Father." 
 
 " Swear by the Holy Trinity." 
 
 " I swear." 
 
 " Well, then, read the letter." 
 
 Dolores read :
 
 78 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " MADRID, Oct. 15th, 1591. 
 
 " To His Excellency, the Marquis Vicente Guitierrez de 
 Solando : 
 
 " Most Excellent Senor: His Most Gracious Majesty, the 
 Catholic King, our Lord Don Felipe II, whom God may 
 preserve, has instructed me to write to your Excellency from 
 notes made by me under his Majesty's own dictation. 
 
 " His Majesty, who takes the greatest possible pains to 
 keep himself informed as to the affairs of all his dominions, 
 has been highly gratified by the zeal displayed by your Ex 
 cellency in His Majesty's service, and by the judgment and 
 loyalty for which your Excellency has been distinguished. 
 Placing implicit confidence in your Excellency's devotion 
 and ability to carry out a difficult and delicate task, His 
 Majesty has instructed the undersigned to communicate 
 to your Excellency the following orders, which will re 
 quire the strictest secrecy and the utmost caution on the 
 part of your Excellency, if His Majesty's object is to bo 
 successfully accomplished.* 
 
 "His Majesty has learned with great regret, that resist 
 ance will be attempted at Quito, and perhaps also in other 
 cities of Peru, to the collection of the Alcabala, the 
 introduction of which in the Viceroyalty of Peru, has been 
 made imperative and inevitable by the pressing and over 
 whelming necessities of His Majesty's service. The turbu 
 lent disposition of most of the Peruvian colonists and their 
 proneness to insurrection and rebellion are well known to 
 His Majesty. His Majesty remembers the civil wars which 
 disgraced the early history of his Peruvian possessions, and 
 their frequent and dangerous resistance to the royal com 
 mands. His Majesty is fully determined to prevent a 
 repetition of the horrors and devastations of internecine 
 strife. But the necessities of His Majesty's service have 
 sadly depleted his American possessions of available troops. 
 
 * See the introductory chapters of Gayarre's excellent essay on 
 Philip II. of Spain.
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 79 
 
 Under these circumstances, it becomes not only a necessity, 
 but also a duty of statesmanship and good government to 
 resort to strategy. If the wild and dangerous beast of re 
 bellion can not be overcome in open contest, it must be en 
 snared or entrapped. The dragon must be destroyed, no 
 matter how it is done. 
 
 "If, therefore, His Majesty's strong and, to all appear 
 ances, but too well-founded apprehensions of armed resist 
 ance should unfortunately be verified at Quito, His Majesty 
 commands your Excellency secretly and with all the cau 
 tion such a difficult and dangerous task requires, to induce 
 some gentleman of influence, social standing, and popularity, 
 to side with the insurgents, and, if necessary or possible, to 
 place himself at their liead, in order to break the dangerous 
 force of their movements, to be informed of their intentions, 
 and to guide them into such channels as to secure the final and 
 easy victory of the lawfully constituted authorities. To such 
 a man, entire indulgence and a full pardon for all the trea 
 sonable acts or utterances of which he may have to be 
 guilty, apparently, in order to serve His Majesty, are here 
 by fully guaranteed under His Majesty's own hand. 
 
 " The selection of such a man could not be intrusted to 
 the .Royal Audience, the members of which are Spaniards, 
 and not so situated as to enjoy the advantages of such inti 
 mate acquaintance with the characters and dispositions of 
 the leading natives of your city, as would be indispensable in 
 making a prudent choice. Nor can this task be confided 
 to the municipal authorities, for these have fomented and 
 prepared the rebellion by protesting against His Majesty's 
 orders, and sending remonstrance after remonstrance 
 against the imposition of the Alcabala, to His ^Majesty's 
 Council of the Indies and to His Majesty personally. The 
 ringleaders of the present municipality will hereafter have 
 to be proceeded against. 
 
 " For these reasons, His Majesty has concluded to con-
 
 80 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 fide the task of making this difficult selection to your Ex 
 cellency, a native of the colony, a man of judgment and 
 patriotism, and, above all, a loyal, trusty, and zealous ser 
 vant of His Majesty. In this choice, your Excellency 
 will be guided by the greatest care ; for the consequences 
 of a mistake would be irreparable. The man whom your 
 Excellency will take into your confidence must not only be 
 the right man, but mnst also be sure to accept. Any mis 
 take in this regard would be fatal. 
 
 " His Majesty also desires your Excellency to send from 
 time to time full and accurate reports of the condition of 
 affairs in the Viceroyalty, and of all events that may 
 transpire there, to the undersigned. His Majesty desires 
 your Excellency fully and freely to criticise, in these re 
 ports the doiugs, acts, and measures of the Royal Audi 
 ence and its individual members, and to give accurate in 
 formation of the disposition, merits, and demerits of the 
 leading men at Quito, whether natives or Spaniards, and 
 whether in public or private station. 
 
 " In order to protect the privacy of these communica 
 tions, secret orders are herewith inclosed, directed to the 
 Superintendents of the Royal Mails at Quito and Lima, be 
 cause His Majesty does not desire your Excellency to cor 
 respond with this office through the medium of the Royal 
 Audience, but entirely unknown to the same. 
 
 " In case of an extraordinary emergency, His Majesty 
 desires your Excellency immediately to address His High 
 ness the Viceroy, who has alreadj' been notified that such 
 communications from your Excellency are specially desfred 
 and authorized by His Majesty. 
 
 " The undersigned now hopes that your Excellency has 
 fully comprehended the meaning and purport of this dis 
 patch, and the full scope which His Majesty intends to give 
 to the exercise of your Excellency's discretion ; and with 
 the sincerest wishes that your Excellency may live many
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 81 
 
 years in the enjoyment of all possible earthly happiness, 
 the undersigned has the distinguished honor to remain, 
 " Your Excellency's most obedient servant, 
 
 ' JUAN DE IDIAQUEZ." 
 
 And, on the outside of this remarkable document, there 
 was the following indorsement, in the King's own hand 
 writing, and with his own signature : 
 
 "All that is said in the within letter has been written by 
 my command, and has my full sanction. 
 
 " Yo EL KEY." (I, the King.) 
 
 This dispatch was accompanied by secret orders to the 
 mail superintendents and postmasters to transmit all let 
 ters of the Marquis to the Secretary of State with the 
 greatest possible dispatch and secrecy, and without sub 
 mitting them to the inspection of any officer or tribunal, 
 not even that of the Eoyal Audience or Viceroy, and threat 
 ening severe punishments in case of disobedience or of a 
 violation of the secrecy which these orders enjoined. The 
 dispatch itself contained frequent corrections of phraseol 
 ogy and punctuation, which were evidently made by the 
 King himself, for Philip II loved to wade through volumes 
 of dreary pages, and correct the grammar, syntax, and 
 st3 r le of his subordinates, as well as to attend to the mi 
 nutest details of the cumbersome, complicated, and destruc 
 tive machinery of his government. 
 
 These documents had reduced the Marquis to a state of 
 helpless despondency and bewilderment, from which he 
 hoped to be extricated by the clear-headedness and intel 
 lectual resources of his daughter. 
 
 His eyes rested upon her while she read, and silently he 
 awaited her opinion. Dolores calmly and attentively pe 
 rused the document, and, when she had finished it, went 
 over it for a second time, re-reading certain passages.
 
 82 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 Then dropping the hand which held the papers into her 
 lap, she rested her head on her other hand and looked out 
 of the window. 
 
 "Well, child?" 
 
 " Well, Father ! " 
 
 "What do you think of it?" 
 
 " The royal confidence, if you can justify it, Father, may 
 be of great advantage to you and your house." 
 
 "But what shall I do?" 
 
 " That remains to be seen. In the first place, Papa, do 
 you really believe that there will be a rebellion ? " 
 
 "Yes, my child, the people, high and low, are unanimous. 
 .Even the clergy seem to be in favor of resistance. Our 
 Curate here talks downright treason. The Dominicans and 
 Franciscans loudly denounce the Alcabala. The Jesuits 
 alone are loyal. With the encouragement of the clergy, 
 the rebellion would seem to be irresistible. I understand, 
 from the new Auditor, that the Alcabala is to be proclaimed 
 to-day. The collection of the tax will be resisted at once. 
 In fact, it will be impossible to collect it here in Quito, and 
 from here the fire will spread to Latacunga, Ambato, Rio- 
 bamba, Cuenca, and Loja. The Government will be power 
 less for years to come. Then a long struggle may follow, 
 which will plunge us into a war like that of Fernando Ji- 
 ron or Gonzalo Pizarro." 
 
 " If this is your opinion, Father, then select your man 
 at once." 
 
 "But whom shall I select. I have thought of several, 
 but there are weighty objections to each of them." 
 
 " Of whom have you thought? " 
 
 " Well, daughter," said -the Marquis, tenderly, " I have 
 thought of your own interests and your own prospects. 
 The man who renders the King such a great service, will 
 be entitled to His Majesty's grateful remembrance, and, as 
 the estates of the ring-leaders will be confiscated, His Maj 
 esty will be enabled to show his gratitude without expense
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 83 
 
 to Ins own treasury. It is natural that I, as a loving 
 father, should have thought of those first who aspire to the 
 hand of my Doloritas." 
 
 " Dear old Papa ! And of whom have you thought ? " 
 
 "I know that my naughty child will have her own way, 
 and you shall have it, if your choice is a good one. But 
 if you should want to know my preference " 
 
 " I am dying to know it, Father! " 
 
 " Then," continued the Marquis, "I should have to tell 
 you that, considei-ing everything, I am most favorably im 
 pressed with Julio de Carrera." 
 
 Dolores broke into a short, roguish laugh. 
 
 " Why do you laugh, child ; is he objectionable to you?" 
 
 " Not at all, Father. I should be very willing to accept 
 him for a husband, provided " 
 
 "Well, what?" 
 
 "Let us postpone this part of the question to some other 
 occasion. Julio de Carrera, Father, would never fulfill 
 the commission you wish to assign to him." 
 
 "And why not? Is he not one of the most popular men, 
 if not the most popular young gentleman of Quito? He 
 is worshiped by the rabble. They would at once follow 
 his lead." 
 
 " Very true, Father ; but Carrera would never participate 
 in a movement merely for the purpose of betraying it. 
 He is scrupulously honorable." 
 
 " But is it dishonorable to serve the King ? " 
 
 " ISTo, Father, although opinions may differ as to the 
 kind of service. It would not be considered honorable, for 
 instance, to act as the King's executioner ; and yet it may 
 be called serving the King, to execute those whom, he has 
 sentenced to death. All I can say, is this, Carrera will 
 never put himself at the head of a rebellion or insurrec 
 tion. But, if he were to do it, he would not do it for 
 the purpose of betraying it.
 
 84 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 The Marqnis sat silent for many minutes. At last he 
 playfully pinched his daughter's cheek, and, shaking her 
 gently, he said, with great warmth : " You are right again 
 always right, my child. The role the King wishes me to 
 assign to some one is not so very honorable or desirable, 
 after all. But no matter; the King's commands must be 
 obeyed. All I have to do is to find the man who possesses 
 the necessary qualifications and who will accept. I 
 thought of old Sanchez, who is one of the loudest resist- 
 ants. Such storm-cloud men are easily changed by a ray 
 of Boyal sunshine. But Sanchez is too old " 
 
 "And would not accept such a task," interrupted Do 
 lores. " He is an enthusiast, like his son, and, I am afraid, 
 has sealed his doom. But I thought, Father, you wanted 
 to select one of my admirers?" 
 
 " But your admirers are too chivalrous and honor 
 able." 
 
 "You are mistaken, Father. There is but one Carrern 
 among them. But, if the almost unerring instincts of a 
 woman should not fail me this time, if I am not more wo- 
 fully mistaken than I have ever been, I believe I have 
 your man." 
 
 " Well, daughter," asked the Marquis, greatly excited, 
 " who is he?" 
 
 " Manuel Paredes!" 
 
 The Marquis stared at her in blank amazement for sev 
 eral moments, then he clapped his hands, wildly struck the 
 table, and exclaimed :" By all the angels and saints of 
 heaven, you are right! Of all the men in the kingdom 
 he is the one who will answer our purpose !" 
 
 "And do you really think, Father, that there will be 
 troubles here to-day or to-morrow ?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " Then go and see him or send for him at once."
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 85 
 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 THE QUEEN AND HER PEOPLE. 
 
 WHILE the Marquis was in attendance upon the new 
 member of the Royal Audience, an immense multitude of 
 Indians had been pouring into the Convent Church of 
 San Francisco, filling every available space of the massive 
 edifice. Numbers that were unable to gain admittance were 
 kneeling outside, blocking up the entrance. A great many 
 white people and mestizos, who had come to catch a glimpse 
 of Dofia Carmen Duchicela had to turn back, unable even 
 to reach the door of the crowded church. By common 
 consent possession had been given up this day to the In 
 dians, who had nocked to Quito from all the surrounding 
 hamlets and villages. They had crowded in with such 
 eagerness that they seemed to have forgotten their usual 
 deference to their white masters, and would not give way 
 for any caballero who should attempt to squeeze through 
 the squalid multitude. Only once their ranks had opened 
 voluntarily, like the waves of the Red Sea for Moses and 
 the Israelites. It was when Carrera and Roberto Sanchez, 
 preceded by Mariano and the Fool, had entered the build 
 ing. But the human waves closed after them again, and 
 the two young friends were probably the only representa 
 tives of the white race inside the sacred pile. A con 
 venient place near one of the pillars had been yielded to 
 them, from which they could enjoy a full view of the places 
 of honor reserved for the Indian Princess and her suite. 
 
 Seats had been prepared for Dona Carmen and a few of 
 her companions, which they occupied during the requiem, 
 while during the whole of the mass they knelt, according 
 to the custom of the country. Dona Carmen Duchicela
 
 86 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 was surrounded by a number of Indian Caciques and their 
 wives. Amonjr the former, the venerable form of Don 
 
 O 
 
 Sebastian Collohuaso, the Cacique of Ibarra, occupied a 
 prominent position. But the greatest deference was paid 
 to a very old Indian, with snow-white hair, who stood 
 nearest to the Princess, and who was eagerly pointed out 
 by the few who knew him to the many who wished to see 
 his face. 
 
 And had these thousands of Indians come to see BoSa 
 Carmen ? Our readers know better. For Dona Carmen 
 Duchicela not an Indian would have left his- cottage in 
 the country. Her fatbei-, Cachulima, was the first native 
 Lord who welcomed the foreign invaders, the murderers 
 of his kingly nephew and his noble brother, Chalcuchima. 
 Cachulima was the first native Lord who had come to kiss 
 the hand that had smitten his race and destroyed its free 
 dom and independence. It might be said in his defense 
 that he welcomed these strangers because he hoped that 
 they would deliver him from the usurpation of the terrible 
 Rummagui, who had murdered all the other Princes of the 
 blood in order to secure the crown for himself. But was 
 not the usurpation of Rumirlagui but the result of Pizarro's 
 invasion and his treacherous faithlessness to confiding 
 Atahualpa? No; in the eyes of the loyal Indians of Quito 
 there was no excuse for Cachulima. The Spanish Govern 
 ment had rewarded his submissiveness. He was the only 
 native Lord who was permitted to retain his lands and 
 vassals, and to remain exempt from all the degrading re 
 strictions and slavish regulations to which the conquered 
 race was subjected. There was no sympathy in the In 
 dian heart for his daughter, Carmen Duchicela. Not for 
 her had they crowded the church this day; but by that 
 wonderful and still unexplained system of telegraphy 
 which, even at the present day, astonishes the uninitiated 
 by the unaccountable celerity and mysteriousness with 
 which its messages are transmitted from place to place,
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 87 
 
 without regard to distance, it had been given out that Toa 
 
 o o 
 
 Duchicela, their rightful Queen, the legitimate sovereign 
 of the country, the direct lineal descendant of Cacha and 
 Atahualpa, would avail herself of the presence of her dis 
 tinguished relative to show herself to her people at a most 
 convenient public place, where thousands could see her, 
 and satisfy their loving and anxious minds that their 
 Queen still lived, and was still among them. Thousands 
 of Indian men and women went to bend their knees, not 
 before the Christian altars, which only their lips revered, 
 but to prostrate themselves with all the blind devotion and 
 loyalty of their race before Toa, their unfortunate, but ever 
 rightful, Queen. Of these thousands not one had betrayed 
 her secret; not one had breathed it to any of the enemies 
 of their race. Not a white man knew it but the two who 
 were there at the Queen's own invitation. Not a negro, 
 not a mestizo knew it. Faithfully, loyally, scrupulously, 
 the poor, down-trodden, outraged, starving Indians had 
 kept the secret, which any one of them might have sold 
 for enough money to buy his freedom, and to live in afflu 
 ence and luxury for the rest of his days. Toa Duchicela 
 was as safe among them in the crowded church, and in the 
 heart of the city of Quito, as she could have been in the 
 mountainous wilderness of Llanganati or in the impene 
 trable forests of the Napo. 
 
 Carrera's eyes sought her in vain. He could not dis 
 cover her among the companions of Doila Carmen, who 
 occupied the most conspicuous seat. He had already com 
 municated this disappointing fact to his friend Eoberto. 
 The religious function was over. The procession of priests 
 filed away, and disappeared ; but the organ pealed on as 
 usual after the celebration of high mass. And now a sud 
 den commotion became noticeable among the multitude of 
 kneeling Indians, who, thus fur, had cowered on the cold 
 stones, almost motionless. A surging sea of Indian heads 
 inclosed the cavaliers ; thousands of necks were eagerly
 
 88 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 stretched, and thousands of eyes strained, in the direction 
 of the old lady who sat in the seat of honor. But still not 
 a sound escaped the vast assembly, and nothing was heard 
 but the peals of the great organ reverberating through the 
 massive edifice. And now Dona Carmen Duchicela made 
 a motion as if attempting to arise from her chair. This 
 seemed to be the preconcerted signal, and the suspense and 
 eagerness with which every eye hung on the group sur 
 rounding her, were almost painful to behold. The white- 
 haired old Indian and the Cacique of Ibarra approached 
 Dofia Carmen's chair, and bent over her, as if to offer her 
 their arms and assistance. 
 
 At this moment a figure, which until then must have 
 been concealed by the high back of Dona Carmen's chair, 
 arose behind it. She wore tbe garb of a common Indian, 
 and her head and face were covered by a coarse and heavy 
 woolen shawl. But with a majestic and graceful motion 
 of her arms, she now opened this shawl, and dropped it 
 down to her waist, uncovering the beautiful face and the 
 indescribable eyes of Toa. Her head was encircled with a 
 golden diadem, to which, on her forehead, an immense and 
 magnificent emerald was fastened the emblem of the old 
 Shyri Kings. Her beauty was so radiant, and the appari 
 tion so surprising, that Roberto Sanchez, who had not seen 
 her before, could not restrain an exclamation of astonish 
 ment. It passed unnoticed, however, for it was drowned 
 in the general and ill-suppressed utterances of delight 
 which now broke forth from the multitude. The sight 
 which the two cavaliers beheld during the next few seconds 
 defies all description. It was as if the hearts of thousands 
 had gone forth to that one being that held them all. A 
 sigh, changing into a low moan, ran through the multitude. 
 Arms were stretched out to her; folded hands were raised 
 to heaven, as if in prayer ; tears stood in almost every eye ; 
 love, devotion, self-sacrifice beamed in every countenance ; 
 and when Toa slowly raised her shawl, and covered her.
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 89 
 
 head and face again, a loud, heart-rending wail arose, 
 mingled with many a violent sob. Old Dona Carmen now 
 had arisen and hobbled away, heavily leaning on the arms 
 of her two aged companions, and the uninitiated would 
 have supposed that the multitude had wept in compassion 
 for her bodily infirmities. At the same time, however, the 
 old Indian raised his arm, as if in deprecation, yet with the 
 air of conscious authority, and the wailing ceased, and was 
 followed, first by an instant of oppressive stillness, then by 
 a general movement toward the door. 
 
 The royal reception was over. Queen Toa had shown 
 herself to her people, and had received the homage of her 
 subjects. The whole scene had passed off in a few seconds 
 an infinitely shorter time than its description required. 
 
 Roberto seized Can-era's arm witli both his hands, and 
 said, rapturously : " She is superb ! Every inch a Queen. 
 By the Virgin ! I would serve her rather than our Philip." 
 
 CIIAPTEE Y. 
 
 MOTHER, DAUGHTER, AND SON. 
 
 Near the southern approaches of the city, at a consid 
 erable distance from the center of population, not far from 
 where the bridge over the Maehangara now stands, there 
 was a small house, inhabited by Mariquita Ycaza, the widow 
 of a common soldier named Castro, and her daughter Mer 
 cedes, who eked out a scanty living by sewing and em 
 broidering for the rich, and by selling refreshments to those 
 travelers who chose to offer their prayers or thanksgivings 
 upon leaving or returning to Quito, on or from a journey, 
 in the chapel of the KeTwr de'l buen viage* on the hill 
 south of the River Machangara. 
 
 * The Lord of the Happy Journey.
 
 90 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 Late in the afternoon of the great day on which Toa 
 Duchicela had shown herself to her faithful subjects in 
 the Church of San Francisco, Mercedes was busily bending 
 ov.er her embroidery, while her mother attended to necessary 
 house and kitchen-work, or ministered to the patrons of 
 her shop. The latter department of their domestic 
 economy was exclusively under the mother's charge ; for 
 Mercedes had abandoned the shop since Iloberto Sanchez 
 had become a regular visitor to the house. A little Mestizo 
 girl had taken her place as Dofia Mariquita's assistant. 
 
 Busily Mercedes bent over her frame, but her thoughts 
 were not on the embroidery. Quite near her chair stood a 
 harp, to which she frequently resorted, interrupting her 
 work in order to try some tune which she was evidently 
 composing; and when she returned to her needle, her lips 
 moved audibly, as if endeavoring to accommodate words 
 to her melody. At last she threw her needle awny, and, 
 sitting down to her harp, struck up a prelude, and then 
 began to sing, not loudly, but softly, as if still rehearsing 
 her own composition, and with all the sweetness and ten 
 derness of love, resignation, and grief: 
 
 " No me llames por mi nombre, 
 
 Quc mi nombre se acabo! 
 Llamame la flor marehita ' 
 Que del arbol se cayo ! 
 
 " Las lagrimas que derramo 
 Amargas i saladas son ; 
 No te dan vida, florcita, 
 Ni mealivian el corazon."* 
 
 * Call me not the name I bore, 
 
 That name, alas! to me is lost. 
 Call me but a faded flower, 
 Upon the earth by tempest tossed. 
 
 Remorseful are the bitter tears 
 That to mine eye-lids start; 
 
 They bring not life to fading flower, 
 Nor ease to aching heart.
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 91 
 
 Her voice grow fainter and weaker as she proceeded. 
 Her fingers ceased to touch the chords, and as the last 
 sounds of instrument and voice died away, the girl buried 
 her head- in her hands and broke into a flood of bitter 
 tears. 
 
 Suddenly she gave a start. A hand had touched her 
 lightly upon her shoulder. Her mother stood behind her 
 and asked: " Why do you weep, Merceditas?" 
 
 Dona Mariquita was a tall and spare woman of about 
 forty-five. She was dressed very plainly, and covered with 
 the inevitable shawl from which the women of the Andean 
 table-lands seem to be inseparable. The battle of life had 
 furrowed her cheeks and sprinkled her hair with gray, but 
 it had not bent her head or subdued her courage. Bitter 
 experience had taught her the habit of self-reliance. 
 Fate had dealt roughly with her, and, in her way, she had 
 drawn lessons from it, which were not of a purifying or 
 ennobling character. Dolia Mariquita knew the value of 
 a competence; and there was little that she would not 
 have sacrificed in order to attain it. Still she was full of 
 kindness to her daughter, whom she treated with great 
 fondness, not only because she was her daughter, but also 
 because she looked upon her youth and beauty as capital, 
 from which, while it lasted, golden interest might be 
 drawn. It was Dona Mariquita that had encouraged the 
 visits and pretensions of .Roberto Sanchez. Mariquita 
 Ycaza de Castro knew that her daughter was too poor and 
 too low down in the social scale to entertain any expecta 
 tion of a rich and noble husband. But poverty and want 
 pinch cruelly, and relief, even temporary relief, from the 
 gnawing cares of indigence, was thought highly desirable 
 by a woman of Dona Muriquita's character, and not too 
 costly at any price. If her daughter, a child of the people, 
 could not aspire to a wealthy and noble husband, why 
 should she not strive to, and have a wealthy and noble 
 lover, provided a generous, open-hearted, and open-handed
 
 92 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 youth could be attracted who would do the right thing by 
 Mercedes, or, more properly, by her mother? There was 
 danger in this respect. The young cavaliers of Quito were 
 unscrupulous and licentious enough, but mostly too poor to 
 be considered eligible by this worthy matron. But fortu 
 nately, or unfortunately, chance threw Eoberto Sanchez 
 into her way, who, to an unbounded generosity, and a 
 sense of loyalty rare in those days, united a supply of 
 ample means with which his rich and indulgent father pro 
 vided him. 
 
 " Why do you weep, Merccditas ?" 
 
 Mercedes had cause to weep, as her mother was soon to 
 learn. The way of the transgressor is always hard. After 
 the days of illicit bliss the days of trial were to follow, and 
 Mercedes had discovered that those days were soon to 
 come. To add gall to this bitter discovery, the visits of 
 her lover had not been so frequent, of late, as in the earlier 
 days of their love. Sighs and tears, such as the girl had 
 been unable to repress in his presence, are not to the taste 
 of a young cavalier, however loyal his intentions may be. 
 "The dazzling toy, so fiercely sought, 
 Has lost its charm by being caught." 
 
 The story is so well known that it does not bear repeti 
 tion. Dona Mariquita had, therefore, every reason to ask : 
 " Why do you weep, Merceditas?" 
 
 Ask a woman why she cries, and you will open the flood 
 gate of her tears. Mercedes threw herself into her mother's 
 arms and continued to weep. 
 
 " This is quite a touching sight," said a coarse and 
 sneering voice, which filled both mother and daughter with 
 sudden fear. It was the voice of Juan Castro who had en 
 tered the room unobserved, and stood in the door, his faco 
 flushed with rum and excitement. 
 
 "And to what are we indebted to the rare and extraor 
 dinary pleasure of seeing the Sefior Don Juan?" asked the
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 93 
 
 Dona Mariquita, who, although greatly vexed and alarmed 
 by his visit, had not lost her presence of mind. 
 
 "Ask your sniveling daughter, there! Ask the neigh 
 bors ! Ask the whole town, and you will know, if you do 
 not know already, why a visit of the son and brother has 
 become necessary." 
 
 " I do not understand you," said his mother, without 
 looking at him. "It is so uncommon for Juan Castro to 
 remember that he has a mother and a sister." 
 
 " I can not say. that I enjoy the remembrance. The con 
 duct of that young lady has not been calculated to develop 
 brotherly pride and affection. It would have been better 
 for me not to have had a sister." 
 
 "And why, pray?" 
 
 "Al demonio with your questions!" he replied with an 
 oath. "As if you did not know what I mean ! I am not 
 easily flattered by your high connections. Do you two 
 women think that it is very pleasant for me to have our 
 name and family disgraced by Roberto Sanchez?" 
 
 " If the honor of any name and family were intrusted 
 to your keeping, Juan, I should pity the family," answered 
 Dona Mariquita, while Mercedes continued to cling to her 
 mother tremblingly, and in silence. 
 
 " For how much have you sold that girl?" 
 
 " If I had to sell her, Juan, in order to keep ourselves 
 from starvation, you would be the last person in the world 
 who has a right to complain. What have you done for your 
 family? What have you ever contributed to the support 
 of your mother and sister ? How have you repaid me for 
 bringing you up and establishing you in business ? " 
 
 "Nonsense, Mother! Devilish little have I received 
 from you of my father's estate." 
 
 " Your father had no property, and you know it. What 
 I had was my own, and not your father's." 
 
 "I have not come to quarrel with you. I have come to
 
 94 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 tell you that the disgraceful visits of Sanchez must stop. 
 These visits must stop, do you understand me." 
 
 " But if they should not stop ? " 
 
 u Then I must infer that it is very profitable for you to 
 let them goon. And if I am to share the shame, Mother, 
 I must share the profits, too. Have I expressed myself 
 with sufficient clearness ? " 
 
 "And if I tell you never to set your foot in this house 
 again ?" 
 
 "You will not tell me anything of the kind, Mother. 
 You know i am not to be trifled with. You know I um to 
 be feared." 
 
 " Will you murder us, as you attempted to murder the 
 old Chichera, Dona Catita?" 
 
 " She has found to her expense that I am not to be con 
 tradicted or counteracted by anybody. You will either 
 put a stop to the visits of Sanchez, or you will let me share 
 in the proceeds. And, by the way, I am in difficulty just 
 now. One or two ducats would help me out." 
 
 " I have no money in the house," said Doila Mariquita, 
 turning pale. 
 
 "We shall see, about that," rejoined Castro, swaggering 
 up to the bureau. 
 
 " Stand back ! " commanded his mother, throwing her 
 self in his way. 
 
 "Give way!" he shouted, seizing her by the arm, "and 
 do not provoke me. I know now that you have money 
 in the house." 
 
 A scuffle began. The woman was determined, and so 
 was her son. With a loud scream, Mercedes threw herself 
 between them to -protect her mother, but he flung her back 
 with such force that she fell to the. floor, upsetting her harp 
 which fell with a moaning sound. In the next moment 
 Castro would have overpowered his mother, if a new party 
 had not appeared on the scene. JRoberto Sanchez, with
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 95 
 
 drawn sword, and the fire of indignation in his eye, now 
 faced the ruffian. 
 
 *' Stand back, you blackguard, and if you ever dare to 
 come here again, I shall cut you to pieces" 
 
 Castro was not afraid of any man. But Eoberto Sanchez 
 was armed, and Castro was unarmed. Eoberto was a 
 nobleman of high standing, and the strong arm of the law 
 would have been on his side. Discretion, therefore, became 
 the better part of valor. 
 
 " I see, it is your time now, Senor Don .Roberto," he said, 
 slowly reti*eating. "You claim rights by purchase here, 
 which it may be too late for me to dispute. But we shall 
 meet under more favorable circumstances." 
 
 " Your threats are ridiculous, Juan Castro," said Sanchez. 
 " If it is money you want, you should act differently. And 
 as for your courage, there are better opportunities to prove 
 it than by abusing two defenseless women, whom you 
 should consider it your duty to protect. Listen, man ! I 
 have something to tell you which you will like to hear. 
 You claim' to be a son of Quito. Well, then, Quito has 
 good use for you now. The Procurator-General, Don Alonzo 
 Bellido, has been arrested to-day by order of the Eoyal 
 Audience, for advising the people to resist the collection 
 of the Alcabala. He must be set free to-night. Do you 
 understand ? We shall all go to the Palace, and force the 
 President, if necessary, to issue an order for Bellido's re 
 lease. I know, your influence among the commoners is great, 
 and the Cabildo relies on your zeal. Get your men in 
 readiness for to-night, and as you will need money, here it 
 is. You shall have money enough, but do not act the brute 
 to your helpless mother and sister." 
 
 Juan Castro hated Eoberto Sanchez, and did not intend 
 to be deprived of his revenge. But money and the prospect 
 of a riot tempted him beyond his power of resist 
 ance. Worse than all, he hated the native Spaniards, 
 and a demonstration against the foreign authorities
 
 96 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 was one of his favorite pastimes. What course he 
 should hereafter pursue as to Sanchez might be made 
 a subject of future deliberation. All appearances in 
 dicated that for the rescue of his sister, he had come too 
 late. But Sanchez had given him money, and more money 
 might be drawn from the same source. To bleed him in 
 his purse might, after all, be wiser policy than to run the 
 great risk of attempting his life. At all events, Castro de 
 termined to consider. For the moment he was satisfied, 
 and so he said cheerfully : " Many thanks to your Grace. 
 I shall show myself worthy of the confidence of the Cabildo. 
 In the meantime, I beg your Excellency's pardon for my 
 rudeness. I see it was all a mistake on my part. Your 
 Grace shall hear from me to-night. Death to the Audience 
 and Yiva el Sefior Alonzo Bellido ! " 
 
 With these words he hurried away without deigning to 
 look at his mother or sister, who felt that although the 
 danger had passed away for the time being, a dark cloud 
 had arisen on the horizon, which might still be fraught 
 with destruction. 
 
 That same night the first blow was struck by the Com 
 mune of Quito. The first overt act of rebellion was com 
 mitted. An immense multitude appeared before the Gov 
 ernment Palace, headed by gentlemen in masks, and by 
 men of the Castro stamp, with open visor. The President 
 of the Royal Audience, Don Manuel Barros de San Millan, 
 was completely taken by surprise. No outbreak had been 
 apprehended so soon, and consequently no precautions had 
 been taken. The mob demanded the immediate release of 
 Don Alonzo Bellido, and the terrified Auditors assented 
 without hesitation. The cowardly President even went so 
 far as to assure the people that a mistake had been made 
 by some one; that his authority had been exceeded, and 
 that it had not been his intention to arrest the Procurator- 
 General. Bellido was borne home on the shoulders of men. 
 From the balcony of his house he* addressed the people.
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 97 
 
 He thanked them for their sympathy and kindness, and 
 assured them of his unswerving devotion to their rights. 
 He entreated them to go home peaceably, and to commit 
 no excesses, so as not to disgrace their just cause. He 
 vowed that while he was Procurator-General their rights 
 should be protected. At the same time he expressed loy 
 alty to the King, who must have been misinformed, and 
 hud evidently acted under the advice of evil counselors, 
 with whom the responsibility rested. Still, while trusting 
 to the justice of His Majesty, it behooved them, like prudent 
 men, to be on their guard against the continued influence 
 of His Majesty's evil advisers. The people of Quito had 
 taken a lawful, but a bold step, and it would be necessary 
 to prepare for the consequences. The rights of the Muni 
 cipality must be maintained, but he doubted if it could be 
 done without a struggle. He hoped to God that struggle 
 might be averted; but, if it became inevitable, he, for one, 
 was ready to go to the bitter end, and to sacrifice his life, 
 if necessary, in the cause of law and justice, without which 
 life itself would be unbearable. 
 
 His speech electrified the people, and was received with 
 thunders of applause. The hour had come and had fur 
 nished the man. The .Revolution had found a head to 
 direct it. And a clear, cool, far-seeing, and determined 
 head was that of the ill-fated Alonzo Bellido.
 
 98 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 CARMEN DUCHICELA THE OLD FAITH AND THE NEW. 
 
 We must go back to the evening preceding the scene 
 at the church, described in another chapter. A large 
 house in the Plaza of San Francisco, owned by the Con 
 vent, patronized by the liberality of Carmen Duchicela, 
 had been placed at the disposal of the Indian Princess, 
 for the time of her stay in Quito. All the nobility, 
 ladies, and gentlemen, and nearly the whole clerg}* of 
 the place, had called on her shortly after her arrival, 
 and visitors were continually offering their services to 
 her, in the usual Spanish style. She was overwhelmed 
 with attentions and besieged with invitations, most of 
 
 O * 
 
 which she declined. The Spanish colonists looked with 
 contempt on the common herd of Indians ; but Dona 
 Carmen was the representative of Royalty ; and Royalty, 
 even conquered Royalty, never loses its charm in the eyes 
 of poor humanity. 
 
 In Peru intermarriages between the conquerors and the 
 Indian Princesses had been .frequent. The celebrated his 
 torian, Garcilazo de la Vega, was the issue of such a mar 
 riage. In Quito such unions could not take place, because 
 Rumiiiagui, the usurper, had killed off the Princesses that 
 had been left behind when Atahualpa went south, and had 
 even carried off or murdered the Virgins of the Sun, who 
 always were of the best blood of the land. The visit of 
 Dofia Carmen, therefore, created great excitement at Quito, 
 because she and her son were the last known representa 
 tives of the royal blood of the Shyris. Her son, however, 
 had not come with her to Quito, as the management of the
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 99 
 
 family estates, at this season of the year, required his 
 presence at home. 
 
 The hour of the night-bell (toque de la quedn~) was fast 
 approaching. All her white visitors had left. Dona Car 
 men felt somewhat fatigued with their attentions. Don 
 Sebastian Collahuaso, the Cacique of Ibarra, had remained 
 with her, and was now joined by the old Indian whom we 
 noticed at the church. He entered the room after the last 
 white face had disappeared. An Indian servant girl stood 
 in the door awaiting the orders of her mistress. 
 
 "How I hate them," whispered the old man to Don Se 
 bastian Collahuaso, as they both respectfully took up their 
 positions near Dofia Carmen's chair." 
 
 "Peace be with you, Prince Cundurazu ; we must wait 
 and bear. Our Lady seems to be fatigued." 
 
 " Yes, my dear Don Sebastian, I feel tired and exhausted. 
 These people are all very kind to me, but it is very tire 
 some to receive so many. Such a constant stream of visit 
 ors interferes with my devotions. At my age, on the verge 
 of eternity, the vanities of this world lose their charm, 
 however highly I may have prized them once. I am 
 very much beholden to you for your assistance, Don Se 
 bastian. You must be fatigued likewise. I shall keep 
 you no longer." 
 
 " I am sorry, Doiia Carmen, that I must trouble you for 
 a few minutes longer. But I must speak to you on a very 
 important subject." 
 
 " Is it of such importance that it can not be postponed 
 until tomorrow?" 
 
 ''It is, Lady Carmen. Now we are alone in the house 
 I mean nobody is with or around us, but the children of 
 our own race." 
 
 "Don Sebastian, if you had entered into the spirit of the 
 new faith, you would know that there is in reality but one 
 i j ace, which is the human race, and that we are, all of us,
 
 100 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 children of our heavenly Father, and consequently Brothers 
 and Sisters." 
 
 "A pretty way of treating their Brothers and Sisters they 
 have, those foreign children of your heavenly Father," 
 sneered Cnnduruzu. 
 
 "Hush, old friend. You and I shall never agree on this 
 subject. Let us hear what communication Don Sebastian 
 has to make'/' 
 
 " Knowing your views, I might have kept it from you, 
 Lady Carmen. But good faith requires that you shall know 
 what we intend to do. You will not be compromised by it 
 in any way. And as you may, perhaps, desire to see your 
 nearest female relative " 
 
 " For God's sake, Don Sebastian, do you mean to tell 
 me " 
 
 " That the Sefiora Toa is in the city? Yes, Dona Car 
 men, I do." 
 
 The old lady turned pale, and looked very uneasy. After 
 a pause, she said : " And why have you brought her here, 
 into this hot-bed of danger?" 
 
 " She is perfectly safe here, Dona Carmen ; safer, prob 
 ably, than in the remotest hamlet of the country." 
 
 " And you, Prince Cundurazu, 1 have no doubt, are 
 planning and plotting with her, dreaming of impossibilities 
 and struggling against the inevitable." 
 
 "Coya,"* said the old man, "The Senora Toa is my 
 Queen " 
 
 " Whose life you have made wretched and miserable, 
 making her a fugitive and a wanderer, while she might 
 have lived in happiness and peace. For the sake of a 
 worthless bubble for a mere phantom the perpetuation 
 of Sbyri .Royalty, which must end, even in this form, as it 
 has ended in substance, you have sacrificed that unfortu 
 nate girl. Why did you not leave her with me, where she 
 was unknown and safe ? The special privileges conferred 
 
 * Royal Princess.
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 101 
 
 upon my father by the King of Spain have descended to 
 me, and will descend to my son. 1 might have protected 
 her, even if her origin had been revealed, especially H'you 
 had let me carry out my wish of marrying her to my son. 
 But, no; you have filled her mind with hallucinations and 
 illusions, and have unfitted her for a quiet, useful, matronly 
 life, and doomed her to hide in caves, in ravines, and in 
 the wilderness, in order to keep up the spirit of discontent 
 and false hope among the children of our race. The only 
 consolation they might have the consolation of true re 
 ligion you take from them, by secretly keeping up heath 
 enism among them, and you have nothing to give them in 
 return, nothing, nothing; for what can your plots ever 
 lead to ? What could our Indians ever accomplish against 
 the power of Spain ? If they could not crush the in 
 vaders when we were the millions and they the few 
 hundreds, how can you expect to shake off the yoke when 
 the hundreds have multiplied into the hundred thousands? 
 You afflict me, my friends, by your vain struggles and vis 
 ionary hopes. And where is that poor, dear girl now?" 
 
 " She is here, in the house, Doiia Carmen, waiting to em 
 brace her kinswoman." 
 
 " Here, in the house! God bless her. Why did you not 
 tell me before ? Where is she?" 
 
 " Here, Auntie dear," said Toa, who had listened to most 
 of this conversation, in the adjoining room, and now, with 
 outstretched arms, flew to the old lady. But the latter had 
 already slipped from her chair. Stronger than the new 
 faith, stronger than her religious convictions, stronger than 
 her loyalty to the authority of the conquerors who had 
 dealt so generously with her house, was the power of blood 
 and ancient custom. Carmen Duchicela, the loyal subject 
 of the King of Spain, and the favorite of his Church, in 
 stead of receiving the homage of her young relative, upon 
 whom she had lavished her charities, instantly forgot the 
 present, and at once flew back to the past, and throwing
 
 102 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 herself in the dust before the Lady Toa, clung to the 
 feet of the granddaughter of Atahualpa, the legitimate re 
 presentative of Indian sovereignty. 
 
 "Kise, Auntie, dear," said Toa; "nay, Mother, I should 
 say for you have proved a mother, a guardian angel, a 
 benefactress to me, your wayward, disobedient child." 
 With these words she lifted her up and silently held her 
 in her arms. The two women were locked in each other's 
 embrace, and a long pause followed, during which only 
 sobs were audible. The two strong men, hardened in the 
 school of adversity, had melted like children, and Prince 
 Cundurazu especially could not stem the flood of his tears. 
 But soon the silence was broken. The members of Dofla 
 Carmen's Indian suite and her numerous retinue of ser 
 vants crowded into the room, and prostrating themselves 
 before the Lady Toa, kissed the hem of her hunible gar 
 ment, or, true to the old Indian custom, seized her foot and 
 put it on their necks or shoulders. 
 
 "I thank you, children," said Toa, vainly endeavoring 
 to repress her tears, " with all my heart I thank you for 
 your love, your loyalty, your devotion. But leave us now. 
 I have not seen the Senora Carmen for years, and 1 have 
 much to say to her. Leave us now, children. I shall see 
 you again, and shall speak to each one of you. The 
 Great Sun will protect you, and his sister, the Moon, will 
 smile upon you, and Pachacamac will once more favor the 
 cause of our race." 
 
 "You must not speak to them thus, Lady Toa," said 
 Doila Carmen, regaining her composure, and with an ex 
 pression of reproachful sadness. " The gods you name 
 were false gods, and we are Christians. The Sun and the 
 Moon are but the works of the true God. "Where was the 
 power of Pachacamac and the Sun and the Moon, when 
 the true God came into this land ? They were like chaff 
 and withered leaves before the hurricane. Go, now, my 
 children ; I want to speak to the Shyri Toa."
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 103 
 
 Reluctantly the Indians obeyed this command, leaving 
 the two ladies alone with Don Sebastian. Collahuaso and 
 Prince Cundurazu. 
 
 " And now, children," said Dona Carmen, " what do you 
 intend to do?" 
 
 " The Shyri Toa," said Cundurazu, " must show herself 
 to her people. Our people believe in her existence, but 
 this belief would soon die out without the evidence of their 
 own senses. They must see her, and they shall see her in 
 the church to-morrow, in order to be confirmed in their 
 loyalty." 
 
 "And what is your object, my friend, in preserving a 
 loyalty, which, while it is useless to my darling Toa, can 
 only help to make our race miserable by increasing its dis 
 content with its present condition?" 
 
 "Doiia Carmen," replied Cundurazu, ' we have great 
 plans" 
 
 " The old, old story !" 
 
 " But listen ! It is not the old story. No longer do we 
 hope for deliverance through our own unaided exertions. 
 I am i-eady to admit to you now that this would be in vain. 
 But there will be an outbreak here against the authority 
 of the King of Spain. The children of our conquerors 
 have become as dissatisfied with their foreign tyrants as 
 we are. If they will give us our rights, we shall aid their 
 rebellion and make it successful. We have millions of men 
 and our great treasure. All the resources of war are at 
 our command. This country can shake off the yoke of 
 Spain. It can be made an independent kingdom under a 
 sovereign of its own, assisted perhaps by one or more of 
 the powers that are now at war with Spain. I grant our 
 new King must belong to the detested race of the conquer 
 ors. But he shall marry the Shyri Toa, and she shall con 
 fer upon him her rights as the successor of Cacha and At- 
 ahualpa. She shall be a real Queen, arid will be able to 
 protect her race."
 
 104 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 " And who is the husband you have selected for her, you 
 restless, indefatigable, incorrigible schemer?" inquired the 
 SeSora Carmen. 
 
 "Wo have not settled yet upon any particular individ 
 ual ; it is only the general outline of the plan on which we 
 have agreed. We shall have to leave a great deal to the 
 decisive power of the events before us." 
 
 "And you, my child," asked Dona Carmen, " do you ap 
 prove of all these visionary schemes?" 
 
 "My dearest Aunt, I have devoted my life to the cause 
 of my race. The plan of Prince Cundurazu may succeed, 
 and it is my duty to try it, trusting to the guidance of 
 our friends here and to the mercy of the Gods. If this 
 plan fails I have another." 
 
 \" My poor child," said Doiia Carmen, " do not sacrifice 
 yourself and the lives of others to such fruitless begin 
 ning. I see no hope but in submission and in the grace of 
 God. These schemes can not succeed. How can this poor 
 country shake off the yoke of the greatest power in the 
 world? And what good would your success do to our 
 race? The Crown of Spain has always been the friend of 
 the Indian. Numberless laws were passed for our protec 
 tion. Who has disregarded them? AVbo has prevented 
 their execution, or perverted them into instruments of ad 
 ditional oppression? The Colonists the very men with 
 whom you propose to cooperate. Have you forgotten the 
 rebellion of Gonzalo Pizarro? What was its cause? Why 
 did Peru then arise against Spain ? Because the Govern 
 ment wanted the Indians to be free, and to be protected 
 like liuman beings. Against this intention the Col 
 onists rebelled, and the Government yielded in order to 
 crush the rebellion. What little protection we enjoy lies 
 in the Government of Spain and in the Council of the In 
 dies. Let these Colonies shake off the Spanish yoke, and 
 the Indian will lose his last and only friend. It is true,
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 105 
 
 the Spanish officers who are sent here disregard the 
 benevolent laws and intentions of the Home Govern 
 ment. But it only shows how much worse we should 
 be off if that last restraint were removed. No, child, 
 you will never succeed, and if this country should gain 
 its independence, it would be the deadliest blow to our 
 people." 
 
 "Not under a King of our own making," said Cundur- 
 azu, " with Toa as his Queen." 
 
 "You are a visionary, Prince Cundurazu," continued 
 the old lady, "and you are leading this child to destruc 
 tion. Toa! Dear Toa! Flesh of my own flesh my 
 child, my darling child ! Be warned by one who has been 
 a mother to you ! "Abandon this life of adventure, of rest 
 lessness, of danger, and of utter hopelessness. Come to 
 me again. You know my son. He is good, kind-hearted, 
 and true. He will be a loving husband to you and an af 
 fectionate father to your children. He will give you the 
 blessings of a home ; he will cherish and protect you, and 
 your life will be passed in usefulness and happiness. Re 
 nounce your empty title; it is a heritage of defeat and 
 death. The glory of our royal house has passed away 
 forever, and will never be restored. I am old, and my 
 davs on earth are numbered. I remember the past, and 
 can judge of what the future will be. By the sacred 
 memory of our fathers, by the living God, in whom I be 
 lieve, and who has proved stronger than the Sun or the 
 Moon and Pachacamac, by everything that I hold dear on 
 earth and in heaven, I implore you to return to me, and 
 to exchange peace, comfort, and happiness for restlessness, 
 misery, suffering, and death. Our race is an inferior race, 
 which has had its days of power; but those days are gone, 
 and will never can never return. We are suffering for 
 the idolatry and the errors of our Fathers, and nothing re 
 mains for us but patience and hope, and a firm trust in
 
 106 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 Him who died on the cross for the meek, the down-trod 
 den, and the lowly, who will be with Him in Paradise." 
 
 Toa was deeply moved. She loved her Aunt and longed 
 for the happiness her self-imposed martyrdom had thus far 
 denied her. But visions of another love, and dreams of 
 greatness and glory, and the noble ambition of liberating her 
 race steeled her determination. She bent over Dona Car 
 men, kissed her fondly and tenderly, and then said, with a 
 voice trembling with emotion : " Aunt, Mother, benefactress ! 
 How dear, how good, how noble you are ! For all your 
 love, J thank you ! I can never repay it. It grieves me 
 to the heart that I can not obey you. If I feel remorse for 
 what I consider the performance of an imperative duty, 
 this remorse lies in my love for you. The thought of 
 grieving you is almost unbearable, and yet, Dona Carmen, 
 I can not do otherwise. The heavenly powers made me 
 the rightful Queen of our people. Shall I abandon them 
 for my own comfort and happiness? Shall I settle down 
 quietly and selfishly, and think of myself only, while my 
 people are crushed by the most revolting and heartless 
 tyranny? The foreigners are making them beasts of 
 burden. They kill them by thousands in the factories 
 and mines. They are grinding them into dust. They 
 whip them like dogs. They hunt them down like wild 
 beasts. They tear the wife from the husband. They 
 snatch the child from the arms of the mother. They doom 
 our people to disease and starvation. They kill them for 
 pastime. And I, the rightful Queen of these unfortunates, 
 should quietly turn my eyes away from their sufferings and 
 abandon them to their fate? No, Dona Carmen! While 
 there is hope, be it ever so remote and so faint, I shall 
 work and plot and struggle, as long as the Gods give me 
 strength. And if all hopes fade, and our enterprise fails 
 on this side of the Cordillera, I shall have my revenge on 
 the other. Yonder, along the headwaters of the mighty
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 107 
 
 Marauon, the dominion of the foreign invaders rests on an 
 insecure and trembling foundation. I can not cope with 
 them in the 'plains and on the table-lands, but there in the 
 tropical forest, where wild Nature will come to my aid 
 I shall destroy them; I shall crush them as they have 
 crushed my people here. Not a vestige shall be left of 
 their towns. Not a white face shall be left to tell the tale 
 of horror. I know a mighty chief, Quirruba, the King of 
 the Jivaros. He loves me and wants me for his Queen. I 
 can fire his heart to deeds of daring and revenge. I can 
 unite, through him, the Jivaros, the Zaparos, the Napos, 
 the Macas, the Hambayos, and other tribes, in a great con 
 federation, arid with one blow I shall wipe out the Spanish 
 dominion in the country of the great rivers and the great 
 forests "- 
 
 " May the Lord have mercy on thy soul !" interrupted 
 Carmen. " I shall hear no more. Peace ! Peace ! Be 
 silent, for the Virgin's sake. I can not, I must not listen 
 to this any longer. Toa, my unfortunate child, 1 can only 
 pray for you. May God enlighten you and show you the 
 dreadful error of your ways. If my incessant prayers and 
 burning tears can move Him, He will have mercy on you 
 and turn you away from this horrid path. Toa, my child, 
 I am sick in body and mind. I can not listen to this any 
 longer." And with these words the old lady buried her 
 face in her hands. 
 
 " Forgive me, dearest Mother," said Toa, tenderly. 
 u Forgive your unfortunate child. My heart beats and 
 bleeds for you ; but I can not abandon my race. Our 
 ways, Mother Carmen, have deviated, and we must part. 
 If, after you leave Quito, we should never meet again, my 
 tenderest thoughts will ever be with you. But, Dona Car 
 men, I can not, I must not act otherwise. You have been 
 brought up in a different school. You have not seen the 
 sufferings of our race. Your house and your vassals have 
 enjoyed exceptional privileges. Your father was a friend
 
 108 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 to the foreigner, while my father and grandfather were his 
 victims. You have adopted the faith of the invader, and 
 judge things differently. I cling to the old traditions and 
 to the old faith ; and my people's sufferings point out to 
 me the path of duty. Auntie, dear, however our views 
 may differ, however your religion may condemn my 
 doings, I know you will never betray me." 
 
 Doiia Carmen roused herself from her stupor and said 
 sternly : 
 
 " Toa! In my opinion you are violating the laws of God 
 and man. My religion teaches me that those who rule 
 over us, derive their powers from God, and that God's will 
 must be done. You are a heathen and a traitor to the 
 King of Spain. Your life is forfeited. My judgment con 
 demns you, my heart deplores you. My duty to my 
 Church and my King would compel me to abandon you, 
 nay, to deliver you to your judges. But, Toa, though a 
 Christian and a loyal subject to the King of Spain, my 
 benefactor, I am a scion of the house of Shyri-Duchicela. 
 That house may have had some weak and a few bad re 
 presentatives, but no Shyri-Duchicela ever was a traitor to 
 his house, race, or friendship. I can pity you, Toa; I can 
 weep and pray for you, but rest assured I should forfeit all 
 hope of salvation in the next world, and all happiness in 
 this life, rather than to betray you. But now I am ex 
 hausted, my children. I am worn and weary, and you 
 must let me retire. In the meantime, Toa, let this house 
 be your home. While I have a roof over my head, Toa 
 Duchicela shall never be without shelter. But do not tell 
 me more of your plotting and scheming. 1 could not listen 
 to it again." 
 
 With these words the old lady called her maid, embraced 
 and kissed Toa once more, and then, supported by the ser 
 vant, left the room. 
 
 The Queen was now alone with her Ministers, and a long 
 and anxious discussion followed, during which Toa was
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 109 
 
 informed as to the state of opinion and the disposition 
 of the leading men of Quito. She learned that as to all 
 present indications, old Alonzo Sanchez and Alonzo Bellido 
 would be the natural leaders of the expected revolutionary 
 movement, and that Bellido, especially, was a man of great 
 power and daring, and would give vitality and shape to 
 the rising of the populace. Don Sebastian Collahuaso 
 thought it highly desirable to communicate with either, if 
 not with both of these men at once. 
 
 The cock proclaimed the hours of approaching morn, 
 when the three conspirators retired to the rooms which had 
 been assigned to them by Dona Carmen. 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 THE STATECRAFT OP MURDER. 
 
 The day after the scene at the Church of San Francisco, 
 Count Valverde was in attendance on Don Manuel Barros, 
 the President of the Koyal Audience, who had requested the 
 pleasure of a visit from him, on business of the utmost im 
 portance to the service of the King. On presenting him 
 self at the Palace, the Count found that the Koyal Audience 
 was in session with closed doors, and hours passed before 
 he was ushered into the presence of the dull and bad man 
 in whose weak hands the coming crisis should find the 
 reins of government. His Excellency apologized for hav 
 ing kept the Count in waiting, but the delay was inevitable. 
 It concerned the very business upon which his Excellency 
 wished to confer with the military commander. 
 
 Did Count Valverde have in his company of arquebu- 
 siers, two men who might be relied upon for a secret ser 
 vice of the utmost delicacy and importance ? 
 
 The Count thought that almost all his men could he re-
 
 110 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 lied upon. They all had seen service in one or the other 
 of the many wars waged by Philip II. Yes, but it was not 
 strictly a military service that would be demanded of them. 
 The service to be performed was of such a nature as to re 
 quire men who were not troubled with scruples or sympa 
 thetic weaknesses, but who were ready to do anything the 
 King's interests demanded. They should be well paid for 
 what they were to do, provided they could hold their 
 tongues. 
 
 Would his Excellency condescend to acquaint Count Val- 
 verde with the nature of the service required? It would 
 aid him in a proper selection of the men. His Excellency 
 would not do so directly, but he hinted that it was of prime 
 necessity that these two men should be unerring marks 
 men. Count Valverde now understood the worthy head of 
 the Government. Not soldiers, but assassins, were wanted. 
 Somebody had been doomed, and Yalverde was called upon 
 to furnish the executioners. The Count was startled, but 
 not surprised by this intelligence. The dagger and the 
 pistol of the assassin, as well as the secret midnight visit 
 of the executioner in disguise, were integral parts of the 
 system by which King Philip governed the great empire 
 in which the sun never set. And the example of the ter 
 rible spider who sat lurking in the Escurial, in the center 
 of his web, was faithfully imitated by his representatives 
 and instruments abroad. 
 
 At any other time, Count Yalverde would have furnished 
 the men without asking a question. But the fearful proph 
 ecy of Mama Kucu, with the remembrance it had revived, 
 was still fresh in his mind; and so he asked whether his 
 Excellency would assume all the responsibility. His Excel 
 lency would. And would his Excellency give the neces- 
 sar} r orders to the men, or would he, the Count, be required 
 to do so? The President took a ring out of a drawer, broke 
 it asunder with a hammer, and handing one of the halves to 
 the Count, explained that the men might be sent to the Pal-
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. Ill 
 
 ace, with instructions faithfully to obey the orders to be 
 given them by the party that would present the other half 
 of the ring. 
 
 Count Valverde was a subaltern officer, and the man be 
 fore him was the President of the Royal Audience, next in 
 dignity to the Viceroy of Peru, and to the President of the 
 Audience at Lima. And, hence, although Valverde greatly 
 doubted the policy of the measure to which the Govern 
 ment seemed determined to resort, he considered it his duty 
 to remain silent and to obey. He bowed and prepared to 
 withdraw ; but the President detained him. It would be 
 necessary to be prepared for every emergency. The other 
 night the populace had assailed him in his own Palace, and 
 found him unprepared and unprotected. He was helpless 
 in the hands of a lawless mob, and compelled to accede to 
 their outrageous demands. This must not occur again. 
 The royal authority must be maintained. Would Count 
 Valverde be kind enough to transfer all his men to the 
 Palace? A mere guard of hotior, such as the President 
 had had hitherto, was powerless in case of need. The 
 President had given orders for the removal of the bureaus 
 that now occupied the lower floor of the Palace, so as to fur 
 nish quarters for the soldiers. 
 
 "And when will these rooms be ready for the reception 
 of my men ? " 
 
 " To-morrow," answered the President. " Let your men 
 be concentrated in the Palace to-morrow, as early as you 
 can. The royal authority must not be defied again." 
 
 With these instructions, the interview terminated. The 
 President seemed greatly alarmed. He was evidently 
 troubled by fears for his personal safety much more than 
 by his regard for the royal authority. 
 
 Count Valverde did not relish the orders he had received. 
 He was vexed at the idea of having to exchange his com 
 fortable quarters in the barracks, for some unfinished or 
 unfurnished office-room in the Palace. Much less did he
 
 112 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 relish the command to detail two men for a secret service, 
 the object of which evidently was murder. He did not 
 know who the victim was to be, or whether more than one 
 blow was to be struck ; but would not he, as the military 
 commander, be held responsible for a deed committed by 
 soldiers ? And if such a dark deed should lead to an out 
 break of popular fury, would it not direct itself against 
 him ? He had but one company of arquebusiers against a 
 mob of thousands ; for he was confident that the native 
 militia would either lend him no assistance or side with the 
 mob. He took the ring out of his pocket and looked at it. 
 Was this mean piece of metal to be the forerunner of death 
 and destruction ? He felt a sinister presentiment that his 
 own death was in the command which the broken ring con 
 veyed. The President evidently was blundering. Yal- 
 verde had no confidence in his Excellency's capacity. 
 Should he instruct his men to report to him, before carry 
 ing out the orders which they were to receive ? He might 
 exercise discretionary powers, and prevent some act of dis 
 astrous folly or imprudent cruelty. .While he was thus 
 pondering, he bad unknowingly been made the object of 
 sneers and insulting questions. A crowd of boys and 
 loungers, belonging to the rabble of Quito, had collected 
 and followed him. Their courage grew as their numbers 
 increased. 
 
 " There goes the Chapeton,"* said one. 
 
 " He is the fellow who is to teach us obedience," said 
 another. 
 
 " Down with the Spaniards !" exclaimed a third, and the 
 cry was immediately taken up, " Down with the Spaniards ! 
 Down with the Alcabala !" 
 
 Count Valverde looked around indignantly. " Stand 
 back, you hounds," he thundered, laying his hand on the 
 hilt of his sword, " or I shall kill a dozen of you." 
 
 * A nickname given by the Creoles to native Spaniards.
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 113 
 
 The rabble fell back in terror, but immediately rallied 
 again, hurling a volley of epithets, and even a few stones, 
 at the officer. 
 
 " They do not deserve any pity," thought the Count, 
 exasperated, as he put the broken ring in his pocket. 
 "They are all rebels and traitors, and deserve to die, those 
 low-born dogs, as well as their betters who lead them on." 
 
 Here a stone knocked off his hat, and broke his plume, 
 while a shout of derision followed the assault. The Count 
 might have fared badly, had he not been near the barracks. 
 Three soldiers, who were lounging at the next corner, saw 
 his danger, and hurried to his rescue, easily scattering the 
 mob with their swords. 
 
 Grinding his teeth, and with compressed lips, the Count 
 entered the barracks. " The President is right," he thought. 
 " It is necessary to strike terror to their cowardly souls," 
 and turning to an orderly, he said : " Tell Juan del Puente 
 and Ildefonso Coronel to come to my room immediately. I 
 want to see them." 
 
 Twice more that day the broken ring changed hands. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 THE PROCURATOR-GENERAL. 
 
 Alonzo Bellido was a man of about forty -five years of 
 age. He was a man of scholarly attainments, but his com 
 panions, unlike Carrera's, were not the Muses. History 
 and the law were his favorites. He was a great jurist, who 
 had carefully studied and pondered over the history of 
 Spain. His mind dwelt on her ancient liberties ; on the 
 rights of representation in the Cortes, and their subsequent 
 rise and decline; on the history of provincial fueros, the 
 privileges and immunities of municipalities, and on the
 
 114 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 brutal violence and reckless disregard of law, justice, and 
 custom with which Charles V and Philip II had crushed out 
 nearly all that had survived of popular liberty and mu 
 nicipal or provincial rights in the mother country. Bellido 
 was a philosophical thinker of great clearness, and a natural 
 lover of justice, whose whole being revolted against meas 
 ures which, like the imposition of the Alcabala, were palp 
 ably and flagrantly wrong. 
 
 That morning he had introduced a resolution, at the 
 meeting of the Cabildo, pledging the municipality to re 
 sistance. The resolution was couched in terms of respect 
 ful loyalty, but it was outspoken and decided. It threw 
 the blame of the measure on the King's evil advisers, who, 
 unfortunately, had prevailed in His Majesty's councils ; 
 but it declared that until His Majesty had been fully ad 
 vised in the premises, the Alcabala should not be collected 
 in Quito, and that the .Royal Audience should at once be 
 petitioned to withdraw or suspend the proclamation made 
 on the previous day. This resolution was adopted unani 
 mously, when Bellido coolly turned to his colleagues, and 
 said : 
 
 " Gentlemen ! Do your Lordships know that they have 
 signed their death-warrants? " 
 
 This question provoked a general incredulous smile, but 
 Bellido proceeded : 
 
 " Yes, gentlemen ; your death-warrants ! Philip II never 
 forgives and never relents. Think of Egmont, of Home, 
 of Montigny, of Orange, of Antonio Perez; think of his 
 son, Don Carlos. Think of Don Juan of Austria ! He 
 who offends King Philip stakes his life, and loses it if he 
 succumbs. You have now burned your ships. All future 
 repentance and atonement, all subsequent proofs of loy 
 alty, will be unavailing. Your death-warrants are signed. 
 The only question now is, whether King Philip will have 
 power to enforce them."
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 115 
 
 "What do you mean, Don Alonzo?" asked Sciior Olmos, 
 one of the Councilors. 
 
 " That we have entered upon a life and death-struggle. 
 We are doomed if we remain under Spain. There are but 
 two ways of escape for us absolute independence, or a for 
 eign protectorate, if not both." 
 
 And now Alonzo Bellido developed his plans into which 
 it is not our purpose to enter minutely. Spain was at war 
 with France, England, and the Netherlands. The two 
 latter were maritime powers, whose cruisers infested every 
 ocean. Communications should at once be opened with the 
 governments of those countries. French aid would prob 
 ably be the most acceptable to the people, because England 
 and Holland were heretical powers, while Henry IV had 
 made his peace with the Church. But, if French aid 
 could not be procured, any other assistance would he wel 
 come. The great smuggling trade that was carried on all 
 along the colonial coast under the very nose of the author 
 ities, would furnish means of communication, in addition 
 to which deputies should at once be sent abroad to impress 
 upon the enemies of Spain the great importance of a diver 
 sion in their favor in the very heart of Spanish power, in 
 a colony from which so vast a portion of the Spanish rev 
 enues was derived. In the meanlime, Bellido insisted the 
 native militia should be reorganized and prepared for ac 
 tive service. The royal treasures should be seized every 
 where. The members of the Audience should be arrested 
 and detained as hostages. A provisional government 
 should be formed that should assume control of all the inland 
 cities, and secure the possession, for the Independents, of 
 the seaports of Esmeraldas and Guayaquil. The success 
 of the Eevolution depended on the rapidity of its blows. 
 We must not wait until the Viceroy sends an army to crush 
 us ; we must carry the war into Africa, and from Cuenca 
 and Loja invade Peru, where the cities will receive us with 
 open arms. If these views are carried out, Peru and Quito
 
 116 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 will be independent before the news of it reaches Spain. 
 Then, by the time the King sends an armament against us, 
 our negotiations with foreign powers will have ripened 
 into some result. Foreign powers will be ready to help us 
 whenever we show strength enough to help ourselves." 
 
 Altogether, Bellido's plan, bold and dangerous as it 
 seemed to be, was that of a great statesman, but it startled 
 and frightened the more conservative members of the Ca- 
 bildo, who still thought and hoped that by petitions and 
 remonstrances, backed, if necessary, by a show of forcible 
 resistance, an accommodation might be effected with the 
 Court of Spain, or with the Viceroy at Lima. Poor, de 
 luded creatures ! They did not know Philip II and the 
 tools he selected for his service. 
 
 The discussion became excited, and at times angry and 
 stormy, and had already lasted several hours, when one f)f 
 the office-messengers approached Bellido and whispered to 
 him, so as not to interfere with the speakers: " There is an 
 old Indian in the ante-room whom I do not know, and whom 
 I have never seen. He says'.he has a communication of 
 the greatest importance to make, either to the Procurator- 
 General, or to Don Alonzo Sanchez; but he insists on 
 speaking to your Grace in person, and alone." 
 
 " An old Indian ! Eidiculous ! Didst thou not tell him I 
 was engaged ?" 
 
 " I did, Senor, but he said that what he had to say to 
 your Grace referred to the very subject now under con 
 sideration." 
 
 " If that is the case, somebody must have sent him." 
 
 " Yes, he says he is the bearer of a message." 
 
 " Well, 1 think I will see him for a moment. Take him 
 into my office." 
 
 , Bellido was struck with the appearance of the Indian. 
 He looked as if he had lived over a century, and yet, hav 
 ing assured himself that he was alone with Bellido, he
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 117 
 
 showed a quickness and intelligence which to the Procura 
 tor were surprising in one of the despised race. 
 
 " I thank your Grace for coming, and shall not detain 
 you long. I do not come empty handed. To the support 
 of the plan your Grace has conceived, I bring thousands 
 of men and millions of treasure." 
 
 Bellido looked uneasy. "Why, man, are you crazy? 
 What do you mean ?" 
 
 " I shall at once give your Grace some proof of what I 
 say. Your Grace has been maturing a plan for the sepa 
 ration of this country from Spain " 
 
 "Man, you are a wizard. How could you have known 
 that, if it were so?" 
 
 " Sefior ! Is there a house without Indian servants in 
 this city? You think these Indians are mere beasts, and 
 you speak before them without reserve. There is nothing 
 of interest or importance that these apparently stolid" and 
 ernbruted creatures do not hear, see, remember, and when 
 asked or instructed, report to well, let me say to us. 
 Thus I know of your plan. I have known of it for weeks." 
 
 " But who are you ?" 
 
 " Senor, I am a poor Indian, despised and trampled 
 upon with impunity by those of our white conquerors Avho 
 choose to do so. Why should you wish to know moi'e? I 
 come not of my own accord and without authority. I 
 come as the messenger of my sovereign.'' 
 
 By this time Bellido was thoroughly aroused and in 
 terested. His quick mind saw at a glance that this visit 
 had a deep meaning, and that it promised aid, unexpected 
 aid, from an unexpected quarter. " Then, I am to under 
 stand that this legend of an Indian Qneen, of whom we 
 have heard so much and seen nothing, is not a myth 
 but a reality." 
 
 " I am authorized to say so to your Grace." 
 
 "And your credentials?"
 
 118 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " Are in ray hand. Your Grace will please to look at 
 this paper, but I beg you to return it to me." 
 Bellido took it, and read : 
 
 " The bearer will speak for me and in my name. 
 
 " TOA DUCHICELA, 
 
 "Of Quito and Purruhd" 
 
 "All this seems very strange," said Bellido, returning 
 the paper to the Indian. "But 1 shall be glad to learn 
 what you can do for us, and what we are required to do 
 for you in return." 
 
 " Don Alonzo ! I shall be brief. I trust in your honor. 
 For the next few minutes my head, my limbs, my life, will 
 be in your power, but not my secret. You may order me 
 under arrest, and put me to the rack, as has been done to 
 so many of my race, who were suspected of knowing what 
 I have come to tell you voluntarily. I know I invite this 
 danger by endeavoring to communicate on such matters 
 with a Viracocha.* But because the task is dangerous, it 
 has been confided to me. I am a very old man. My days 
 are numbered, and it makes very little difference whether 
 a few are added or taken away. 1 am unknown here. 
 Nobody in this building ever saw me before. I can hide 
 my tracks. You may break me on the wheel but you will 
 discover nothing. I know this charnel-house, la casa de la 
 Municipalidad, where hundreds of my unfortunate race 
 were tortured to death before your Grace came to this 
 city, nay, before your Grace was born. I am ready to 
 suffer as they suffered; but you would gain nothing by it, 
 Seiior Procurator-General." 
 
 "I admit," answered Bellido, "that your experience jus 
 tifies your distrust. But you are mistaken in me. You 
 have come to me in confidence, and I shall not abuse it." 
 
 "1 believe you, Viracocha. And now I shall answer 
 
 * White man.
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 119 
 
 your question. To the furtherance of your enterprise we 
 can give thousands of strong arms and stout hearts, which 
 although untaught and undisciplined, will be an avalanche 
 as to numbers, and when led and supported by military 
 science and skill, will be invaluable auxiliaries by their 
 .knowledge of the country, their powers of endurance, and 
 their blind devotion to their Queen. But we can do more 
 than that. We can give you treasures, gold, the sinews 
 of war. We can give you what your race has sought for 
 during three generations, but has not found and never will 
 find, unless we give it to you the treasure of Atahualpa 
 and Euiniilagui." 
 
 Bellido's eyes dilated. He could hardly conceal his de 
 light. This information, if true, placed the success of his 
 great plans bej-ond doubt. Still he would hardly believe 
 it. It was too good to bo true. And so he said after a 
 pause : " But does that treasure really exist ? " 
 
 " It does, Seilor Bellido. And to satisfy you that what I 
 say is true, and what I promise shall be accomplished, I 
 shall let you see the treasure. Mark me ; you shall see it, 
 only see it. Nothing can be taken from it except by order 
 of my Queen, and she will use it only for the cause of our 
 race. There must be giving and taking. For what we 
 shall give 3-011, we demand an equivalent more precious to 
 us than gold or jewels." 
 
 "And what is it you demand of us, my unknown 
 friend ? " 
 
 " There are two things, Senor Procurator-General, which 
 must be conceded to us before the co-operation I propose 
 can be effected. In the first place, our Queen must be made 
 your Queen ; that is to say, she must marry the man upon 
 whom you confer the royal dignity. Our Indians will not 
 follow unless a Shyri-Inca leads. They obey their own 
 sovereign, who is their head. Without this head, they 
 could not be depended upon. Crown a King of your otvn 
 race, and let him marry Toa Duchicela, and there is not an
 
 120 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 Indian man, woman, or child in the kingdom that would 
 not die in his defense. In the second place, we must have 
 our rights, Seiior. We have been ground to dust ; we have 
 been treated as beasts of burden. We must be treated as 
 human beings. You have made slaves of us ; we want our 
 freedom. Give us our freedom, and your movement shall 
 be successful. The two races can live together in harmony 
 and peace. The Indian will till your soil and perform your 
 labor, as a free man, more willingly than as a slave ; and, 
 if there are those among us who have it in them to rise to 
 the higher places, do not plunge them back into the abyss 
 of misery and degradation. Look at me ! Do I not speak 
 your language as well as any one of you ; and yet I never 
 knew of the existence of your race until Pizarro had 
 landed in Peru. I do not demand an answer now. I ask 
 you to reflect over what I have said. I ask you to see what 
 I am willing to show you, in order to influence your de 
 cision. Meet me to-night, on the Chorrera road, on Mt. 
 Pichincha, and, if you are willing to trust yourself to me, 
 as I have trusted myself to you, you shall see what our race 
 can do for your cause. I shall expect you shortly after 
 dark. Come alone, and make no attempt to capture or be 
 tray me ; it would be of no avail. Will you come?" 
 
 " Most certainly and gladly I shall." 
 
 And that same night, he met Cundurazu on Mt. Pichin 
 cha, where they found Can-era, and were soon joined by 
 Queen Toa attended by a number of Indians.
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 121 
 
 CHAPTEK X. 
 
 THE HIDDEN TREASURE. 
 
 "Are you ready to follow us ? " asked the Indian Queen. 
 
 The two gentlemen bowed and said, " We are." 
 
 " Then you will not object to a little formality, which, 
 unfortunately, can not be dispensed with. You must al 
 low yourselves to be blindfolded. Senor Carrera, whom I 
 have known a few days longer than you, Senor Bellido, 
 has expressly promised to trust me, as I have trusted him. 
 And.,as I could have no possible motive in doing harm to 
 either of you gentlemen, I believe that you, SeSor Bellido, 
 will follow his example." 
 
 " I hate to be deprived of sight, even for the shortest 
 time," said Bellido, " but I see no reason for refusing to 
 obey your Highness. By the very fact of my coming here, 
 I have placed myself under your Highness' orders." 
 
 "Well said, Senor. Let us lose no time, then. Take 
 off your hats, gentlemen, and leave them to our attend 
 ants." With these words she threw a hood over Carrera's 
 head, and fastened it with a bandage across his eyes. 
 Cundurazu did the same to Bellido. ''Give me your hand, 
 Don Julio!" she added, seizing his hand, with a gentle 
 pressure. 
 
 "I shall take the pleasure of leading you. Senor Pro 
 curator," said Cnndurazu ; and the party moved on at once, 
 ascending acclivities and descending into ravines, now 
 stumbling over rocks, now wading through sand or pum 
 ice-stone, or fording torrents, which came rushing down 
 their mountainous beds. Physical exertion in such alti 
 tudes is very fatiguing, and our white gentlemen were 
 frequently compelled to arrest the onward step of their
 
 122 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 Indian leaders, in order to recover their breath and 
 strength. The journey seemed to be endless and doubly 
 trying, as not a word was spoken. At times it seemed to 
 Bcllido that they" were purposely led in a round-about 
 way, in order to deceive them as to the locality they were 
 to visit. At last the procession came to a halt. 
 
 " Stoop down, gentlemen," said the silvery voice of Toa, 
 "and walk on stooping until I tell you that it is no longer 
 necessary." Again they walked on for a considerable dis 
 tance, until Toa stopped them : "We are through and shall 
 give you a little rest." For the last two or three minutes 
 the distant sound of rushing waters had become audible, 
 and now the travelers plainly heard a roaring torrent 
 dashing and breaking itself against narrow and rocky 
 defiles. " Uma ! Is the water turned off ?" asked To#. 
 
 "Yes, Shyri !" answered an Indian voice. And really 
 the noise of rushing waters suddenly began to lessen, until 
 it had almost died away or changed into a mere ripple. 
 
 " We must march on fui'ther," said Toa, again taking 
 Carrera's hand. "Be careful, we are descending. Take 
 hold of my arm or you will fall. One more step and our 
 descent is made. Now comes a last ascent; but you shall 
 be carried the rest of the way." 
 
 Unseen arms seized the two Yiracochas and carried them 
 an additional distance. They were again ascending. At 
 last a halt was made, and the bandage was taken from their 
 eyes. Complete darkness surrounded them. They knew 
 they were not in the open air, but they had no conception 
 of where they were. 
 
 " I shall not blind your eyes with sudden light. You 
 must recover }-our sight gradually,'' said Toa. And so it 
 was done. A dimly burning torch appeared in the dis 
 tance, and slowly came nearer, increasing in blaze as it 
 approached. Another, and still another followed, enabling 
 the gentlemen to examine the place where they found them 
 selves. It was a subterranean vault or cave. Toa stood
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 123 
 
 in the center, clad in a white alpaca robe, and wearing the 
 emblem of Shyri royalty, a magnificent emerald fastened 
 to a diadem. Next to her stood Cundurazu, arrayed in 
 garments such as the nobles of the ancient kingdom wore. 
 Two Indians, similarly dressed, stood behind him, while 
 five or six torch-bearers posted themselves in different 
 parts of the hall, so as to light it up completely. 
 
 But the ej'es of the two gentlemen now fell upon another 
 sight, which filled them with wonder and amazement. 
 Piled up along the walls, and in the center of the cave, 
 were monstrous gold and silver bars, heaps of golden ves 
 sels, ornamented with precious stones, and of exquisite 
 workmanship, statues of precious metals, golden suns and 
 moons, huge chains of gold, and a gigantic pile of gold 
 coins, heaped up in the center, and bearing the stamp of 
 Charles V., which N showed that the possessors of the secret 
 must have found means to secure the good will and services 
 of the officers of the Royal Mint, at Lima. Next to this 
 pile of coins a Spanish cloak was spread, and on it lay 
 sprawling a complete skeleton, with a grinning skull. A 
 large Spanish plumed hat lay on one side of it, and a 
 Spanish sword on the other. Close to one of the walls of 
 the cave rose a throne of gold, studded with emeralds, and 
 on it sat a mummy, horrifying in its ugliness, its eyeless 
 skull covered with a diadem, to which a large emerald was 
 attached. A golden scepter rested in the lap of the corpse. 
 The terror spread over the scene by the ghastly presence 
 of grim death, seemed to mock the impression which the 
 sight of such treasures had produced on the visitors. 
 
 A long pause followed. Carrera did not know whether 
 he was awake, or whether he again lay dreaming in Mama 
 Eucu's cottage. Even the strong mind and nerves of 
 Alonzo Bellido were overwhelmed, and he waited breath 
 lessly for what was to come. 
 
 "This," began Toa, solemnly, "is the treasure of my 
 great-grandfather, Huaynacapac, and of my grandfather,
 
 124 TOE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 Atahualpa. The usurper Kumiiiagui had seized it and hid 
 it here, lest it should fall into the hands of the Spaniards. 
 After his death the secret of its hiding-place was commu 
 nicated to those who were the legitimate representatives of 
 my house. Hundreds of my race perished on the rack, or 
 in the flames, because they would not divulge its secret. 
 Man}- knew it then". Many know it now. Most of them 
 arc poor and starving wretches, who, by taking but a hand 
 ful, might secure comfort and plenty for the rest of their 
 days. But the humblest of my subjects would perish of 
 destitution, rather than take one grain of gold-dust of 
 what is the property of our nation, subject to the disposal 
 of its legitimate rulers. I am the rightful owner of what 
 you see here ; but 1 vow to Pachacamac the Great, and 
 call the Sun and the Moon as my witnesses, that I should 
 leave it here, buried and forgotten forever, rather than use 
 it for any purpose, or with any view other than the libera 
 tion of my race." 
 
 A slow and deep murmur of approbation, uttered by her 
 Indian listeners, followed this speech. 
 
 " This," she continued, pointing to the mummy on the 
 golden throne, " is my father. Peace to his remains, and 
 glory to his memory ! This great and good man," point 
 ing to Cundurazu, " rescued him when a suckling babe, 
 from the murderous fangs of Rumiflagui, who had deter 
 mined on the destruction of all that were of the royal 
 blood of Atahualpa. The noble Cundurazu saved him, hid 
 him, and educated him, and when>death had claimed him, 
 he brought him here to watch over these treasures, and 
 enjoj' the honors due under our laws and customs to de 
 parted royalty. This," pointing to the skeleton on the 
 ground, " was a Spanish Corregidor, who had been most 
 heartless and cruel to our race. His Indian victims could 
 not be counted. Hundreds he sacrificed to his avarice and 
 rapacity, until my father gave orders that he should be 
 allured hither. One of our men offered to betray to him
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 125 
 
 the secret of the great treasure. The tyrant greedily 
 grasped at the offer, and imprudentlj* allowed himself to 
 be conducted to this place. He never left it. After he had 
 seen everything the torches were extinguished, and night 
 closed in upon him a long, last, terrible night, without 
 moon or stars, and never followed by a morning dawn, or 
 the light of day. There you see his remains ! He died a 
 plow and agonizing death, in the midst of all the gold for 
 which he had thirsted. Look around you, gentlemen ; 
 there is no visible egress here. You could not find your 
 way out, even with the torches burning. You are our 
 prisoners, and your lives depend on our mercy." 
 
 Bellido shuddered, but Carrera, though greatly awed, 
 looked confidently at the speaker and smiled. He felt in 
 stinctively that his life was safer in her hands than in his 
 own. She noticed and understood his smile, arid returned 
 it by a rapid, but unspeakable glance of tenderness. 
 
 " Yet, gentlemen," she resumed, " you have trusted us 
 as we have trusted you, and you may consider yourselves 
 as safe here as at your own homes. Our object to-night 
 was to show you our power. Look at these treasures and 
 judge for yourselves. But it is not money alone that we 
 can give. If you say the word, thousands of hearts and 
 arms will be at your disposal. All we ask in return is the 
 freedom of our race, and the recognition of our rights as 
 human beings. I have sent this trusted friend to you, Se- 
 fior Bellido, with full powers to represent me and the in 
 terests of my people. I now reaffirm his authority. What 
 ever he may agree upon with you and the municipality of 
 Quito, will have my full sanction. And whatever I under 
 take or promise will be carried out by my people. And 
 now, Prince Cundurazu, take our friends back into the 
 open air, where I shall soon join you. I desire to be alone 
 fora few minutes with the remains of my father." 
 
 With these words Toa slowly walked over to the golden 
 throne and prostrated herself before the ghastly mummy
 
 126 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 that sat in it, a mocking specter or royalty. Not another 
 word was spoken. Cundurazu approached the two gentle 
 men and indicated to them by a sign that they must be 
 blindfolded again. This time they both submitted as a 
 matter of course. Again they were carried for a while by 
 strong, unseen arms, and when their feet touched the 
 ground once more, the same arduous and fatiguing march 
 had to be made, up hill and down hill, over rocks and 
 through ravines, now through deep sand, then, again, 
 through mountainous streams that intersected their path. 
 
 Carrera's hand was in that of a powerful Indian, who 
 led him along. Suddenly he felt that his hand had been 
 released fora moment, and when it was seized again it was 
 a smaller and gentler hand that held it with a slight pres 
 sure. He felt that Toa was at his side, and recognized it 
 by returning the pressure. 
 
 "Do you believe me now?" she asked. 
 
 " I never doubted your word, Lady Toa." 
 
 " Do you still think that my hopes are visionary?" 
 
 " Your Highness has not confided your plans to me. 
 Nevertheless, I recognize the great power which is at your 
 Highness 7 command." 
 
 " Yes, Don Julio, a time of peace and rest may come after 
 all, even for a fugitive and a wanderer like myself. What 
 would life be to me without that hope? " 
 
 "And has your Highness never loved ? " asked Carrera. 
 
 "Do you refer to the present or to the past? If to the 
 past, I must answer, no. There are but few of my own 
 race who are my equals, and those few are in Peru. Here 
 in these parts the descendants of the few nobles who es 
 caped the fury of Kuminagui, and of the Spanish conquer 
 ors, are mostly without culture ; and I am fastidious in 
 this respect, for, strange as it may seem to you, Don Julio, 
 considering my roaming mode of life, 1 am not without 
 education. Dona Carmen Duchicela, on whose estate I was 
 brought up secretly, has done more than a mother's part
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 127 
 
 by me. I enjoyed all the advantages of her own children, 
 or rather they enjoyed the advantages which her love and 
 kindness had accorded to me. Learned men of both races 
 had come from Lima, to teach her wayward, ungrateful 
 grandniece whose present course and aspirations aggrieve 
 her so sorely. Perhaps, if she had given me no education, 
 I should not struggle and strive as I do now, and should 
 be all the happier for it. The Jewish prophet is right when 
 saying : ' In much wisdom there is much grief, and he that 
 increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow.' Love? if you 
 refer to the past, Don Julio, I had no time for it. The 
 cares for my own safety, and the affairs of my wandering 
 government would not have given love a chance to steal 
 into my heart, even if there had been an object." 
 
 "And the present." 
 
 " Why should you care to know, Don Julio? What 
 could Toa Duchicela be to you? Your heart is not, free. 
 Does it not belong to Dolores Solando, to whom but last 
 night you made almost a declaration of love?" 
 
 u Senora ! Your information is wonderful, although your 
 informant is not quite correct. But how could you know 
 that I was with Dolores Solando last night? " 
 
 "Ah, Don Julio, this is an additional evidence of my 
 power, which verges on omniscience. There is not a house 
 in Quito, whose secrets 1 could not learn, if I. wished to know 
 them. But do not be alarmed. This is not the power of 
 witchcraft; but the clue to it is the devotion of my people, 
 and their readiness to serve me. Do you preceive it now ? " 
 
 "I do Senora! And as you know so much, you had 
 better know it all. For years I had been in love with 
 Dolores. I had never succeeded in securing an opportun 
 ity to declare myself. But when the opportunity pre 
 sented itself at last unsought and unexpected, it was no 
 longer welcome, but almost painful and embarrassing. A 
 week before, I might have spoken, while I remained silent
 
 128 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 last night. A week before I should have made a proposal, 
 while I had none to make last night." 
 
 "And what has caused this change? " 
 
 " Can you ask, Lady Tou ? The ej-es that I shall never 
 forget, the silvery voice that is always in my ear, the ma 
 jestic, and yet so graceful apparition, that is ever present 
 to my mind it is you, Shyri Toa, who have wrought this 
 change." 
 
 " My poor friend ! I told you once that it is dangerous 
 to be a friend to Toa Duchicela. It would be tenfold more 
 dangerous to love her." 
 
 " What would I not brave for you? Even if I did not 
 love you, admiration and friendship would make me your 
 faithful knight. But you have taken possession of my 
 heart, Lady Toa, and I fear I shall not be able to recover 
 it." 
 
 " Think twice before yon commit yourself hastily, and 
 perhaps very imprudently. The man who loves me, and 
 whom I love, may become the foremost, the richest, the 
 greatest man of the land, but he may also become a mere 
 victim, sacrificed to the evil fortunes of my house. I have 
 still sufficient control over myself to refuse such a sacrifice. 
 Do not say more, Senor Carrera ! Do not arouse the pas 
 sions of an untutored and undisciplined nature ; for then I 
 might demand, exact, compel the sacrifice." 
 
 " Sefiora Toa, what you say of riches and greatness is 
 nothing to me. I love you for your own sake ; and the 
 homeless wanderer, suffering for the misfortune of her royal 
 birth, and denying herself all the comforts of existence and 
 all the hope of present and perhaps future happiness, to 
 serve whether mistakenly or not the cause of her race, 
 is dearer to me than the powerful possessor of all the treas 
 ures you have shown to me to-night." 
 
 " Don- Julio ! I shall speak without reserve. Reserve 
 may be an admirable quality for a young lady living under 
 her father's roof, protection, and care. But I, the fugitive
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 129 
 
 and the wanderer, have no time for reserve. I must speak 
 truthfully, openly, plainly. You say you love me. Whether 
 you say so under the influence of my presence, and will not 
 say the same thing to Dolores Solando, when I arn away, I 
 do not know. Men are strange beings, and I do not know 
 them enough. But whether you love me or not, whether 
 yon love me truly, or whether you mistake your present 
 feelings of sympathy, pity, friendship, for love, I can make 
 the confession that I love you. Why you should have 
 stolen into my heart, I know not. It is enough to say 
 that I love you, loved you before you knew of my ex 
 istence. It may be a fatal and unfortunate love, and 
 yet I love you. But, Don Julio do Carrera, love must 
 play a secondary part in the great work of my life. 
 I have a mission to perform, a goal to reach. If my love 
 were an impediment to the task 1 have to fulfill, I would 
 stamp out the last spark of it no matter what the anguish 
 of my heart would be. My people first, my own self last. 
 I love you, Don Julio. With a woman's weakness, I con 
 fess it. But, with a Queen's firmness, I tell you that this 
 love must be no hindrance to my plans, but it must be 
 made subservient to their furtherance. If you can help 
 me, if you possess the courage, the devotion, the generos 
 ity to carry out the plans which my friend and counselor 
 has submitted, or is even now submitting to Don Alonzo 
 Bellido, I accept your love, and shall return it with all the 
 passion, the loj^altj'', the constancy of an Indian heart. 
 But if you love only Toa, the mysterious and the weird, 
 the woman Toa and not also Toa the Queen, whose mission 
 it is to save her people ; and if, instead of helping her, you 
 will look coldly upon my great task as visionary, my heart 
 would almost break ; but I would refuse your love, and 
 strive to forget my own weakness." 
 
 Long before she had finished this speech, she had snatched 
 the bandage from his eyes, and now stood before him, hold 
 ing both his hands in hers, and looking at him tenderly,
 
 130 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 earnestly, and sadly. " Yes, my friend," she continued, 
 'among the loftiest cliffs of our giant mountains, in 
 those lonely heights where almost all vegetation ceases 
 even there, you will now and then find, hidden under the 
 snow, a beautiful flower, placed there as if to remind the 
 daring traveler that there are other scenes brighter and 
 happier than the dreary solitude of the wilderness. 
 I shall look upon my love for you as the sad and 
 lonely flower that grows under the snows of Chimbo- 
 razo or Antisana, a forlorn hope, an outpost of a friendlier 
 zone, inaccessible to me a misplaced little unfortunate, 
 that has no right to exist amidst the howling storms and 
 under the chilling snows. I shall say : l My life is the 
 mountain wilderness, the loneliness of the Paramo, with its 
 fogs and hurricanes, with its icy rocks and sands. The 
 flower of love is there, hidden under the snow, but it 
 blooms in vain. No human eye greets it, no friendly hand 
 will pluck it, no loving bosom will receive it.' " 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 THE WARNING. 
 
 THE party had nearly returned to the place from which 
 they had set out on their mysterious journey, and, the dark 
 ness of the night had begun to yield to the morning dawn, 
 when a strange obstruction in their path suddenly arrested 
 their progress. A crude portable chair had been placed 
 across their way by its four Indian carriers, at a turning 
 of the road, and seated in ,the chair was the shriveled form 
 of an old Indian woman, with a mummy-like face, with 
 white disheveled hair, and her eyes flashing and rolling 
 like those of a maniac. It was Mama Eucu. Toa ap-
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 131 
 
 preached her, and affectionately bent over her, listening to 
 what she had to say. 
 
 "It is you, Senor Bellido," said the Indian Queen, "to 
 whom she wants to speak. Listen to her attentively. 
 Treasure up her words in your memory ; for they are the 
 words of wisdom and truth." 
 
 The appearance of Mama Eucu. although Bellido had 
 seen her before, filled him with superstitious awe. There 
 was something weird and unearthly in her countenance 
 and expression. Her appearance at this time and place 
 was in keeping with the wonders of the night through 
 which he had passed. He approached her with uncovered 
 head, and waited to be spoken to. 
 
 "Yes, Yes!" the old woman said, with a hoarse laugh. 
 " I know him. I have seen him before ; but never so clearly 
 as I did last night in my vision, after I had taken the 
 draught of life the Heavenly Samarucu. Come here, my 
 son, come here ! Let me feel thy hands ! May Pachaca- 
 mac protect thee in the hour of danger, which is approach 
 ing fast. 'Dost thou understand my language, my Son ?" 
 
 " I do, Mother ; speak on !" 
 
 " It is well ! Ah, thou art the man ! He is the man, 
 Queen Toa ; he is the hand that must strike the great 
 blow ; he is the head that must think the great thoughts ; 
 he is the bow that will send the arrow to the mark. 
 Young man," she proceeded, turning to Carrera, '' here is 
 thy master. Follow his counsels, and thou wilt be safe. 
 But now, Alonzo, my Son, let rae tell thee that a great 
 danger awaits thee. I have come to warn thee. Poor old 
 Mama Eucu, who needs rest it will soon be eternal rest 
 has left her couch long before the break of day to warn 
 thee ; to save thee ! Behold ! my limbs are weak with age. 
 I could not have walked hither this morning. My strength 
 is fast ebbing away. And so I had myself carried b}- these 
 men, which is against the laws our conquerors have imposed. 
 They will not allow us this comfort. But no matter ! I
 
 ]32 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 bad to come here to warn thee, my Son. JVilt tliou heed 
 my warning?" 
 
 "I will, Mother!" 
 
 " Thy lifr is in danger, and will be in danger for weeks 
 to come. Do not ask me why or how. I could not tell. 
 I have seen a dreadful vision. I saw thee weltering in thy 
 blood dying dying dead. Beware! Beware! Beware!" 
 
 "Of what shall I bewai-e, Mother?" 
 
 " Of murder ! The assassins are lying in wait for thee 
 even now. Thy caution alone can save thee !" 
 
 "But how, Mother?" 
 
 " Do not leave thy house at night, or before the busy 
 hum of day has begun to be heard on the streets. Do not 
 go to thy house now. Wait a few hours, and then thou 
 wilt escape this time. The danger is great. It will last 
 for two moons. During two moons thou must beware. 
 Live through two moons, and nothing shall harm thee. 
 But if thou disregardest my words, thou wilt not re-enter 
 thy house alive. And now I am done. I have said all 
 that thou must know. Thy life is in thine own hands. 
 Thou mayest keep it, or throw it away." And, with these 
 words, she beckoned to her Indian carriers to move on ; 
 and, before Bellido had fully recovered from his astonish 
 ment, she was out of reach. 
 
 " Heed the warning, Seiior Bellido, heed it !" added Toa. 
 " I never knew Mama Eucu to err." 
 
 "I thank your Royal Highness for the advice. Mama 
 Rueu's warning is evidently well meant, and I shall heed 
 it as much as I can. But how could I, at this critical 
 emergency, when my presence will be required everywhere, 
 and at all times, confine myself to my house at night? I 
 shall be cautious. I shall wear a coat-of-mail under my 
 doublet ; yet, if I am to be pursued by assassins, all pre 
 caution, 1 fear, will be in vain. My life, Lady Toa, is in 
 the hands of God, and in Him I must confide." 
 
 " Your life, Sefior Bellido, has become precious to us.
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 133 
 
 Our race looks to you and to my friend here," pointing to 
 Carrera, " for that protection which our own weakness can 
 not afford. I shall give orders to my subjects to watch 
 over your safety, and to warn you in case of danger. 
 Prince Cundurazu will confer with you this afternoon. 
 And you, Senor Carrera," she whispered again, " will you. 
 be with Dolores Solando to-night?" 
 
 " Shyri Toa " 
 
 " Enough ! If the day passes without disturbances, I 
 shall meet you at the Church of La Merced after dark. 
 But, should we be unable to meet, you shall receive a mes 
 sage from me to-morrow. Take this, Julio," she said, giv 
 ing him a small silver moon, with an emerald in the cen 
 ter, " and if you ever should want to send me a letter or a 
 message, show this to any Indian, and say that your letter 
 or message must reach the Shyri Toa. It will come to me 
 as surely as the waters run to the sea." 
 
 CHAPTEB XIII. 
 
 LYING IN WAIT. 
 
 STORES and shops occupied the ground-floor of houses at 
 Quito then, as they do now. These shops are always with 
 out windows, and receive what little light and air they get 
 through the door. Alonzo Bellido's house stood in the 
 street leading from the southeast corner of the Great 
 Square toward Mount Panecillo. Carrera lived on the 
 same street, a short distance from Bel lido. The day had 
 hardly dawned. The streets were still quiet and deserted. 
 Not even the tramp of the watch was heard. The door of 
 one of the shops it was a dram shop in the house oppo 
 site to that of Bellido, w r as slightly ajar, and a man, who 
 seemed to be lying on the floor on the inside, pushed his
 
 131 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 head through the opening and cautiously looked up and 
 down the street. It was an ugly head, covered with bushy 
 hair, turning gray. His face was disfigured with scars 
 and adorned with a tremendous moustache and chin- 
 beard. After the man had inspected the street in every 
 direction, he drew his head back into the shop again, and 
 rolled himself toward the wall, where a couch had been 
 improvised of sheepskins and ponchos. 
 
 ''I think we have waited in vain ! " said the man. " He 
 has not yet come home, and the Devil knows whether he 
 will come at all. You are getting sleepy, lldefonso." 
 
 The man to whom these remarks were addressed was 
 lying on the other side of the shop, with an empty bottle 
 before him, which he took up occasionally in search of a last 
 drop. Both men were soldiers. They wore the uniforms 
 of Eoyal Arquebusiers under the heavy black cloaks in 
 which they had wrapped themselves ; for the night had been 
 very cool and the morning was very chilly. On the coun 
 ter, in the rear of the dingy shop, stood an expiring tallow- 
 candle, hissing and spurting in its socket and filling the 
 room, with nauseous smoke. Two arquebuses, ready 
 mounted, and with matches burning, stood in the center 
 of the room. The implements of death were prepared ; 
 but the victim was wanting. 
 
 "It strikes me, Juan," answered the other, "that those 
 ink-worms, their High Mightinesses of the goose-quill, 
 might have provided more generously for men to whom a 
 task of such importance has been confided. May the 
 Devil take their souls without delay ! " And, with these 
 words, the pious lldefonso Coronel flung the empty bottle, 
 the sight of which had worried him long enough, into one 
 of the corners of the dark room, so as to send the pieces 
 of the broken glass flying in every direction. At the same 
 time, the dying candle on the counter gave its last spurt 
 and went out, and a faint streak of day light broke through 
 the opening of the door.
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 135 
 
 "You should not complain, Ildefonso. Yon have had 
 more than enough. Why, man, you are drunk now." 
 
 ,"Iwish I were," growled the other. u So much the bet 
 ter for our job. I must have drink to be sure of my mark. 
 If 1 have not fortified myself with rum, my hand is un 
 steady and my eye without clearness. By Santiago ! man, 
 I shall be completely sober in a few minutes, and then, so 
 help me God, I could not hit a cow. Without a good dose 
 of rum, man, I should miss an elephant." 
 
 "Stop! Listen! I think I hear something." With the 
 game cautiousness Juan del Puente pushed his head out of 
 the door again and reconnoitered the street. u lt is nothing! 
 not a soul is stirring." 
 
 'Who is to pay for this job?" continued Ildefonso Coro- 
 nel, "and where shall we get the money? By the Holy 
 Virgin, I do not trust these ink-fishes and quill-drivers. I 
 hate lawyers. They can never be relied upon. The} r 
 allure you into all sorts of things,, and then slip away like 
 eels. Why did not the Captain give us our orders and our 
 money? ' Promises are good, but they do not buy olives. 
 Thunder and lightning! Here we kill. our fellow, and then 
 perhaps they will prosecute us as murderers, instead of 
 paying us our reward. Such things have happened be 
 fore. Men were detailed to act as secret executioners and 
 then their employers murdered the executioners." 
 
 "Ildefonso! You talk like a fool this morning. How 
 many soldiers have they here? A very small band. Do 
 they not want every man of us? Can't you see that the 
 ink-worms and pettifoggers of the Palace are trembling for 
 their lives? I never saw such cowardly fellows before. 
 Do you think they could spare such marksmen as Juan 
 del Puente and Ildefonso Coronel? They will get down 
 on their trembling knees before us, ere these insurrection 
 ary troubles are over. There, comrade, I was afraid you 
 would drink too much, and so I kept back one bottle of 
 what they gave us to warm ourselves with, if we should
 
 136 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 have to wait long. It comes in excellently now." And, 
 with these words, he took a deep draught, and then handed 
 the bottle to his comrade. 
 
 "So you kept this bottle back, you sly devil!" said the 
 other. "And what else have you kept back? I do not 
 like this habit of yours. It is altogether too wise for me. 
 Who has appointed you my guardian? By all the devils 
 of hell ! I think you have kept other things back as well 
 as the rum. Some money must have been paid on account. 
 They always pay part of it down. Where is it? Why do 
 you want to cheat me? Beware of me, Juan del Puente, 
 I shall have my revenge if you dare to cheat me." 
 
 "Hand back that bottle, if you do not want to drink!" 
 said the other, "and stop your slanderous tongue. Give 
 me that bottle!" 
 
 "I am not in a hurry about it. If you hold on to what 
 belongs to both of us, I shall do the same. Did not that 
 scoundrel of an ink-worm call you back after both you and 
 I had left the room? What did he whisper to you?" 
 
 " Man, you are drunk or crazy. Was not the door open? 
 Could you not see both of us plainly? Do you want to 
 insult me? Well, well, lldefonso Coronel, if it should 
 ever happen again that you lose your foothold in the 
 mire, and lie sprawling on the ground, unable to get up 
 under the weight of your armor, Juan del Puente will 
 not agt;in be a barrier between you and the Dutch cav 
 alrymen." 
 
 This reminiscence mollified the distrustful lldefonso, and 
 after taking a long pull at the bottle, he said: "You are 
 very cross this morning. I am sorry you can not take a 
 joke. We have been comrades so long that j*ou should 
 know me better. Hark! What was that?" 
 
 "Indians coming to town with their fruit and vegetables. 
 The streets will soon be filled with people. If our man 
 does not make his appearance very soon, we shall have to 
 postpone the job until the evening."
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 137 
 
 "If he must die, we might just as well kill him in the 
 daytime." 
 
 "But it will not be so easy for us to get away, when the 
 streets begin to fill with people." 
 
 "There is but a short distance between here and the 
 Palace. We are not to go back to the barracks. We shall 
 be quartered at the Palace. The ink-worms are afraid they 
 might get hurt." 
 
 A pause followed, during which the bottle changed hands 
 once or twice. 
 
 "What has befallen the Captain?" asked lldefonso, at 
 last. " He appears to be changed completely of late. I 
 never saw him so serious and crestfallen before." 
 
 "I can tell you, but it is a long story. You were not 
 with us at Neuss?" 
 
 "No!" said lldefonso. "I had been sent to Brussels 
 with prisoners." 
 
 "Well, you see But stop! I hear voices!" and Juan 
 pushed his head out of the door, as he had done several 
 times before. He immediately drew it back again. 
 
 " Santa Maria ! There is our man at last!" 
 
 In an instant lldefonso was on his feet. 
 
 "But he is not alone. There is somebody with him. 
 They are standing still at the corner, engaged in conver 
 sation." 
 
 "Well, what shall we do?" 
 
 "1 hardly know!" 
 
 " Shall we shoot them both, so that the other can't tell?" 
 
 "Our orders are to shoot one." 
 
 "But if we shoot one, the other may turn upon us and 
 then we shall have a row and an exposure ; and the ink- 
 fishes at the Palace will charge us with having bungled 
 the job, and will refuse to pay us our money." 
 
 " There is something in what you say. Still, I hate to 
 shoot a man without orders. He might be a loyal servant 
 to the King."
 
 \ 
 
 138 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " The Devil ! Why should he, then, be prowling around 
 with that arch-traitor and rebel, Bellido ? Let us shoot 
 them both and be done with it." 
 
 " Here they come. Let us decide quick ! " 
 
 "But how?" 
 
 " Give me the dice-box. One throw; the highest com 
 mands." 
 
 " I am willing." 
 
 " Stop ! It is not necessary. They shake hands and 
 part. The other puts a key into a house-door, and our man 
 comes this way. Ah ! I see ! His Indian porter is up al 
 ready and has opened the door of his house. We can fin 
 ish him as he passes through the entry. That '11 be a neat 
 way of doing it up. Get ready man ! " 
 
 Noiselessly Juan del Puente now opened the door of the 
 shop so as to uncover the range of the two arquebuses, and 
 stealthily, like cats, the two men took their positions be 
 hind their pieces. The darkness of the shop enveloped 
 them. It would have been impossible to see them or their 
 arquebuses from the other side of the street. The sun had 
 not yet arisen. Nothing could be heard but the steps of 
 the approaching victim. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE DEED. 
 
 Bellido had spoken long and earnestly to his young com 
 panion. Carrera had never given much thought to polit 
 ical subjects. He had played with the Muses, as his col 
 lege teachers had taught and encouraged him to do; but 
 his mind had not been directed to the grave, and serious 
 problems which Bellido now unfolded to him. In a certain 
 sense it was a new revelation. The Procurator's forcible
 
 BOOK It. REALITIES. 139 
 
 statements and irresistible arguments produced a deep im 
 pression on his youthful listener. 
 
 Before they had reached the great Square, they met old 
 Alonzo Sanchez wrapped up in his cloak and hurrying 
 home. He stopped them as he recognized Bellido. 
 
 " By Santiago ! Where do you come from, and where 
 have you been ? " 
 
 "Might I not ask the same question, Don Alonzo?" 
 
 " Of course you shall ! " replied Sanchez. " The Cabildo 
 was in session all night and applied itself to business thor 
 oughly. Most of your excellent suggestions were acted 
 upon ; but we missed you very much indeed. We sent 
 messengers in every direction and could not find you. For 
 Heaven's sake, where have you kept yourself? " 
 
 " You shall know it all. It is a long and most exciting 
 story. I shall give it to you as soon as I shall have 
 snatched a few moments' rest. What I heard and saw last 
 night, Don Alonzo, secures the success of our movement. 
 I shall come to your house after breakfast and tell you all 
 about it." 
 
 " Do not hurry away, Senor Bellido," said Sanchez de 
 taining him. " I have important and highly gratifying 
 news to impart to you. We have adopted your plan of or 
 ganizing an armed force, and have appointed you Com 
 mander-in-chief." 
 
 '''Thank God, Don Alonzo! not for my appointment, 
 but for the good sense and energy of the Cabildo in pre 
 paring for war." 
 
 " Of course, you will accept the appointment ? " 
 
 " How could I refuse ? One condition, however, I must 
 make. Your Grace must give me your son, Roberto, for 
 my Chief-of-staff. He is a 3*011 ng God of war. Can I have 
 him?" 
 
 " Take him, my good friend ; the boy will be delighted 
 with this distinction." 
 
 "And what else have you done ? "
 
 140 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " We have written letters and dispatched messengers to 
 all the cities of Peru. We sent them in hot haste. 
 Most of them are gone ! " 
 
 "Good! Good !" exclaimed Bellido clapping his hands, 
 " yon could not have done better. Oh, friend Sanchez, I 
 never felt so happy and so hopeful in my life ! But I must 
 go home and get a little rest now I can hardly stand on 
 my feet." 
 
 " But what, for the Virgin's sake, have you done?" 
 
 " Perhaps it would be cruel to leave your curiosity en 
 tirely unsatisfied ; but do not ask me any questions now. 
 We have the Inca Treasure and the Shyri Toa for us in 
 this great struggle millions of gold and thousands of 
 men." 
 
 Old Sanchez raised his arms in amazement. 
 
 " And now, a fortune for an hoar's rest. God be praised ! 
 Come, Don Julio ! " and taking Carrera's arm, Bellido 
 walked away, leaving his old friend stunned and speech 
 less. 
 
 When they came to the corner formed by the Plaza and 
 the street on which both Carrera and Bellido lived, a black 
 cat darted across their path and disappeared under the 
 stairs leading to the esplanade in front of the Cathedral. 
 
 " I do not like this," remarked Carrera. 
 
 " Were I a Eoman," said Bellido, " I should turn back." 
 
 "You had better come with me, Don Alonzo. Here is 
 my house. Stay with me until you are rested. Think 
 of Mama Kucu's warning, which you promised to heed." 
 
 " What is the difference, my kind friend ? Here is your 
 house, and there is mine a difference of perhaps forty or 
 fifty paces. I fully intend to be cautious, and to beware of 
 assassins hereafter. But there is nothing to be feared now. 
 There is not a soul on the street. The door of my house, I 
 see, has been opened already, so that I can enter it without 
 the trouble of waking my porter. The day has dawned, and
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 141 
 
 the sun will smile upon the city before I can reach my 
 bed." 
 
 " And yet you had better come with me. Do not go to 
 your own house now. Mama Rucu's warning has filled me 
 with sinister presentiments." 
 
 " She told me not to return to my house before day 
 break. Well, it is daylight now. Besides, I hope to get 
 home before my wife awakes. The sky is bright and clear 
 out-doors ; but," he added with a melancholy smile, " I am 
 afraid a storm has been gathering under my roof. Every 
 minute now becomes valuable in order to get under shelter 
 before it begins to pour. Good-night, or good-morning, 
 rather, my young friend." 
 
 With these words Bellido went to meet his fate. How 
 often great men are borne down with the pettiest cares. The 
 brain that had conceived projects which, had they suc 
 ceeded, would have crowned him with the unfading laurels 
 of immortality, now cudgels itself with the uneasy ques 
 tion whether he would find his wife asleep or awake. The 
 man who prepares to shake a whole continent to its foun 
 dations, and to conjure up a political earthquake of unheard- 
 of magnitude, attempts to sneak, on tip-toe, into his bed 
 chamber, so as not to awake the termagant, at the mere 
 thought of whom his courage fails and his wings droop. 
 
 Carrera looked after him, anxiously, while he took out his 
 key to open a small door which had been cut into the 
 main door of his house. As soon as Bellido had reached 
 his own door, he turned back and waved his hand to 
 Can-era, a* if to show him that his fears were groundless, 
 and that he was now safe at home. With this Bellido 
 entered his doorway, and Carrera was about to follow his 
 example, when he was startled and horrified by the de 
 tonations of arquebuses. Two shots were fired in rapid 
 succession, and then two black figures, wrapped up in long 
 cloaks, and their faces shaded completely with broad- 
 brimmed, slouched hats, drawn down to their eyes, appeared
 
 142 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 on the street as if the earth had vomited them forth and 
 rushed away from Bellido's house. One hurried on to the 
 left, turning the next corner, around which he disappeared. 
 The other came running toward the Plaza, so that he must 
 pass Carrera. The assassin for instinctively Carrera took 
 him to be such tried to pass him on the other side of the 
 street. In an instant Carrera had drawn his sword, and 
 made an excited plunge at the man. But Juan del Puente 
 was a veteran who had not learned the art of war in vain. 
 A Spanish foot-soldier, who had seen service under Alba 
 and the Prince of Parma, was not to be trifled with by an 
 inexperienced young Creole, who had never looked into the 
 deadly eyes of Bellona. With one blow from his arquebus 
 he shattered Carrera's sword into splinters, leaving him 
 nothing but the hilt, and sped away to the Palace, before 
 his antagonist could recover from his surprise. But Car 
 rera had seen enough. He had seen the uniform and the 
 weapon of the soldier under the man's cloak, when he 
 reached out to deal the blow. 
 
 At this moment, Carrera heard loud cries and wailing in 
 the direction of Bellido's house, from which he inferred that 
 the assassins had done their work. Disarmed, as he was, 
 his pursuit of the armed murderer would have been fruit 
 less. But some assistance might still be rendered to his 
 friend. He rushed down the street to Bellido's house. The 
 double door was open, and in the spacious entry the ill- 
 fated man lay on the stones, with his head in the arms of 
 his Indian porter, who knelt over him. The porter's wife 
 and children stood around them, wringing their hands and 
 shrieking and wailing. Soon afterward Bellido's wife, fol 
 lowed by the inmates of the house, appeared upon the 
 bloody scene, and beheld her husband in the speechless 
 agonies of death. The neighbors, too, had been aroused 
 by the noise, and in a few minutes the street and the house 
 were alive with horrified spectators. 
 
 " A priest ! A priest ! Eun for a priest !" shrieked the
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 143 
 
 women, and some of the servants immediately started off 
 to procure the attendance of a clergyman. 
 
 " Send for a surgeon, for God's sake !" said Carrera. 
 There may be help yet !" This order, too, was obeyed. 
 
 "Oh, my husband, my darling husband, beloved one of 
 my soul ! Thou canst not, thou wilt not die!" shrieked 
 Bellido's wife, who would have received him with a torrent 
 of abuse had he come home safe and healthy. 
 
 "Master! Dear Master! Our poor Master!" wailed 
 the servants, while everybody wished to render assistance, 
 and nobody knew how. 
 
 His wife knelt on one side of the dying man, while Car 
 rera knelt on the other. Bellido looked at the young man 
 intently, and tried to speak, but he could not. '-Give room 
 here ! " exclaimed Carrera. " Do not crowd around so 
 closely ! Bring down a mattress, so that we can carry him 
 up stairs ! " 
 
 Bellido shook his head, as if to say that it was useless. 
 Then with a trembling hand he motioned those nearest 
 him to stand back, and dipping his finger into his own 
 blood, attempted to write something on the stones with 
 which the doorway was paved. But strength and con 
 sciousness soon forsook him ; a stream of blood broke forth 
 from his mouth, a convulsive gasp, a last despairing look, 
 and all was over. 
 
 Mama Rucu's vision had been verified. 
 
 The Eevolution had lost its head before it had fairly be 
 gun. 
 
 A priest arrived, but he found a corpse. A large num 
 ber of people had congregated before the house, and be 
 gan to crowd into the doorway, and even into the court 
 yard. 
 
 Carrera was beside himself. His whole being revolted 
 against the cowardly crime, which had been committed 
 here, evidently at the command of those in power. His
 
 144 THE SECRET OP TI1E ANDES. 
 
 inmost self was aroused. If he had ever hesitated to take 
 sides in the impending struggle, he was determined now. 
 The anarchy of the primeval forest was preferable to such 
 a government. 
 
 Bellido's widow had to be torn away from the bloody 
 remains of her husband by the women in attendance, and, 
 while the neighbors and friends were preparing to place 
 the body on a bier, Carrera stepped before the door, still 
 holding the hilt of his broken sword. He had never 
 spoken in public; but his indignation inspired him with 
 eloquent words : 
 
 "Men of Quito!" he exclaimed, "a horrible crime has 
 been committed. Our friend Bellido, whom we all loved 
 and revered, a member of the Cabildo, the Procurator- 
 General of our Municipality, has been murdered while en 
 tering his own house. I witnessed the crime from my own 
 door. I saw the flight of the assassins after their dark deed 
 had been committed. One of them passed my house. I 
 attempted to stop him, but he broke my sword with an 
 arquebus, and escaped to the Palace. He was wrapped in 
 a black cloak, but when he raised his arm to parry my 
 blow I saw that he wore the uniform of a Spanish soldier. 
 Why should soldiers have killed Alonzo Bellido, who had 
 harmed no one; who had committed no wrong, and whose 
 only offense consisted in endeavoring to vindicate the 
 rights guaranteed to the people of Peru by King 
 Charles I? Soldiers would not have committed this dark 
 deed without orders. It is evident that our friend's assassi 
 nation had been commanded by those whose duty it should 
 have been to protect the King's subjects from violence and 
 crime. The hand that struck him dead is no more respon 
 sible for this deed than- the arquebuses from which the two 
 deadly shots were fired. The men who commanded the 
 perpetration of this crime are the real murderers. But 
 two days ago he was arrested by order of the R(>3*al Audi 
 ence, but liberated by the people. Now your friend, your
 
 BOOK II. REALITIES. 145 
 
 counselor, your advocate, lies before you a bloody corpse. 
 Who is to be held responsible for this deed?" 
 
 "The Audience! The Audience! The Spanish Com 
 mander! The Chapetones !" shouted the infuriated mul 
 titude. 
 
 "Let us have revenge!" exclaimed a dozen voices. 
 
 " To the Palace ! To the Palace !" echoed others. 
 
 " Let the bells be rung, and the alarm be sounded." 
 
 " To arms ! To arms !" 
 
 " Yiva el Senor Carrera ! Let him lead us to our re 
 venge." 
 
 Like wild-fire the terrible news spread over the City of 
 Quito. The sun had hardly risen when drums were beat 
 ing, bells were ringing, and, the people flew to arms. 
 
 By eight o'clock the streets leading to the Plaza were 
 filled with men armed with arquebuses, halberds, pikes, and 
 clubs, preparing to storm the Palace. But the Palace was 
 guarded. Valverde's company had barricaded the doors 
 smd windows, and their arquebuses and three or four light 
 pieces of artillery, such as could be used along the moun 
 tain roads of the interior, frowned down ominously on the 
 surging multitude in the Plaza. 
 
 The Rubicon was passed; the die was cast; the war had 
 begun.
 
 BOOK III. 
 THE REVOLUTION. 
 
 " Vor dem Sklaven, wenn er die Kette bricht. 
 Vor dem freien Mensehen erzittert nioht." 
 
 SCHILLER,
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 THE REVOLUTION. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PAREDES. 
 
 THE ringing of the alarm-bells, and the tumult on the 
 streets, awoke Paredes, who had passed the night at hisvilla. 
 Rushing down the declivity of San Juan, he saw Juan Castro, 
 accompanied by a dozen of his rabble followers. He was 
 thundering at the door of a house to arouse its inmates. 
 
 " Up, ye sleepy devils ! There is bloody work to be done. 
 Come out as quick as you can, and bring your crowbars and 
 pikes !" 
 
 "What is the matter, Don Juan ?" inquired Paredes, 
 beckoning to the ruffian to come to him. Castro at once 
 acquainted his patron with the murder of Bellido and the 
 determination of the populace to storm the Palace and kill 
 the members of the Royal Audience. 
 
 A sinister smile glided over the dark features of Manuel 
 Paredes. The Palace to be stormed? Count Valverde was 
 his rival for the hand of Dolores. Count Valverde would 
 have to defend the Palace ; but he would hardly be able to 
 hold it. Could Paredes wish for a better opportunity to 
 rid himself of a rival ? 
 
 "And do you think, Don Juan," he asked, taking Castro 
 aside, " that the Audience has instigated this most wicked 
 and outrageous murder ? " 
 
 " Who else should have done it, your Grace? " 
 
 " I have my own views of the matter. Did you not tell 
 
 me that the deed was committed by soldiers? " 
 
 (149)
 
 150 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " Yes, your Lordship ; so it was." 
 
 " And who commands the soldiers ? " 
 i '- Count Valverde." 
 
 " Well, do you suppose that these soldiers would have 
 dared to commit such a deed without express orders from 
 their commanding officer?" 
 
 " No, but the Count must have received his orders from 
 the Audience." 
 
 " Yes, but would he have carried them out, if he did not 
 approve of them ? It is his duty to protect the subjects of 
 the King, and not to murder them. I shall give you my rea 
 sons why I suspect Valverde. You remember the night 
 when 1 saved you from the clutches of the guard?" 
 
 " Yes, your Lordship ; and eternally grateful shall I be." 
 
 " The Count was with me on the balcony. He was pale 
 with rage. He said, to fellows like you, no mercy should be 
 shown, and that the day of reckoning was sure to come. He 
 told me that the Viceroy had ordered troops to Quito, and 
 as soon as they arrived, short work should be made of such 
 rebels. He said that he had prepared a list of the most pes 
 tiferous traitors, and that your name headed the list of the 
 commoners. Of the noblemen who should be put out of 
 the way, he mentioned that very same Bellido, who was 
 murdered this morning. Now you see, Juan Castro, how 
 naturally it all follows. Count Valverde said that Bellido 
 must die, and Bellido is dead. Count Valverde said that 
 Juan Castro must die, and how long will Juan Castro 
 live ? " 
 
 " He will live longer than the Count Valverde, your 
 Grace," said Castro, pale with rage and apprehension. 
 
 " You should have seen how anxious he was that night 
 to bring out his Spanish soldiers and to fire into your party. 
 He was greatly excited and censured me severely for vouch 
 ing for you until next morning. I almost fear he added 
 my name to his list for having taken your part."
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 151 
 
 Castro listened silently, but bis looks expressed grim de 
 termination. 
 
 " If be has not put my name down already," continued 
 the wily Creole, u he will do so to-day or to-morrow, for I 
 do not intend to refrain from denouncing this infamous as 
 sassination, nor from laying the blame on those to whom 
 it most assuredly attaches. Nay, more, Juan Castro, if 
 my sword can contribute to revenge this deed, it shall not 
 remain in its scabbard.'" 
 
 " Glor} 7 to your Grace! " exclaimed Juan Castro. t " The 
 Virgin be praised that you are on the side of the people in 
 this cause. As to the Count Valverde," he added in a sig 
 nificant undertone, " leave him to me. His list will not be 
 presented to the commander of the troops from Lima." 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 SEIZING THE OPPORTUNITY. 
 
 The multitude was ready to rush on the Palace, and dash 
 itself in an unorganized attack against it doors and win 
 dows, guarded as they were by a few, but resolute men, 
 most of whom had seen service on many a bloody 
 field. Suddenly the wave of human heads turned in an 
 other direction. The cry : " The Militia ! The Militia ! " 
 was echoed from thousands of lips. Those nearest the Pal 
 ace asked : " Where ?" Those farthest from it answered : 
 " In the Plaza of San Francisco ! " And consequently to 
 ward San Francisco rolled the surging mass of humanity. 
 
 The Militia regiment, " Piehincha," was drawn up in the 
 Plaza of San Francisco, almost in front of the elegant resi 
 dence of the Marquis de Solando, who, at this crisis, was 
 prudent enough not to show himself on the balcony, or at 
 the windows. Dolores, proud like a Queen, and with a
 
 152 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 coolness and resolution rare in her sex, stood on one of the 
 balconies, leaning against the house. Aunt Catita stood 
 tremblingly behind her in the balcony door. Their female 
 attendants pressed toward the window, and implored their 
 young mistress not to expose herself so daringly. Dolores 
 waved them back contemptuous!}^ without averting her 
 looks from the scene below. The young officers, Car- 
 rera among them, saluted her with their swords as they 
 passed the house in order to take their places at the head 
 of their companies. 
 
 The regiment Pichincha consisted of the very best native 
 militia material. It was composed of municipal and gov 
 ernment appointees of lower rank, tradesmen, shop keep 
 ers, and master mechanics, and officered by the nobility of 
 the city. Manuel Paredes was its commander. He had 
 just arrived, and seemed to be engaged in conversation 
 with one of his aids. 
 
 About twenty paces from him, there was a group of offi 
 cers who conversed in an undertone, darting now and then 
 looks of distrust and hatred at their Colonel. One of them 
 was Eoberto Sanchez. 
 
 " Let us lose no time, then," he said. " The moment he 
 gives the order to disperse the populace, or to march to the 
 relief of the Audience, we demand his immediate resigna 
 tion ; and if he refuses, we cut him down." 
 
 "And let there be no weakness or indecision ! " added 
 another. "A coward and a traitor he, who falters or hesi 
 tates." 
 
 " Shall I tell Carrera?" asked a third. " His company 
 is in the center, and he stands right in front of Paredes." 
 
 "No," answered Eoberto. "Do not tell him. I love 
 him dearly, and I feel sure he will be with us. But, brave 
 as he is, he is not a man of decision. He would shrink 
 from such bloody work." 
 
 "Attention ! " commanded Paredes, who had now taken
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 153 
 
 his position ; and everybody fell into his place, except the 
 five conspirators, who slowly drew nearer to their Colonel. 
 
 Paredes looked at them and smiled. He had understood 
 them, and divined that they were preparing for a blow ; 
 and he secretly rejoiced over the disappointment he had 
 in store for them. In the meantime the populace had filled 
 up every foot of ground in the Plaza, and listened breath 
 lessly for what was to come. 
 
 " Comrades ! " began Paredes, after a glance at the bal 
 cony where Dolores stood. " I have, this very moment, 
 received an order from the JRoyal Audience, countersigned 
 by Count Valverde, to lead you 1 to the Palace for the pur 
 pose of protecting the Government, and dispersing the 
 people who have assembled there." 
 
 Roberto Sanchez, followed by young Olrnos, and young 
 Gai-cia, drew uncomfortably near. 
 
 "Comrades!" continued Paredes, without seeming to 
 notice them. "I shall not obey this order ! " 
 
 A wild shriek of applause and rejoicing at once rent the 
 air, and thousands of hats and handkerchiefs were waved, 
 while the young enthusiasts who were ready to dispatch 
 their Colonel, drew back in blank astonishment and sur 
 prise. 
 
 " If you demand," continued the Colonel, casting a stern 
 look at the young conspirators, who were not with their 
 companies, "that the order of the Eoyal Audience be 
 obeyed, I shall have to resign my place as your Colonel, 
 and surrender the command of the regiment to the officer 
 next in rank." 
 
 "No! No I No!" shouted officers and men. "Viva el 
 Colonel Paredes !-" And again the shout was taken up and 
 carried over the sea of human heads, from square to square, 
 until it reached the little garrison of the Palace, who com 
 prehended what it meant, for they had all foreseen and 
 predicted the defection of the native militia. 
 
 "But I consider it my duty," resumed Paredes, as soon
 
 154 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 as the tumult had subsided, " to explain to you the reasons 
 of my apparent disloyalty and insubordination." 
 
 u Hear ! Hear ! Listen ! Silence ! " were the exclamations 
 that welcomed this remark. 
 
 ' : It is well known to you all that the Koyal Audience has 
 ordered the exaction of a tax from which, by a cedula of 
 King Charles I, of glorious memory, the Kingdom of Peru 
 has been exempted for one hundred years. This time not 
 having expired, the imposition of such a tax is plainly and 
 palpably wrong and unlawful. It has been said that eur 
 Lord the King, His Majesty Philip II, yielding to the selfish 
 advice of evil counselors, has disregarded the humble pe 
 titions and remonstrances of the Peruvian Municipalities, 
 and commanded His Highness the Viceroy, and the Au 
 diences, to proceed with the collection of the Alcabala. 
 Of such a decision by His Majesty, however, we are not 
 yet definitely and properly advised. It may be so, and it 
 may not be so. Thus far we have had no proof of it ex 
 cept the word of men who murder the King's subjects 
 whom they have been sent here to protect." 
 
 These words had hardly passed from his lips when 
 another shout of applause and approbation rent the air. 
 The common people, especially, cheered wildly, while 
 Roberto who had quietly resumed his place at the head of 
 his company, whispered to the officer nearest him : " The 
 hypocrite ! He is a traitor at heart to the cause his lips 
 espouse. He wishes to gain our confidence now, in order 
 to betray us afterward ! " 
 
 "Yes, Comrades," continued Paredes, " it was a murder. 
 I can not call it by any other name. Don Alonzo Bel- 
 lido was a member of the Cabildo, which had elected him 
 Procurator-General. He was a man of great parts and 
 unimpeachable righteousness. He was not a native of our 
 city, and yet the city had adopted him as a favorite child. 
 He was bc'oved by the old and the young, by the rich 
 and by the poor. He was a good man and loved justice.
 
 BOOK ITI. THE REVOLUTION. 155 
 
 He had done no wrong. When he was arrested the other 
 day, no charge of any kind had been preferred against him. 
 He was released at the intercession of his fellow-citizens, 
 and the Royal Audience disclaimed all complicity in his 
 arrest. He defended the rights of the city which had 
 so lovingly adopted him. And for this devotion to your 
 rights and interests he now lies, a bloody corpse, in his" 
 house. His wife has been deprived of her husband, his 
 children of their father, the city of its best and truest 
 friend." 
 
 Many of the men now melted in tears, while others 
 vowed vengeance on his assassins. 
 
 "Is it possible that His Majesty can approve of such a 
 crime? It would be downright treason to answer this 
 question in the affirmative. Are the men who command 
 the perpetration of such deeds worthy of being entrusted 
 with the powers of government, the administration of jus 
 tice, and the preservation of the public welfare?" 
 
 "No! No! Down with them! Kill them!" shouted 
 the populace. 
 
 " Am I are we to receive orders from, and to obey the 
 orders of, these men, before they have convinced us that 
 they are innocent of this dark deed?" 
 
 "No! No! Never!" 
 
 "For this reason, Comrades, I shall not act under the or 
 ders of the Royal Audience or of the Count Yalverde, un 
 til every atom of suspicion is removed. At the same time, 
 I do not intend to draw my sword against the King, as long 
 as there is hope that he will disapprove of these horrors 
 and grant the prayer contained in our petitions and re 
 monstrances. Under the circumstances, the only proper 
 conclusion I can come to, as the Colonel of your regiment, 
 is to do nothing. I shall not order you to shoot down 
 your friends and brothers " 
 
 A fresh outburst of applause now interrupted the 
 speaker.
 
 156 THE SECRET OE THE ANDES. 
 
 "And 1 can not and will not command you to attack the 
 Palace, and to take the law into your own hands. 1, there 
 fore, command you to return to your quarters and disperse 
 to your homes." And, as if to suit the action to the word, 
 he returned his sword to its scabbard, and turned to go. 
 
 But he had now touched the popular heart, and the en 
 thusiasm he had aroused knew no bounds. While the 
 drums were beating, and the companies were marching off 
 to their quarters, Paredes was seized by brawny arms, 
 placed on strong shoulders, and carried in triumph around 
 the Plaza. There was no end to the " Yiva el Coronel 
 Paredes ! " That speech had made him the favorite of the 
 hour. He had completely won the confidence of the popu 
 lace. He felt that, with the masses, he had made his point. 
 Whether he would also succeed with the leaders remained 
 to be seen. With them, he apprehended, his task would 
 not be so easy. Still he would try, and try at once. 
 
 There was one pair of eyes which followed him with an 
 expression of especial delight and admiration, as he was 
 borne along on the shoulders of the multitude ; they were 
 the eyes of Dolores. 
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 THE BESIEGED. 
 
 THE human wave now rolled back to the Plaza Mayor, 
 where the arrival of Juan Castro and his followers soon 
 imparted the necessary decision and aggressiveness to the 
 multitude. 
 
 Many of the Militiamen reappeared, but most of them 
 without their uniforms. Some of the nobility, in the dis 
 guise of commoners, joined the besiegers. Others, like 
 young Sanchez and Carrera, and their friends, young Olmos 
 and Garcia, were too proud and too bold to assume a dis-
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 157 
 
 guise, and freely mixing with the people, gave encourage 
 ment and direction to the surging crowds. 
 
 The Government Palace was built on a platform, which 
 formed what the Spaniards call a Pretil or esplanade in 
 front of it, rising about twelve feet above the level of the 
 Plaza, and occupying its entire western side. On the 
 south side of the square stood the Cathedral, and on the 
 east line stood the house of the Municipality. The west 
 side was occupied by private residences, with porticos un 
 der them. The esplanade before the Palace was reached 
 by a flight of stairs in the center, and one at each end. 
 
 Nearly the whole Plaza was swept by two pieces of ar 
 tillery posted behind a barricade in the main door of the 
 Palace, which had been left open to enable the guns to 
 play on the assailants. Count Valverde, who could easily 
 be recognized by the large waving plumes in his hat, 
 leaned over the barricade and looked contemptuously on the 
 mob below. Suddenly an orderly appeared and announced 
 that the President wished to see him. 
 
 Don Manuel Barros de San Millan awaited him in the 
 Audience Chamber. The four Auditors were with him. 
 They all looked ashy pale, and fluttered about tremblingly. 
 One shout below would draw them lo the windows, while 
 the next yell would frighten them away again. 
 
 President Barros affected some composure which he did 
 not possess. 
 
 " My dear Count," he began, " what shall we do? " 
 
 " It is my business to obey your Excellency's orders," 
 said Valverde, " whatever they may be. I have no sug 
 gestions to make." 
 
 " JDo you think they will dare to attack the Palace ? " 
 
 " I think they will," answered Valverde, with freezing 
 politeness. 
 
 "Then we are lost ! " shouted Auditor Meneses, the one 
 who had recently arrived from Spain. 
 
 ' : Can you hold the building? " continued the President.
 
 158 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " If they are foolish enough to attack us only from the 
 Plaza, I can repel the assault easily. If, however, they 
 should scale the courtyard wall in the rear, they would hem. 
 us in on both sides, and make our position untenable." 
 
 " Wo must take refuge in the Church of La Merced," 
 suggested Meneses. 
 
 "But how would your Excellencies get there? The 
 streets are filled with people who will watch the rear en 
 trances. ]S"o one can leave the Palace unobserved, at least 
 not in the daytime." 
 
 " But, for God's sake, what shall we do?" urged the 
 President. 
 
 " If your Excellencies had asked me that question yes 
 terday, I should have advised to defer the blow against 
 Bellido until after the arrival of troops from Lima. As 
 the case now stands, I have but one suggestion to make." 
 
 " Let us hear it! Let us hear it ! " dxclaimed the Audi 
 tors in a chorus. 
 
 " I should negotiate to gain time. I should even advise 
 to issue a proclamation disclaiming all complicity in the 
 death of Bellido, and promising that the crime shall be in 
 vestigated and the guiltj 7 parties brought to justice. I 
 would suspend the collection of the Alcabala until another 
 appeal can be made to the Viceroy and to the Court at 
 Madrid." 
 
 " Good ! Good ! " shouted Meneses. " Let us do it at 
 once ! " 
 
 " And if they refuse to be pacified ?" 
 
 " Then, we must try to hold the Palace until night sets 
 in and then attempt to escape to a sanctuary, either in 
 some disguise, or by cutting our way through." 
 
 " And if it should not be possible ? " 
 
 " Then, we shall have to put our trust in the Lord. I 
 shall order my men to confession and prepare for the 
 worst." 
 
 "But there must be no worst!" said the President.
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 159 
 
 " Let us negotiate ! Let us send out a flag of truce. We 
 can annul all our concessions afterward. They are null 
 and void ab initio, because granted under duress. Let us 
 promise " 
 
 He could not finish the sentence. Two, three, four shots 
 were fired in rapid succession, and were followed by a vol 
 ley accompanied by unearthly yells on all sides of the 
 building. The President and the Auditors threw them 
 selves on their knees and began to pray, while Valverde 
 hurried out of the room to meet the emergency. He was 
 just in time. The populace in the great square had made 
 a sudden rush for the esplanade in front of the Palace with 
 the intention of forcing the main entrance ; but they were 
 quickly repulsed by the fire of the garrison and fled panic- 
 stricken in every direction, leaving the square covered with 
 their dead and wounded. The rapidity of this success en 
 abled the Count to turn his attention to the wall of the 
 court in the rear of the Palace, where Juan Castro and his 
 men had nearly effected an entrance. Here, too, the Count 
 was in time, and drove back the assailants with great 
 slaughter. The struggle was over in a few minutes, and 
 the Count returned to the presence-chamber of the Audi 
 ence to report that, for the time being, they were safe. 
 
 But the relief of the Auditors was of short duration. 
 The ilebcls soon returned and fortified themselves in the 
 adjoining houses, turning the seige into a much more ef 
 fective blockade. A flag of truce sent out by the fright 
 ened ministers was fired upon by the populace and driven 
 back to the Palace. The people were still too infuriated to 
 allow negotiations. The death of Bellidoand of those who 
 had perished during the assault had not yet been avenged. 
 The multitude thirsted for a victim ; and a victim it would 
 have.
 
 160 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 
 
 A SUDDEN DEPARTURE. 
 
 And where was Carrera during the hours of suspense 
 and anxiety, and the scenes of tumult and disorder that 
 followed the unsuccessful attack on the Palace ? 
 
 Feeling the necessity of a short rest after his sleepless and 
 fatiguing night and the overpowering excitements of the 
 morning, he had returned to his house, and without undress 
 ing, thrown himself on his bed. His rest was but of short dur 
 ation. The tramp of horses was heard in his courtyard, 
 and immediately afterward Lorenzo Viteri,theMayordomo 
 of his uncle's hacienda at Puembo, rushed into the young 
 man's bed-room looking pale and excited. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Master, for interrupting your re 
 pose. But I am the bearer of sad news. Your poor uncle 
 lies on his death-bed. He was suddenly taken ill this 
 morning, and I am afraid there is no help." 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, Don Lorenzo, how you have alarmed 
 me. How is it possible! He was the picture of health 
 when I saw him last." 
 
 " And yet you would hardly recognize him now. Tour 
 Grace must come with me at once. His Lordship wants to 
 see you before he dies. He urged me to hurry, and com 
 manded me to bring you without delay. I have everything 
 in readiness. I brought five or six horses. Before I came 
 here I dispatched a physician to Puembo. It was difficult 
 to get one, as all the leeches are busy with the wounded. 
 And now we must follow. We must put the spurs to our 
 steeds, if we want to find him alive." 
 
 At this moment Roberto burst into the room: "Julio !"
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 161 
 
 he exclaimed, " the Cabildo has sent for you. You must 
 come with me at once." 
 
 Carrera informed him of the sad message he had just 
 received. " I can not go with you now. I must be off this 
 very minute." 
 
 " But, by all the Saints of Heaven, yon can not disregard 
 the order of the Cabildo. Your uncle is a most excellent 
 man, but he has only one life to lose, while here the lives 
 of hundreds are at stake." 
 
 " Roberto ! He is my benefactor my second father to 
 whom I owe everything." 
 
 "But suppose you find him dead. What good would 
 your coming do him then, while not a minute must be lost 
 here ? We have staked our lives in this contest, and we 
 must either succeed or die on the scaffold. Will you sacri 
 fice all your living friends for the sake of a dying uncle? 
 And, after all, he may not bo so very ill ; the Cabildo will 
 not detain you, and perhaps in an hour, or even less than 
 an hour, you may be ready to go." 
 
 "Young Master," said Lorenzo, "it is the dying man's 
 last and only wish to see his nephew. Do not deprive him 
 of this consolation." 
 
 "I must go, Roberto, I must." 
 
 "And Toa?" asked Sanchez, taking his friend aside. 
 
 "You must tell her what has called me away." 
 
 " How could I ? Where should I find her, whom nobody 
 can see?" 
 
 " Write her a letter in my name, giving her all the par 
 ticulars, and take this," he said, kissing the silver moon 
 she had given him, and then handing it to Roberto. " This 
 piece," he whispered to him, " will put you in communica 
 tion with her. Show it to Mariano, or any other reliable 
 Indian, and he will take your letter, and return with her 
 answer. And now, farewell. May the Virgin protect you !" 
 
 " O, Julio!" said Roberto, pressing him to his heart. 
 "You go, and perhaps we shall never meet again."
 
 162 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 "Do not be. childish, Roberto. In a d.-jy or two I shall 
 return to you ;" and before Roberto could sit down to write 
 the letter to Toa, he heard the tramp of the horses that bore 
 away his friend. It was their last meeting on this side 
 of the grave. 
 
 The pen was not Roberto's forte. He wrote with diffi 
 culty, and had spoiled several sheets of paper, before lie 
 succeeded in inditing the following epistle, full of sins 
 against the then recognized method of spelling the lan 
 guage of Castile : 
 
 " I regret to inform your Royal Highness that my friend, 
 Don Julio de Carrera, has been called away to Piiembo, by 
 the sudden and probably fatal illness of his uncle and bene 
 factor. He left with a heavy heart, but he hopes to return 
 soon, and to throw himself at the feet of your Royal High 
 ness. His departure was so sudden as not to allow him the 
 time to write. He, therefore, requested me to communicate 
 these facts to your Highness, and to tell your Highness how 
 it grieves him to be taken away from Quito. In fulfilling 
 the commission of my friend, I avail myself of the oppor 
 tunity to place my own services at the disposal of your 
 Highness. Whenever your Highness should be in need of 
 a stout heart, a strong arm, and a good sword, your High 
 ness has but to remember your humble servant, who kisses 
 your hands* ROBERTO SANCHEZ." 
 
 ' After finishing and re-reading this document, and con 
 gratulating himself on his unexpected clerical success, he 
 called Mariano. 
 
 " Dost thou know the Shyri Toa, my boy?" 
 
 " No, Senor ! " 
 
 " Well, conldst thou find the Shyri Toa ?" 
 
 " Nobody can find the Shyri Toa, Senor," said Mariano. 
 
 * The usual Spanish mode of concluding a letter.
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 163 
 
 " But I have a letter of great importance here, which 
 must be delivered to the Shyri Toa." 
 
 " If your Gi-ace will tell me where to find her, I shall de 
 liver the letter." 
 
 " If 1 knew where to find her, I should deliver it myself, 
 man. You must find her for me." 
 
 " It is impossible, Master. She is far, far away from 
 Quito." 
 
 " These Indians are not without strong points," thought 
 Roberto. Then he said aloud : " Mariano !" 
 
 " Seller ! " 
 
 "Look at this!" 
 
 The effect was magical. In an instant Mariano was on 
 his knees, and, with tears streaming down his cheeks, he 
 kissed and petted the little silver ornament which Roberto 
 had handed to him. 
 
 " What is the matter now, my boy?" asked Roberto, good 
 n at u redly. 
 
 " The letter ! the letter! " exclaimed the boy. " Give me 
 the letter, Master, and the Shyri Toa shall have it this very 
 hour. And Mariano is your Lordship's slave. Command 
 me, send me wherever your Grace desires. Mariano will 
 go to the death for your Grace." And again he kissed the 
 silver moon, and then reverentially returned it to Roberto. 
 
 "Now, listen ! " said the young gentleman. " If I am 
 not here when thou returnest, thou wilt find me in the 
 House of the Municipality."
 
 14 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 VALVERDE. 
 
 IT was a long, long day, but at last it drew to a close. 
 The soldiers in the Palace were served with eatables and 
 wine. And as the Revolutionists persisted in their inac 
 tivity, the vice of Spain demanded its rights. Dice rattled 
 under the field-pieces ; cards were shuffled under the ar 
 quebuses, and many a time the amount was won and lost 
 that had been paid for the life of Bellido. 
 
 Tears and despair in the house of mourning ; endless 
 discussions in the session-chamber of the Cabildo ; thirst 
 for revenge, coupled with indecision and timidity among 
 the surging crowds in the streets ; abject cowardice and 
 helplessness in the upper story of the Palace, and reckless 
 ness of life or death among the soldiers below, who gam 
 bled on, never pausing to consider whether they would live 
 to-morrow to enjoy the money for which they played with 
 such intensity : such were the scenes during which the 
 hours wore on, until the sun had disappeared behind Mount 
 Pichincha, and the day gave way to twilight, and the twi 
 light to the shades of night. 
 
 " Juan del Puente, are you a Christian ?" 
 
 " Why, by Santiago ! " replied the man who had just re 
 turned from a tour of inspection, " your Excellency has put 
 this question to a man whose whole life has been devoted 
 to the war for our holy religion." 
 
 "I have no doubt of that. But do you feel a craving 
 for its consolations ? You have reddened your hands in 
 Christian blood to-day. It is true you have only obeyed 
 orders ; yet it must weigh on your mind. We are in a 
 very desperate strait. The probabilities are against us, at
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 165 
 
 least against some, and perhaps all of us. Do you not feel 
 a necessitj to unburden your conscience by confessing your 
 sins?" 
 
 " But, even if I did, Seller Commander, what could I do? 
 Our Chaplain has not come to the Palace with us. He was 
 in bed when we left the barracks, and said he would follow 
 soon. But this insurrection came upon us like a thunder 
 bolt, and it seems the old gentleman was afraid to trust 
 himself to the maddened crowds." 
 
 "This is a sad state of affairs, Juan del Puente. "We 
 must open a communication with the Convent of La Merced, 
 or with La Compania. They might send us priests, and I 
 do not think the mob below would prevent their entrance." 
 
 " Yes, but how will our messenger get there? They 
 would tear any man to pieces who should venture out of 
 this inclosure." 
 
 " The only difficulty will be to get out. Once at the 
 Convent, our messenger might come back in the disguise 
 of a monk with the other friars." 
 
 " But, perhaps he would not come back. He might con 
 clude to remain in the Convent. That would not be fair, 
 your Excellency. We are all together now, and no man 
 should have a better chance for his life than his comrades." 
 
 "But we might decide by lot who shall go. Then the 
 chances would be even." 
 
 "That's true," answered Del Puente, who could not have 
 resisted an appeal to his gambling propensities. 
 
 " There are two ways of doing it. Either let our mes 
 senger try to reach the Convent in disguise, or we might 
 make a sortie with all the men we can spare, push on to 
 the Convent, throw our man into the Church, and then fall 
 back to the Palace. At the Convent our man might learn 
 how matters stand outside, and whether we can hope for a 
 favorable reaction. We might, through one of the friars, 
 open communication with our friends in the city, and send 
 messages to other garrisons."
 
 166 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " In this case, however, I must warn your Excellency 
 against trusting the Friars of Mercy. Most of them are 
 natives, and I am told they all sympathize with the .Rebels. 
 It would be better to appeal to the Jesuits, who stand by 
 the King." 
 
 " 1 have considered what you say; but it will be tenfold 
 more difficult for us to reach the Chui'ch of the Jesuits, 
 than to get to La Merced. Moreover, the Superior of the 
 Mercedarios is a Spaniard, whom 1 know, and whom I can 
 trust. From the very fact of their sympathy with the 
 Rebels, I infer that they will be allowed to come here to 
 administer the sacraments of religion to our men. You 
 are now fully informed as to my views, Juan del Puente. 
 Go, then, call the sergeants and some of your best men to 
 gether, and ascertain their preferences. Report to me as 
 soon as you are ready. In the meantime, I shall notify the 
 Royal Audience to prepare their communications to our 
 friends outside." 
 
 In about half an hour Juan del Puente returned to his 
 commander. 
 
 " Our men are ready, as I knew they would be, to carry 
 out the plan of your Excellency ; and they humbly present 
 a few details which they beg your Excellency to consider. 
 We are all of the opinion that it is impossible for any man 
 to escape from the Palace unobserved. For this reason we 
 all favor the idea of a sortie, which will lead to a stampede 
 outside. We might drop our messenger in the disguise of one 
 of the rabble, as we emerge from the palace. He would run 
 along with the fugitives and be looked upon as one of the 
 mob, or remain entirely unnoticed. We might pursue the 
 mob as near La Merced as we can, without cutting off our 
 retreat." 
 
 ' Very well, Juan del Puente. Shall the messenger be 
 selected by lot?" 
 
 "As a matter of course, your Excellency." 
 
 "Every name to be put in the urn ?
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 167 
 
 "Comrades in life, comrades in death; ever} 7 name to be 
 put in ; your Excellency alone to have the option whether 
 or not to withhold your name." 
 
 "Can you read or write, Juan del Puente?" 
 
 " No, Senor Commander." 
 
 "Who can?" 
 
 " Idelfonso Coronel can read a little, but he can not write. 
 Diego Narvaez can write." 
 
 " Then let him and my adjutant do the writing ; and, 
 as mine would be the greatest danger if I should be se 
 lected, let my name be put in the urn along with the others." 
 
 " Your Excellency's commands shall be obeyed. 
 
 A little table was placed in the lower corridor, and by 
 the flickering light of a torch, the soldier, Diego Narvaez, 
 and Yalverde's aid, Guzman de Tapia, wrote down each 
 name on a slip of paper, rolled up the slips, and put them 
 in the hat of Ildefonso Coronel. Every man who was not 
 on guard stood around the table. The writing had not 
 proceeded very far, when the betting commenced. 
 
 " Five to one that my name will not be drawn !" 
 
 " Ten to one that my name will not come out ! M 
 
 " If anyone will give me the odds of twenty, 1 bet that 
 my name will be drawn." 
 
 " Taken !" shouted half a dozen voices. 
 
 " Who shall draw ?" 
 
 "Juan del Puente ! He is the ugliest of all !" 
 
 A shout of laughter, a yell of acclamation, and Juan del 
 Puente bent forward to draw. The lurid flame of the 
 torch threw an unsteady and fantastic light on the powder- 
 begrimed countenances of those rough and reckless men, 
 as they pressed around the table to hear the decision. 
 
 " Shake up that hat once more !" shouted Ildefonso Cor 
 onel, distrustful to the last. 
 
 " Silence !" commanded Guzman de Tapia, Valverde's 
 Adjutant. 
 
 Juan del Puente had drawn a name, and, as he was un-
 
 168 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 able to read, ho handed it over to the Adjutant who opened 
 the paper, read it and turned pale. Silentty he handed it 
 to Diego Narvaez, who had assisted him as scribe. He, 
 likewise, was so struck with consternation that he neglected 
 to make the announcement, but continued to gaze upon the 
 paper with a blank stare. 
 
 " Well, why do n't you read ?" 
 
 "What is the matter?" 
 
 " The name ! The name ! " shouted the men. 
 
 Diego Narvaez moiioned them to be silent, and then read 
 with a faltering voice : 
 
 " His Excellency, the Count Valverde!" 
 
 A long silence followed, during which not even a loud 
 breath was drawn. The men looked at each other in 
 amazement. They were not prepared for this result. At 
 last, the Count emerged from the darkness of the court 
 yard, where he had witnessed the scene unobserved. 
 
 " Comrades," he said, " there is no danger which, for 
 your sake, 1 would not brave. The verdict of fate is a 
 righteous one. This great task, upon the success of which 
 our present safety and, perhaps, our eternal salvation may 
 depend, belongs to me. I swear to you, by the most holy 
 Trinity, that if I do reach the church, I shall not stay 
 there. I shall either return to the Palace, or you may 
 pray for 1113* soul. Do you believe me?" 
 
 " Yes ! Yes ! Long live our noble commander !" 
 
 "And now to our work. Senor Guzman de Tapia will 
 remain in command of the Palace. He will b6 my succes 
 sor, if I should be killed outside. Juan del Pueute will 
 command the sortie. He will succeed the Sefior de Tapia 
 if he should fall. And should Juan del Puente, too, meet 
 with a soldier's death, let Diego Narvaez be his successor. 
 For the present, let no man despair. Each one of us is a 
 match for twenty of the rabble outside, and help will corne, 
 must come, if we can hold out for a few days. And now I
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 169 
 
 shall withdraw to prepare my disguise. Sefior de Tapia 
 and Juan del Puente, assume your commands." 
 
 " Thirty volunteers for Juan del Puente ! " commanded 
 Tapia. Nearly twice that number rushed forward ; the 
 necessary selections were made in an instant, and the 
 chosen ones drawn up in line. 
 
 " Let three men carry axes, and bring baskets for five !" 
 commanded Juan del Puente. 
 
 "What for?" asked Guzman de Tapia. 
 
 " There is a bakery on our way to La Merced. We may 
 not find it open. Therefore, the axes ; and the baskets are 
 for what we shall find. We have enough to eat for a day 
 or tw T o, but this thing may last longer, and it may be well 
 to lay up a crust for the future." 
 
 " Viva Juan del Puente !" shouted the soldiers. 
 
 " Diego Narvaez," commanded Tapia, " take twenty men 
 and follow Juan del Puente outside to protect his rear. 
 Keep up a fire in the opposite direction, and rush to his 
 aid if he should be pressed too hard. And now God and 
 the Yirgin be with you all." 
 
 '' Santiago ! Santiago !" shouted the men. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE SALLY. 
 
 JUAN DEL PUENTE was right. Not a man could have es 
 caped from the Palace unobserved. Fires had been kin 
 dled all around the building, so as to light up its walls and 
 windows. The Revolutionists had posted themselves in 
 the adjoining houses, and guarded every street leading to 
 the Great Square. Almost the entire male population of the 
 city was out, and, although the turbulent crowds of armed 
 and unarmed men did not venture into the immediate vi-
 
 170 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 cinity of the Palace, they completely blockaded all the 
 avenues by which it could be reached. A large quan 
 tity of pitch had been collected in the Square of La. Mer 
 ced, from which men were busily preparing torches. 
 
 Suddenly one of the doors in the wall inclosing the Pal 
 ace court was thrown wide open, and Juan del Pucnte is 
 sued forth at the head of his thirty dare-devils, opening a 
 destructive fire into the dense ranks of the citizens in the 
 street leading to La Merced, which was but two or three 
 squares from the Palace. His party was followed immedi 
 ately by the men of Narvaez, who advanced in an opposite 
 direction, and opened fire on the men who had collected 
 under the shelter of the arcades and porticos lining the 
 Great Square. By these, and by the men stationed in the 
 windows of houses, the fire of the soldiers was returned, and 
 not without effect ; but in the street the old story of regulars 
 against an armed mob repeated itself. Completely taken 
 by surprise, the crowds nearest the Palace broke and fled, 
 sweeping along with them even those who would have 
 stood their ground and offered resistance. 
 
 Count Valverde, in the ragged disguise of a man of the 
 populace, soon caught up with the fugitives, and ran for 
 ward, as if in deadly fear, toward the Church of La Mer 
 ced. His own men came charging along, shouting wildly 
 for the King. Their shouts were replied to by the garrison 
 inside, who supported them with acclamations, with the 
 blowing of trumpets, and the incessant beating of drums. 
 For a moment it seemed as if the whole force of defenders 
 had sallied forth from the Palace. The panic-stricken cit 
 izens shrieked and yelled, the women screamed in the balco 
 nies, and the reports of the arquebuses spread terror in 
 every direction. 
 
 The bakery was still open, and had been doing a brisk 
 business. When the rush came, the baker attempted to 
 close his door, but, a blow from the ax of one of the sol 
 diers threw it wide open, and felled the baker to the floor.
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 171 
 
 Four or five soldiers rushed in and filled their baskets with 
 what the shop contained. 
 
 The panic of the besiegers, however, was not of long 
 duration. The smallness of the attacking party soon be 
 came evident. Before the House of the Municipality the 
 more disciplined forces of the insurgents, consiting mainly 
 of the Militiamen and old soldiers, had been massed, in 
 order to defend it against a possible attack of the lio}-alists. 
 A strong detachment of these men was soon in motion, and 
 advanced, sheltered by the porticos under the private resi 
 dences, and opened fire on the twenty of Narvaez, driving 
 thembackto the sally-port. With abolddash, theinsurgenta 
 might have captured the men of Narvaez and cut off the re 
 treat of Del Puente, or forced themselves along with the lat- 
 ter's men through the open gate. But, unfortunately, they 
 hesitated at the end of the sheltering portico, and confined 
 themselves to an exchange of shots. But even thus the 
 position of Narvaez became critical, and Guzman de Tapia, 
 leaning over the walls, ordered him back into the Palace 
 court, while the bugle-horn blew the signal of retreat to 
 Juan del Puente. It was high time. Juan Castro had i*al- 
 lied his men, after the first rush of the fugitives had swept 
 by, and, gliding along the houses, endeavored to take Juan 
 del Puente in the flank, and drive him into an intersecting 
 street, where he would have been overpowered. But the 
 veterans were too quick to be caught. Snatching up their 
 wounded, and dragging them along, they succeeded in pass 
 ing the dangerous crossing, before Castro's men had fairly 
 come up. These latter could not follow Del Puente too 
 closely, as the}- would have exposed themselves to the fire 
 of their own friends under the porticos. 
 
 Two of the soldiers were left dead outside, and three were 
 brought back wounded, while the loss of the citizens was 
 much heavier. The royal messenger had been set adrift, 
 and five baskets full of bread formed a welcome addition 
 to the scanty stores of the garrison.
 
 173 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 The engagement had not lasted over ten minutes. Yal- 
 verde would have reached the church in safety, could he 
 have hurried on. But the fire of his own men who had lost 
 sight of him, compelled him for a moment to turn into an 
 intersecting street. When he again ventured into the 
 street leading to the convent, he found himself in the midst 
 of Castro's men. Only a short distance now separated him 
 from the sanctuary, the door of which stood open. 
 
 Fortunately, the men of Castro were engaged in a coun 
 cil of war. 
 
 " If those fools under the porticos had not kept up their 
 fire," said one, " we might have captured the Spanish dogs." 
 
 " I can not understand, why they came out," said an 
 other. 
 
 "It was bread they wanted," said Castro. "They have 
 plundered the bakery. Thunder and lightning ! They have 
 nothing to eat. They can not hold out much longer." 
 
 " Who is that fellow? " asked another, pointing to Val- 
 verde, who had glided by, apparently unconcerned. 
 
 " It is a strange face. I have never seen it before." 
 
 Castro turned around, and looked at the Count, who 
 now walked boldly towards the church door. " I do 
 not know the fellow," said the ruffian, " and yet 1 think I 
 must have seen that face before." With these words, he 
 started to follow the Count, who doubled his steps as he 
 drew near to the church. He saw that he had been ob 
 served, yet he would not arouse suspicion by running, as 
 long as it was not absolutely necessary for his safety. 
 Castro, accompanied by sojne of his gang, soon overtook 
 him, and passed him just as he entered the sheltering edi 
 fice. The pursuers entered the church with him. The 
 building was but dimly lit, but. by the glare of the fires on 
 the streets, Castro looked him straight in the face. The 
 Count had trimmed his long moustache, the pride of the 
 Spanish nobleman, and cut his hair. He had used white 
 powder and the actors brush to give himself the appear-
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 173 
 
 ance of an old man. Yet such a disguise would not bear 
 close inspection by the watchful eye of hate. As the Count 
 doffed his hat on entering the sacred edifice, Castro became 
 assured that he had recognized his man. 
 
 " The coward ! " he muttered, but loud enough to let 
 Yalverde hear it. " He has deserted his men to save his 
 own miserable life." 
 
 Valverde winced under this taunt, but he would not be 
 tray himself. He had an important mission to perform. 
 He carried letters to persons outside, who must not be com 
 promised. He had to despatch messengers to Lima and 
 Pasto. Everything depended on his cautiousness and dis 
 cretion. Aifec! ing therefore the utmost unconcern, he re 
 paired to the darkest corner of the church, and prostrating 
 himself before an image of the Virgin, buried his face in 
 his hands, and seemed lost in meditation and prayer. 
 
 " Could 1 be mistaken ? " muttered Castro. " Impos 
 sible ! .Rodriguez ! Watch that man. And you fellows, 
 guard every outlet of the church and convent. That man 
 must be the Spanish commander. If he has not come to 
 take refuge, he is here for mischief. We must watch him 
 closely." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE HORRORS OP NEUSZ. 
 
 THE Count had gained the church. But how to commu 
 nicate with the Superior, whom alone he could trust? 
 What if the Superior should be absent from the Convent? 
 Some men were kneeling in the church and praying; but 
 in vain did Valverde strain his eyes to penetrate the dark 
 ness, in order to discover a friar. People came and went, 
 but he saw no friar. The precious minutes glided away, 
 and brought no means of communication. Should Valverde
 
 174 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 venture into the Convent ? He did not doubt that he was 
 watched. Of course he was safe in the sanctuary ; but 
 should he endanger his purpose by attracting attention? 
 At last he saw the whites robes of the Friars of Mercy. 
 Now was the time. He arose and approached them. The 
 unsteady light of a taper burning upon an altar trembled 
 upon their faces. Thank the Lord of Hosts! Valverde 
 recognized the venerable form of his countryman, the Su 
 perior. 
 
 " Reverend Father ! " he said, " I beg to speak to you." 
 
 " I can not listen to you now, my Son. My duty calls 
 me hence." 
 
 " But I must say three words to your Reverence. It is a 
 matter of the utmost importance." 
 
 " Speak to Father Alphonso, my Son. He will attend to 
 you." 
 
 " What I have to say is for the ear of your Reverence 
 alone," persisted Valverde, and then he added in a low 
 whisper : " For the sake of the King listen to me !" 
 
 The Superior now looked closely at the Count, and turned 
 pale as he recognized his features. 
 
 <: Father Alphonso!" ho said, "proceed without me! I 
 must speak to this man." And, turning to Valverde, he 
 added : " Follow me." 
 
 Through the darkness of the church, the Superior led 
 him to a door, which communicated with the corridors of 
 the Convent. Less than seventy years before, a great tem 
 ple of the Sun had stood on the spot now occupied by the 
 church and monastery of La Merced. The Christian edi 
 fice had arisen upon the ruins of the Pagan temple. The 
 Sun of the heathen had paled before the Cross. The luster 
 of the emerald and borla had vanished before the splendor 
 of the Castilian crown. The bronze of the Peruvian had 
 given way to iron, out of which the fetters for the conquered 
 race were forged. 
 
 Silently the twain walked through the lonely halls of the
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 175 
 
 Convent, the stillness of which formed a striking contrast 
 with the tumult outside. Their steps resounded on the 
 cold stone pavement of the massive corridors. At last the 
 Superior opened a door, which led to his cell. It was scant 
 ily furnished in the rude style of native workmanship, and 
 contained* only a large wooden crucifix fastened to the wall, 
 a tahle, a few chairs, a bookcase, and several pictures of 
 Saints and the Virgin. A side door communicated with 
 a smaller cell, in which the bed of the Superior stood. The 
 Superior himself was an old man, whose originally dark 
 complexion had been darkened still more by exposure to 
 many climates. He was not very learned, but zealous and 
 enthusiastic, a forerunner of the ecclesiastical age which 
 was soon to follow the military age, in which our story is 
 laid. 
 
 Not a word had been spoken until now. The Superior 
 closed an'd bolted the door, then turned around and em 
 braced the Count, who devoutly kissed his hand. 
 
 " And now, my dear countryman, how did you come 
 here?" 
 
 " Father," answered Yalvcrde, " you are a priest, a friend, 
 and a Spaniard. I come to you as to my confessor, my 
 countryman, and a loyal subject of the King of Spain. To 
 come to you, I ordered that sally to be made. There are 
 other souls that need your spiritual assistance, and the 
 King's cause demands your aid." And now Valverdc 
 briefly narrated the occurrences in the Palace, and ac 
 quainted the Superior with the hopes entertained by the 
 besieged to communicate, through his instrumentality, with 
 their friends outside.. 
 
 Uneasily and with painful suspense the monk listened 
 to his young friend. " My dear Son ! " he began, after Yal- 
 verde had finished, " what you ask of me is a matter of ex 
 treme difficulty, not because I shrink from personal dan 
 ger, but because I am destitute of all means to help you. 
 The brethren of our convent are all natives, and, I am
 
 176 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 sorry to say, strongly sympathize with the cause of their 
 countrymen outside. I am their Superior, and they must 
 obey me: but they dislike me, perhaps hate me, for being 
 a Spaniard. They could not be intrusted with messages to 
 our friends. They would surely betray us. Moreover, it 
 is questionable whether we could communicate with any 
 body. The houses of those who are known to be in 
 sympathy with the cause of the King were to be sacked 
 this morning. The mob began with the house of the Mar 
 quis de Solando. The timely intercession of Manuel Pa- 
 redes alone prevented its destruction. At his request, Mu 
 nicipal Guards were detailed to protect the houses of the 
 suspected; but, while protecting them, they hold their in 
 mates as prisoners, allowing access to no one excepting 
 those who are well known to be on the side of the insur 
 rection." 
 
 "And where is the Marquis ?" 
 
 " He is said to have left the city." 
 
 " Could you not dispatch couriers to the Viceroy and to 
 the commander of our garrison at Pasto ?" 
 
 " Where is the native whom I could trust, and if I were 
 to send Spaniards, they would be seized, searched, and per 
 haps murdered." 
 
 " It is not necessary that our messengers should carry 
 letters. Verbal commissions would be sufficient. The in 
 surrection has not yet passed beyond the limits of the city. 
 Once away from Quito, our messengers might travel ahead 
 of the news they carry." 
 
 " I shall try, my Son, 1 shall try. But destroy these let 
 ters. No papers must be found. We know what they con 
 tain." And, with Valverde's acquiescence, he burned the 
 hastily written notes which the latter had brought. 
 
 "And is there no hope, Father, that our friends outside 
 will rise and come to the rescue of the King's Ministers in 
 the Palace ?" 
 
 " None at least not now ! We must put our faith in the
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 177 
 
 Lord, and trust that '; me will bring a reaction. Our friends 
 here are lew, and these are cowed, frightened, terrified. 
 Help must come from abroad." 
 
 " Then what is to become of us in the Palace?" 
 
 " I have heard that it is not the intention of the Cabildo 
 to murder the. Ministers. They are to be made prisoners 
 and kept as hostages." 
 
 " And what is to be done with the soldiers and myself?" 
 
 " 1 do not know, my Son ; but you are here now. You are 
 within the walls of the sanctuaiy. The Church will pro 
 tect you. Powerless outside, I am still the Superior here. 
 And even our native Friars would not allow you to be 
 harmed within this sacred inclosure." 
 
 " No, Father, I can not stay here. I must go back to 
 the Palace." 
 
 " You are raving, my Son." 
 
 " No, Father, there is no alternative. My duty is plain. 
 Do you think I should desert my comrades in the hour of 
 need? I promised to return, and return I shall or die. 
 Why should I live a disgraced man, a deserter, who ran 
 away from his post and abandoned the most important and 
 critical command a military officer ever held at Quito ? To 
 stay here would be the destruction of all my hopes in life, 
 and a disgraceful end of an honorable career. I can not, 
 must not stay." 
 
 " But how will you return ?" 
 
 " You will send some of your brethren to confess my men. 
 The Eucharist will be carried in procession to the Palace, 
 and even those rebel fiends will not undertake to stop it. 
 Why should not I join the procession in the disguise of 
 a Friar ? But, first of all, you must hear what I have 
 longed to tell you. I want your opinion, your advice, Fa 
 ther. I am sadly troubled in mind. I am not a coward. 
 God, whose holy battles I have fought, knows I am not ; 
 and yet, Father, I fear. It is not death at the cannon's mouth 
 I fear ; but it is a prediction which haunts me. A horrible
 
 178 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 prediction twice made to me and by different persons at 
 different times, but almost in the same words." 
 
 "Explain yourself, my Son !" said the Monk. "I am 
 listening. The Virgin knows how anxious I am to help 
 
 you." 
 
 " It was about six years ago, in summer, that I lay, un 
 der the Prince of Parma, before Neusz, a fortified town in 
 the Low Countries. It was defended by a Dutch com 
 mander, named Kloet. He was a most godless heretic 
 and infidel, but I must do him the justice to say a man 
 of almost superhuman bravery. Even the Prince re 
 garded him with unbounded admiration. But, Father, 
 inx>rder to be brief for time presses, and I can not stay 
 long I shall not refer to the particulars of that memorable 
 siege. One of the churches of Neusz was dedicated to St. 
 Quirinus. His bones were kept there in a holy shrine, and 
 had been left untouched even by the pestiferous Calvinists, 
 who held the town against us. But on Santiago's Day, 
 when our whole camp celebrated the festival of the patron 
 saint of Spain, the wretches, to mock us as it were, entered 
 the church, took out the remains of the Saint, and, after 
 reviling and defiling the blessed relics, burned them in the 
 open square." 
 
 " O, horrible ! How can human beings so far forget 
 themselves/' exclaimed the Monk. 
 
 " But that was not all. They had captured two of our 
 brave boys, and, infuriated by their master, the devil, they 
 roasted them on the same,, fire which had consumed the sa 
 cred relics." 
 
 " The fiends !" 
 
 " This latter deed they denied subsequently, but the burn 
 ing of the relics they admitted when we questioned them. 
 Well, we took the town by storm, and scenes of carnage 
 followed, which may appear horrible to many, but which 
 were no novelty to men who had been engaged in so long 
 and fierce a war. Our men thirsted for revenge for the
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 179 
 
 cruel murder of our comrades and the fiendish indignity 
 inflicted upon the relics of the saint. The Prince of Parma 
 wished to spare the commander, and was about to give or 
 ders to that effect ; but Archbishop Ernest, to whose do 
 minions the town belonged, was with the Prince, and pro 
 tested against such leniency as blasphemous. To gratify 
 him, the orders to save Kloet were not given. He was to 
 be left to his fate, whatever it should be." 
 
 Valverdc paused for awhile, as if to collect his thoughts, 
 wiped the cold perspiration from his forehead, and then 
 continued: 
 
 "It was my company that first reached the Captain's 
 house, and I was swept along by the current. Officers, 
 you know, are powerless on such occasions. During the 
 sack of a city the common soldier will listen to no com 
 mand. Nor did I wish to give any commands. I was 
 burning with indignation myself; I was six years younger 
 than now, and hated the Calvinists as heartily as they 
 hated us. They had murdered our men ; now it was out 
 turn to get even with them. Such is the fate of war! 
 My men found the Dutch commander in his bed. He was 
 wounded. His wife and daughter attended him. When I 
 entered the room, the soldiers had thrown a rope around 
 his body by which they dragged him from his couch. 
 ' Do n't hang him ! ' said one. ' It is too easy a death for 
 the damnable heretic.' 'Burn him! Burn him !' shouted 
 others, ' as he burned the remains of the saint and our poor 
 comrades.' Kloet denied all complicity in these occur 
 rences, and begged for a soldier's death ; but our men 
 were inexorable. They concluded to make an example of 
 him ; and stripping him completely, they covered him with 
 a thick coat of pitch, and, by a chain drawn around his 
 chest, hung him out of his own window, and, lighting the 
 pitch, consigned him to the flames." 
 
 Yells in the street below interrupted the speaker. He
 
 180 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 started from his seat and listened intently; but, as the 
 noise soon subsided, he resumed his narrative: 
 
 " While the soldiers were engaged in their preparations 
 for the execution of the doomed heretic, his wife and 
 daughter clung to my knees and implored me to interfere. 
 They appealed to me as a soldier, as a gentleman, as a 
 Christian, to save him, or at least to let him die a soldier's 
 death. Both of them were beautiful women, and the pallor 
 which overspread their countenances, together with their 
 long, disheveled hair gave them, almost an unearthly ap 
 pearance. They offered any ransom, their own lives 
 or honor, to save the man. My heart had been steeled to 
 such scenes; yet I was strangely moved. Their appeals 
 were most piteous ; but I had heard such appeals before. 
 One thing, however, troubles me to this day, although I 
 did not heed it much at the time; both of them offered 
 to become Catholics if I would save their husband and 
 father." 
 
 " This was, indeed, a critical case," interrupted the 
 monk. 
 
 " But what could I do ? The Archbishop, his Sovereign, 
 demanded the death of the man. The Prince had given 
 his consent. The soldiers clamored for it. The great 
 crime that had been committed, and for which he, as the 
 commander of the place, was responsible, had to be avenged. 
 Perhaps, even if I had tried, I should have been powerless 
 to save him. 1 might have saved Kloet for the moment, but 
 he would have been executed all the same afterward. 
 Hence, I should only have compromised myself, without 
 averting his doom." 
 
 " I really do not see what you could have done, my Son 
 under these circumstances." 
 
 " When fire was set to the coat of pitch with which they 
 had covered him ; when the first shrieks of the victim were 
 heard in the room, the scene changed. The wife re 
 leased my knees which, until then, she had held. At the
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 181 
 
 same time, she tore her daughter away from my feet, and, 
 holding the fainting girl with one arm, she pointed to me 
 with the other. I shall never forget the expression of her 
 face. I still see her terrible eyes, starting from their sock 
 ets, and rolling like those of a maniac. In her white night 
 dress, with her long hair streaming down over her back 
 and shoulders, she looked like a ghost ; and her voice, 
 which had turned hollow and shrieking, sounded as if it 
 came from the grave. ' Not another word of imploration, 
 Daughter,' she said. ' No more ! No more ! No appeal for 
 mercy, for honor, for humanity, to that stone ! God is 
 just ! God will avenge ! Yes, the veil that covers the fu 
 ture is rent asunder before my eyes. My gaze pierces 
 through a long vista of years. I can see your end, Span 
 iard, yours and it will be that of my husband. Do you 
 hear? He is a prisoner of war, whom you should protect 
 from the murderers under your command. But there is 
 justice; there will be retribution. Yes, terrible retribution. 
 Do you hear his shrieks? Such will be your shrieks, Span 
 iard ! Do you see his agony ? Mark it well, for such will 
 be your agony. Like him, you shall die in the hands of in 
 furiated enemies. Biting fire shall lick the skin from your 
 flesh and the flesh from your bones; and howling and re 
 joicing fiends shall dance around you and mock you, while 
 death creeps upon you slowly, and preceded by what shall 
 seem to you eternities of most excrutiating pain. Look at 
 him! Hear him! Remember him! His place will be 
 yours! It is you! It is you! It is you!' With these 
 words she broke into a hoarse and terrible laugh, and sud 
 denly fell swooning upon the floor, while the horrifying 
 cries of her burning husband gradually changed into hol 
 low and unearthly moans." 
 
 " How pale and agitated you look, my Son." said the 
 Friar. "Let me give you a glass .of Xerez ; you seem 
 faint and weak." 
 
 " No, Father, let me finish. Several of my men, who
 
 182 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 had listened to the fearful imprecation, now attempted to 
 seize her and bury their swords in her bosom. ' She shall 
 never wag that wicked tongue again,' said one of them, as 
 he lifted up his arm to strike. But I stopped him. ' No. 
 men,' I said, ' let us return good for evil. They are but 
 women. Let our war be against the men.' 1 ordered the 
 ladies to be conveyed to the Prince of Parma, and told one 
 of my men, whose influence over the others was known to 
 me, that I should hold him personally responsible for the 
 two women, until the Prince had decided what should be 
 done with them. The Prince, as I told you, Father, was 
 enthusiastic in his admiration of Kloet, and he protected 
 his widow and daughter. Weeks afterward, I saw her 
 again. She was completely broken in spirit, and meek as 
 a child. J told her that I had saved her life and her 
 daughter's, and that I regretted my inability to save her 
 husband; and, you may call it wrong or superstitious, 
 Father, I. begged her to take back her curse. It was diffi 
 cult to make her comprehend what I meant. She did not 
 seem to remember what she had said ; and, when I re 
 peated her prediction, she shook her head and answered : 
 4 Spaniard, what 1 said to you after my husband was hung 
 out of the window, I do not know. The burning match is 
 the last I remember. Then consciousness deserted me. If 
 I said anj'thing after that, it was not I that spoke; it was 
 the Spirit of the Lord that spoke through me. How can I 
 take back what I did not say ? I have forgotten it all, but 
 the Lord will remember it. He will be as merciful to 3-011, 
 as you were to my husband.' " 
 
 A long pause followed, during which the Friar seemed to 
 meditate over the narrative, and to prepare his opinion. 
 
 "But this is not all, Father. Her prediction haunted 
 me. I have never been able to forget the scenes of that 
 night ; and when my friends at Court procured me the op 
 portunity of trying my fortunes in America, I gladly wel 
 comed, and promptly accepted it. The voyage across two
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 183 
 
 oceans, the change of scenes and associations, the peaceful re 
 pose of a residence in the Andes, had gradually succeeded in 
 effacing the dreaded reminiscence, when the prediction was 
 again and most forcibly brought back to my mind by an 
 almost literal repetition." 
 
 " Is it possible ?" exclaimed the Friar. "A repetition 
 here in America !" 
 
 "Here in Quito." 
 
 "In Quito you amaze me! BJ T whom, and where?" 
 
 " By Mama Eucu, the Indian witch." 
 
 "Mama Eucu ! And why did you go to see Mama Eucu? 
 Why should you have resorted to witches and sorcerers for 
 that comfort and light which true religion alone can give?" 
 
 " It was altogether unsought, Father. I had never heard of 
 her I had never seen her before. I never dreamt of go 
 ing to her or consulting her. I had gone in seai-ch of the 
 Inca Treasure with a Creole friend. We went to a spot 
 where we had good reasons to presume the existence of a 
 subterranean passage. We discovered the passage, and 
 just as we were in the act of entering it, Mama Eucu ap 
 peared on the mountain side above us, and wildly and men 
 acingly said something in the Quichua language which I 
 did not understand. After she was gone, my friend ordered 
 one of his Indians to enter the passage, but the Indian re 
 fused, and would suffer the severest punishment rather 
 than obey. My friend explained that Mama Eucu had 
 filled the minds of her Indian listeners with superstitious 
 fears. To show the groundlessness of such superstitions, 1 
 entered the passage and explored it. I learned afterward 
 that Mama Eucu's imprecations had been hurled against 
 the first man who should enter the passage. As I entered 
 first, the curse attaches to me. It is the same, identically 
 the same, as the imprecation of the Dutch commander's 
 wife ; only with this difference Mama Eucu fixed the time 
 when it should come to pass." 
 
 The monk clapped his hands in astonishment.
 
 184 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 "Before the rains of winter shall again descend upon 
 the plain of Afia Quito, I shall die in the hands of infuri 
 ated enemies ; and biting fire shall lick the skin from my 
 flesh, and the flesh from my bones. We are now in the 
 beginning of the dry season. If, therefore, these prophe 
 cies are to be verified, it will be during this summer. Still, 
 I should have risen above what you will denounce as a 
 groundless superstition. But here comes this revolution. 
 1 am the commander of the garrison. I am expected to 
 hold the Palace with a handful of men against thousands. 
 I have repulsed the first attack with great slaughter. 
 Other attacks will follow. The traitors are vowing venge 
 ance for the death of Bcllido. and those of their number 
 who perished during the assault and our sally. What will, 
 what must my fate be when they have overpowered our 
 little garrison ? They look upon me as the author of those 
 deaths, and I shall be the victim. It all follows so natu 
 rally, Father. The problem has worked itself out with 
 the irresistible logic of fate. The toils are closing around 
 me, and there is no escape. For this reason I have come 
 to you, Father, come to you because you are a Spaniard, a 
 countryman, and because you are a priest. The time is 
 flying fast. I must hasten back to the Palace. The moments 
 are precious. Hear my confession, grant me your absolu 
 tion, and enlighten me, advise me, guide me as to the great 
 burden that weighs upon my soul."
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 185 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 NEGOTIATIONS. 
 
 Dona Carmen Duchicela sat in an easy-chair. The 
 Cacique of Ibarra and Prince Cundurazu stood at her side. 
 Toa was in an adjoining room reading a Letter which Mar 
 iano, Carrera's Indian servant, had just handed to her. 
 
 " Yes, Don Sebastian," said the old lady. " I shall return 
 to Cacha as soon as my preparations are completed. This 
 is a sinful place, inhabited by a godless and murderous 
 people. I long for the quietness of my country retreat, 
 where I can worship God in peace, and without being 
 frightened by the din of battle in the streets, and by the 
 howling of licentious mobs." 
 
 " My dear Lady," said the Cacique of Ibarra. " Do not 
 leave us yet. God knows whether we shall ever meet 
 again." 
 
 " We shall meet again, Don Sebastian, if you are a Chris 
 tian. We shall meet where there will be no separation, 
 and no earthly troubles, my friend." 
 
 " I am so sorry that you should shorten your visit. If 
 you go, I must go likewise ; for my remaining after your 
 departure might arouse suspicion, and expose me to dan 
 gers. And, yet I had wished to remain longer." 
 
 " Go, Don Sebastian ! Go ! The sooner the better. Go 
 home to your wife and your children. Not if you go, but 
 if yon stay, will you be in danger. Believe me, Don Se 
 bastian, your projects are visionary, and can only lead to 
 destruction." 
 
 In the meantime Toa had read the letter, with all the 
 expressions of angry impatience. After she had read it, 
 she began to pace the room endeavoring to compose her-
 
 186 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 self. As last she stopped before Mariano, who awaited her 
 orders in reverential submissiveness. " Wait outside, my 
 good man, until I send for thee ! " She then went to the 
 door leading to the other room, and said: "Auntie, will 
 you excuse Prince Cundurazu for a moment?" 
 
 The old man at once hurried into her presence : " What 
 is the pleasure of my Queen?" 
 
 "Bead this!" 
 
 He read, and then silently handed buck, the letter. " flc 
 leaves me," said Toa, " when I want him most. But yes 
 terday I declared my love for him, and to-day he is gone." 
 
 ' : He is a Viracocha, Shyri ! " 
 
 " What dost thou advise now, my fatherly friend ? " 
 
 " Thy question comes late, Shyri." 
 
 " Was it not thy advice, man, that I should marry a Vir 
 acocha, to make him King of our land ? " 
 
 u Yes, Shyri, but the selection was thine own." 
 
 "And thou hadst approved it ! " 
 
 "It was not my province, unasked to gainsay the choice 
 of my Qneen." 
 
 "Was he not the only Viracocha who had ever drawn a 
 sword in defense of one of our race ? " 
 
 " Yes, Shyri, his impulses were right, but didst thou test 
 his metal? The mica may glitter, but is it gold? The 
 vulture may soar over the highest cliff, but is he a condor? 
 Thou shouldst have chosen a man of iron. Dost thou know 
 that this youth is not a toy of wax? The writer of this let 
 ter is a man of iron. Take him! The great Viracocha 
 whom they murdered this morning, had vouched for him." 
 
 "O Cundurazu! Wise old man! With all thy wisdom 
 and experience, thou dost not know the heart of a woman. 
 Dost thou think it is like a gold chain that I can take away 
 from one man's neck, to hang it around another's?" 
 
 ' The heart of common women, I may not know, Shyri. 
 I loved but one woman, and thy grandfather Atalumlpa 
 took her for himself. But thou art a Queen, and a Queen's
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 187 
 
 love by right, belongs to her people. If the cause of thy 
 people demands a transfer, or a, sacrifice of thy affections, 
 thou must and wilt make the sacrifice." 
 
 Toa was silent. Were not the words of Cundurazu but 
 the echo of what she had told Carrera on their return from 
 the mountain ? "And yet." she said after a pause, " he may 
 love me. His uncle is his benefactor-" 
 
 "If his filial duty and gratitude proved stronger than 
 his love, why should not thy Queenly duty prove stronger 
 than thy affections ?" 
 
 " We shall discuss this hereafter. What is thy advice 
 now ?" 
 
 " Send for his young friend. He offers his services, and 
 we need them. The death of the great Viracocha has dis 
 turbed our plans. We must have some one to communicate 
 with the Cabildo. Let young Sanchez be sent for." 
 
 " But where shall I receive him ? We must not compro 
 mise Dona Carmen, nor abuse her confiding kindness. I 
 shall meet him on the mountain." 
 
 " No, Shyri, the mountain is too far distant. We must 
 meet him somewhere near the Cabildo. Meet him in the 
 Church of San Francisco, where we can escape, in case of 
 treachery, through the vaults and the ravines under them." 
 
 Mariano found young Sanchez in the Municipality Build 
 ing, with the defense of which, against a possible attack 
 from the Palace, he had been intrusted. His heart beat 
 faster when he learned that Queen Toa desired to see him. 
 " Where is the Shyri Toa?" he asked. 
 
 " I shall take your Grace to her," replied the wily Indian. 
 
 "And whither must we go ?" 
 
 " This I am not to tell, Master. Have the kindness to 
 follow me." 
 
 " Wait for me. I shall be back presently." Thus say 
 ing, he rushed to his father, who was in conversation with 
 Francisco de Olmos, Diego Nuiiez del Arco, Juan de Lon-
 
 188 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 dono, and other members of the Cabildo, with whom he 
 had already discussed the problem of an alliance with the 
 mysterious Indian Queen. 
 
 " Father, I am to see the Shyri Toa. What shall- 1 tell 
 her on behalf of the Municipality ?" 
 
 " Oho ! " exclaimed Londouo. " So you are to see her! 
 "Well, gentlemen, would it not be a capital stroke of policy, 
 to seize that mythical personage, and make her divulge the 
 secret of the treasure ? We could do better with her money 
 than with her Indians." 
 
 " Senor Londono ! " thundered the young man, " this 
 would be infamous ! " 
 
 " Seiior Koberto," replied the other, laying his hand on 
 the hilt of his sword, " such language requires castiga- 
 tion." 
 
 " Peace ! Peace! " interposed the bystanders. 
 
 " Son ! " said old Sanchez. " Curb thy heedless tongue, 
 and learn how to speak to thy betters. Excuse the boy, 
 friend Londofio. He is too hasty and impulsive. I beg 
 your Grace's pardon, in his name. Still, it strikes me that 
 we should gain nothing by such an attempt, while we 
 should throw away all the advantages that might be se 
 cured by coming to an understanding with that Queen of 
 Mystery." 
 
 " I defer to your wiser counsels, Senor Sanchez," said 
 Londono. " What I said, was merely a hasty suggestion, 
 thrown out for the sake of discussion. Yet, allow me to 
 advise caution with reference to the Indians. We might 
 unchain an element of fierceness, that we could not curb 
 again. These Indians will demand concessions ; and such 
 concessions will conflict with the interests of some of our 
 best men. Such concessions might prove ruinous to the 
 Encomenderos,* and we might thereby raise up enemies, 
 where we are now surest of friends." 
 
 * Landed proprietors to whom Indians had been assigned, or, to use 
 the term from which the system derived its name, " recommended for
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 189 
 
 "I admit," answered Sanchez, " that the problem is one 
 of great difficulty. As I understood from Bellido, the In 
 dian Queen offers us her treasures and the services of her 
 people. What docs she demand in return, and how much 
 are we prepared to grant ?" 
 
 "And how do we know that she will really put us in pos 
 session of treasures ?" continued Londono. "And what 
 can her Indians do? To speak frankly, I do not think 
 they would be of much service to us in case of war." 
 
 " Gentlemen;" said young Sanchez, " Queen Toa waits to 
 receive me. If you have nothing to propose, 1 shall can 
 didly inform her that it is useless to negotiate with the 
 Cabildo. Is it your pleasure that I shall carry this mes 
 sage to her ?" 
 
 And again an excited discussion arose, which led to 
 nothing, and which was several times interrupted by Ro 
 berto Sanchez, who insisted that he must go. It became 
 painfully evident that the master-spirit of the Revolution 
 was gone, and that there was no one to replace him. At 
 last it was agreed that Roberto should confer with the 
 Shyri, and obtain from her an authorized statement of her 
 demands. 
 
 In the darkest recesses of the Church of San Francisco, 
 Roberto Sanchez bent his knee to the Indian Queen, and 
 
 the purpose of being instructed in the Christian religion." In return 
 for this great benefit, which implied nothing less than the salvation 
 of their souls, the Indians had to till the lands of their proprietors, 
 or to requite the religious and spiritual benefits which they were sup 
 posed to receive, by work in the factories or mines. The Encomende- 
 ros did not trouble themselves much (hardly at all, if we are to be 
 lieve the noble monk, Las Casas, supported as he is by the intrinsic 
 probability of the charge) for the souls of their Indians, and as to 
 whether or not they received the necessary Christian instruction ; 
 but were very anxious to enforce the fullest performance of the 
 price with which the Indians had to purchase their eternal "salvation." 
 " Being recommended," therefore, for the purpose of Christian in 
 struction, was but another name for being consigned to slavery.
 
 190 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 swore upon the cross of his sword that whatever cause of 
 distrust she might have against others, HE would be her 
 loyal and faithful cavalier, her trusty messenger to the Ca- 
 bildo, and the defender of the rights of her race. How 
 different his blunt and emphatic declaration sounded from 
 the vague and uncertain language of Can-era. Roberto's 
 words were music to the ears of old Cundurazu; and the 
 enthusiastic nature of Toa responded sj-mpathetically to 
 the stormy impulsiveness of the youth who, regardless of 
 consequences and the prejudices of the ago, threw himself 
 into the breach for a cause of which, until then, he had 
 never thought. But it was not the wrongs of her. race, 
 it was the silvery voice and captivating grace of Toa, and 
 the romantic mystery which surrounded her, which carried 
 him away. And as he listened to her pathetic and burn 
 ing eloquence, and felt the charm of her magnetic pre 
 sence, the image of Mercedes, longing and weeping for 
 him, in her lonely house in the suburbs, faded from his 
 memory and paled in his heart. 
 
 " I beg Your Highness' pardon for this plain statement 
 of objections raised, not by me, but by certain members of 
 the Cabildo. It was urged that the Indians were indiffer 
 ent fo our cause or unable to comprehend it. No Indian, 
 it was claimed, participated in the attack on the Palace. ' 
 
 "And why should they sacrifice themselves fora cause 
 which does not concern them?" answered Toa. "Make 
 your cause their cause, and you shall see what they can do." 
 
 " It was the Seflor Londono who asserted that they 
 would not be able to render us an}' valuable assistance." 
 
 "I can prove their ability this very night. Do you 
 want me to take the Palace? I can doit. Let the Ca 
 bildo but say the word and the Palace shall be in your 
 hands. But not a drop of Indian blood shall be spilled, if 
 1 can prevent it, until we have secured a guaranty of our 
 rights. What ability have the Viracochas shown in this 
 assault on the Palace? They allowed themselves to be
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 191 
 
 driven like llamas on the mountain heaths. If the Viraco- 
 chas are in earnest, why do they not take the Palace at 
 ouce'r'" 
 
 " They do not intend to storm it for fear of sacrificing 
 the lives of the Auditors, whom they wish to retain as 
 hostages." 
 
 "Fear! The Viracochas fear! The men of iron are 
 afraid. They want hostages to protect their lives. When 
 the men of our race embrace a cause they do not ask what 
 becomes of their lives. Still, if you wish to save those 
 miserable extortioners in the Palace, it shall be done. I 
 can take the Palace, and deliver the Ministers into your 
 hands, without hurting a hair on their sinful heads. Give 
 us but a trial, and you shall see what my children are made 
 of. But. Don Eoberto, they will not move without my 
 commands ; and these commands I shall not give until our 
 rights are-secured." 
 
 " For this very reason, the Cabildo has instructed me to 
 obtain from Your Royal Highness a statement of your de 
 mands." 
 
 " Prince Cundurazu will acquaint you with what we 
 ask. I shall leave you with him. And now, Don Eoberto, 
 whatever the result of our negotiations may be, whether 
 they succeed or fail, I accept the offer of your friendship, 
 and shall treasure it up in my heart. You have given it as 
 a cavalier to a lad}*, Don Roberto, and the lady will hold 
 you to it. Mark me, if we should never meet again : what 
 you promised to Toa Duchicela for her sake, was pleasant 
 music to her ears, but shall be no duty imposed upon you. 
 But from the promise you made in favor of my race, I 
 shall never, never release you. And now farewell, my 
 friend. Call on me if adversity should befall you. I am 
 a homeless wanderer, and yet a powerful Queen. Toa 
 Duchicela will never forget or forsake the friends of her 
 race." 
 
 With these words she extended her hand to him, which he
 
 192 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 covered with burning kisses. She then withdrew to a side 
 chapel, and threw herself on her knees before a Christian 
 altar, and sent up fervent prayers, not to Christ or the Vir 
 gin or to the Supreme Being of the Christians, in whose 
 existence she partly believed, and whose greatness she ac 
 knowledged ; but to that unknown God who, to her mind, 
 was greater and higher than the Trinity of the foreigners, 
 greater than the sun and the moon, the gods of her own 
 race, to Pachacamac, who had ruled the heavens and the 
 earth long before the Sun-God had revealed himself to the 
 first Inca ; long before the powerful Carans dethroned the 
 feeble chiefs of the Quitus, long before the Christian God 
 was heard of in the land of her fathers. 
 
 With a few words, Cundurazu disclosed to Sanchez the 
 great plan for which he had gained the approbation of 
 Bellido. Peru was to be made independent of Spain, and 
 to be governed by a native Viracocha, who was to be the 
 husband of Toa. This plan, however, was not to be com 
 municated to the full Cabildo at present, but young Sanchez 
 was to submit it to his father, who should carefully pre 
 pare for, and win to, it the leaders of the Revolution. In 
 the meantime, the provincial office of defender of the 
 Indians, whom the Spanish law classed as " persona s mis- 
 erables" with minors, women, lunatics, idiots, and paupers, 
 and which office was now held by a corrupt tool of the 
 Encomenderos, should be conferred on Carrera or some 
 other trustworthy friend of the conquered race. The ordi 
 nances forbidding Indians to be transported in chains 
 should be strictly enforced. The laws forbidding them the 
 ownership and use of arms and horses, and all laws dis 
 criminating against them as to dress, property, and the com 
 forts of life should be revoked. Forced labor in the fac 
 tories and mines, or on public buildings, should be prohib 
 ited. All services rendered by the Indians should be vol 
 untary, and should be paid for. Upon the acceptance of 
 these conditions, by a solemn act of the Cabildo, Queen
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 193 
 
 Toa would co-operate with the Cabildo in the storming of 
 the Palace. As the Indians were still unacquainted with 
 the use of firearms, and in order to spare lives, she asked 
 for the assistance of a few arquebusiers. The attack should 
 be made this very night. With the aid of a few arquebus 
 iers, Queen Toa would deliver the Palace and the Minis 
 ters into the hands of the Cabildo before the break of day. 
 Upon the marriage of Toa to the future King of Quito, the 
 Inca Treasure should be delivered to the new government 
 for three purposes 1. To maintain the royal state ; 2. To 
 carry the war against Spain to a successful termination ; 
 and, 3. To indemnify the Encomenderos and the owners of 
 Indian slaves for their losses by emancipation, and to re 
 ward the men of the Revolution for the services rendered 
 to the cause of independence. 
 
 With this informatiun, Sanchez returned to the Cabildo. 
 He was to'meet Cundurazu within the next two hours at 
 the same place to acquaint him with the determination of 
 the Municipality. But he was to come alone, and in case 
 treachery should be attempted, he pledged himself, on the 
 honor of a cavalier, to warn the counselors of Toa through 
 Mariano or any other intelligent Indian. 
 
 The report of Robert Sanchez threw the Cabildo into a 
 maze of doubts and perplexities, and again the discus 
 sion threatened to become endless. By this time, two par 
 ties had distinctly developed themselves. The one was the 
 party of action, and favored bold and energetic measures. 
 It adopted the full programme of Bellido, and soon became 
 known by the name of Bellidistas. The other party had 
 no programme of its own, but objected to all decisive arid 
 radical measures. It proposed nothing, but doubted every 
 thing. It claimed to be in favor of action, and yet it could 
 not resolve to act. Its policy was to temporize and to 
 await developments in a guarded attitude of defense. It 
 became the party of hesitation, which was soon joined by 
 all the secret friends of the King, and by all those who
 
 194 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 feared that the new dispensation would endanger their pe 
 cuniary interests. The nominal chief of this party was 
 Londono, while Paredes soon became, of course secretly 
 and unknown to almost all its members, its real head. 
 Openly, Paredes embraced the cause of the Bellidistas, and 
 seemed to be one of its loudest and most determined advo 
 cates. The leaders of the party of action were Sanchez 
 and Olmos. As these differences of opinion soon grew 
 into bitter dissensions,. they divided the people of Quito 
 against itself, and speedily weakened, and finally under 
 mined and overthrew, the cause of the Revolution. 
 
 But let us return to our narrative. Where men will dis 
 agree in debate, events will turn the scale. The helpless 
 discussions of the Cabildo, were interrupted by the arrival 
 of a party of Municipal scouts, who had intercepted the 
 Royal mail-carrier, a short distance from the city, on his 
 way from the coast to the capital, llis mail-bag was taken 
 from him, and delivered to the Cabildo. That body at once 
 determined to open it, and to examine its contents, among 
 which were two documents of startling importance. The 
 one was a dispatch from the Viceroy to the Audience of 
 Quito, which contained the alarming information that a 
 military expedition was in process of organization, under 
 the command of old Pedro de Arana, to proceed by sea to 
 Guayaquil, and thence by land to Quito. The preparations 
 were nearly completed, and the vessel should sail in a few 
 days. If upon his arrival at Guayaquil, Arana should 
 learn that the city of Quito had submitted to the collection 
 of the Alcabala, he was to return to Callao ; if not, his or 
 ders were to proceed to Quito, and to increase his forces 
 among the friends of law and order, in the towns on the 
 road. He should have full power to arrest, try, and pun 
 ish those who had rebelled against the King, as well as 
 those who had given encouragement to the rebels, or 
 had refused to assist in the suppression of the rebellion. 
 His instructions were such that no man's life or property
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 195 
 
 was secure at Quito. There was not a man in the assem 
 bly which, with breathless attention, listened to the read 
 ing of this ominous dispatch, who would not be at the 
 mercy of the royal commissioner. And worst of all was 
 the fact that Arana was a rich man, whom it would not be 
 easy to bribe. Executions and confiscations, would be the 
 order of the daj T , should the dreaded Spaniard who had 
 graduated in the school of Alba, enter the capital of the 
 ancient Shyris. Even submission and obedience would 
 then be too late ; and who would have dared to speak of 
 submission now? 
 
 The other document was a letter from the son of the Mar 
 quis de Solando at Lima, to his father at Quito. It con 
 tained the announcement that the young gentleman would 
 return to Quito on the staff of Arana. It also stated that 
 the Viceroy had treated the writer with great kindness and 
 condescension, and had informed him that in dispatches 
 from the Court of Madrid, the Marquis had been spoken of 
 in high terms, and mentioned as one who should be con 
 sulted as to the measures to be taken for the pacification of 
 the colony, and the rewards or punishments of the leading 
 men of Quito. 
 
 These documents at once secured the ascendancy of the 
 party of action. They silenced, at least for the present, the 
 voices of those who favored procrastination. The danger 
 bad become imminent, and not a day was to be lost. The 
 attack on the Palace should be ma^e, and the persons of 
 the President, and the Auditors be secured, at once. Help 
 must be accepted from whatever quarter it could be ob 
 tained. The Cabildo decided with u rush to accede to 
 the demands of the Indians, for the time, which meant 
 that many, if not most of those who voted to do so, did 
 it with a mental reservation that all such concessions 
 might be revoked, whenever it should become expedient or 
 desirable hereafter. A series of ordinances were enacted, 
 embodying the demands of Queen Toa into Municipal
 
 196 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 Laws. The attack on the Palace, however, should not be 
 left to the Indians alone. The majority of the Cabildo, 
 entertained a very low opinion of Indian usefulness for 
 military operations. Pedro de Guzman Ponce de Leon 
 should be put in command of the Arquebusiers of the City, 
 who were to keep up afire from the porticos, and the neigh 
 boring houses, to drive the soldiers from the doors and 
 windows of the Palace, while the Indians should make the 
 attack in front, and on the south side. In the rear, Juan 
 Castro's men were to renew their operations, which had 
 nearly proved successful during the first attack. Eobcrto 
 was dispatched to Queen Toa, to signify to her the accept 
 ance of the Cabildo, and to act as her military adviser. At 
 the expiration of two hours the attack should begin. The 
 ringing of the Cathedral bell should be the signal. 
 
 In the meantime orders were given for the arrest and 
 imprisonment of the Marquis de Solando. His house 
 should be searched, and should he not be found there, de 
 tachments of mounted men wera to proceed to his hacien 
 das at Chillo and Tambillo, to seek for him there and 
 bring him before the Cabildo. The estates of the Marquis 
 were an inviting prize to his political enemies. Not only 
 the Marquis, but all the other open adherents of Spain 
 should suffer for their disloyalty to the popular cause. 
 
 CHAPTEK IX. 
 
 A DOMICILIARY VISIT. 
 
 PAREDES not being a member of the Cabildo, was not in 
 the session chamber, but he was in the building, and soon 
 learned that letters compromising the Marquis had been 
 intercepted. He concluded at once that the arrest of the 
 Marquis would be ordered by the Cabildo. It was of the
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 197 
 
 utmost importance to warn him, if at his house, or to send 
 a messenger ahead of the mounted men of the Cabildo, in 
 case the old gentleman should be at one of his haciendas 
 in the country. The house of the Marquis was guarded 
 by Municipal Guards. These men would admit Paredes, 
 he knew, but they would also inform the searching party 
 of his visit, and this might cost him the confidence of the 
 rebels, which he had won so skillfully and in the face of 
 such difficulties. What should he do? There was but one 
 way, and it was a desperate one. He would forestall the 
 men of the Cabildo, and search the house on his own re 
 sponsibility, with volunteers whom he would gather on 
 the street. One line to Dolores, which he would slip into 
 her hand, one word which he might whisper to her, would 
 answer his purpose. Fortunately, as he left the Munici 
 pality Building, he discovered his Mayordomo in the 
 crowds around the main entrance. "Don Tomas," he said, 
 taking him aside, "send for one of my fastest horses and 
 let it be brought to the Plaza of Santa Clara. Have it in 
 readiness there for yourself, and then follow me to the 
 house of the Marquis de Solando. Be quick about it, Don 
 Tomas ! You have befriended me a thousand times, and I 
 want your help now more than ever. You know I love 
 Dolores Solando, and to win her I must save her father, no 
 matter what he thinks of the Alcabala. Do you under 
 stand me, Don Tomas?" 
 
 " I do, master, and you may rely on me. I shall hasten 
 to give the necessary orders." 
 
 i But be sure to be back in a few minutes. I must have 
 you with me to warn the Seiiorita, and learn from her 
 where her father is." 
 
 Don Tomas succeeded in giving his orders without a 
 moment's delay, and rejoined his master before the latter 
 had left the Great Square. The first group of armed men 
 they met, Paredes addressed thus: "Seilores! Letters im 
 plicating the Marquis de Solando have been intercepted by
 
 198 THE SECRET OF THK ANDES. 
 
 the men of the Cabildo. He is plotting the downfall of 
 our cause, and must be made a prisoner. 1 bave informa 
 tion, which I consider trustworthy, that he has returned to 
 his house in disguise, in order to be near the scene of ac 
 tion. Will you come with me to search for him and to 
 take him?" 
 
 " We will! We will !" clamored the men. "Down with 
 the Marquis ! Yiva el Senor Paredes !" and to San Fran 
 cisco marched the party, increasing in numbers and vio 
 lence on the way. 
 
 Paredes felt sure that the Marquis was not at his house ; 
 but if he should be there, Paredes would manage not to 
 find him. The old gentleman had several haciendas in the 
 country, and it was necessary to know at which one he 
 had taken refuge, so as not to lose time. If he could be 
 given an hour's start of his pursuers he would be safe. 
 
 " Let a strong party go to the rear of the house to pre 
 vent his escape through the garden." commanded Paredes, 
 thus considerably diminishing his followers. "Search all 
 the out-houses, ranches, and stables in the rear, and I 
 shall take charge of the main building." 
 
 The Municipal Guards at the door at first denied them 
 entrance, but when they were confronted by Paredes in 
 the name of the city of Quito, they gave way and admit 
 ted as many as Paredes chose to let in. " Enough, my 
 friends !" said the cunning Creole, "we must not terrify 
 the ladies it is the man we want;" and with a command 
 ing gesture he ordered the Municipal Guards to stop fur 
 ther incursions. 
 
 " Now, my friends, search the lower part of the house. 
 Quite likely he may be hidden in the quarters of the serv 
 ants. A dozen of us will suffice to search the rooms 
 above." 
 
 Nevertheless, a much larger number followed him up 
 stairs, and it would have aroused suspicion to keep them 
 back.
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 199 
 
 Dolores, pale as death, but composed and courageous, 
 awaited them at ihe head of the main staircase. When 
 she recognized Paredes, who had assumed the sternest pos 
 sible look, she felt relieved. 
 
 " I regret, Senora," he began in a courteous, but hard 
 and determined tone; "I regret that it has become my 
 painful duty to arrest your father." 
 
 "My father has left the city," replied Dolores, likewise 
 assuming an air of haughty determination. 
 
 "As in such cases it would be the duty of a daughter to 
 conceal the truth, your Ladyship will pardon us for doubt 
 ing your word. We must search the house !" 
 
 " Search it, then ! I shall show you the way." 
 
 " As you please, Senora," said Paredes, with a deep bow 
 and significant look, which she eagerly scanned, but was 
 unable to interpret. But when he, as if by accident, touched 
 his Mayordomo, who had pushed himself forward, she con 
 cluded that bis look had an object, and that she must be on 
 the qui vive. The party now entered the room next to the 
 staircase, the lady leading the way. It was a sitting-room 
 leading into the main salon. Aunt Catita was there, and 
 gave a wild scream at the entrance of the armed men. 
 This led some of the men to believe that the Marquis was 
 really in the house, and they rushed forward, passing Dolo 
 res. By this time Don Tomas was at her side, and, un 
 noticed in the tumult and confusion which followed, 
 whispered to her : " Where is your father, Senorita ?" She 
 looked at him, distrustfully, and then looked at Paredes, 
 who had opened a large wardrobe, and stood back for 
 some of his followers to search it. As he turned around 
 and took in the situation, he gave a nod imperceptible 
 to all but her. " I am his Mayordomo," whispered Don 
 Tomas," and must warn your Ladyship's father !" Dolores 
 moved away from him, but as she passed him, she whis 
 pered the word : " Tambillo !" 
 
 Three hours afterward the Marquis was on his way to
 
 2CO THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 the coast. An hour later the mounted men of the Cabildo 
 arrived at his hacienda at Tambillo, but the nest was 
 empty the bird had flown. 
 
 CHAPTEK X. 
 
 HATUNTAQUI, THE GREAT DRUM OP WAR. 
 
 ARMED men wore hurrying to and fro. The news that 
 another attack should be made on the Palace had spread 
 like wild-fire. The streets of Quito, usually so quiet 
 and dark at night, were lurid with the blaze of torches. 
 Torches were fastened to the balconies of the friends of the 
 popular cause and who would now have dared not to be 
 its friend ? And torch -bearers hurried to and fro, or stood 
 around the groups of armed men stationed in the streets, 
 and discussing, in eager suspense and anticipation, the event 
 that was to come. Anxiously the multitudes awaited the 
 ringing of the great Cathedral bell, which was to be the 
 signal for the final attack. "Wild rumors concerning the con 
 templated co-operation of the Indians were carried from 
 group to group. The mysterious Indian Queen, hitherto a 
 myth, was to become a reality to-night. Some even pretended 
 to have seen her, dressed in a robe resplendentwith gold arid 
 precious stones. Still, but few Indians were to be seen, 
 and the wiseacres shook their heads incredulously. All at 
 once, a deep, hollow, but penetrating sound, like the 
 noise of a volcanic explosion, was heard, and startled 
 everybody. No one had heard such an unearthly sound 
 before. Another soon followed, and still another, and each 
 could be heard all over the city. At the same time the 
 streets filled with Indians. Every house vomited them 
 forth. From every rancho they emerged. Out of the 
 lanes and ravines which ran through the tow T n and were 
 not then arched over and hidden from public view, as
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 201 
 
 now, the Indians issued forth, uttering deep, gutteral, and 
 unintelligible exclamations. They were armed with clubs, 
 knives, pikes ; with anything they could lay hands on, and 
 those who had no weapons carried stones in their ponchos, 
 read}* to sling them at their enemies. It seemed unaccount 
 able where they had all come from in so short a time. The 
 Plaza of San Francisco and the street leading from it to 
 the Great Square were soon filled with them. The mys 
 terious and terrific detonations, which so puzzled the Creoles, 
 became louder and more unearthly as they approached the 
 Great Square. Some of the whites at last interrogated the 
 Indians as to those unearthly sounds. " Hatuntaqui ! 
 Hatuntaqui!" was the reply. 
 
 "Hatuntaqui," in the Quichua language, means "the 
 great drum of war." And it was one of the great drums 
 of war that, carefully hidden away, had survived the Span 
 ish conquest, and was now brought forth once more tp 
 rally the children of the sun to deadly combat. They did 
 not know whom they were to be led against, and whose 
 cause they were to espouse, and they did not care. They 
 knew that their Shyri Queen was among them, and that 
 she had commanded the great drum of war to be brought 
 forth from its hiding-place, and that was enough. But 
 very few of those Indians had heard the sound of the great 
 drum, because nearly two generations had passed away 
 since it was beaten last under the banners of the terrible 
 Humiriagui, the face of stone ; but they knew it by tradi- 
 dition. They had had heard their fathers and their mothers 
 and their grandfathers and grandmothers tell of the mi 
 raculous power of those great drums, the sound of which 
 could be heard at the distance of many miles. And they 
 knew that when that drum was sounded every male In 
 dian must come forth and follow it to battle. It was the 
 sound of resurrection to their ears. What they heard as 
 a tradition in the misery of their lowly cottages had become 
 a reality. The Hatuntaqui was beaten again, and the In-
 
 202 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 dians followed it as in the days of Atahualpa; followed 
 it, as if sixty years of slavery and suffering had not inter 
 vened; followed it, as if there had been no Spanish con 
 quest ; followed it, as if it were an old familiar sound which 
 they had heard but yesterday. And as the large and un 
 wieldy contrivance came in sight at last, borne on the 
 shoulders of two powerful Indians, and beaten by a third, 
 they wildly brandished their worthless weapons, and 
 shouted: " Hatuntaqui ! Hatuntaqui!" 
 
 As yet the sea of Indian heads had no direction, but 
 waved to and fro in apparent aim less ness. Their generals 
 had not yet appeared upon the scene. But the suspense 
 was of short duration. A very old man, dressed in a white 
 alpaca robe, in which we have seen him already, and with 
 a weapon of bronze in his hand, appeared among them. 
 Few knew him, although many had seen him in the 
 Church of San Francisco, when Queen Toa showed her 
 self to her people. But whether they knew him or not, 
 they knew that he was a man of authority, and unhesitat 
 ingly they intended to follow him. The}" knew by the tra 
 ditions of their race that he wore the garb of a great Indian 
 Prince, who would, by rights, be their general. It soon 
 became known that he was the mighty Curaca Cundurazu, 
 who, in the days of Atahualpa, had defeated the treacher 
 ous Canares in many a bloody conflict. He must be ninety 
 or a hundred years old ; but he appeared to them as the 
 impersonation of all the glories of the past, and they re 
 ceived him with joyful acclamations. He commanded si 
 lence by a wave of his hand, and swinging himself on the 
 shoulders of two men, who proudly supported him, he 
 said : 
 
 " Children, the Kingdom of the Shyri Incas will come 
 again. Did you think that the Hatuntaqui was broken, and 
 that its sounds should be heard no more? There it is 
 again ! Do you see the great drum of war ? Do you hear 
 its mighty sounds ? Do you know what it means ? "
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 203 
 
 "Hatuntaqui! Hatuntaqui! " shouted thousands of voices. 
 
 "I am Cundurazu, the Curaca of Purruha, a descendant 
 of its ancient rulers, the great kings, through whom the 
 house of Duchicela, by marriage, united with Toa Caran, 
 the only daughter of the Sh}-ri of Quito. I have led your 
 grandfathers to battle, and I shall lead their granchildren 
 to-night. 1 saved the life of Autachi, the son of Atahu- 
 alpa, the father of Queen Toa, and brought him up to reign 
 over you in secret. 1 watched over his child Toa, and with 
 the aid of our father, the Sun, and your strong arms, and 
 with the assistance of friendly Viracochas, I shall restore 
 her to the throne of the Shyris. Behold ber there she 
 comes ! " 
 
 A palanquin, borne on the shoulders of four Indians, now 
 appeared in the Plaza of San Francisco, and turned into 
 the street leading to the Great Square. Toa, dressed in tho 
 robes of the Incas, sat in it on an elevated seat, and by her 
 side, on a powerful steed, rode Eoberto Sanchez, hat in 
 hand. Her forehead was encircled with the great diadem 
 of the Shyris, .distinguished by the immensity of its brilliant 
 emerald. A girdle in the shape of a serpent, studded with 
 precious stones, encircled her waist, and in her right hand 
 she held a staff, to which the golden image of the Sun was 
 fastened. The Indians threw themselves on their knees, 
 and stretched out their arms to the one being who was 
 dearer to them than life. Toa rose from ber seat, and 
 commanded them to rise likewise, wbich they did with en 
 thusiastic acclamations. 
 
 "Children of Quito, Purruha, and Caranqui !" she said. 
 "You all know Toa Duchicela, the daughter of Autachi, 
 the son of Atabualpa. She has come to restore the empire 
 of her fathers. The good Viracochas will help her. The 
 bad Viracochas must be overthrown. The men of the Pal 
 ace are our oppressors, as they are the oppressors of our 
 Viracocha friends. When the Cathedral bell shall ring, the 
 Palace must be taken by you, my children. The friendly
 
 2 4 THE SECRET OP THE ANI>ES. 
 
 Viracocbas will help you. The false rulers in the Palace 
 must be made prisoners, and delivered to our Viracocha 
 friends. The venerable Curaea of Purruha, the greatest 
 of the surviving heroes of our race, will lead you ; and 
 Toa Duehicela, the Shyri Inca, will behold, with her own 
 eyes, the valor of her people. Our Viracocha friends have 
 doubted your heroism, because they never heard the sound 
 of the Hatuntaqui, which rallies the children of the Sun 
 to victory. The great Goya-Priestess, whom the people 
 call Mama Eucu, has prophesied that our empire will rise 
 again, and that a union will be made between our people 
 and the friendly Viracochas, as the Kingdom of Purruha 
 was once united to the Empire of Quito." 
 
 With these words she turned to Boberto Sanchez : "And 
 now, my friend, take my place for an instant, and let me 
 have your horse. My people are not trained to understand 
 the art of words; it is a symbol which they must see." 
 
 Eoberto was wild with excitement, and thrilled with en 
 thusiasm. He helped Toa from her palanquin, and lifted 
 her on his horse. For a moment he hesitated to take her 
 place, but a look from her reassured him, and he ascended 
 her throne. Immediately she held out her hand to him, 
 and hand in hand they remained for a few seconds, during 
 which the air rang with acclamations : "Hail to the great 
 "Viracocha ! Hail to the Viracocha Shyri ! Hail to the Inca 
 Viracocha ! " 
 
 Toa then rode through square and street up to the very 
 front of the Palace, so as to let all her followers see that 
 she was there. After this she slowly returned through the 
 dense multitude and, dismounting, resumed her seat on the 
 throne, while Eoberto Sanchez remounted his horse. 
 
 And now the great bell of the Cathedral rang loudly 
 and rapidly through the lurid night. The signal was 
 given. The struggle was to commence. True to the 
 agreement, the Arquebusiers of the Municipality opened 
 fire on the soldiers in the doors and windows of the Palace,
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 205 
 
 and one of the first victims was young Guzman de Tapia, 
 the aid of Valverde, who stood leaning over the barricade 
 at the main entrance, gazing with blank astonishment at 
 the proceedings of the Indians, which, to him, were unin 
 telligible. 
 
 Cundurazu brandished his weapon, and vainly endeavor 
 ing to press forward through the living wall of his follow 
 ers, shouted: "Beat the Hatuntaqui ! Forward to the 
 Palace ! Let the cry be Toa Duchicela '" And with the 
 swiftness of the mountain-current, the living wave rolled 
 into the Great Square, and up to the entrances of the Pal 
 ace. The garrison opened a heavy fire on the assailants. 
 The field-pieces belched forth destructive thunder and 
 mowed down the foremost ranks of the Indians. But the 
 places of those who fell were immediatel}- filled up by the 
 masses behind them, who pushed forward with irresistible 
 impetuosity, seeming to court death under the eyes of their 
 Queen. There was no panic, no stampede, no wavering, 
 no turning back. Before the guns could be reloaded, the 
 Indians had overrun the Esplanade, broken through the 
 barricade, poured through the main entrance, bore down 
 the soldiers by the mere weight of numbers, ever increas 
 ing, and ever pushing on, and soon filled the Palace court, 
 its lower halls and corridors. The assault was successful 
 before it had fairly begun. And during all this time, the 
 bell of the Cathedral was kept ringing, and the terrific 
 Hatuntaqui, like the thunders of Mt. Cotopaxi, boomed 
 through the night.
 
 206 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE CURSE OP MAMA RUCTT. 
 
 OF the preparations and events described in the forego 
 ing chapters, nothing was known in the Convent of La 
 Merced. About five or ten minutes before the great bell 
 of the Cathedral gave the preconcerted signal for the at 
 tack, a solemn procession issued from the Church of the 
 Mercedarios, and slowly moved toward the Palace. Friars 
 bearing torches or censers preceded it, and were followed 
 by four mestizos, carrying a Baldachin, under which the 
 Superior walked, holding in his hands the holy Eucharist, 
 or, as the Creoles called it, " La Magestad." The ringing 
 of a small bell announced the progress of the procession. 
 
 Wherever it appeared, the people fell on their knees, un 
 covering their heads, and reverentially allowing it to pass. 
 It had already advanced one square from the church, when 
 it met with an unexpected obstacle. Juan Castro and some 
 of his men were kneeling in the center of the street, ob 
 structing the passage of the procession. About half a 
 square behind them, in the direction of the Palace, was a 
 multitude of armed and unarmed men. The procession 
 itself was completely surrounded by men on their knees. 
 
 " Most reverend Father," began Juan Castro, with his 
 head bowed low, " whither do you intend to go ?" 
 
 " Clear the way, children !" commanded the Superior. 
 "Do you dare obstruct the passage of the Lord's Maj 
 esty ?" 
 
 " Most reverend Father," continued Juan Castro, " your 
 life will be in danger if you proceed an inch farther. Fir 
 ing will commence in a few minutes, and I do not wish a 
 hair on your holy head to be harmed."
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 207 
 
 "Out of the way, man !" resumed the Superior. "Wo 
 carry the most holy sacrament to the dying Christians 
 of the Palace, as we have administered it to the Christians 
 outside. Cursed be he who stops t-he progress of this 
 sacred procession ! " 
 
 " Father ! " replied Castro most reverentially and bow 
 ing his head still lower, " far be it from me to stop the prog 
 ress of your Reverence. With my own body I shall protect 
 you. But it is your own safety, Most Reverend Father, 
 and the safety of the holy men who are with you, for 
 which I am alarmed. Let me warn you, Most Reverend 
 Father, not to proceed any further at least, not now. The 
 signal for the attack may be given at any moment and it 
 will provoke the fire of the garrison." 
 
 "Your solicitude, rny son," said the Superior, "is com 
 mendable; but your zeal exceeds your discretion. There 
 is no fighting now, and there will be none in the presence 
 of the Magestad. Give room, children; the Lord is with 
 us and will protect us." 
 
 " I have warned you, Father," answered Castro, reluct 
 antly preparing to obey, " and having done my duty, I 
 shall submit to your commands. Room for the Lord's Maj 
 esty ! Give way for the most holy sacrament ! " j 
 
 But at this moment, the great bell of the Cathedral gave 
 the expected signal, and the firing instantly commenced and. 
 was vigorously replied to by the garrison. The multitude 
 behind Castro, nearer to the Palace than the procession, 
 broke and fled to escape from the deadly missiles of the 
 besieged. Great as the reverence of the people was for a 
 procession with the Eucharist, the instinct of self-preserv 
 ation overcame all other considerations. A panic knows 
 no laws, human or divine, and onward came the rush of 
 fugitives bearing down everything in its way. Juan Cas 
 tro and his men, who had been kneeling, were on their feet 
 in an instant, and in the next minute the rabble and the 
 sacred procession were one inextricable mass of confusion,
 
 208 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 pressing back toward the Church and away from the Pal 
 ace. Not until they were out of the range of the arque 
 buses of friends and foes, could the current be stemmed. 
 The monks and their ministrants had been lifted off their 
 feet by the pressure of terror-stricken human beings 
 around them, and were swept along by the irresistible wave 
 of men, running for their lives. Several of the monks 
 were thrown down and trampled upon. The Baldachin 
 under which the Superior had marched was overthrown 
 and fell, and was soon torn to pieces by the throng. The 
 friars were separated from each other in an instant. Some 
 were pressed against the walls of houses. Others were 
 swept onward, and those who had been overrun vainly 
 endeavored to rise to their feet, new fugitives stumbling 
 over them and keeping them down. 
 
 At last the stentorian voice of Juan Castro rose above 
 the din, while his herculean arms endeavored to restore or 
 der, and to check the panic. 
 
 " Stand, ye cowards ! " he shouted. " Stand ! Let the 
 hares run, but let the men rally ! We must press on to 
 our charge !" And as if to rally the men, he took a posi 
 tion at the entrance of the Square before the Church, cast 
 ing fierce glances at every white robe he could discern. 
 " Help the Eeverend Fathers ! Draw them out of the 
 crowd. Do not trample upon them, ye brutes. Have you 
 no respect for the ministers of religion, in your abject cow 
 ardice? There! " he screamed, rushing to the relief of one 
 of the friars, whose robe was tearing under the feet of those 
 tumbling about him, while he anxiously attempted to raise 
 himself on his knees. 
 
 As Castro lifted him up, the monk tried to draw his hood, 
 which had fallen on his neck, back over his head and face, 
 in order to conceal his features. But it was too late. The 
 eye of hate had recognized him. It was Count Valverde. 
 
 "A most holy man ! " yelled Castro, tearing the hood
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 209 
 
 from his captive's gown, and holding his arms in an iron 
 grip. " Come to me, men of Quito ! Quick ! " 
 
 Powerful as the ruffian was, Count Valverde shook him 
 off with the strength of despair, and made a rush in the 
 direction of the church. But Castro immediately caught 
 him again, and a fierce struggle followed, which terrified 
 and amazed the beholders. Juan Castro had dared to lay 
 hands on a holy man. A few seconds more, and the wrath of 
 the populace would have turned against the perpetrator of 
 such a sacrilege. But the face and beard of the man with 
 whom he struggled were not those of a monk. The crown 
 of his head was without the shaven mark of priesthood. "It 
 is the Spanish commander ! " yelled Castro. " Do you not 
 see his face, ye brutes? It is the assassin of Bellido, the 
 murderer of our brothers ! " 
 
 That was enough ; and a dozen strong men seized the 
 unfortunate Count, mocking all further resistance. 
 
 " Off with the robe which he has shamelessly dese 
 crated !" commanded the leader of the populace. And in 
 an instant the priestly robe was torn from the shoulders of 
 the Count. 
 
 " Give him a coat of pitch !" yelled Castro. " Black will 
 become his crimes better than the color of holiness and in 
 nocence." 
 
 During all this time, the firing was kept up around the 
 Palace, the detonations of the Hatuntaqui rose above the 
 reports of musketry, and the Cathedral bell rang the death- 
 knell of the ill-fated captive. 
 
 The tumult, the noise, and the confusion were so great, 
 that it was impossible to notice, in one part of the square 
 and streets, what happened in another. The Friars of 
 Mercy rushed back to their Church, as soon as they had 
 extricated themselves from the crowds. Some were carried 
 back by the men who had lifted them up from the stone 
 pavements. The Superior, clinging to the Eucharist, was 
 one of the last to re-enter the holy edifice ; but even he hud
 
 210 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 not seen the event which we have just described ; and not 
 until all his brethren had returned and gathered around 
 him, ho found that the Count was missing. Again he left 
 the church, to find and save his countryman; but the 
 shouts of hatred and revenge were suddenly drowned by the 
 louder shouts of victory, which arose around the Palace. 
 The tide of humanity now turned back to the Palace, arid 
 the anxious priest was seized by a wild vortex which would 
 have swept him along helplessly, had he not, with an ef 
 fort, broken away from the current, and slowly and des- " 
 pondingly returned to his church. 
 
 " Let us pray, my brethren ! " he said, overcome with 
 agitation and solicitude. " Let us pray ! Let us pray for 
 the Christian cavalier, whose soul will, at this moment, be 
 summoned to appear before the Lord of Hosts ! " 
 
 Count Valverde, in the meantime, had been dragged 
 away toward the place where the torches were making. 
 What was the attack on the Palace to Juan Castro now ? 
 He had other work to do. The man who, as he thought, 
 had doomed him to death, was in his power, and Juan 
 Castro never forgave. Joaquin Valverde's last hour had 
 arrrived, and he knew it. The curse of the Dutch com 
 mander's wife, and the predictions of Mama Rucu were to 
 be fulfilled. His only prayer now was, that the fearful 
 agony might be short. 
 
 The cry, " They have taken the Spanish commander," 
 was carried on wings of lightning from group to group, 
 and was answered with the fiercest shouts of triumph and 
 revenge. " Death to the assassin of Bellido ! Death to the 
 author of the great slaughter ! Kill him ! Tear him to 
 pieces! Burn him! Burn him!" 
 
 Count Valverde commended his soul to God. He knew 
 that no human power could save him, and, brave as he was, 
 he trembled at the approaching doom. Deathly pale, his 
 garments torn from his body, his face and bare breast cov 
 ered with blood, he was exposed to the indignities of the
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 211 
 
 exulting fiends around him. They tore handfuls of hair 
 out of his beard ; they pulled him by his moustache; they 
 spat in his face, and kicked him in the back ; they struck 
 him over the head with their torches; they beat him and 
 pulled him until he was no longer able to maintain him 
 self on his feet. At last the mob and its victim had 
 reached the place where a large quantity of pitch had been 
 collected, from which that night's great demand for torches 
 had been supplied. The fiends now stripped the Count of 
 the tattered remnants of his clothes, and covered him with 
 a thick coat of pitch, as the Romans under Nero are said 
 to have done to the early Christians. 
 
 " A chain ! A chain !" clamored some of the ringleaders. 
 And a chain was brought and drawn around the body of 
 Valverde, under his arms. The other end of the chain 
 was then fastened to a strong hook in a blind wall inclos 
 ing an orchard or garden. 
 
 And now the Christian knight, who for many a year had 
 fought for the extermination of heretics, under the Prince 
 of Parma, was doomed himself to die the death of a here 
 tic. Another instant of intense suspense and futile hope, 
 a last look up and down the street, vainly endeavoring to 
 descry the approach of rescuers from somewhere, a last 
 silent and fervent appeal to the Mother of Christ, and the 
 coat of pitch, in which they had enwrapped him, was 
 ablaze, and wild shrieks, which even this strong arid de 
 termined man could not repress, announced the fulfillment 
 of the terrible prophecy, that " biting fire should lick the 
 skin from* his flesh, and the flesh from bis bones." He 
 could not throw himself on the ground, as the shortness of 
 the chain prevented it; but by pressing and rubbing his 
 body against the wall, he instinctively endeavored to put 
 out the flames. But these convulsive attempts only pro 
 tracted his sufferings. 
 
 And the fiends danced around him, shouting, sneering, 
 howling, rejoicing. Their numbers increased as the agony
 
 212 THE SECRET OP TIIE ANDES. 
 
 of the victim progressed. Indians, too, fresh from their 
 victory at the Palace, infuriated by the struggle, and by 
 the sacrifices it had entailed, now joined the mocking 
 crowds. To the subjects of Queen Toa, the dying man was 
 not the accidental representative of continuous authority, 
 but the impersonation of the Spanish conquest, the embodi 
 ment of the foreign power, by which their fathers had been 
 enslaved. And in the mistaken idea that his death, to 
 gether with the victory of to-night, would terminate their 
 subjugation, they danced around the dying Spaniard, 
 shouting the monotonous and half-forgotten war-songs of 
 their race. Valverde's death was to them the confirma 
 tion of all their hopes. Had not the great Coya-Priestess, 
 whom the VHracoehas called Mama Rucu, predicted it? 
 And had she not also predicted the restoration of the 
 Shyri-Inca Empire? And was not the literal fulfillment 
 of the one prediction, proof and guaranty of the speedy 
 verification of the other? 
 
 There was not a friendly eye to look upon the un 
 speakable sufferings of Valverde. None but infuriated 
 enemies witnessed the murderous sacrifice. He saw them but 
 for an instant, after the pitch had been set on fire ; for the 
 flames at once deprived him of his eye-sight; but he heard 
 their yells and imprecations, as long as there was a rem 
 nant of life in his quivering, hissing, roasting body. His 
 shrieks gradually changed into moans, his moans into sighs i 
 then there was an end to all sounds, and only the con 
 vulsive motions of his limbs betokened that life had not 
 been quite expelled. But even these convulsions ceased, 
 and nothing but an unsightly mass of charred and steam 
 ing remains, was left of what, but a few hours ago, was the 
 noble person of the commander, who had held the Palace 
 for his master, the King of Spain. And not a voice was 
 heard to say : " May the Lord have mercy on his soul." 
 
 The rest is easily told. It was with some difficulty that 
 the wretched Auditors were prevailed upon to come forth
 
 BOOK III. THE REVOLUTION. 213 
 
 from their hiding places, and to surrender to the repre 
 sentatives of the Cabildo. Their joy upon learning that 
 their lives were to be spared, was equaled only by their 
 fears before. They laughed and wept, and chattered pro 
 miscuously, and promised acquiescence in anj^thing the 
 Cabildo might see fit to ordain. They would suspend the 
 collection of the Alcabala, and order back the troops that 
 were coming from Lima. They would co-operate with the 
 Cabildo for the purpose of inducing the Home Government 
 to yield. They were as obsequious now as they had been 
 harsh and tyrannical a few days before.
 
 BOOK IY. 
 THE REACTION. 
 
 " T quando estaua ya, segun barrunto, 
 Un falso Eey no lejos de elejirse. 
 La fuerza del tronido fue de modo, 
 Que presto se dexo deshecho todo." 
 
 PEDRO DE ONA, El Araiico Domado, 
 
 Canto XVI, p. 280.
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 THE REA.CTIOISr. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 THE first rays of the rising sun were gilding the tops of 
 Mt. Pichincha, when a weary traveler, mounted on a sorry 
 jade, slowly passed the chapel of Senor del Euen Viage, at 
 the southern entrance of the city. He seemed to be asleep, 
 or at least struggling with sleep, for he nodded and reeled 
 in the saddle, and came very near falling off, when his 
 horse suddenly stopped in front of a dram-shop well known 
 to travelers and their beasts the tienda of Dona Mariquita, 
 the mother of Juan Castro. 
 
 Without taking the trouble of tying his horse, which 
 showed no disposition to go farther than compelled to go, 
 the traveler, who was covered with ponchos, arid had his 
 face and neck still wrapped up against the cold air of the 
 night, entered the shop, the door of which stood open. He 
 looked around, but there was nobody inside. Female 
 voices, however, were heard in the court outside, one of 
 which a most melodious voice seemed to be struggling 
 with sobs. The stranger began to divest himself of such 
 of his garments as had become superfluous since sunrise, 
 then stretched his weary limbs, and, drawing near the back 
 door, endeavored to catch the conversation outside. 
 
 " Yes, Mother," said the voice of Mercedes, " hand in 
 hand they stood before all the people, he occupying her 
 
 (217)
 
 218 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 throne, and she mounted on his horse. He is lost to me 
 forever. They say she is beautiful, that Indian Qnei-n,and 
 possesses the treasure of the Incas. Her love will make 
 him the richest and greatest man in the country, and he 
 will never return to me." 
 
 " Well, child," answered Dona Mariquita, " if she blesses 
 him with her treasures, he will be enabled to provide for 
 you and your child as becomes the richest man in the 
 country. You ought to congratulate yourself on his good 
 luck." 
 
 "How can you talk so, Mother? Did you ever know 
 what love is? What would wealth be to me if I had to 
 lose him?" 
 
 " I know what love is, Mercedes, and for this reason I 
 know that it can not last. There is an end to all thing-, 
 and nothing ends so suddenly as a man's love. Lose him 
 you must, sooner or later, and it is better to lose him when 
 he can shower wealth into your lap, than to be discharged 
 by him with a miserable pittance or a scant}' allowance, 
 which he will cut off on his marriage to some Sefiora. 
 Do not be a fool, child ! You are still young and beauti- 
 iul, and many a caballero would give a small fortune to 
 possess the Flower of Machangara. As to your Don Rob 
 erto, leave him to me. You shall not suffer from his neg 
 lect or desertion, if these reports are true. But I do not 
 believe half of them. Who ever heard the like before ? I 
 have seen more wars and revolutions in my day than you 
 will ever live to see, but 1 never heard such things before. 
 But hold ! There is a customer in the shop. Go to your 
 room, Merccditas, and let us think of breakfast. Where 
 is that little huzzy, Panchita ! To run away and leave the 
 shop without telling me!" 
 
 The tears of Mercedes flowed on as she sat on the stone 
 bench in the court of the house and pondered over the 
 news she had heard. What was this Revolution to her? 
 What did she care for the Alcabala, or the rights of the
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 219 
 
 colonists? Even the death of Valverde and the many vic 
 tims of last night's bloody work failed to touch her sympa 
 thetic heart. There was a sight more terrible to her 
 mind's eye than all the scenes of slaughter. It was Eob- 
 crto Sanchez, her own Eoberto, the father of the child 
 which she carried under her heart, seated upon the throne 
 of that Indian witch and heathenish impostor, while she 
 was mounted on .Roberto's horse, holding him by the hand 
 and leading him on to perdition. This whole Eevolution 
 was now a tissue of wickedness in the eyes of Mercedes. It 
 was begotten in crime, and could only lead to destruction. 
 Why should these men rise against their master, the King 
 of Spain, the Lord's anointed, and against the Ministers to 
 whom he had intrusted the government of the colony? 
 Such treason was a crime and a sin, and men engaged in 
 these nefarious doings would not shrink from breaking vows 
 and breaking hearts. Their patron-saints would abandon 
 them to the wiles of Indian witchcraft. Their cause was 
 doomed, and they were doomed in this world and the next. 
 Oh, if she could but save her Eoberto, and draw him back 
 from the fearful abyss into which he was about to plunge ! 
 
 "Is it you, Don Tomas, so early in the morning?" said 
 Dona Mariquita. " Good morning to you, Compadre. 
 Where do you come from ?" 
 
 " From my master's hacienda at Chillogallo. Give me 
 an cigua cjlorinda* my dear Commadre. This must have 
 been a horrible night here in Quito." 
 
 " Horrible, Compadre ! Most horrible ! Have you heard 
 of it already ?" 
 
 " Eeports came to us at three o'clock in the morning, 
 but they were greatly mixed, and wonderfully incredib'e." 
 
 And while he was sipping his agua gloriada, Doiia Mari 
 quita entertained him with a most inaccurate, distoi'ted, 
 and exaggerated account of the events of last night. 
 
 * IIul \\ jilcr with sugar boiled in it, and a strong addition of rum.
 
 220 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " I can hardly trust my ears, Commadrel If there was 
 such bloody work, I must hurry to see whether any harm 
 has befallen my master. Adios, Commadrel And with 
 these words Don Tomas paid for his dram, and after giving 
 Dona Mariquita the customary Spanish embrace, he re 
 mounted his horse, and repaired, as fast as it was possible 
 with such a jade, to the city residence of Don Manuel 
 Pared es. 
 
 Paredes had just returned home. Great as his powers of 
 endurance were, he required rest after the terrible tension 
 and excitement of last night. His schemes thus far had 
 met with unexpected success. He had not failed in anything, 
 and even blind luck or chance seemed to have declared in his 
 favor. If he had planned and shaped the events of yesterday, 
 he could not have shaped them more advantageous to his 
 purposes. In less than twenty-four hours, he had made 
 himself the most popular man of Quito ; one of his most 
 dangerous rivals was out of the way ; he had saved the 
 Marquis, and thus secured an indisputable claim on the 
 daughter's gratitude; the lives of the Ministers had been 
 spared, and now he had but to play his cards properly, 
 and he might be appointed commander of the armed forces 
 in place of the unfortunate Bellido, or at least name his 
 successor. The latter seemed to be the safer course to the 
 discerning mind of Paredes, because it would not expose 
 him to the revenge of those, whom, as commander, he 
 would have to betray. It would be better to assign 
 this part of his task to other hands, and if he was not very 
 much mistaken, Don Pedro Guzman Ponce de Leon, was 
 the man for it. His military experience entitled him to 
 be first named in this connection. Moreover, he was an 
 Encomendero, who had great pecuniary interests at stake. 
 He was in debt, and would want money. He belonged to 
 the party of procrastination, which would soon develope 
 into the party of reaction ; and he was a man Avithout 
 strong opinions, and not burdened with scruples or con-
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 221 
 
 victions. Don Manuel would sound this man, and prepare 
 the way for his appointment, if he proved pi-acticable. 
 Such were the thoughts of Paredes, as he returned home, 
 long after the taking of the Palace, for a few hours of rest. 
 He had not yet reached his couch, when his Mayordomo 
 burst into the room. 
 
 " The Virgin be praised, Don Tomas. I see success in 
 your eyes." 
 
 " Yes, your Grace, the Marquis is on his way to the coast. 
 Ho would surely have been caught, if we had not warned 
 him." 
 
 " Let me embrace you, Don Tomas, and rest assured of 
 my eternal gratitude." 
 
 "He sends his best love to your Grace. He swore that 
 he would never forget how much he owed to your Lordship. 
 He wanted to write a note to his daughter, but I would 
 not let him. I insisted that every minute was precious, 
 and so he just dashed these lines on a piece of paper, before 
 he mounted, and told me to give it to Senorita." 
 
 Paredes took the paper which the Mayordomo had 
 handed to him. It contained these words: "Take my 
 place under the Royal Commission and confer with Don 
 Manuel Paredes, as to whom I absolve you from all obliga 
 tions of secrecv. Your loving father." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE SECRET OP DOLORES SOLANDO. 
 
 THE guards had been withdrawn from the house 
 of the Marquis. With the dawn of day they had been 
 ordered off. A litter, carried by four men and fol 
 lowed by servants, both male and female, moved out of the 
 door in the direction of the neighboring Plaza of Santa 
 Clara, as Don Tornas drew near the house. The Mar-
 
 222 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 chioness, partly of her own volition, and partly following 
 the advice of her daughter, had determined to take refuge 
 in the Nunnery of Santa Clara. Her health, would prob 
 ably not have resisted another shock such as the intrusion 
 into her house of an armed mob, searching for her hus 
 band. She would stay at the convent until the storm had 
 blown over. Dofia Catita accompanied her on foot to see 
 her properly installed, and then to return to the mansion- 
 house, which Dolores refused to leave. Dona Catita would 
 have preferred the security of the Convent, but, as her 
 niece insisted on remaining at the house, come what may, 
 Aunt Catita considered it her duty not to leave her entirely 
 alone. But she hud exacted a promise from Dolores, that 
 at the first symptoms of a new outbreak, they should join 
 the Marchioness at the Convent. 
 
 It had been a trying night to Dolores ; a night that had 
 made her older in mind, and colder at heart. The news of 
 the death of Valverde had struck her dumb. Speechless 
 she had listened to the tale of horror, which she learned 
 shortly after the occurrence, from one of the Cabildo-men 
 detailed to guard her house. At first, she seemed incapa 
 ble of comprehending him, and not until he had repeated 
 his story, she realized what it meant. She beckoned him 
 to depart, and then sat motionless and brooding for a long 
 while. But she shed no tears. Aunt Catita, who was with 
 her, respected her silence, and waited to be spoken to. 
 Dolores had buried a hope, and ehe keenly felt the disap 
 pointment. A few days before his death, he had asked for 
 her hand, and she had promised to consider his offer. Sup 
 ported by the favor of the Viceroy, he would make a fortune 
 in the Colonies, would make her a real countess, and take her 
 with him to Spain, where she might have dazzled the 
 Court with her wit and brilliancy. And now that hope 
 was destroyed ; and the horizon of her existence would 
 probably remain forever bounded by the impassable mount 
 ains of Quito. But this was not all. It had become a
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 223 
 
 dreadful certainty to her that a fatality hung over her, 
 which she could not avert, and that the course of her life 
 was influenced by a dark and mysterious power, the de 
 crees of which could not be resisted. "Aunt Catita," she 
 said, after a long pause, folding herself closely in her 
 shawl, for the coldness of the night began to be felt in the 
 room, which, like all the houses cf Quito, was without a 
 Btove or fireplace, " will you not go to bed ?" 
 
 " Who can go to bed amidst such horrors, my child ? " 
 
 " Your health will suffer, Auntie. You have suffered such 
 a fright during the evening, and now this new horror; 
 you must be cold as ice. Go to bed, Auntie, and warm 
 yourself." 
 
 " The poor Count ! " said Dona Catita. " What a brave 
 gentleman he was. And to think of ife; but two days 
 ago, he was here full of hope and promise, and full of love 
 for you. Now he is dead. And such a horrible death !" 
 
 " My love is death, Aunt Catita," said Dolores, coldly, 
 " Do you remember how my husband was brought into 
 this house ; nay, into this very room ?" 
 
 " Bemember ? How in the name of the Virgin could I 
 ever forget it ?" 
 
 " Well, he was my husband. The Count might have 
 been my husband. I confess to you that 1 frequently 
 thought of him as my husband and behold his end ! 
 There is a dark power over me, Aunt Catita, which I must 
 not provoke. If I do marry, I must not niarry the man I 
 love, and I must not love the man I marry." 
 
 " I do not understand you, Doloritas. You talk wildly." 
 
 "Do I, Auntie? This is news to me. No, Auntie, 
 I am clearly aware of what 1 say, and I mean it. If 
 you knew what I know, you would not say that I talk 
 wildly." 
 
 " You alarm me, child. What do you mean?" 
 
 " I mean what I have never told a living soul before,"
 
 224 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 she said solemnly, " except my confessor, who said I should 
 not fear as long as I remained worthy of invoking the aid 
 of the Virgin and the Saints against the powers of dark 
 ness." 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, Doloritas, explain youself. You 
 make me tremble from head to foot." And pale, and 
 shivering, Dona Catita approached her niece, and took both 
 her hands in hers. " O what a frightful night this is ! 
 There! Do you hear?" 
 
 "I hear nothing, Auntie. Compose yourself. They 
 have taken the Palace, and the bloody work seems to be 
 over." 
 
 " Yes, but there are things to fear, other than murder 
 and bloodshed, and you have made me fear for you." 
 
 " Not for me, Auntie. It is not I for whom there is 
 cause to fear, but for the man I should marry, or wish to 
 marry." 
 
 " O tell me what you mean ! " And kneeling by her niece's 
 side, she threw her arms around her, and nestling to her, 
 expectantly hung upon her lips. 
 
 "I do not know whether I do right in telling you ; and 
 surely I should not have told you, had it not been for the 
 horrors of this night. Listen ! Many, many years ago I 
 was a very young girl, almost a child, then I took a walk 
 or rather a romp with a whole bevy of girls, followed by 
 their Indian maids up the mountain. Panchita Olraos, 
 Carmen Aguirre, Mariquita Hemos, Conchita Valdez, and 
 others were of the party. We had bathed in the Cantera, 
 and to get warm again, we dashed up the hill, ran races on 
 the plateau, and acted so wildly and improperly, that we 
 should have been dreadfully ashamed of ourselves, if any 
 body had seen us. But you know the mountain is always 
 lonely, and so nothing happened to disturb our merry 
 making, until we found ourselves unexpectedly, almost 
 in front of Mama Rucu's cottage." 
 
 Aunt Catita gave a start, and nestled more closely to her
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 225 
 
 niece. The elder lady at this moment was the picture of 
 trepidation, which strangely contrasted with the quiet re 
 pose and imperturbable self-possession of Dolores. 
 
 "A bantering discussion soon arose, as to which of us 
 would have the courage, to have her fortune told. I be 
 lieve if we had all gone together, there would have been no 
 talk of fear. But Carmen Aguirre said she would not en 
 ter that cottage alone for the world. To this Panchita Ol- 
 mos replied (I remember the conversation as if it had been 
 yesterday), that that was quite natural, as no white woman 
 would dare to enter that cottage alone. I then told them 
 not to be too sure of that ; for I knew one who would. At 
 this there was a general laugh, and Panchita called me a 
 braggadocio, and dared me to verify my words. Now, you 
 know, Auntie, dear, if I have a weakness, it consists in a 
 perhaps unfeminine desire to show that I am not afraid." 
 
 " Yes ; aj)d it will be the death of you some day, if you 
 persist in it. You might have been killed this morning, 
 when you insisted on keeping the shutter open and looking 
 out, while they were throwing stones at our windows. But 
 proceed, my darling ! " 
 
 " I accepted the challenge at once, and said I would go. 
 The girls did not believe it: and so I told them that not I, 
 but probably they would be the cowards, and run away 
 while I was inside. If they had any sense of honor, they 
 would wait for me. And with these words I started to go. 
 Had the girls really thought that I intended to go in, they 
 would have stopped me ; but as they expected I would 
 turn back at the door, they allowed me to proceed. I must 
 confess, Auntie, that I felt very faint, when I came close to 
 the old witch's hut ; but 1 should have died rather than 
 retrace my steps. As soon as the girls saw that I was in 
 earnest, they became frightened, and called me back, nay 
 begged me to come back ; but I merely courtesied to them, 
 and entered the hut."
 
 226 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " Holy Virgin protect us ! " exclaimed Aunt Catita, cross 
 ing herself. '' How could you, ray child?" 
 
 "At first I saw little or nothing, but when my eyes had 
 become reconciled to the smoke and darkness inside, I saw 
 Mama .Rucu. She stood before a kettle boiling over a fire 
 of aromatic woods. In one hand she held a calabash which 
 she filled from the kettle. Her other hand rested on her 
 stick or crutch. Her back was turned to me. She could 
 not have seen or heard me, for I had entered noiselessly. 
 Yet she knew I was there." 
 
 "Santa Maria!" interposed Dona Catita, shivering by 
 her niece's side. 
 
 "At first she did not turn around, but said in Quichua: 
 'Young blood! Young blood! But cold blood! cold 
 blood ! Will draw blood, will draw blood ! ' Not knowing 
 that these words were intended for me, I stood irresolute, 
 whether to make my presence known, or whether to turn 
 back. But my courage soon wilted, arid I decided to leave 
 unobserved, when to my amazement, the old woman, still 
 without turning her face to me, said: ' Stay! Thou hast 
 come to have thy fortune told. Wait till 1 give thee the 
 clue to thy future, as I see it now.' And then she turned 
 around. Auntie, it was horrible to have those burning, 
 piercing, rolling eyes on me. I felt as if 1 should faint, but 
 she pointed her crutch at me, and it seemed to uphold me r 
 as if by some magic power. ' Young woman ! ' she said, 
 ' Death is in thy hand ; not to thee, but to him to whom 
 thou givest it in marriage. Even thy thought of marriage 
 is death to him whom " 
 
 At this juncture Aunt Catita fell into an hysteric fit, and 
 with a wild scream, followed- by sobs and tears and laugh 
 ter, dropped on the floor. The excitement and horrors of 
 the last twentj'-four hours had momentarily overpowered 
 her. Dolores called in her attendants, and with their aid 
 soon restored her aunt to consciousness, but the thread of 
 the narrative was not resumed that night.
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 227 
 
 And now the night has worn away at last; the sun has 
 arisen ; Dofia Catita has accompanied the Marchioness to 
 the Convent, and the Mayordorno of Manuel Puredes pre 
 sents himself to Dolores, and receives the generous thanks 
 of the daughter, whose father he has saved. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 HOW THE NEWS WAS RECEIVED. 
 
 On the very clay when the Cabildo of Guayaquil on the 
 coast, was about to make official proclamation of its adher 
 ence to the policy of resistance inagurated at Quito, the 
 movement was nipped in the bud, by the arrival of Don 
 Pedro de Arana, whom the Viceroy had sent to enforce 
 obedience to the royal decrees in the ancient Kingdom of 
 Quito. Arana came with an armed force, small in numbers, 
 but well equipped, and sufficient to overawe the malcon 
 tents at Guayaquil, He had arrived in the nick of time. 
 He was informed at once of what had been projected. 
 There was an abundence of informers. The loudest rebels of 
 yesterday endeavored to exculpate themselves by informing 
 on their accomplices. But Arana was too prudent to alarm 
 the whole kingdom by punishing mere intentions. He 
 accorded to every one a most gracious reception. He 
 seemed to be perfectly deaf to all evil reports. He acted 
 as if nothing at all bad happened. He took it for 
 granted that the people among whom he had arrived, were 
 indisputably loyal. He judged everyone by his own pro 
 fessions, and thus he saved Guayaquil, and with it his base 
 of operations. His force was so small, that he could not 
 afford to turn men into enemies, whom he expected to en 
 list as his friends. His policy succeeeded admirably. The 
 men who would have drawn their swords against him two
 
 228 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 or three days ago, proclaimed their anxious readiness to 
 serve under his command. 
 
 A few days after the arrival of Arana. the Marquis de 
 Solando arrived at Guayaquil, and by his high title and 
 the fame of his great wealth, gave tone and encourage 
 ment to the Ko3*alist cause. Yet it was no child's play to 
 crush the rebellion. With the whole interior of the coun 
 try in arms, protected by the wretchedness of its roads 
 and by almost inaccessible mountain-passes, which a few 
 men might defend against a whole army, policy, negotia 
 tions, intrigue, bribery, promises, and diplomacy would be 
 more effective than a military campaign. 
 
 %.%*****%. 
 
 Still worse than at Guayaquil, the popular cause fared 
 in the towns of Peru proper, south of the river Tumbez, 
 and outside of the Kingdom of Quito. The Viceroy's 
 hands fell heavily on those who meditated resistance. At 
 Callao, the port of Lima, the spirit of disaffection had 
 spread to the fleet. But the Viceroy seized some of the 
 officers and leading citizens and ordered their immediate 
 execution. Men were executed at Cuzco, Areqnipa, La 
 Paz, and other towns, without trial or any of the formali 
 ties of civil or military law. The spirit of disobedience 
 was crushed before it had time to grow. Terror stricken, 
 the Peruvian colonists banished all thoughts of resisting 
 the collection of the Alcabala. The rebellion, thus far, was 
 confined to the city of Quito; yet, if it should spread to 
 the towns between Quito and Guayaquil, and if it should 
 prove successful there, an outbreak in Peru would become 
 inevitable. On the defeat of the rebels at Quito, there 
 fore, depended the maintenance of arbitrary government 
 in the Viceroyalty. Thus every eye turned to the Capital 
 of the ancient Shyris, where the fate of those rights and 
 privileges was to be decided which had been stamped out' 
 in Spain, under King Philip's father, on the bloody field 
 of Villalar.
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 229 
 
 And how was the news received at Puembo, where Cur- 
 rera watched at the bedside of his dying uncle? It is high 
 time that we should return to our young friend. 
 
 Can-era found the old gentleman in a stupor, from 
 which his attendants thought he would never awake. To 
 every body's surprise, however, he rallied toward evening, 
 and gladly recognized and welcomed his nephew. The 
 patient's condition even seemed to improve. For hours at 
 a time he would feel relieved, and was able to converse 
 with Can-era ; to give directions to his Mayordomo concern 
 ing the management of the estate; to listen to the news 
 from Quito, for which messengers were sent to and fro reg 
 ularly, and to comment upon it; to listen to the consola 
 tions of his spiritual adviser, and to say a kind word or to 
 administer reprimands to his servants and Indians. Then, 
 again, he would relapse into a stupor, which lasted for 
 hours. And so the days wore on and swelled into weeks, 
 and still Carrera \vas chained to the bedside of the dying 
 man, who would not allow him to leave the room longer 
 than necessary for a little exercise in the open air. 
 
 At the end of the first week Carrera sent a letter to his 
 friend Roberto Sanchez, requesting him for the return of 
 Toa's silver moon, as he wished to write to her. It was 
 not without a pang of jealousy that he had heard of the 
 manner in which Toa and Eoberto had appeared before 
 the people. And he had received no explanation of this 
 strange demonstration. Had Toa abandoned him already ? 
 Had she transferred her affections to Eoberto? Had she 
 taken umbrage at Can-era's departure from Quito? Her 
 own solemn declaration that she would subordinate her 
 love to what she considered her duty to her people seemed 
 to confirm this supposition. Nervously he waited for an 
 answer from Sanchez, but no answer came. The Cabiklo 
 had sent Roberto's father to Latacunga, Ambato. and Rio- 
 bamba to organize the forces of the Revolution there. He 
 had taken his son along as his trusty lieutenant, and the
 
 230 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 latter had left no word as to when he would return. After 
 another week a letter came from .Roberto, full of affection 
 ate reproaches and insisting that Carrera should return to 
 Quito, if be had not done so already. It also stated that 
 the writer was organizing a company at Latacunga, and 
 would have to remain there for some time. Carrera sent 
 a messenger to that city with another letter, but both mes 
 senger and letter returned. The man brought the news 
 that Roberto had departed for the neighborhood of Am- 
 bato, in order to collect horses for a cavalry corps which 
 was then in process of forming. Having no specific in 
 structions the man did not feel authorized to follow him, 
 uncertain whether or where he should find him. Thus 
 another week was lost, and, in the meantime, great changes 
 were preparing at Quito, and a change was developing in 
 the mind, feelings, and opinions of Carrera. 
 
 To the former we shall refer briefly. Paredes had car 
 ried his point. Pedro Guzman Ponce de Leon had been 
 appointed commander-in-chief of the armed forces of the 
 Municipality, and enlisted a great many men, whom he was 
 preparing for active service. But these men were kept at 
 Quito, where many of them grew tired of idleness, or 
 demoralized by inactivity and by the fierce contest of con 
 flicting opinions which raged around them. The party of 
 action advocated a forward movement. The Quito forces 
 should march to fliobamba and Guaranda and defend the 
 mountain-passes by which Arana was to approach. There 
 they would defeat him surely, and then might follow him 
 into the low-lands, covered with tropical forests, where it 
 would be easy to annihilate a beaten foe. Guayaquil 
 should be taken from him, and communication with the sea 
 being once established, the success of the movement would 
 be secured. Pedro Guzman approved of all this in theory, 
 but he did not act upon it in practice. He always pre 
 pared, but never was ready. He vowed great things, but 
 never performed them. And the Indians, too, were back-
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 231 
 
 ward. The resolutions which the Municipality had adopted 
 during the night of the bloody conflict, had never been 
 publicly proclaimed. Endless negotiations followed. The 
 men of the Cabildo wanted gold, nominally to carry on 
 the war, in reality, however, to enrich themselves. The 
 Indians refused to furnish it until their rights should be 
 secured, and the first steps taken to carry out the pro 
 gramme of Cundurazu and Bellido. In the meantime the 
 doubters, who disputed the existence of the treasure, had 
 it all their own way. The best men of the .Revolutionary 
 party had been skillfully removed from Quito. Sanchez 
 had been sent to the south, and Olmos to the northern 
 provinces, nominally to organize the Revolution, in reality, 
 however, to be out of the way. In the meantime the days 
 wore on, the precious moments were wasted and the party 
 of reaction slowly but irresistibl}" continued to recover the 
 ground it had lost, and to confound and demoralize its an 
 tagonists. Still, all was not lost. A bloody event of start 
 ling magnitude soon rallied the earnest and the honest 
 men and gave fresh impulse to the popular cause. The 
 nature of this event will be disclosed in the following 
 chapters. 
 
 Equally fatal to the aspirations of our heroine, however, 
 was the change in the opinions and feelings of Carrera. 
 Had his uncle died shortly after the nephew's arrival at 
 Puembo, what a different course would the events of this 
 story have taken. But the patient lived and lingered on, 
 and impressed upon the unformed mind arid character of 
 Carrera the stamp of an old man's well-matured opinions, 
 deep-rooted prejudices, and vast experience. 
 
 The murder of Bellido, he granted, was a crime, a great 
 crime. But who had ordered it? Had it been proved that 
 it was the work of the Audience? Might not a private 
 grudge, an adverse party to a law-suit, or a love intrigue 
 have been the moving cause? Those reckless soldiers 
 would assassinate any man for a sum of money. And
 
 232 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 even if the murder was committed at the instigation of the 
 Audience, should it follow that we must rise against the 
 King, because some of his ministers had abused the power 
 confided to them? And what right had the popular party 
 to complain of murders ? Was not the murder of Valverde 
 an act infinitely more cruel, wanton, and fiendish than the 
 assassination of Bellido? 
 
 From this point Carrera's uncle passed on to the utter 
 hopelessness of the rebellion, and he supported his argu 
 ments with heavy artillery from the arsenal of Peruvian 
 history. In the times of Gonzalo Pizarro the colonists had 
 rebelled against the home government. They would not 
 submit to the royal ordinances declaring that the Indians 
 should be treated as freemen. Gonzalo Pizarro was made 
 Protector of Peru, the colonists flocked to his standards 
 and defeated the Viceroy, who was slain on the fit-Id of Aiia 
 Quito; and yet, when the Eoyal Commissioner La Gasca 
 came, alone and empty handed, he soon had an army under 
 him, Gonzalo Pizarro was ignominously routed, his whole 
 army deserting him at the critical moment, and the leaders 
 expiated their treason on the scaffold. 
 
 And what was the fate of the rebellion of Hernandez 
 Jiron, who had swept everything before him, and appeai'ed 
 almost under the very gates of Lima ? The whole countr} T 
 was disaffected. Hernandez Jiron made himself the repre 
 sentative of the popular grievances. He had an army under 
 his command consisting of men who had grown old in the 
 art of war. He had defeated the forces of the government 
 in several engagements. And yet he failed and died a 
 traitor's death at the hands of the executioner. Spain was 
 the greatest military power of the globe. Her armies had 
 swept over Europe. Her resources were inexhaustible. 
 Would the Creoles of Quito, inexperienced in the art of 
 war, and divided in their own councils, be able to cope 
 with the colossal strength of the mother country? It was 
 a childish dream, a ridiculous vision, an ignis fatuus which
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 233 
 
 could only lead to destruction. Even temporary successes 
 could not avert the final doom. 
 
 The imposition of the Alcabala may have been a nominal 
 breach of a royal grant ; but that grant had been given in 
 ignorance of the future wealth and greatness of Peru. 
 Every age has its own necessities, and one King can not 
 legislate for unborn generations, because he can not fore 
 see the necessities of his successors. He may have been a 
 wise man in his day ; but lhat day has passed, and his suc 
 cessor, although bound to revere the memory of the Kings 
 before him, must be the judge of his own exigencies, and 
 of his own times. 
 
 An alliance with the Indians! .Ridiculous! The Alcab 
 ala might be burdensome, the loss of their Indian slaves 
 would be ruinous, to the colonists. Surely, they would sub 
 mit to the Alcabala a thousand times, rather than release 
 the Indians, who tilled their lands, worked their mines, 
 herded their cattle, and served in their factories. And 
 what assistance could those miserable beings render in case 
 of war? Unacquainted with the use of firearms, abject 
 and cowardly, broken by an iron rule into blind submission, 
 they might murder prisoners, slay the wounded, and rob 
 the dead, but how should they withstand the shock of in 
 fantry, or the charge of cavalry ? Their treasure, you say? 
 It is a myth, Julio, a nursery-tale with which we were 
 amused in the days of our childhood, a legend resting on 
 mere suppositions that have never been verified. 
 
 At this juncture, Carrera interposed a remonstrance. Ho 
 had not been pledged to secrecy as to the existence of the 
 treasure, and he gave his uncle a detailed account of all he 
 had seen in the cave. The old man listened to him in 
 amazement, which soon gave way to an air of incredulity. 
 Without pursuing the subject of the treasure, he asked him 
 how he had become acquainted with Toa. Carrera said 
 that he had met her at Mama Rucu's cottage. His uncle 
 then inquired what had taken him there. This question
 
 234 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 was very embarrassing, but he concluded to make a clean 
 breast of his past delinquencies, and to throw himself on 
 the charitable forbearance of his uncle. Nevertheless, he 
 kept the promise of secrecy which he had made to Mama 
 .Rucu, and said nothing of his visions during the memor 
 able night he had spent at her cottage. But he showed 
 him the letter with which Queen Toa had accompanied her 
 present or loan. The old man read it, and reread it, and 
 then fell into a long silence, which was at last broken by 
 Carrera, who asked his forgiveness for having allowed him 
 self to be led astray by the temptations of the card-table. 
 
 " That you have played recklessly and perhaps foolishly, 
 Julio," said the old man after another pause, ' is but too 
 natural for a young Caballero of your station. It was an 
 experience that every gentleman must go through, and I 
 hope you have profited by it. If I blame you for anything, 
 it is for not having confided in me, your best and only 
 friend, as you should have done. But I preceive with 
 amazement that you have allowed yourself to be drawn 
 into a most dangerous complication, from which you must 
 be extricated. Now listen to the advice of an old man, 
 who looks upon you as his own child. You are my heir, 
 Julio de Carrera. I have kept the knowledge of this 
 fact from you till now, for reasons which you will under 
 stand ; but as you would know it soon after I am gone, I 
 might as well tell you now, that your future is secured, and 
 that you will be one of the richest men in the Kingdom of 
 Quito!" 
 
 "Uncle!" 
 
 " No thanks ! No protestations ! If you want to prove 
 your gratitude, follow my advice. This is all the return I 
 ask. Your path through life will be easy and pleasant. 
 All you have to do is to be what I have been. Apply 
 yourself to the management of the estates, which will be 
 yours, and, as you are a lover of books, you will not lack 
 occupation for your leisure hours. Flee from the dangers
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 235 
 
 that your improvidence has conjured up. The treasures 
 of that Indian witch would prove your inevitable destruc 
 tion. You do not need them. Where is the nobleman of 
 Quito that would not envy your position ? With the ex 
 ception of the Marquis of Solando, there will not be a 
 wealthier man in the land. What more do you want? 
 What wishes can you entertain that my wealth will not 
 gratify? The possession and enjoyment of what I shall 
 leave you nobody will dispute. What SHE may give you 
 would involve you in endless troubles. It would be taken 
 from you and prove your destruction in the end. You can 
 not marry a woman who, by the very claim she sets up, has 
 placed herself in an attitude of rebellion against our Lord, 
 the King of Spain, and the security and welfare of this 
 colony. Her life is forfeited to the executioner, and her 
 treasures to the Crown ; and even if she would wish to 
 subside into obscurity, it would be too dangerous for the 
 public peace to let her live. For the Yirgin's sake, Julio, 
 1 shudder when I think of the danger with which you 
 have played. And }"et there must be more than you tell 
 me. You have made love to her, have you not ? She pre 
 tends to reciprocate your affection in order to inveigle you 
 into certain ruin. Tell mo all, my son. iieep nothing 
 from me. The lips of a dying man arc sealed, Julio. 
 Your secret, if it is a secret, will die with me." 
 
 What resistance could Carrera offer to such an appeal? 
 He confessed how Toa had won his heart, and how she re 
 ciprocated his affection. 
 
 " Poor, deluded youth !" continued his uncle, " how child 
 ish and unsophisticated you are! Do you not see that she 
 has played the same game with others that she has al 
 lured othei'S with false hopes of her love and treasures, in 
 order to use them for her ambitious purposes? Did she 
 not appear in public with your intimate friend, Roberto 
 Sanchez? Would Sanchez, who is a shrewd fellow, have 
 consented to lend himself to such demonstrations, if she
 
 236 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 bad not played with his affections and fired his susceptible 
 heart? Her wiles may deceive young men, but they are 
 as plain as daylight to me. She wants a party among the 
 nobility, and she endeavors to build it up by turning the 
 heads of our young caballeros, while stimulating their 
 greed with promises of her gold. They will secure neither 
 the one nor the other. She will ruin and betray them." 
 
 Here the old man fell into a stupor, and Carrera had 
 time to ponder over what he had heard. His uncle's words 
 had sunk deep into the young man's heart. They had in 
 stilled the poison, which did its work. 
 
 On the next day the conversation was resumed. "I am 
 afraid, Julio," said the patient, "that you will be involved 
 in great trouble. As soon as this revolution shall be 
 crushed and, believe me, it will be crushed searching in 
 quiries will be made into its causes and into the conduct of 
 all that were directly or indirectly implicated. You are 
 one of these men. The seditious speech you made after 
 the murder of Bellido will not be forgotten. Your ene 
 mies and everybody has enemies will make the worst 
 of it. They will say that you gave the word for the at 
 tack on the Palace. You have communicated with the 
 rebel and pretender Toa. You have seen her treasure and 
 received money from her. It is as certain as fate that you 
 will be proceeded against. You are in danger, my poor 
 boy, and that danger should be judiciously averted. 
 
 "But how can it be averted, Uncle?" asked Carrera who, 
 brave as he was, could not resist a feeling of great alarm 
 at the thought of a prosecution for high treason. 
 
 " In the first place you should make a timely submission. 
 You should side with the friends of the King. You should, 
 if possible, manifest your loyalty by some signal act" 
 
 " Uncle !" remonstrated the young man. 
 
 " Let me proceed ! In the second place you should fortify 
 your position by a wise marriage. I have long had a match 
 in view for you, and until you told me of that foolish affair
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 237 
 
 with your Indian Princess, I had believed that your own 
 inclination coincided with my wishes. The woman to whom 
 you should engage yourself, without delay, is Dolores So- 
 lando " 
 
 Carrera gave a start, which encouraged the old man, 
 whose eyes, as he pronounced the name of Dolores, care 
 fully scanned the countenance of his nephew. "Yes!" he 
 proceeded, "Dolores Solando! Her father is the head and 
 front of the loyalists ; not, perhaps, intellectually, but his 
 great name and wealth will be of vital importance to the 
 royal cause. He has almost become a martyr to that cause. 
 His person was in danger. His house had been invaded ; 
 his wife's life might have been sacrificed. He has joined 
 Arana, and will be in a position of almost unlimited in 
 fluence with tho Royal Commissioner. Who would dare to 
 assail his future son-in-law? Engage yourself to Dolores 
 and you will be safe. But aside from this consideration, 
 the match would be a splendid one in every other respect. 
 It would add to 3-0111- wealth, to your name, position, and 
 influence. You would become the founder of the first and 
 proudest family in the kingdom, and be to this country 
 what a grandee would be in Spain." 
 
 And thus the old man continued to argue and to preach, 
 and every word he said was weighty, plausible, convincing. 
 His reasoning was irresistible and overcame all objections. 
 And when doubts arose in the mind of Carrera, while he 
 promenaded in the orchard in the rear of the house, how 
 quickly were they dissolved when he submitted them to 
 the scrutiny of that wise old man. 
 
 And at last the closing hour arrived, and the dying man 
 exacted promises which his grateful nephew could not re 
 fuse. He promised to renounce the heathen Toa and her 
 delusive treasures, and be a suitor to the hand of Dolores. 
 He promised to be as loyal to his King as he would be 
 obedient to his God. And with the crucifix in his hand, 
 and another appeal to Julio by look, word, and gesture, the
 
 233 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 old man breathed bis last in tbe arms of bis nephew. And 
 the Jesuit father who hud attended him during his sick 
 ness, appeared upon the veranda fronting the court, where, 
 the servants and peons, and their women were assem 
 bled, and raising his arms brought the multitude to their 
 knees : 
 
 "Let us pray, children !" he exclaimed. "Let us pray 
 for your good Master, Don Ramiro de Carrera y Pareja, 
 whose soul bas just been summoned before the throne of 
 God." 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 LAYIN0 THE MINE. 
 
 LATE in tbe afternoon of tbe day following the burial of 
 Carrera's uncle, Dolores sat writing a long letter to her 
 father, which was to be sent by a secret messenger, while 
 Aunt Catita was deeply engrossed with the wonderful ad 
 ventures and heroic feats of Amadis de Gaul, when Paredes 
 was announced. 
 
 "Auntie!" said the young lady. "1 am afraid you will 
 have to betake yourself to one end of the room, while I shall 
 take my visitor to the other. I have to confer with him on 
 matters of the utmost importance to father." 
 
 "I might stay in the adjoining room, Doloritas." 
 
 "No, Auntie, it would not be proper. And, besides, I 
 want you near enough so as not to leave me alone with him, 
 and yet far enough not to hear our conversation. Forgive 
 me, Auntie, but it is for father's sake. There will be no 
 love making, I assure you." 
 
 Manuel Paredes now entered, and after some preliminary 
 'conversation touching the absorbing topics of the day, fol 
 lowed Dolores into a remote corner of the sala, where she 
 seated herself on a sofa, while he took a chair beside her.
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 239 
 
 Aunt Catita took a scat on an ottoman in the opposite cor 
 ner, and wrapping herself up in her shawl, soon seemed to 
 be asleep. 
 
 u I have startling news of the utmost importance ! " ho 
 said in a whisper. 
 
 " Proceed ! " she said in a quiet, and yet commanding and 
 business-like tone, as if she had been born and brought up 
 to the direction of affairs of state. 
 
 " Old Sanchez, after organizing the Revolution at Lata- 
 cunga and Ambato, had proceeded to Eiobamba, with but 
 a few armed followers, and was about to submit" his plans 
 to the Cnbildo there, when he was seized by the Corregidor, 
 and thrown into prison. His followers, on hearing of his 
 arrest, and being too few to liberate him, dashed back to 
 Ambato, where his son was, who with a hundred mounted 
 men, immediately hurried to his father's rescue. In the 
 meantime, -however, the Corregidor ordered the old man to 
 be tried for high treason, and had him convicted and ex 
 ecuted." 
 
 Paredes stopped to see what effect this news would have 
 on his beautiful listener. But not a muscle of her face 
 moved ; she sat there as cold and motionless as a marble 
 statute, and merely whispered : " Proceed ! " 
 
 "Young Sanchez arrived two hours afterward, and at 
 once took possession of the town. He wanted to hang the 
 Corregidor, but that official had escaped in the nick of time. 
 Sanchez then hung two of the men who had served on the 
 court-martial which had sentenced his father. He then 
 left forty men to guard the town, and to arm and organize 
 the rebel element, and with the others he started in pursuit 
 of the Corregidor. They rode day and night, but finally 
 met with the advance guard of Arana, who had divided his 
 forces, which in my opinion was a great mistake. Eob- 
 erto's horses were worn out when the two parties met, and 
 to this circumstance alone, we owe the salvation of Arana's 
 detachment. The meeting seems to have been a surprise
 
 240 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 ,to both parties. But that young Sanchez is a fiend! 
 He fell on the King's men with such impetuosity that they 
 broke and fled after the first fire, without discovering that 
 the attack on them had been made by a mere handful of 
 men. The officer in command of the Royalists vainly at 
 tempted to rally them. He was slightly wounded, only 
 very slightly, Senorita ; you need not be alarmed " 
 
 " Why should I be at all?" interposed Dolores, coldly. 
 
 " Because well because," said Paredes hesitatingly, 
 "because it was" 
 
 " My brother, perhaps." 
 
 "Yes, but it was a mere scratch, I assure you. The 
 freshness and fleetness of his horse saved him." Here Par 
 edes paused again, and again Dolores, without changing 
 her attitude, quietly said : " Proceed ! " 
 
 "Reinforcements were soon brought up, but Roberto, 
 having ascertained the enemy's superiority, returned to 
 Riobamba. On his way buck, he captured the Corregidor's 
 private secretary, who was making his way to the royal 
 camp, and hung him to a tree." 
 
 " He is a man of decision ! " said Dolores calmly. 
 
 " 1 received this news by a special messenger, two hours 
 ago, and took it to the Cabildo, where it at once and com 
 pletely re-established the ascendency of the Bellidistas. 
 Everybody is distrusted now, who has counseled delaj r and 
 moderation. The party of action is supreme again, and as 
 soon as this news becomes public, we shall have to appre 
 hend a fresh outbreak, which may, and probably will, 
 threaten the lives of the President and of the Auditors. The 
 majority of the Cabildo is now opposed to all further 
 procrastination. Unfortunately, old Olmos has returned 
 with troops from Ibarra, and the Extremists have a leader 
 again. He demands an immediate proclamation of inde 
 pendence, the election of a King, and his marriage to Toa 
 Duchicela, the Shyri Queen."
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 241 
 
 " And who is to be selected for this sacrilegious mockery 
 of royalty?" 
 
 "On behalf of the Shyri Toa, her representatives have 
 presented the name of our young friend, Don Julio de 
 Can-era." 
 
 Dolores slightly compressed her lips, and the color rose 
 to her face for a moment, but only to give way to sudden 
 paleness. It was the first involuntary betrayal of her 
 emotion, and did not escape the scrutinizing eye of Pare- 
 des. But she immediately recovered her self-possession, 
 and remarked, with an ironical smile : " You see I am a 
 prophet, Senor Don Manuel. I had predicted royal honors 
 ibr your amiable friend." 
 
 "His name has met with some favor among the men of 
 action, because from his youth, inexperience, and softness 
 of character, they suppose that he will be wax in their 
 hands, and that they will be able to govern through him 
 and in his name." 
 
 "And will he accept this crown of insanity?" 
 
 " He is to be sounded first. If he refuses, somebody else 
 will be selected. But," said Paredes, with peculiar zest, 
 " it is believed that he will accept, because he has been 
 carrying on a love-intrigue with the Indian Princess for 
 some time. He is said to be madly in love with her, and 
 lias been the recipient of her bounty. The gold with 
 which he has paid his enormous gambling debts has come 
 from her." 
 
 This time Dolores did not betray her emotion, but asked, 
 sarcastically : " And where is His Majesty now ? " 
 
 "He is still at Puembo; but I have been informed that 
 he will return to Quito this very night." 
 
 " And do you apprehend any danger that such a hair- 
 brained scheme will be carried out? " 
 
 "Most certainly I do. And if so, our influence will be 
 destroyed. The leadership of the Revolution will pass into 
 the hands of those who mean that it shall be successful.
 
 242 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 The command of the forces will be taken from Guzman 
 and be transferred to old Olmos, with young Sanchez at his 
 side. The Indians will rise in every province. The Inca 
 Treasure will be at the disposal of the rebellion, and the 
 men of action, having burnt their ships and cat off their 
 retreat, will fight for dear life,with the scaffold before them 
 in case of defeat, and untold wealth, honors, and power in 
 case of victory. The situation is exceedingly serious, 
 Sefiorita." 
 
 " But if Carrera refuses, as he certainly will?" 
 " Worse for us ! Then the probabilities are that Sanchez 
 will be selected in his place, who is a lion, while Carrera is 
 a llama." 
 
 " How do you intend to meet this emergencj'?" 
 "I have a plan which 1 think will prove successful, if 
 we can be sure of Carrera's refusal to lend himself to the 
 scheme of the rebels. 
 " Proceed ! " 
 
 "Allow me to close that door first !" said Paredes, ris 
 ing. " I am afraid of Indian listeners. Their sense of 
 hearing is very sharp, and they are all spies of their Shyri 
 Queen." Paredes went to the door and stepped out into 
 the hall, where, to his great annoyance, he met Mama 
 Santos, the nurse whom our readers already know. He 
 entertained no doubt that she had attempted to listen ; but 
 he felt assured that she could not have heard the conversa 
 tion, which had been carried on almost in a whisper. 
 Mama Santos bowed to him and then entered the room. 
 
 "Sefior Ortiz," she said in her calm and dignified way, 
 " wishes to pay his respects to their Ladyships." 
 
 "Tell him," said Dolores, "I regret exceedingly that I 
 am unable to see him. Tell him that I am ill to-night, 
 but that to-morrow, or at any other time, I shall be de 
 lighted to receive him." 
 
 Mama Santos left as quietly as she had come, and Pare 
 des closed the door behind her.
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 243 
 
 "Now we are safe ! " he said. Your good old nurse is a 
 spy, Seiiorita. I do not doubt it in the least; but she 
 could not possibly have heard us." 
 
 " Proceed with your plan ! " 
 
 " The dangerous scheme which we have every reason to 
 fear, can, in my opinion, be frustrated only by springing it 
 prematurely and exposing it to ridicule by some signal 
 failure in its inception. 
 
 "Explain j^ourself, Don Manuel." 
 
 "I have great influence with the rabble, not so much 
 owing to the position which I took as the Colonel of our 
 Eegiment on the day of the outbreak, but principally ow 
 ing to my power over that worthless fellow, Juan Castro, 
 the King of the Ragamuffins. I have sent word to him to 
 come to my house this evening; and, if my plan meets 
 with your approval, Seiiorita, I shall have all the necessary 
 preparations made for a demonstration to-morrow, provided 
 Carrera has returned or will return to Quito to-night. 
 We must not give him time to consult with the men of ac 
 tion, or to be influenced by them. His return will not be 
 known. The probabilities are that he will not see any 
 body to-night. I shall visit him myself and stay with 
 him, so as to keep him from falling into other company. 
 I shall influence his flexible mind against the scheme ; and, 
 if I succeed, the premature demonstration to-morrow which 
 Castro will organize, will finish the business." 
 
 " What shall be the object of that demonstration?" 
 
 " To proclaim Carrera, King.* The rabble shall offer 
 
 * As to this event, I have followed the account given by Padre 
 Velasco in his History of Quito, and adopted by Lorente in his His 
 tory of Peru. My learned friend, Dr. Pablo Herrera, formerly 
 Equatorian Minister of Foreign affairs, doubts the reality of this 
 episode, as in his researches among the old archives he has not been 
 able to discover any confirmation of it. But Pedro de Ona, who 
 wrote his poem " El Arauco Domado," a few years after the event is 
 said to have taken place, distinctly speaks of an attempt to set up
 
 244 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 him the crown, and it shall be done in such a violent and 
 indecent manner as not to tempt him very greatly. The 
 whole thing will appear ridiculous, and his refusal to accept 
 will kill the movement, and make it appear in the light of 
 a farce. It will arouse the public mind as to the folly of all 
 such schemes, and thus form a powerful lever to bring on 
 the reaction which we all desire. Do you approve of my 
 plan, Seuorita?" 
 
 " Thoroughly. It does honor to your genius. There 
 is only one modification which I shall propose." 
 
 " I am waiting for your orders, Seuorita." 
 
 " 1 shall lend you my personal help in the matter. You, 
 Senor Pared es, may prepare Juan Castro and his rabble. 
 As to Senor Carrera, leave him to me. I shall vouch for 
 his refusal.'' 
 
 "Never! Never !" exclaimed Paredes, springing to his 
 feet. 
 
 "And why not?" asked Dolores, rising likewise and 
 fastening one of her sternest and most piercing looks on 
 him. 
 
 " Senorita! " urged Paredes. "Have you forgotten that 
 I love you. and that he is my most dangerous and now 
 probably my only rival. No, I could not and would not 
 consent to this. I would have the Revolution succeed 
 rather than let you speak to him on this matter. How could 
 you influence him otherwise than by holding out the in 
 ducement of your love and your hand ? " 
 
 Dolores had listened to him with quiet determination, and 
 without averting her eyes from his. 
 
 " Have you ended, Sefior ? " 
 
 "false kings." Under the circumstances, I have done no violence to 
 historical truth by incorporating the episode referred to in my story. 
 On the whole, I have endeavored to follow the course of historical 
 events as accurately and closely as possible, considering the almost 
 pitiable scarcity of the materials on which I had to rely.
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 245 
 
 " I have ! " 
 
 " Have you nothing further to say, nothing to take 
 back?" 
 
 "Nothing!" 
 
 "Do I understand you to threaten disobedience to the 
 King's orders and disloyalty to the King's cause ? " 
 
 Paredes felt nettled by the commanding tone with which 
 she spoke to him, and ior a moment his eyes flashed, and 
 he met her severe gaze with a look of defiance; but it was 
 only for a moment. He winced under the fierceness of 
 those cold eyes, and said in a deprecating tone : " I have 
 no orders from the King's Majesty. My powers are dis 
 cretionary." 
 
 " Under whose commission do you act, Sefior ? To whom 
 was the King's letter directed?" 
 
 " To your lather, the Marquis." 
 
 "Exactly. And all the powers which you claim you de 
 rive from my lather who has conferred them, and may recall 
 them if the necessities of the King's service should demand 
 it. Do I understand you to deny this, Serior Don Manuel 
 Paredes?" 
 
 "I do not." 
 
 " And who represents my father since he Is gone ? Who 
 stands in his stead by virtue of the power which I have 
 placed in your hands?" 
 
 " It is you, Seiiorita !" 
 
 "And you, Senor, have recognized this fact by coming 
 to me as to all matters concerning your task and authority. 
 Do you admit that?" 
 
 " I do !" said Paredes, who had already weakened under 
 the searching scrutiny of her cross-examination. 
 
 "Then you also admit that I now represent the King's 
 Majesty, and that I am clothed with his commission ; and 
 you may further understand that I am not to be trifled 
 with." 
 
 " But, Doloritas "
 
 246 THE SECRET 01' THE ANDES. 
 
 "Not another word until we have come to a proper 
 understanding. Your plan has my sanction, and I com 
 mand you in the King's name to carry out that part of it 
 which I have assigned to you. Do I understand you to 
 refuse ?" 
 
 "Allow me to say but one word." 
 
 "Do I understand you to refuse? Do you threaten to 
 counteract me in what I deem absolutely necessary for the 
 safety of our cause?" 
 
 "Well, and if I do?" 
 
 " Then I shall revoke your commission at once, and shall 
 so inform my father." 
 
 "And if I do not choose," said Paredes, firing up again, 
 " to submit to the well meant but mistaken ideas of your 
 Ladyship ; if I do not choose to complicate the King's 
 cause with a love intrigue; if, with all due deference to the 
 great intellect and wonderful genius of your Ladyship, I 
 must decline to be guided as to a certain part of ray plan, 
 by your Ladyship's opinion, but insist that this great task 
 must be performed by men " 
 
 "Then I shall denounce you to the Cabildo, and Don 
 Manuel Paredes will have shared the fate of Count Val- 
 verde before sundown to-morrow." 
 
 Paredes turned pale, yet he struggled to maintain his 
 self-possession. " You are joking, Seilorita. The daughter 
 of the Marquis of Solando will not betray the King's cause 
 and the man who has saved her father's life." 
 
 This appeal staggered Dolores, but it was now a trial of 
 will. She had to conquer or be conquered ; and her de 
 cision was made. Drawing her shawl closer around her 
 shoulders, she said: "This interview has terminated, Seiior 
 Paredes. I expect your apology, or your immediate de 
 parture." 
 
 " Doloritas !" began Paredes, appealiugly. 
 
 "Leave me at once!"
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 247 
 
 Paredes stood hesitating. "-No, Seflorita, we can not 
 and must not part in anger." 
 
 "Leave me, Scnor, or I must make you go." 
 
 The struggle drew to a close; the stronger will was in 
 the ascendancy. Dolores turned away. 
 
 "Forgive me," he began, " if I spoke hastily." 
 
 No answer. 
 
 "If it is a crime to love you madly, I am a criminal." 
 
 "Confine yourself to matters concerning the King's 
 service," she resumed, without turning to him. "We are 
 not discussing love. Do you acquiesce in my view of what 
 shall be done?" 
 
 A pause. 
 
 "Have the kindness to answer my question. It is the 
 last I shall ask." 
 
 "I am your slave, Dolores, even if you sacrifice and re 
 ject me." 
 
 "Your answer is in the affirmative?" she inquired, turn 
 ing around. 
 
 "It is!" 
 
 " Your hand, Don Manuel ! Let us forgive and forget." 
 
 " Forget ?" he said, bitterly ; " forget that the services by 
 which I hoped to secure your possession should be but 
 the cause of my losing you forever?" 
 
 "Don Manuel, as you have spoken like a reasonable be 
 ing again, I shall be frank with you. I do not love Julio 
 de Carrera." 
 
 "The Virgin be praised! God bless you for those 
 words !" 
 
 " I do not love him, and never shall." 
 
 "And will not give him cause to believe that you love 
 him?" 
 
 "I have told you that I do not love him. The rest you 
 must leave to me." 
 
 " But you will never belong to him ?" 
 
 "Can you not be satisfied with what I have told you?"
 
 248 TH'E SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " Oh, it is but a straw to a drowning man." 
 
 "And will you never learn patience, Seuor Paredes? 
 Let us first attend to the King's interests and to my 
 father's business. There will be a time for everything. 
 Let us not waste the precious moments now, when the fate 
 of the Colony is trembling in the balance. Go, and per 
 form your part of the task, and 1 shall perform mine. Go, 
 now, Don Manuel, and if I do not send a messenger to you 
 before ten o'clock to-night, telling you to stop, let the mine 
 be sprung to-morrow. And now, go. Good night, my 
 friend." 
 
 Paredes kissed her hand, and slowly turned to go. 
 Dolores had followed, him a step or two. Before he had 
 reached the door he turned back again. Their eyes met. 
 They both glanced at Dona Catita, who, by this time, was 
 reall} r asleep; and again their eyes met, and a moment 
 afterward they were locked in each other's embrace, and 
 hung upon each other's lips. 
 
 " Go, now," whispered Dolores, pushing him away. 
 "Go ! You know enough, and now you must go." 
 
 Paredes went; but before he had left the room she Chiled 
 him back. 
 
 "Don Manuel," she asked, "tell me the truth, it my 
 brother severely wounded?" 
 
 Paredes hesitated. 
 
 "Answer me!" 
 
 "Yes, Senorita, he is severely wounded." 
 
 " Is my brother dead ?" 
 
 He made no reply. 
 
 " Tell me truth. My brother is dead?" 
 
 " He is dead." 
 
 " Leave me 1"
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 249 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE TURNING POINT. 
 
 FOR several minutes Dolores stood motionless in the 
 middle of the room. A world of thoughts flashed through 
 her brain; but her eyes remained without a tear. The 
 bullet that hud laid her brother low had changed her posi 
 tion in life completely. She was now the only child of the 
 great and wealthy Marquis of Solando. No longer a de 
 pendent on a brother's bounty, she had become an heiress 
 whose hand would be a prize coveted by the noblest houses 
 of Peru. She could give it to the man of her choice, be 
 he never so poor, or she might exchange it for a rank and 
 station higher than her own. That insignificant life which 
 stood between her and greatness had been taken away. 
 The boldest dreams of her ambition might now be real 
 ized. Did she think of the sufferings of a grief-stricken 
 father? Did she calculate the terrible effect this dread 
 ful news would produce on the waning health of her 
 mother? Who can look into a woman's heart and 
 fathom its hidden depths? Had she loved her brother? 
 Was there room for anything but self in that cold heart 
 which, a few minutes ago, had beaten against the breast 
 of Paredes ? Did she love even Paredes, or was her affec 
 tion for him but an appetite, a wild passion which, to 
 please herself, she yearned to gratify? Did she picture to 
 herself the wild charge of young Sanchez, and the reeling 
 form of her brother as he fell bleeding from his steed, and 
 perished with a bullet in his breast, under the hoofs of 
 maddened horses? Or was it her own future which en 
 grossed her thoughts, as she stood silent and motionless in
 
 250 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 the center of that large and elegant room, the scene of so 
 many of her social triumphs? 
 
 At last she turned around and moved toward the door. 
 Cautiously she opened it, and looked out. There was no 
 body in the hall. " Guambra ! " she exclaimed. " Guam- 
 bra ! " No answer. She passed along the corridor, and 
 found her little Indian maid cowering on the floor, with 
 her head on her knees, and her shawl over her head, fast 
 asleep. It was now nearly dark. Dolores woke the 
 drowsy child, and commanded her to bring lights, and 
 to send up JRaimnndo, the white steward of the mansion. 
 
 " Kaimundo ! " she whispered to him. " Go to the house 
 of Don Julio de Carrera, and see whether he has returned 
 from Puembo. If not, wait until he comes, and tell him he 
 would confer a great favor on me, by coming here at once. 
 Tell him that I wish to see him, on a matter of the utmost 
 importance. But be quick, and do not let any of our In 
 dians know what you are about." 
 
 Slowly and with apparent calmness, but full of inward 
 impatience and agitation, she paced the room while she 
 awaited the return of her messenger. He did not stay long. 
 The Senor de Carrera had just returned, but he regretted 
 that he was not in a fit state to present himself to her 
 Ladyship. Overwhelmed with grief and fatigue, and la 
 boring under a serious indisposition, owing to a fall with 
 his horse, he was unable to leave the house this evening, 
 but he would hasten to pay his respects to her Ladyship 
 early after breakfast to-morrow morning. 
 
 Dolores bit her lips, and returned to the sala. She would 
 see that man at her feet yet, and then her revenge would 
 come. Her resolution was taken at once. There must be 
 no to-morrow at a crisis like this. If he would not or could 
 not come to her, she must go to him. 
 
 "Aunt Catita! " she said, laying her hand on that lady, 
 who awoke with a start.
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 251 
 
 " How you have frightened me, child ! What is the mat 
 ter? Is your visitor gone? " 
 
 " Yes, Auntie, he is gone, and we must go, too." 
 " Go to bed, you mean. It is very early, and I want to 
 finish this book to-night." 
 
 " Put it away, Auntie. I must ask you to help me do a 
 very improper thing; but there is no help for it." 
 " I do not understand you, child. What is it?" 
 " You must dress yourself, and go out with me." 
 " Go where ? " 
 
 " To a young gentleman's house." 
 " 1 hope you are in your right mind, Dolores." 
 'Perfectly! And if I could tell you all my reasons, you 
 would agree with me that we must go. It is on father's 
 business. Come, Auntie, and while we dress, I sLall 
 tell you as much of it as I can, without betraying fa 
 ther's secrets." 
 
 Carrera was in his bedroom. His horse had fallen with 
 him while crossing a deep ravine on his return from 
 Puembo, and he felt shattered physically, morally, and 
 mentally. And this was the reason why he had, although 
 very reluctantly, postponed his visit to Dolores, although 
 his heart had leaped with secret joy when he received her 
 message. 
 
 Garrera felt that it was probably a great mistake, not to 
 have dragged himself to the Solando mansion, in spite of 
 his pl)3 7 sical ailments; but the words were out of his 
 mouth before he had reflected. Dolores would be offended. 
 He would have to make a desperate apology in the morn 
 ing. Perhaps he should, after all, rise from his couch and 
 go there at once? But would she expect, and would she 
 receive him, after his thoughtless refusal? 
 
 He was still weighing this matter, when Mariano entered 
 the room in great agitation, and announced that two 
 masked ladies had come to the house, and demanded to
 
 252 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 see the Caballero. They were waiting in the reception- 
 room. Two masked ladies? Who could they be? He 
 never dreamed that Dolores could be one of them. It 
 must be Toa! There could be no doubt of it. But how 
 should he meet her? What should he say to her? If it 
 was Toa, he felt he was lost. He had pledged his love to 
 her, and she had come to hold him to his word. Once 
 again under the charm of her presence, he would riot be 
 able to break with her at once. He would have to tem 
 porize. And yet he had vowed to his dying uncle that he 
 would renounce her. What an embarrassing situation ! 
 Why had she come ? Was it not the height of boldness and 
 impropriety thus to intrude upon his privacy? And yet, 
 lifter what had passed between them, how could he tell her 
 that he loved her no longer? 
 
 Racked by these perplexing doubts he made hasty 
 toilette, and betook himself to his reception-room. The 
 two masked ladies stood at the table in the center of the 
 room. Carrera felt reassured and yet puzzled as he beheld 
 them. Neither of the two resembled Toa in figure; yet 
 'who could they be? Where was his memory? Had he 
 forgoiten his visions in Mama Uticu's cottage? 
 
 The taller of the two ladies pointed to his servant, 
 Mariano, who stood in the door awaiting orders. " Leave 
 us, Mariano ! " said his master. Mariano obeyed and closed 
 the door behind him. 
 
 The lady then removed her mask and to Carrera's in 
 finite surprise and astonishment, uncovered the beautiful 
 face of Dolores Solando. 
 
 " Seflorita Dolores ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes, Don Julio. As you would not or could not leave 
 the house to-night, I had to be guilty of this great impro 
 priety and indelicate intrusion for which I ask your par 
 don. But what I have to say to your Grace admits of no 
 delay. To-morrow it would be too late, and so I have 
 come to-night to warn you, perhaps to save you."
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 253 
 
 Ctirrera had not yet recovered from his surprise, and 
 did not know what to answer. Dolores led the way to one 
 of the window-embrasures, while Aunt Catita placed a 
 chair against the hall-door, and sat down, turning her 
 back on her niece and Julio. The latter handed Dolores a 
 chair which she declined. 
 
 " Thank you," she began, " I shall stand. I shall not 
 occupy your time any longer than absolutely necessary. 
 Do you know what the morrow will have in store for 
 you?" 
 
 "No, Senorita. I arrived but a little while ago, and 
 nobody has been here to see me." 
 
 "It is well ! And as you are still in ignorance of what 
 will happen, I shall inform you. You are to be proclaimed 
 King to-morrow, and are expected to marry Toa Duchicela, 
 the Indian Princess, as your Queen." 
 
 "By the Holy Virgin, Seuorita, it is impossible." 
 
 " I know what I say. My information is reliable, as 
 you will find for yourself before twenty-four hours have 
 elapsed. Now, Senor Don Julio, I do not know which side 
 you have taken in this contest, although from your inti 
 macy with Roberto Sanchez, and from the fact that the 
 crown is to -be offered to you, I presume that you have 
 sympathized and perhaps co-operated with the men of the 
 Cabildo. I am equally ignorant of the exact nature of your 
 relations to Toa Duchicela. There was a time when I 
 thought I knew the object of your affections, but that time 
 has passed, and I shall not refer to it." 
 
 "And why should it be past, Doloritas?" interposed 
 Carrera, endeavoring to seize her hand, which she with 
 drew. 
 
 " Do not interrupt me. I have not come to speak of love 
 or to humble myself to one who has taken pains to show 
 me his indifference. I am not an Indian princess, and 
 have no treasures and no kingdoms to bestow. I know 
 you have made love to Toa Duchicela. You are a man,
 
 254 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 and men are changeable, and claim the right to transfer 
 their affections from one woman to another. Yet I desire 
 to prove to you that the change of your heart has not 
 aifected the friendship which I have always entertained for 
 you, and which I entertain for you even now. For this 
 reason I have come to warn you. There was no time to 
 be lost. To-morrow it would have been too late. Give 
 her your love. Marry her if you choose. But do not 
 sacrifice j-ourself, your career, your life, by espousing the 
 lost cause of the rebellion." 
 
 "Listen, Senorita!" 
 
 "No, listen to me! I shall divulge secrets to you which 
 you must not breathe. I put my own life into your hands, 
 but I trust to youx honor as a cavalier. You will not be 
 tray one that has risked her reputation, and perhaps her 
 life, to save }*ou." 
 
 "How could you believe" 
 
 " I do not fear it. I should not be here if I did. But 
 listen ! This rebellion must fail. It is doomed to defeat, 
 and those who participate in it sincerely will die on the 
 scaffold. Its leaders will betray it. The King's friends 
 now control it. The commander of its armed forces, Don 
 Pedro Guzman, is secretly on the King's side. He will 
 never move unless it be in the interest of the King. The 
 loudest advocates of resistance are secretly with us. There 
 are members of the Cabildo, who, while co-operating with 
 the insurgents, are in communication with Arana. I could 
 name them to you if it were necessary. But no matter ! 
 There are, no doubt, many who are sincere in the position 
 they have taken. I pity them, for they are betrayed and 
 ruined. The very words they utter to their most confiden 
 tial friends will be brought up in evidence against them. 
 And now, Senor Don Julio, could you but for a moment 
 harbor the belief that, under these circumstances, the cause 
 of the insurrection can succeed ?" 
 
 "I do not, Senorita!"
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 255 
 
 " And you will not sacrifice yourself by espousing it?" 
 
 " Am I not already sacrificed ? Have I not compromised 
 myself by the speech I made on the day of Bel lido's assas 
 sination? They say that I gave the word for the attack 
 on the Palace, and they say that King Philip never for 
 gives." 
 
 "Leave that to me, Don Julio. My father stands high 
 in the confidence of Arana, and is in communication with 
 the Viceroy at Lima and the Court at Madrid. He will 
 have ample power to protect you, and I. Dolores Solando, 
 tell you that no hair on your head shall be harmed. And 
 even without my aid you will have a splendid opportunity 
 to redeem yourself. To-morrow they will offer you a 
 crown." 
 
 "It is impossible, Senorita. Who would be so insane as 
 to do that? And why should 1 be singled out as the 
 victim ?" 
 
 "You will not accept, then ?" 
 
 "Accept! Do you think I am out of my right mind?" 
 
 " Do 3 T ou give your word of honor that you will refuse?" 
 
 "I do!" 
 
 "And that you will take no part in this hair-brained 
 rebellion?" 
 
 "Oh, Dolores! Do I dream or am I waking? I can 
 hardly trust my senses. Is it reality that you care so 
 much for me?" 
 
 " Do not ask me, Don Julio. Let my presence answer 
 your questions. I have your word," she added, extending 
 her hand, which he seized and covered with kisses. 
 
 "You love me, Dolores?" 
 
 She said nothing, but looked at him affectionately 
 
 " Oh, speak the word ! You love me, Doloritus." 
 
 "Enough! I must be hence. Aunt Catita will grow 
 impatient." 
 
 "No! No! I will not let you go," he said, seizing both
 
 256 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 her hands, "until you have spoken the word which will 
 give me life or death." 
 
 "Think of your Indian Princess," she answered with a 
 roguish smile, "you fickle, faithless man." 
 
 "Be generous, be magnanimous, be yourself, Dolores. 
 I may have been bewitched by her wiles and by her 
 strange power; but I never loved her. You are my first 
 and only love. I knew not how intensely I loved you, 
 until you came to me to-night." 
 
 "Let me go, Don Julio! I must not add another im- 
 propriet}' to those which 1 have already committed. Please 
 let me go, Julio. There is a time for every thing. We 
 shall talk of love hereafter. I must go now." 
 
 "But you shall not go, life of my soul. Not now! 
 Tarry but a minute, and tell me that I may hope and live 
 for you." 
 
 "How sillj T you are," she replied, with a faint show of 
 resistance. " Let my conduct answer your questions. 
 And now I have said enough." 
 
 " The angels of heaven will bless you, Dolores. And will 
 you be mine?" 
 
 " Will yon never cease asking?" 
 
 " Only this one question. I shall not ask another. Will 
 you be mine, Dolores?" 
 
 "I must go!" And she started to go; but it was to be 
 intercepted by his arms and pressed to his heart and cov 
 ered with burning kisses which she did not return. 
 "You will be mine, love?" 
 
 " I may be yours," she whispered, tearing herself awu} r , 
 " but on condition that you let me go at once." Then 
 turning back, she said, with a look which drove him wild 
 with joy : " Good night, Julio !" 
 
 And down stairs he accompanied the ladies, who had re 
 sumed their masks, and would have escorted them home 
 had they not positively declined it. Kaimundo waited for 
 them with an escort of servants, and the next moment
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 257 
 
 they had disappeared in the darkness. And the vision in 
 Mama Eucu's cottage bad not jet returned to Carrera's 
 memory. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE BLAST. 
 
 Can-era was now fully satisfied of the hopelessness of 
 the rebellion, and the thought struck him that it was his 
 duty to warn his friend, Roberto Sanchez, and to save him 
 if it was not too late. He concluded to lenve Quito in 
 seai-ch of the hot-headed enthusiast, and to travel on until 
 he had found him. With this determination he arose early 
 on the morning following the visit of Dolores, and ordered 
 Mariano to make the necessary preparations, and to accom 
 pany him on the journey. But Spanish America in those 
 days did not differ from the Spanish America of to-day. 
 It takes so long to make preparations for traveling, as to 
 bear out the Spanish proverb, " To get away from the inn 
 is half the journey." In spite of all the impatience of 
 Carrera, the day was far advanced before everything was 
 in readiness. And now he would go out to learn the latest 
 news, and to ascertain the probable whereabouts of his 
 young friend. He would also take leave of Dolores, to whom 
 he desired to prove, by his expedition, that he intended to 
 bezealousin the King'scause. As to the contemplated hair- 
 brained offer of a crown to himself, if such an offer was to 
 be made, he would forestall it by a few words with old Ol- 
 mos, or Sanchez, the father, whose death he bad not yet 
 learned. And Toa ! should he see her? No ; how could 
 he meet her? In what light would he now appear before 
 her ? It must be confessed that his dread of such a meet 
 ing had contributed somewhat to his resolution to leave the 
 city. He would return the sum she had advanced to him,
 
 258 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 as soon as he came into full possession of bis inheritance. 
 He endeavored to persuade himself that she had bewitched 
 him, and that the potion which Mama Ilucu had given 
 him was an elixir of , love, the effects of which, as he felt 
 confident, had fully worn away. It seemed impossible to 
 him, as he now felt, that Toa's wiles could have ensnared 
 him, had he remained in undisturbed possession of his 
 sober senses. But now the spell was broken, and he real 
 ized the full danger of the delusion under which he had 
 labored. He stood in the doorway down stairs, giving his 
 last orders to Mariano, when his attention was arrested by 
 a wild tumult in the street. A disorderly multitude, en 
 tirely composed of men of the lower and lowest orders, 
 came marching down from the Plaza, rending the air with 
 wild acclamations. As they caught sight of him, they 
 broke into enthusiastic vivas! and hurried toward his 
 house, filling the street completely, and crowding into his 
 doorway and paleo. 
 
 " Viva el gran Senor de Carrera ! Long live our King! 
 Long live our Shyris, Carrera and Duchicela !" 
 
 Dolores was right, then. He had doubted it until this 
 moment. 
 
 '' What are your wishes, my friends?'' he inquired with 
 a smiling face and a palpitating heart. He had not ex 
 pected that the offer of a crown would be made to him by 
 a mob. He had prepared himself for an argument with 
 the revolutionary leaders, but this demonstration was a 
 terrible surprise. 
 
 " Long live the first gentleman of Quito, who shall rule 
 over this Kingdom and save us from our enemies," shouted 
 one ; and repeated vivas followed this announcement. 
 
 " I do not understand you, ray friends," said Carrera. 
 retreating toward the staircase, as the mob crowded around 
 him. " Have the goodness to stand back, and let some one 
 explain your wishes." 
 
 "Castro will speak for as!" exclaimed several voices.
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 259 
 
 "That I will, with your Highness' permission!" said 
 Castro, as he elbowed himself through the crowd, and, hat 
 in hand, presented himself to Carrera. 
 
 " I wish you would, Don Juan," rejoined Carrera meekly, 
 "for I do not understand the meaning of these acclama 
 tions." 
 
 " The people, most excellent Senor ! " began Castro, 
 " want a King. We want a leader to protect us, to save us 
 from our enemies. The Alcabala-men are murdering our 
 friends. They have murdered the good Sanchez, as they 
 assassinated Bellido. The troops of Arana are moving on 
 the Capital. They will murder us all. Our leaders are 
 divided in their councils. There are too many of them to 
 agree. We must have one head to direct and command. 
 King Philip has forfeited his rights by destroying our 
 fueros and taking away our privileges. We are Americans 
 and not chapetones. We want an American to rule over us 
 and be a nation by ourselves. In this crisis the people 
 look to your Excellenc}', the most magnanimous and the 
 most beloved caballero of Quito. Your Excellency shall be 
 our King and the husband of Toa Duchicela, the Shyri 
 Queen, and we will defend your Majesties with the last 
 drop of our blood. Will we not? " 
 
 " Yes ! Yes ! " shouted the multitude. " Long live their 
 Majesties! " 
 
 " But listen, friends ! " said Carrera, " I am greatly be 
 holden to you for your kindness and good opinion and feel 
 highly flattered by your confidence, but I regret the mode 
 and cause of its expression." 
 
 "No! No! No!" 
 
 " Let me speak, my friends ! I am a young man, untried 
 and inexperienced in affairs of state, to which I never paid 
 much attention. You should not come to me with your 
 wishes or grievances ; but you should present them to the 
 Cabildo, where they will be properly considered and judi 
 ciously acted upon. You should know, my friends, that I
 
 260 THE SECRET OP TOE ANDES. 
 
 am powerless to do anything for you. It is the Cabildo 
 that lias the disposal of your armed forces and the general 
 direction of your affairs." 
 
 " The Cabildo will approve of our selection," rejoined 
 Castro, " if your Excellency will but consent." 
 
 "Yes! Yes !" shouted those near by, while those that 
 were in the rear crowded forward more and mon?, until 
 Carrera's position became exceedingly uncomfortable and 
 embarrassing. Some of the men had even taken positions 
 on the staircase, thus cutting off his retreat. 
 
 " Were you sent here by the Cabildo, my friends 1 " in 
 quired Carrera. 
 
 " It is all the same, most excellent Senor ! " replied Cas 
 tro. " The Cabildo but awaits your Excellency's decision." 
 
 " But do you bring me any message fi*om the Cabildo ? " 
 
 " I vouch for its concurrence and approbation," answered 
 Castro, pompously. 
 
 "I do not ask for any concurrence or approbation," re 
 sumed Carrera, hesitating to utter the word which, in all 
 probability, would turn this fierce mob against him, " all 
 1 ask is this, that in so grave -a matter as your future wel 
 fare, you should consult with those who have the power to 
 be of service to you." 
 
 " We shall defer to your Highness' opinion," replied Cas 
 tro? " We shall escort your Excellency to the Cabildo and 
 have the proclamation made from the balcony of the 
 building." 
 
 " On to the Cabildo ! " shouted several voices. " Let us 
 carry our King on our shoulders ! " And before Carrera 
 could say a word, he was seized by strong hands and placed 
 on the shoulders of two stalwart men. 
 
 And now the critical moment had arrived. 
 
 " Not one step further, my friends ! " exclaimed the 
 young man, who had turned deathly pale. " It must not, 
 it can not be ! "
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 261 
 
 "What can not be ?" demanded Castro, changing his 
 manner and tone. 
 
 "I can not be your King. If I have your confidence 
 and your affection, I beg you to desist from this visionary 
 scheme and let mo go." And with these words he at 
 tempted to break from the men who held 'him ; but it was 
 in vain. 
 
 " But your Excellency must accept/' whispered Castro. 
 " We have risked our lives Cor your Excellency ; and you 
 can not, you shall not abandon us." 
 
 "But, my dear friend," remonstrated Carrera, "do you 
 not realize that such a wild undertaking could never suc 
 ceed ?" 
 
 "Let him down," said Castro to the men who carried 
 Carrera, while the mob were pressing around, vociferating 
 and gesticulating, and then, placing his hands on his vic 
 tim's shoulders, he whispered to him: "It is death to you 
 to refuse. You must accept or die." And as he stared 
 at him ferociously, the dream in Mama Rucu's cottage sud 
 denly came back to Carrcra's mind. Yes, those were the 
 dreadful eyes that had stared at him in his dream. His 
 heart sank. Now he understood the meaning of that 
 dream. He knew that a dreadful ordeal was before him, 
 anil ho prayed to God and the Virgin to protect him. 
 
 ''Juan Castro," he said, "are you a Christian?" . 
 
 " That is not the question now," replied the ruffian, still 
 in a whisper. "You have to decide on the spot whether 
 you will sacrifice us or 3 T ourself. Consent, and you shall be 
 safe. .Refuse, and your life will not be worth a maravedi. 
 Be quick about it." 
 
 " Santa Maria, Mother of God ! I commend myself to 
 thy care." 
 
 " You are a traitor, then, to the cause of the people?" 
 resumed Casti-o, in a loud and angry voice. 
 
 "I am no traitor, Juan Castro. lam your friend and
 
 2G2 THE SECRET OF 1 HE ANDES. 
 
 the friend of the people, a devout Christian, and a loyal 
 subject to the King of Spain !" 
 
 "Hear it, men of Quito! Hear it!" shouted Castro, 
 with a stentorian voice, "this man, for whom we were 
 about to lay down our lives, rejects the honors which we 
 have proffered him. He declares that he is a loyal subject 
 to King Alcabala, the murderer of Bellido and Sanchez. 
 He will not aid the cause of his native city and country. 
 "What shall we do with him ?" 
 
 "Accept, Sofior de Carrera! Accept! Accept!" ex 
 claimed some of the men. "Do not abandon us in the 
 hour of need. A King alone can save us, and you shall 
 be our King." 
 
 "But will you not give me time to consider?" entreated 
 Carrera. " This proposition has been a perfect surprise to 
 me. I can not accept it without previous reflection. Give 
 me a short time, at least, to consider." And his eyes 
 glided over the sea of heads that surged around him, in 
 the vain expection of relief or rescue from somewhere. 
 But he saw nothing but the turbulent mob of his assail 
 ants. There was a number of armed soldiers among them, 
 but they seemed to be in sympathy with the rabble. 
 
 " You can not escape from us that way, Senor Don 
 Julio de Carrera," rejoined Castro. " Your decision must 
 be made now." 
 
 " I do not intend to escape. Let me return to my house " 
 they had him out on the street by this time " and you 
 can go in with me and guard all its doors and windows. I 
 pledge you my word of honor that I shall not attempt to 
 escape." 
 
 "Time is too precious, Senor," said Castro. " Arana is 
 marching upon Quito, and not a moment must be lost." 
 
 "Take off your hands, man," replied Carrera, vainly 
 seeking to release himself. " Is this the manner in which 
 3'ou would treat your King?" 
 
 " But you refuse to be cur King."
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 263 
 
 " I must !" exclaimed the young man, who had now re 
 signed himself to the inevitable, and determined to try the 
 effect of sternness. " Your proceeding is treasonable and 
 sacrilegious. Unhand me, 1 say, and stand back!" 
 
 With these words he freed himself from the hold of 
 Casti-o, and attempted to draw his sword. But it was in 
 vain. He was at once seized and disarmed by half a 
 dozen powerful men, and again found himself in the iron 
 grip of Castro. 
 
 "Men of Quito " yelled the latter, "this traitor would 
 draw his sword against us. He would strike down the 
 people who came to offer him a crown." 
 
 " Kill him ! Kill him !" clamored those near by, and the 
 dreadful cry was taken up by those in the rear. 
 
 " I have not- harmed any one of you I have always 
 wished you well," remonstrated Carrera, but his voice was 
 drowned bythe tumult. 
 
 At this moment an arriero, with a drove of donkeys and 
 mules, endeavored to pass the next intersection of the 
 street, but found himself stopped by the multitude. 
 
 " Let us put him on an ass, and make a Carnival-King of 
 him, if he will not be a real King." 
 
 " Yes ! Yes ! And he shall run the gauntlet, too." 
 
 " Up with him ! Tie him to the ass. That's the steed 
 for him." 
 
 In an instant his doublet was torn from him. His vest 
 and shirt were next pulled off his back and torn into 
 shreds, and he was hustled forward to the corner. The 
 Arriero attempted to turn back his animals, but the mob 
 seized one of the donkeys, cut the ropes by which its load 
 was fastened, and then pulled the animal through the 
 crowd toward Carrera. Some of the men disentangled the 
 ropes from the load of boxes on the ground, and shouted : 
 "Now, let us tie him on the ass;" which was no sooner 
 said than done. 
 
 " There is a crown for him !" said another, snatching a
 
 261 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 hat from a poor Indian's head, and slamming it on Car- 
 rera's. 
 
 " And now for switches ! Let us pay him his ixryalty." 
 The procession moved on, mocking its unfortunate vic 
 tim, yelling, sneering, and cursing. Some threw mud, 
 others threw stones at him ; others belabored his bare back 
 with canes and switches. A garden was reached, inclosed 
 with an aloe hedge. The mob at once broke into the in- 
 closure, and cut down the tough, long-bladed leaves, which, 
 as the reader knows, end in spines. With these blades 
 they struck him unmercifully. The skin of his back 
 broke in a few seconds, and the blood spurted forth 
 and covered those around him. In a few minutes 
 Carrera's back was an unsightly mass of raw flesh and 
 blood, with pieces of lacerated skin hanging down from it. 
 And still the procession moved on, and the hooting, yell 
 ing, and cursing continued. No rescue came. No help 
 from anywhere. The shopkeepers had closed their tiendas 
 at the approach of the tumultuous mob. The citizens had 
 shut and barred their doors and windows, for fear of viol 
 ence to themselves or their families. 
 
 At last the procession had reached the suburbs, and ap 
 proached the steep banks of the Machangara, in the rear 
 of the Nunnery of Santa Clara. Carrera had lost his con 
 sciousness, and, apparently lifeless, hung from the ass. The 
 mob had exhausted its fury, and some of the men had be 
 come ashamed of their work, and were anxious to get 
 away from it. Others had dropped off, and the crowd had 
 considerably diminished when it came to a halt. Castro, 
 too, who was sure of his victim's death, had disappeared. 
 As soon as the mob found itself without its leader it evinced 
 an anxiety to stop. 
 
 " He is dead !" said one of them. 
 
 " Let us drop him in the river!" 
 
 "No; drop him right here, by the garden wall," said
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 265 
 
 another. " It is over with him. Let us go back to the city, 
 and see what has happened." 
 
 u Come along !" shouted another, who, breathless from 
 running, had just joined the crowd. " The people are clam 
 oring for the surrender of the President of the Audience. 
 He is to be dispatched next. There is work to be done ! 
 Come along." 
 
 " Cut down this dead traitor ! Cut him down !" 
 
 It was done. The ropes with which Carrera was tied 
 were cut, and heavily, without a sign of life, he fell to the 
 ground, and lay there, bleeding and motionless. 
 
 When consciousness returned to him, he found himself 
 lying in a pool of blood. He attempted to raise himself 
 but this effort gave him a terrible pain in the back, and 
 brought him down again. A second attempt was followed 
 by the same result. The pain was so intense that it threw 
 him into a "swoon. When he came to again, he tried, 
 without moving, to ascertain where he was. His head 
 rested on the base of a garden wall. As far as he could 
 see without turning, it was the place he had beheld in his 
 first vision in Mama Eucu's cottage. That vision now 
 came back to him with terrible distinctness. He could not 
 descry any human- being as far as his eye could reach. All 
 was lonely and lifeless around him. Was his situation a 
 reality, or another vision? If it had not been for the pain 
 that racked him he would have believed that he was dream 
 ing. By attentively scanning the features of the locality 
 before him, he came to the conclusion that he must be near 
 the Quebrada of San Diego, and that the garden wall above 
 him must belong to the Nunnery of Santa Clara. 
 
 At last he heard voices, female voices. Two ladies, fol 
 lowed by four or five male servants, were coming toward 
 him, apparently in great trepidation. They moved cau 
 tiously, yet hurriedly, constantly looking backward. A 
 man now passed him, but took little or no notice of him.
 
 266 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 The man rushed forwurd to meet the two ladies. " Your 
 Ladyships can now enter safely," he said. " The Mother 
 Superior has ordered the door to be kept open so that your 
 Ladyships can slip in. But be quick, for the love of the 
 Virgin ! The demons of hell are let loose. They have 
 sacked our house, and they are now before the Cabildo- 
 building, clamoring for the lives of the President and the 
 Auditors." 
 
 " Is there nobody in the street below, or in the Plaza of 
 Santa Clara?" asked one of the ladies, reluctant to venture 
 forward. 
 
 " The Plaza of Santa Clara is deserted ; not a soul is to be 
 seen there now. But God knows how it will be five minutes 
 hence. Your Ladyships have no time to lose." 
 
 " Let us make haste, then." said the other lady, and Car- 
 rera recognized the voice of Dolores. " But what is that, 
 there on the ground across our way?" she asked pointing 
 to Carrera. 
 
 " Some man who has been murdered or badly wounded 
 during the day ; he will not trouble your Ladyships. Your 
 Ladyships must pass him without looking at him. The 
 sight might sicken your Ladyships." 
 
 And now the group had come up to the helpless man. 
 Both the women averted their faces as they passed him. 
 Aunt Catita even covered her eyes with her handkerchief, 
 and, clasping the arm of Dolores, shrank away as far from 
 the bloody sight, as the narrowness of the pathway allowed. 
 Carrera now realized that this was his chance of salvation. 
 If she would but look at him! But no ! she passed him 
 with averted eyes. Unmindful of the excruciating pain 
 produced by the effort which, to his present condition, was 
 almost superhuman, he raised himself on his elbow, and 
 summoning the last remnants of his vital strength, he 
 broke into the agonizing and despairing shriek: "Dol 
 ores!" and then fell back heavily, and fainted away. 
 
 " The man must know me," said Dolores, as they hurried
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 267 
 
 on to reach the door of the Convent in safety. "He has 
 called me by name. His voice, too, is not unfamiliar. I 
 wonder who it may be?" 
 
 "Hurry on, Doloritas, for Heaven's sake," said Aunt 
 Catita ; " let us get under shelter as fast as we can." And 
 on they rushed until, almost out of breath, they had reached 
 the Convent door, where they were waited for by the 
 Mother Superior and some of her nuns, and overwhelmed 
 with sympathetic caresses. 
 
 "Your mother is awaiting you with feverish anxiety," 
 said the Superior. " You must see her at once. Your ser 
 vants will stay with our own. We may need them all." 
 
 The ladies now rushed to the apartments fitted up for the 
 Marchioness, whom the news of her son's sad death had not 
 yet reached. Nobody in the Convent seemed to know of it, 
 and Dolores deemed it most prudent to keep it to herself 
 for the present. She would also ask the Superior to keep 
 it from the Marchioness as long as possible. It was difficult 
 enough to allay the present excitement of the old lady, who 
 was lamenting the destruction of her property, and the 
 absense of her son and husband. 
 
 It was not until about fifteen minutes had elapsed from 
 the time Dolores and Catita had entered the sheltering 
 walls of Santa Clara, that Aunt Catita remembered the 
 wounded or dying man outside. A consultation followed, 
 whether anything could be done for him, and whether it 
 would be safe and prudent to attempt it. At last the Su 
 perior concluded that if no crowds were visible in the Plaza 
 or in the adjoining streets, she would send out two men 
 with a stretcher to bring him in. The Plaza and neigh 
 boring streets were still deserted, and so the men were sent 
 out. They returned without the wounded man. They had 
 easily found the place where he had lain. It was still 
 marked by a large pool of blood ; but the man was gone. 
 There was no trace of him far or near.
 
 268 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 THE riotous day had given way to a noisy and tumultous 
 night. At about nine o'clock three men on horseback, fully 
 armed and equipped for a journey, halted before the Convent 
 of Santa Clara, and one of them dismounted and rang the 
 bell. It was Manuel Paredes. The servant at the door 
 opened the wicket and demanded to know his business. 
 
 " 3 wish to see the Seiiorita Dolores Solando." 
 
 "It is too late," answered the servant; '-it is against the 
 rules of the Convent to admit visitors at this hour." 
 
 "But I must see the Seiiorita on business of the utmost 
 importance to herself and her father. If you will let me 
 see the Mother Superior, 1 can satisfy her that my business 
 admits of no delay." 
 
 ''My orders are peremptory." 
 
 "But these are extraordinary times. Human lives 
 are at stake. The Seiiorita Dolores is not a member of 
 your order, and I know the Mother Superior will allow 
 an exception to be made in a case of such urgency." 
 
 After long delays and protracted consultations inside, the 
 door was finally opened and Paredes invited to enter. 
 Telling his companions to ride ahead slowly, as he would 
 soon overtake them, he led his horse into the convent court, 
 and after tying him to a post, followed the janitress into 
 the reception-room, where Dolores and her aunt awaited 
 him, behind a double lattice-work of wooden bars, which 
 separated that part of the room to which visitors were ad 
 mitted from the part reserved for the jnmates. A dim 
 candle burned on a table near the door, leaving the ladies
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 269 
 
 ess. \ Pi 
 
 their faces, but he heard the voice oiT Dolores asking him 
 to be seated. 
 
 "I come to take leave, Senorita," he said, "and to re 
 ceive your orders. I must be off this very minute." 
 
 " Y"ou alarm me, Don Manuel," said Dolores. "I hope 
 nothing has happened to render your stay unsafe." 
 
 "Not at all. I leave on a mission which will soon be 
 accomplished. I expect to be back within a week to place 
 myself at the feet of your Ladyship." 
 
 ; ' And where are you going to ?" 
 
 " To the camp of Arana, with messages from the Eoyal 
 Audience and the Cabildo. I shall see your Father, the 
 Marquis, and shall take to him any letters or messages your 
 Ladyships may wish-to send." 
 
 " You are just in time, Don Manuel. I have written a 
 long letter to him. AuntCatita! Will you have the kind 
 ness to bring it to me. It is on my table, and," she added, 
 in an undertone, " stay away, or stay outside as long as you 
 can, without attracting attention." 
 
 "And now what has happened, my dear friend?'' asked 
 Dolores, as soon as they were alone. "What a fearful 
 tragedy your plan has led to !" 
 
 " But it has succeeded. The scheme of the conspirators 
 is dead. There will be no more plotting lor a false king, 
 unless unforeseen occurrences should change the situation. 
 The reaction has set in. The party of action are still fierce 
 and vow great things, but they have been foiled most skill 
 fully in every respect, and the King's servants will soon be 
 restored to power." 
 
 " But what of Carrera? I shudder when I think of his 
 fate." 
 
 " Ah, then you love him still ! Even dead he will be in 
 my way." 
 
 ' ; Is he dead ? For heaven's sake say no, Senor Paredes l
 
 270 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 His death would be our work, and the Holy Yirgin knows 
 I did not intend it." 
 
 " I do not know whether he is dead or alive. His body 
 has not been found. The city has been searched in eveiy 
 direction. The most diligent inquiries have been made 
 during the day, but with no result. Nobody has seen the 
 body. Nobody knows what has become of it." 
 
 " It is dreadful, my friend. It is dreadful, doubly dread 
 ful because I suspect that your insane love for me has 
 directed the blows that laid him low." 
 
 u I swear to you, Sefiorita, that I am innocent, and that 
 I did not foresee, did not even dream of such a result. But 
 the rabble of Quito is blood-thirsty and cruel, and when 
 once aroused it seems impossible to control it. Yet, if in 
 the King's service sacrifices become necessary or unavoid 
 able, such sacrifices must be made. If I had to do this 
 thing over again, I should not stop or hesitate even if I 
 knew the lives of a thousand Carreras had to be sacrificed. 
 But time presses, Senorita. Let us not waste it in vain 
 regrets. What is past is past, and what is done can not 
 be undone. I have news to tell you. Are you ready to 
 hear it?" 
 
 " Proceed !" 
 
 " Your house has been taken possession of by the officers 
 and men whom Olmos has brought from Ibarra and Coto- 
 cachi. They will do a great deal of damage, but that can 
 not be helped now, and your father will have to be in 
 demnified out of the estates of the guilty. Do you think 
 they will find papers or documents which might com 
 promise any of the King's friends?" 
 
 " Indeed, not, Senor Paredes. Proceed ! " 
 
 " The mob, after having left Carrera for dead, reassem 
 bled in the Great Square, and demanded the lives of the 
 President and the Auditors. But in this they were thwarted. 
 The Audience was allowed to issue an order to Arana, com 
 manding him to return to Guayaquil, and to remain there
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 271 
 
 until the whole question can be referred back to the Vice 
 roy and the Court at Madrid, in order to effect a compro 
 mise, if possible. The President and the Auditors are to 
 be held as hostages for the fulfillment of this order, and I, 
 being considered one of the most trustworthy partisans of 
 the Cabildo, am to deliver the order in person to the Royal 
 Commander." 
 
 " Very good ! He will, of course, disregard it." 
 " If his forces are strong enough, he will. If not, prudence 
 would dictate that he should comply with it, apparently. 
 Once with Arana and your father, I think I shall be able to 
 suggest a plan of action which will accomplish our objects 
 with the least possible loss of time." 
 
 " And did this arrangement satisfy the populace? " 
 " With the distinct assurance that the Auditors shall die, 
 if Arana refuses to withdraw to Guayaquil, it was easy to 
 pacify the mob. If Arana disregards the order, means of 
 escape to a sanctuary will be furnished to the Ministers. I 
 have put everything in splendid working order. You will 
 never have cause to be ashamed of your protege, Senorita. 
 There is but one difficulty in the way. Roberto Sanchez 
 has asked for reinforcements. He has sent message after 
 message, asking, demanding, begging, storming for troops. 
 He declares that if the Quito troops had been moved four 
 weeks ago, Arana would now be in the hands of the Ca 
 bildo, and old Sanchez's life would have been spared. The 
 young man's courage and success thus far have won him. 
 the hearts of the people, and the Cabildo, seconding the 
 popular demand, have ordered troops to be sent to him for 
 active operations, in case Arana should refuse to with 
 draw." 
 
 " These troops will not be sent, really ? " 
 " Yes, Sefiorita, it must be done. We must make a show 
 of sending troops to the seat of war, if we do not want to 
 betray ourselves. But these troops will be under the com 
 mand of Juan de Londono, who is with us. He will leave
 
 272 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 Quito to-morrow with a small force ; but it will take him a 
 long time to get to Ambato, and he will never reach the 
 place where young Sanchez wants him. If Arana disre- 
 gai'ds the orders of the Audience, Guzman de Leon is to 
 follow Londono with our whole force. But there is no 
 danger of that. Guzman has played his part admirably 
 and he will play it on as long as necessary." 
 
 "And Toa with her Indians?" 
 
 " The failure of the scheme to set up a psendo King, with 
 the ambitious Toa as his Queen, will disgust the Indians 
 with the cause of the Cabildo. Our friends have wearied 
 them with endless negotiations and arguments, with prom 
 ises which we never intended to keep, and with demands 
 for gold, which they are not inclined or able to gratify. 
 No, Senorita, no danger threatens us now. We are on the 
 high road to an easy victory. The only remaining diffi 
 culty is that unmanageable young man, Roberto Sanchez, 
 and he is far away, where he can do no harm. I leave 
 everything in a most satisfactory condition, and regret noth 
 ing but the necessity of having to be away from you.." 
 
 " My thoughts and best wishes will be with you, Don 
 Manuel." 
 
 " And your love, too, Dolores? " 
 
 " And my love, too." 
 
 " Then I am to hope, at last, that w-hen all our difficul 
 ties are over, }~ou will follow me to the altar." 
 
 " No, Don Manuel, for your own sake, I must not marry 
 you." 
 
 " Dolores, what do you mean?" 
 
 "Let me speak frankly, Manuel Paredes, and you will 
 see how much I love you. Yes, Manuel, I love you, more 
 than I even loved my husband, because 1 respect and ad 
 mire you as I admired no man before. You are a man, 
 Manuel Paredes. There is none like you in this Kingdom. 
 You have saved my father, you have saved and protected
 
 BOOK IV. TBE REACTION. 273 
 
 me, and j'ou will save the King's cause. Both love and 
 gratitude draw me to you." 
 
 " And yet you refuse to marry me ' 
 
 " Listen ! You have no rivals. The Count is dead. 
 Carrera is dead. But you, Manuel Paredes, shall live. 
 Know, then, that 1 am under a fearful spell, which, it seems, 
 can not be broken. Do you believe in the predictions of 
 Mama Rucu? Did she not predict the death of Count 
 Valverde in your presence ? You heard her curse, and you 
 know how dreadfully it was fulfilled ?" 
 
 " I do not understand you, Dolores." 
 
 " You shall, presently. I am cursed with one of her pre 
 dictions. There is death in my hand when given in mar 
 riage. There is death even in my thought of marriage. 
 That was her prophecy. Now consider how it was ful 
 filled. 1 disbelieved and defied her prediction, and was 
 married. "In less than a year the ghastly, bleeding corpse 
 of my husband was carried into my father's house. I 
 thought of marrying Count Valverde. I can confess it to 
 you now. I did not love him, but the thought of exchang 
 ing the dullness of our provincial life for the gayeties and 
 splendors of the court of Spain, had tempted me strongly. 
 You know the result. Count Valverde is dead. There is 
 death, then, even in my thought of marriage. And not a 
 natural death. No ! That Indian fiend has predicted a 
 a bloody, violent, cruel death to those whom I should marry 
 or even wish or intend to marry. And now Carrera ! Be 
 fore I learned to love and admire you, Manuel Paredes, I 
 had thought of Carrera as a possible husband, and behold 
 his terrible end. Can you reproach me, then, for not 
 wishing to sacrifice you by giving you my hand in mar 
 riage, or even thinking of you as a husband ? No, Manuel 
 Paredes, I love you ; and because I love you I want you to 
 live and prosper. Your heart I accept. I love you too 
 much to refuse it. Your hand I must refuse." 
 
 At this moment, Aunt Catita returned with the letter
 
 274 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 Dolores had prepared for her father. "Quick For heav 
 en's sake to your mother ?" she exclaimed. " Thi-ough the 
 stupidity of one of the maids, who had become unmindful 
 of our injunctions, she has heard of the death of her son 
 and fainted away." 
 
 Before Paredes had left the Convent, the Marchioness of 
 Solando had breathed her last, and Don Manuel had be 
 come the bearer of sad news for his great friend and pat 
 ron in the camp of the Royalists. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IN THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 SEVERAL weeks had elapsed since the events narrated in 
 the preceding chapters. 
 
 Arana had thought himself too weak to undertake the 
 march on Quito at once, which would also have involved 
 an immediate engagement with Roberto Sanchez, who had 
 recruited his band with men drawn from Ambato, Mocha, 
 and Riobamba, where he had seized the royal treasuries 
 and levied heavy contributions on the estates and families 
 of the colonists, who had joined the Royal Commissioner. 
 Under these circumstances, the latter deemed it prudent to 
 affect compliance with the mock-order of the Audience, and 
 to withdraw his forces to the other side of the Cordillera, 
 there to await the reinforcements which were coming to 
 him from Cuenca, Loja, and the coast. Sanchez followed 
 him with the little army of his own creation, under orders 
 from the Cabildo, carefully to watch the movements of the 
 Royal Commissioner, and to hold himself ready to strike 
 at the first hostile demonstrations ; but, if no such demon 
 strations were made, to respect the armistice concluded 
 through the intercession of the Quito Audience until the final
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 275 
 
 determination of the Viceroy should be known. The fiery 
 Sanchez chafed under the restraints imposed by these orders, 
 which he considered fatal to the Revolutionarj' cause ; but 
 in view of his own youth and inexperience, he did not dare 
 to counteract commands upon which older and wiser heads 
 had agreed. 
 
 The wily Arana, however, did not tax the impatience of 
 his youthful antagonist too long. Reinforced by fresh 
 levies, and relieved from his most pressing embamissments 
 by the opportune arrival of a vessel with supplies from 
 Peru, the old fox suddenly broke away from Sanchez, and 
 unmindful of the armistice, pressed on toward -the Cordil 
 lera, which he prepared to repass by a side road, whereas 
 Sanchez had expected his advance along the main road 
 (camino real), on which he had fortified some of the most 
 difficult mountain passes against the approach of the en 
 emy. 
 
 Under these circumstances, left by himself in the heart 
 of the mountains, and in danger of being cut off from his 
 communication with Quito, if Arana succeeded in reaching 
 Riobamba, Sanchez concluded to dash back into the table 
 lands, and thence, by a forced march, to reascend the Cor 
 dillera and to intercept the Royal Commissioner in the 
 mountain passes before he had fully completed, his ar 
 duous and difficult descent into the plains. If Sanchez 
 could strike Arana in the wilderness, he would be at 
 the mercy of the rebel mountaineers, who, availing them 
 selves of the roughness of the wretched roads, the nar 
 rowness of the defiles, and the steepness of the preci 
 pices, might, by a lucky or skillful use of opportunities, 
 decide the fate of the campaign without the aid of the 
 sluggards at Quito. The plan was brilliant and prom 
 ising, but its success entirely depended on the celerity of 
 its execution. Unfortunately, however, the elements con 
 spired against the youthful hero. Local rains, uncommon 
 at this season of the year, made the roads so slippery that
 
 276 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 his men and horses could move along only with great diffi 
 culty and slowness. Thus two da}*s were lost, while every 
 moment was precious. The passage of the last ridge,' 
 which ordinarily might have been accomplished in a few 
 hours, took him nearly a day, and compelled him to take 
 a short rest in one of those romantic villages, hidden 
 in the folds of the Andean mountains, while he sent 
 scouts on fresh horses, seized for the occasion, to JRiobamba 
 and its neighborhood, to ascertain the whereabouts of 
 Arana. 
 
 It was a cold, cloudless, and beautiful night one of 
 those weird summer nights under the equator, when the 
 snowy dome of Mt. Chimborazo stands forth in bold relief 
 against the deep dark-blue, starlit sky. Roberto Sanchez, 
 covered with a heavy woolen poncho, stood on the veranda 
 of the only habitable dwelling in the village, the house of 
 the local Alcalde, whispering words of gallantry into the 
 not unwilling ear of the Alcalde's daughter, who stood 
 leaning against one of the pillars of the veranda with her 
 eyes turned to the bright stars above them, while one of 
 her hands heedlessly rested in Roberto's. 
 
 u Do not say to-morrow or next day, Seuorita," said he, 
 rather sadly. " To-morrow I am off. To-morrow I hope 
 to fight, and there may be no to-morrow for me after 
 that.'' 
 
 " The holy Virgin will protect you, Senor ! You are too 
 young and too handsome to die. I shall give you an am 
 ulet which I have worn ever since I was a child. I have 
 it from my grandfather, who received it from a Moor in 
 Granada, whom he had befriended by great kindness. It 
 will protect you from balls and steel and from witchcraft, 
 but not from water. You must never take it to sea, where 
 its good qualities are perverted into evil and danger." 
 And thus saying, she took the amulet from her neck and 
 hung it around his. 
 
 " Quien vivef" shouted one of the sentinels, and the hoofs
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 277 
 
 of horses were heard resounding through the stillness of 
 the night. 
 
 "_Z/a Patria /" answered a voice familiar to Sanchez. 
 " Who commands here ?" 
 
 "Roberto Sanchez!" 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! It is he whom I must see." 
 
 "Do you bring reinforcements?" inquired the sentinel. 
 
 " No ; but news and dispatches. Where is the comman 
 der? 
 
 " There, at the house of the Alcalde." 
 
 Two horsemen, a caballero and his servant, presently 
 appeared in front of the house and dismounted. In the 
 next moment Roberto Sanchez was locked in the embrace 
 of his young friend, Carlos de Olmos, the son of Senor Ol- 
 mos, of the Cabildo, one of the few trustworthy leaders of 
 the party of action. Senor Olmos had sent his son with 
 important'messages to Sanchez. A minute afterward the 
 whole camp was astir, burning with anxiety to hear the 
 news from Quito. The newcomer followed the young 
 chief into the house, where they were joined by two of 
 Roberto's officers. The one was his lieutenant, the vet 
 eran Pedro Perez, and the other was Roberto's adjutant, 
 Garcia. 
 
 " Will you refresh yourself, amigoT' inquired Sanchez. 
 " We have but little left, but it is at your disposal." 
 
 " Not until I have given you the news," said young Ol 
 mos, taking off his shawl, poncho, sword, and spurs. " I 
 have traveled night and day to find you, and came very 
 near heing captured by the scouts of Arana." 
 
 " By the scouts of Arana?" repeated Sanchez, petrified. 
 " Where do you come from last ?" 
 
 ' From Riobamba." 
 
 "From Riobamba?" continued Sanchez. "Man, what 
 do you mean ? Is Arana on his way to Riobamba?" 
 
 " He arrived there yesterday, and will continue his march 
 to Quito to-morrow morning."
 
 278 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 " Great Heavens ! Then he has escaped from me. and all 
 my hopes are blasted. I expected to head him off as he 
 descended from the mountains. 1 should have crushed 
 him among the cafions. Now it is over ! With my hand 
 ful of men I can not attack him in the plains. How strong 
 is his force supposed to be ?" 
 
 " From what I could learn, it is estimated at from fifteen 
 hundred to two thousand ; but this must be an exaggera 
 tion." 
 
 " Undoubtedly !" said Sanchez. " He could not have 
 passed the Cordillera so swiftly with so large a force. And 
 what has become of our army? Does it still exist, and will it 
 ever move?" 
 
 " You strike the very object of my mission, Roberto," 
 said Olmos. " I have not been sent by the Cabildo. They 
 know nothing of my journey to your camp. My father 
 has sent me. He wants me to tell you that he fears we 
 are betrayed." 
 
 "By all the demons of hell !" shouted old Pedro Perez, 
 while Sanchez listened eagerly, and turning pale. " That 
 accounts for our inability to obtain reinforcements, and for 
 the shameful inactivity of the authorities at Quito." 
 
 " My father fears," continued the young man, " that 
 those to whom the most important commands have been 
 confided are secretly in league with the King's Ministers." 
 
 " And whom does he suspect?" 
 
 " First of all, he suspects the commander-in-chief, Pedro 
 Guzman ; and what father merely suspects is clear as day 
 light to me. Guzman is a traitor, gentlemen, a vile and 
 infamous traitor. He has frittered away our time and re 
 sources without making a move or striking a blow. He 
 has paralyzed our energies, and demoralized our men. He 
 has been playing into the hands of the enemy ever since 
 he assumed the command." 
 
 " Just what I always thought," interrupted Sanchez ;
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 279 
 
 " but why is he left in command ? The scoundrel ! 1 know 
 him, and have always despised him." 
 
 " Because it seems that the party of the Bellidistas. to 
 which your father and mine belonged, has lost its power. 
 Our best men have been sent to the north, to resist an im 
 aginary force from Bogota. The troops whom Londono 
 took south with him to reinforce you, also consisted of good 
 and reliable men. But the men left at Quito are doubtful. 
 A great many, perhaps half of them, may be trustworthy; 
 but the others would side with Guzman and the traitors, 
 rather than with the Cabildo. It is evident that the sol 
 diers have been tampered with." 
 
 Sanchez buried his face in his hands, and exclaimed : 
 "O my father ! My poor father! Was he sacrificed in 
 vain ? " 
 
 " Under these circumstances my father can see but one 
 remedy. He wants you to come to Quito with your whole 
 force, if possible ; if not, with at least fifty resolute men, and 
 to come unannounced and unexpected, and with the aid of 
 the \oyu\ leaders and soldiers, to change matters by a bold 
 coup d' etat. to remove and imprison Guzman and his trait 
 ors, to purge the Cabildo of its vicious elements, and then 
 to push the war vigorously and boldly, and in accordance 
 with the original programme of Bellido and your noble 
 father. In the success of this coup lies our only hope. It' 
 it fails, we are lost and will be delivered to the hangman 
 like sheep at the shambles. Your boldness, your dash, arid 
 the great reputation and popularity you have acquired, 
 eminently qualify you for the task. Will you undertake it? 
 Will you take the responsibility of acting without orders, 
 and in spite of them?" 
 
 Sanchez had raised his head from the table while listen 
 ing to this proposition. The words of young Olmos had 
 given him new life, his eyes sparkled, and every nerve and 
 fiber in his body quivered with excitement, and springing
 
 280 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 from his seat with outstretched arms, he pressed his friend 
 to his bosom. "God bless your noble father!" he ex 
 claimed. "Of course I shall do it, or perish in the at 
 tempt." 
 
 " Santiago ! Santiago! " shouted Perez and Garcia. " On 
 to Quito, and death to the traitors ! " 
 
 "I shall make my preparations immediately. Our 
 horses are too tired to start to-night ; but we must march 
 before daybreak." 
 
 "There is one thing to be considered," said Olmos. 
 "Arana is now between you and Quito, and you will have 
 to pass him on the way." 
 
 " He advances along the main road," said Sanchez. " We 
 shall take to the mountains above or to the vallej^s below 
 him. Arana will have to lose a day or two at Ambato ; 
 but we shall lose no time anywhere. By all the Saints of 
 Heaven, I swear that we shall reach Quito before him ! " 
 
 A tumult outside arrested the conversation. Some of 
 Roberto's scouts had returned. Thej 7 had met friends of 
 the Cabildo, fresh from Riobamba with important news. 
 Arana had detached two hundred horse under the com 
 mand of a Spanish veteran, by the name of Juan del Puente, 
 to set out in search of Sanchez' force, and to intercept and 
 to capture him. 
 
 " We shall present our compliments to Sefior del 
 Puente ! " said Sanchez after the scouts had been discharged. 
 " If we can, we must give him the slip, because we must 
 save our men for more important work. But if we can not, 
 we shall try American bravery against Spanish brutality."
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 281 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE DESCENT. 
 
 "Do not forget," said the Alcalde's daughter, early next 
 morning, as .Roberto had snatched a farewell kiss from her 
 not unwilling lips, "beware of water while you wear this 
 amulet. From every other danger it will protect you." 
 
 And now the march began, and onward they toiled, up 
 hill and down hill, over mountains and through ravines, 
 over slippery and narrow paths with yawning precipices on 
 one side, and perpendicular rocks on the other ; now through 
 defiles hardly wide enough for one man to pass, then again 
 over the dreary paramo with its monotonous and oppressive 
 desolation. At last they saw the plain of Riobamba at 
 their feet, with its towns and villages almost hidden among 
 the willow trees, and surrounded by fields of green 
 clover. 
 
 But the troop of Sanchez had no time and inclination 
 to scan the scenery which expanded beftn*e them for objects 
 of natural beauty and grandeur. If they strained their 
 eyes and anxiously looked down into the plain, it was to 
 discover the men of Del Puente, who had been sent out 
 against them. 
 
 Before making the final descent which would, for the 
 present, take them away from the sheltering roughness of 
 the mountains, Sanchez ordered a halt, to refresh his men 
 and horses, and to await the return of the scouts whom he 
 had sent ahead. The men had now spread themselves over 
 what the Spaniards call a meseta, a small plateau formed by 
 the protrusion of the mountain, from which they com 
 manded the steep and narrow winding path which led into 
 the plain below. There they disposed of the last of their
 
 282 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 provisions : they were now out of the wilderness, and the 
 fertile country into which they were descending could sup- 
 ~p\y their wants. Here the merry bottle passed from hand 
 to hand. The weary limbs were rested after the long ride. 
 Some that were soon to sleep the eternal sleep were 
 stretched out on the ground and slept as quietly and se 
 curely as in the days of happy childhood. Others forgot, 
 over the dice-box, or a soiled and sticky pack of cards, the 
 danger that was before them. Still others discussed the 
 political outlook, and shrugged their shoulders at the wan 
 ing prospects of the popular cause. There was no lack of 
 doubt and despondency. Blindly they had trusted and 
 followed their leader, as l6ng as success perched on his 
 banners ; but, since they knew that Arana had slipped 
 away from him, and that the enemy was nOw between them 
 and their friends at Quito, their confidence had been 
 shaken, and dark forebodings began to fill their minds. 
 Sanchez felt this as he passed from group to group, and 
 noticed the half-concealed change in the tone, the smile, 
 the laughter, the countenances of the men. The wilder 
 ness of the mountain bound them to him now; but would 
 he be able to hold them together after having descended 
 into the plain ? Not unless the prestige of success could 
 be restored, of which Arana's escape had deprived him. 
 On the restoration of this prestige his own future useful 
 ness seemed to depend. Hence, the conviction grew upon 
 him that he must fight Del Puente instead of giving him 
 the slip, as he had intended. 
 
 "Quien vive!" shouted one of the outposts. 
 
 "A poor Indian and a friend," was the answer given by 
 a man in the Indian garb, with a bundle on his back, who 
 came slowly climbing up the mountain road. 
 
 "Pass on," said the sentinel, who knew that Indians 
 were always welcome and well treated at the camp of 
 Sanchez ; because, contrary to their usual disposition, they 
 volunteered information and furnished provisions. To the
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 283 
 
 Indians all over the country Sanchez had become a supe 
 rior being, by the favor bestowed upon him by Queen Toa, 
 during the bloody night at Quito. 
 
 " I have to speak to the Viracocha who commands these 
 soldiers," said the newcomer. 
 
 " I am the man, my friend. What good news do you 
 bring?" 
 
 " May I speak to your Grace alone ?" 
 
 "Yes, my good man," said Sanchez, taking him aside. 
 
 " Is your Grace the possessor of Queen Toa's silver moon ?" 
 
 " I am, my friend !" answered Sanchez, showing him the 
 trinket which he wore around his neck, " and I am a ser 
 vant of Toa Duchicela, and a friend to your race." 
 
 "The great sun will protect your Grace !" said the In 
 dian, kissing the silver moon. " I have a letter to deliver 
 to your Grace from the Shyri Toa. Here it is !" 
 
 " God bless the Shyri Toa," said Sanchez hastily open 
 ing the letter. It read as follows : 
 
 " SENOR DON EOBERTO SANCHEZ. You are the only true 
 friend I have found among the men of your race the only 
 one who has not deceived and betrayed me. The men of 
 the Cabildo have not kept faith with me, and their cause is 
 no longer my cause. The blood of my people shall not be 
 spilled in vain. You will know by this time that you and 
 your cause have been betrayed by the same men that be 
 trayed me and my children. You have been asked to re 
 turn to Quito, and I know you will come. 1 pray to 
 Pachacamac that for your own sake and for the sake of my 
 cause, you may not come too late. To prevent such a 
 calamity, I have sent my servant, Uma, to you. He knows 
 the country better than any of my subjects. He knows 
 every mountain-pass, and he is familiar with byways that 
 are known only to the Indians. He will show you in case 
 of danger the shortest and the safest routes. His services 
 will prove invaluable. You can trust him as implicity as
 
 284 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 you would trust me. Come as fast as you can and strike 
 without a moment's delay. You shall want nothing dur 
 ing your march that my people can provide. 
 
 " I have but one word more to say, although I need 
 hardly to say it to you. Distrust Manuel Paredes. He 
 pretends great zeal in your cause, but he is as false as the 
 serpent of the forest. I should have killed him long ago, 
 had I not wished him to live in order to avenge my wrongs 
 on one who has~betrayed me worse than all, by making 
 him experience the same sufferings that he has inflicted 
 upon me. 
 
 "Your true and faithful friend, 
 
 " TOA DUCHICELA." 
 
 "In the plain below," resumed Uma with that dignified 
 and unassuming calmness which characterized the old 
 nobility of his race, "about half a league from where this 
 mountain loses itself in the plain, is the great hacienda of 
 San Jose, to which over three hundred Indians belong. 
 The main building is large, and it is surrounded by a 
 number of outhouses. The headquarters of the Spanish 
 commander, Juan del Puente, are now at that hacienda. 
 There he awaits your Grace to attack you as soon as you 
 descend into the plain. He has sent out detachments to 
 observe the two other outlets of this range, and has thus 
 weakened himself to the extent of nearly one-half of his 
 force. Your Grace will have to leave this road. There is 
 a. subterranean ravine about a hundred rods from here 
 which descends from the mountain, and runs through the 
 plain, passing the farm-buildings of San Jose. It is over 
 grown with shrubs and trees; but it is so deep and wide 
 that two men abreast can walk through it. Your whole 
 force can pass it, if you will leave the horses behind under 
 guard. I have hidden chasquis (couriers) in the ravine 
 who will inform the Indians at the hacienda of our coming. 
 They will secure the horses of the unsuspecting Spaniards,
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 285 
 
 while your Grace will fall upon the men. Your Grace can 
 surprise them, and kill them. If your Grace will follow 
 my advice, my head shall vouch for its success." 
 
 " I understand you, Uma. An angel has sent you to me. 
 Is the ravine dry? " 
 
 "It was full of water yesterday, but it is nearly dry 
 now." 
 
 Half an hour afterward the main force of Sanchez was 
 in the ravine. Swiftly they descended into the plain, and 
 cautiously they advanced toward the hacienda. Not a 
 word was spoken as they pressed on. They were com 
 pletely hidden from view. A dense growth of underwood 
 and shrubbery covered the opening of the chasm. At some 
 places the sides of it nearly closed on top, darkening the 
 subterranean passage completely. Such ravines are not 
 unfrequent in the Andes. They arc formed and widened 
 by the heav}* volumes of water which, in consequence of 
 the rains or the melting snows, rush down from the 
 mountains. 
 
 The water had not entirely run out of the ravine. The 
 men had to wade through it, and to stumble over the rocks 
 which filled the bed of the stream. Their advance was 
 necessarily slow. Suddenly it was arrested by the tramp 
 of horses which they heard overhead. It terrified some 
 of the insurgents, and filled them with apprehensions of a 
 betrayal. 
 
 ' What is this? " asked Sanchez of Uma. 
 
 "Let me climb on the shoulders of one of your men, and 
 I shall see," answered the Indian. This was done, and 
 CTina, carefully parting the shrubbery, pushed his head 
 through the opening, and surveyed the plain. 
 
 A minute afterward he descended. " One of the detach 
 ments sent out to watch the other two roads, is returning 
 to the hacienda. You must get them away before you 
 strike." 
 
 'How can I do it?"
 
 286 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 " Yery easily." 
 
 At the suggestion of Uma, Sanchez now sent a command 
 to the men left behind with the horses, slowly to recom 
 mence the ascent of the mountain, but to join Sanchez in 
 the plain as soon as they should see two columns of fire 
 arise, one on each side of the farm buildings of San Jose. 
 
 " For heaven's sake," said Pedro Perez, as he heard this 
 order, "do not do. this. You send away our means of 
 safety and escape. Suppose we are betrayed by this man." 
 
 " No Indian will betray the friend of Toa Duchicela," 
 replied Sanchez. " Those horses are of no use to us, nearer 
 or farther. We could not reach them if we fail." 
 
 Sanchez then, at the dictation of Uma, wrote a letter, 
 with the contents of which we shall become acquainted 
 presently. 
 
 CHAPTEK X. 
 
 THE SURPRISE. 
 
 "THE devil take you!" exclaimed lldefonso Coronel, 
 violently slamming down the dice-box with which he had 
 been playing with his superior officer and patron, Juan del 
 Puente, on the veranda of the farm building of San Jose. 
 "You have taken all my money, as you have stolen the 
 honors from me to which I was entitled." 
 
 "What do you mean, you ungrateful brute?" shouted 
 Juan del Puente," "you are relapsing into one of your 
 crazy spells." 
 
 "All my earnings went into your pocket. You have 
 robbed me of money as well as preferment. Have I not 
 done as much as you? Have I not fought as bravely as 
 you? And now you are put in command of a detachment 
 and what am I ?" 
 
 " lldefonso Coronel, you are a fool ! Have you forgotten
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 287 
 
 how often you won of me ? And even if you lost to-day, 
 whose money have you lost? Who has kept you in money 
 ever since we are in America? Who has given you the 
 chances which you were too stupid to discover for yourself? 
 How often have I saved your worthless life ? And are you 
 not the first officer on my staff? Go to, Ildefonso, I have 
 lost all patience with you. This very night you shall go 
 back to Arana's camp. You had better try your luck 
 among strangers, as you are dissatisfied with your truest 
 comrade and your best friend. Get yourself ready. I shall 
 appoint Rodriguez in your place." 
 
 " Well ! "Well !" said Ildefonso, who always broke down 
 in the midst of his fits of anger, " how beastly you talk. 
 When a fellow has lost as much money as I have, he can 
 not show the temper of a lamb." 
 
 "But you are always abusive to the man to whom you 
 owe your life and what you are now." 
 
 "Do not fall to preaching again. You know I did not 
 mean it. Come ! Give me another chance," and thus 
 saying, he picked up the dice-box and shook it for a fresh 
 throw. 
 
 " Enough ! Here is the money you lost to-day. I do 
 not want it now. You will owe it to me until next pay 
 day, or until we play again. Now, it is time to prepare. 
 In about an hour these rebels will have descended into the 
 plain and we must make our preparations. Eodriguez! 
 Have the horses been fed?" 
 
 "No, Senor Captain! Those devilish Indians are so 
 very slow in bringing in the alfalfa." 
 
 " Take two or three of them and lash the life out of them 
 as a warning to the others, and threaten to kill them all 
 unless they have fodder enough for all the horses in five 
 minutes from now." 
 
 The wild curses of the soldiers, and the piteous shrieks of 
 the Indians, soon announced to Del Puente that his com 
 mand had been fulfilled.
 
 283 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 A few minutes afterward the detachment noticed in the 
 previous chapter rode into the court-yard. Two of the 
 foremost riders had an Indian between them whom they 
 were dragging along. It was Uma. 
 
 "What news do you bring, Antonio?" inquired Del 
 Puente. 
 
 " The rebels are not coming on the road of San Pedro. 
 I soon satisfied myself of that, and, hence, concluded to re 
 turn. On our way back, we saw them encamped on the 
 mountain, right before us. and so we hurried to join you." 
 
 " And what is the matter with this Indian ?" 
 
 " We saw him skulk in the bushes along the road. He 
 first tried to hide himself, and, when he saw that we had 
 noticed him, he sought to run away. His conduct was so 
 suspicious that I ordered him to be seized. While my men 
 were taking him, he put a piece of paper into his month, 
 and endeavored to swallow it, but we choked it out of him. 
 Here it is, Sefior Captain. As I am not a scholar, 1 could 
 not read it." 
 
 " Call the Mayordomo," said Del Puente. " He is right 
 there. He can read." 
 
 The Mayordomo of the hacienda, a Spaniard by birth, 
 took the paper and read it aloud. It contained the follow 
 ing lines : 
 
 " The Spaniards are right in front of me at San Jose. I 
 can not risk an engagement now. I shall reascend the 
 mountain and descend on the La Palma road on the other 
 side. Meet me at the hacienda of Marcos Echerri, which 
 I expect to reach to-night, under cover of darkness, and 
 bring all the provisions you can get. We are entirely des 
 titute and worn out by fatigue. 
 
 " Your friend, 
 
 "EoBERTO SANCHEZ." 
 
 " Good for him ! " shouted Juan del Puente. " We shall 
 get him to-night."
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 289 
 
 "There they go !" exclaimed Ildefonso Coronel, pointing 
 to the mountain. And really a long line of horses, some 
 with and some without riders, were now seen in the dis 
 tance, slowly ascending the narrow serpentine path leading 
 to the summit of the lower range. 
 
 " They will be completely exhausted by the time they 
 get down on the other side," said Del Puente. " Have your 
 horses been fed, Antonio?" 
 
 " Yes ; we drove them into a clover-field while awaiting 
 the arrival of my scouts." 
 
 "Do you know the country?" 
 
 " As well as my own pocket, Senor Captain. I have 
 been stationed at Eiobamba ever since I am in this miser 
 able province." 
 
 " Well, then, push on with your men at once. I shall 
 join you long before the rebels have descended on the 
 other side. -I shall stay here a few hours yet. This thing 
 might be a ruse after all. They might want to get us away 
 from here to get down. We must provide for every 
 contingency. If you meet Ascasubi's detachment, take 
 them along with you. And now be off. Leave this Indian 
 to me." 
 
 Antonio and his troop departed, crossing over a wooden 
 bridge covered with cro^s-staves and gravel, the very ra 
 vine in which the men of Sanchez were hidden. Their 
 hearts leaped with joy when they beheld the success of their 
 stratagem. 
 
 "And now," said Del Puente to one of his subalterns, 
 " send a few scouts up that mountain, and let them be 
 wide awake. In the meantime we shall attend to this In 
 dian. Lift him up here." 
 
 Poor Uma was lifted on the veranda, and, surrounded 
 by soldiers, he stood in well-afteeted trepidation before the 
 Spanish Commander. 
 
 " What is thy name, man ?" 
 
 " Mariano !" replied the Indian.
 
 290 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 " What place dost thou belong to ?" 
 
 " To the village on the other side of the range." 
 
 "Who gave thee this paper?" 
 
 " The Sefior Roberto Sanchez." 
 
 " Dost thou know him ?" 
 
 " I had never seen him before, but the men called 
 him so." 
 
 " To whom wert thou to give the letter ?" 
 
 " To a gentleman at Biobamba, who was to pay me 
 for it," 
 
 " What is his name ?" 
 
 " Aurelio Perez !" 
 
 "Dost thon know him ?" 
 
 " No, Scnor." 
 
 " Where wert thou to find him ?" 
 
 " At the hacienda of La Pal ma, near Riobamba." 
 
 "Dost thou know that it is treason ugainst the King's 
 Majesty to carry such messages?'' 
 
 " I swear by all the Saints of Heaven I did not know 
 what the letter contained !" 
 
 " But ihou knowest that Sanchez is a rebel ?" 
 
 " I had never heard of him before. I have not been out 
 of my native village for five years. I should not have left 
 it now, but he made me go." 
 
 " How ?" 
 
 " He said he would have me whipped to death if I re 
 fused ; and he promised that the Senor Perez would pay 
 me well." 
 
 " It is the greed for money, then, that has made thee a 
 traitor to the King?" 
 
 " Misericordia, Senor ; I knew nothing of the contents 
 of the paper." 
 
 " How many men are there with Sanchez?" 
 
 " From seventy-five to a hundred." 
 
 " Didst thou count them ?"
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 291 
 
 " Xo, Senor. I merely judged so from the quantity of 
 clover which we had to cut for their horses." 
 
 "Are they in good condition?" 
 . " Quite a, number of them complained of sickness, Seflor." 
 
 " Well, that 's about all I care to know. And now to 
 thce, man ! Thou art a traitor to thy King." 
 
 " Mercy. Seilor ! Mercy !" 
 
 "Who is thy master?" 
 
 " The Seflor Alvai*ez." 
 
 " Alvarez of Riobamba ?" 
 
 " Yes, Senor." 
 
 " Well, he is a loyal subject to His Majesty, and for hia 
 sake I shall spare thy miserable life. But, as a warning 
 example to the others, and to keep them from canying 
 treasonable correspondence, thou shalt receive three hun 
 dred lashes, well laid on." 
 
 " Mercy / Senor !" cried Uma, throwing himself on his 
 knees. " 1 did not want to go. I did not want to leave 
 my wife and my little ones. I was compelled to go." 
 
 Xo matter! As soon as the Indians have brought in 
 the fodder, Rodriguez, you will assemble them all in this 
 court-yard, and in presence of the whole gang, have this 
 man tied to a post, and see that he gets his three hundred 
 lashes." 
 
 " For the Virgin's sake, mercy, mercy, Senor !" 
 
 "Take him away!" 
 
 Uma was taken away ; his back was bared and he was 
 tied to a post. Switches were then cut from the rose 
 bushes in the garden, and made ready for their bloody work. 
 Some of the Indian farm-hands were compelled to assist at 
 these preparations. To one of them Uma said, in a lan 
 guage which not even those who were familiar with the 
 Qnichua could understand : " Get on the roof of the house, 
 and as soon as the chasquis announce that the foreigners 
 have passed the quebrada (ravine) of San Marcos, give the 
 signal."
 
 292 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 The quebrada of San Marcos was one of those deep and 
 broad ravines which frequently intersect the Andean plains 
 in the neighborhood of the mountains. Its sides were very 
 steep and it would take considerable time for men, on horse-, 
 back, to descend on one side and reascend to the plain on 
 the other. Uma's object in postponing the attack by the 
 men of Sanchez, was to prevent Antonio's troop from gal 
 loping back to the hacienda as soon as they should hear 
 the firing^ He judged rightly that the reports of musketry 
 would bring them back at once. The distance between 
 the farm and the quebrada of San Marcos was not consid 
 erable. Antonio's troop might return before Sanchez had 
 overpowered Del Puente. But once on the other side of 
 the quebrada of San Marcos, it would take them at least 
 half an hour to repass it. They could not gallop through 
 it ; they would have to descend into the precipice cautiously 
 and slowly on the farther side, and to climb up with diffi 
 culty on the one nearest the hacienda. And in order to 
 gain this time for bis Viracocha friends, the noble Indian 
 submitted his bare back to the cruel torture, and delayed 
 the signal which he was authorized to give. 
 
 The horses were feeding and the Indians were driven 
 into the court-yard. Two negroes, servants to the Span 
 iards negroes always had to act as executioners in those 
 days took their places with Uraa, one on each side. A 
 Spanish soldier stood by to count the lashes. Uma's eyes 
 were fixed steadily on the man on the roof of the building. 
 And now the word of command was given and the negroes 
 began to strike. They struck alternately. The thorns hud 
 been left on the switches and the very first blows lacerated 
 the skin of the victim. "One two three four" went 
 the count. Not a groan or a sigh escaped the lips of the 
 Indian. "Twenty-one twenty-two" counted the sol 
 dier. Uma's eyes were on the roof. Some of the switches 
 broke and had to be changed. The fresh ones always did 
 fresh execution. "Forty!" The blood now flowed freely,
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 293 
 
 and still Uma hung to the ring in the post without swerv 
 ing. His eyes were on the roof. "Eighty!" The man 
 on the roof sat motionless, but his eyes were not on the 
 scene in the courtyard. Intently they scanned the distance 
 faraway. "A hundred!" 
 
 " Take a rest!" commanded the superintending officer. 
 But now the man on thereof began to stir. "Proceed!" 
 One two. At this moment the man on the roof threw 
 up his arms, and, in a loud, ringing voice, which brought 
 the echo back from the mountains, shouted, " Duchicela !" 
 
 "Duchicela!" shouted Uma, dodging the last blow. 
 
 "Duchicela !" shouted every Indian; and in an instant, 
 the Spanish soldier who commanded the execution, lay 
 sprawling in the dust. 
 
 "Duchicela!" repeated the Indians, and in the next sec 
 ond the negroes were torn away from the sufferer and 
 trampled down, and Uma was released, echoing the battle- 
 cry: "Duchicela! Duchicela!" 
 
 The Spaniards were dumbfounded by this unexpected 
 piece of Indian audacity, and would have fallen upon those 
 unarmed creatures with terrible severity, had not another 
 enemy monopolized their attention. One of the Spanish 
 sentinels came running toward the gate of the court-yard, 
 but the report of an arquebus was heard, and he dropped 
 down dead. And now there was another and another, and 
 some of the men of Sanchez rushed through the open 
 gate. 
 
 " To your guns, men !" shrieked Del Puente. '' Secure 
 your horses !" 
 
 " The horses are secured, Senor Del Puente, and you, 
 too," said a voice right behind him. It w r as Eoberto San 
 chez, who, with another party of men, after killing or driv 
 ing away the sentinels, had entered the building through 
 the windows. " You are my prisoner !" 
 
 Eesistance was useless. Both Del Puente and Coronel
 
 294 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 were overpowered and disarmed before they bad recovered 
 from their surprise. 
 
 The struggle inside and outside the building was of short 
 duration. The Spaniards scattered in every direction, and 
 were pursued Toy the men of Sanchez, who had captured 
 and mounted the Spanish horses. And now the Indian 
 carnival of revenge began. The heart-blood of the Span 
 ish prisoners was exacted as the penalty for the blood of 
 Uma. They were dispatched with clubs, hatchets, rakes, 
 shovels, knives, or any other weapons that were in rench. 
 They were literally torn in pieces by the infuriated In 
 dians, whose savage nature, embittered by years of op 
 pression, had been unchained. Before the Eevolutionary 
 commander could stop or even notice this carnage, most of 
 the bloody work had been done. At the same time, two 
 columns of fire arose on each side of the main building, 
 the signal to the men on the mountain, who, soon after 
 ward, were seen redescending the narrow path from which 
 they had disappeared a short while ago. 
 
 'For heaven's sake!" exclaimed Sanchez, as he em 
 braced the bleeding Uma, " what have they done to you?" 
 
 "I am safe, your Grace !" answered the Indian, return 
 ing the affectionate greeting of the young commander. 
 " Do not waste the precious moments on me. Eally your 
 men, for the enemy whom our stratagem has sent away, 
 will soon be upon us." 
 
 " I know, my friend. Let the bugles be sounded, Garcia. 
 We must get ready at once. But, first of all, your wounds 
 shall be attended to." 
 
 "Leave this to the medicine-men of my race," said Uma. 
 "I shall be with your Grace as soon as 1 can be of service 
 again." And^ with these words, he withdrew, calm and 
 dignified, not a muscle of his face betraying the painful- 
 ness of his wounds. 
 
 " And now let us put a guard over these prisoners," said 
 Sanchez to his lieutenant, Perez.
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 295 
 
 " Would it not be bettor to kill them ?" suggested the old 
 man. " A dead enemy can not fight again." 
 
 " Do not think of it, friend Perez. These two men are 
 officers, and will be valuable hostages. Moreover, an ex 
 change of prisoners muy soon become desirable to our side. 
 Let them bring in all the prisoners and have them well se 
 cured and guarded in this building until after the battle." 
 
 The horses of Del Puente's troop were in excellent con 
 dition, but not enough for all the men of Sanchez, and as 
 his own horses could not be on hand in time for the en 
 gagement, the best marksmen were selected for infantry 
 service. It is remarkable by what small numbers in those 
 early Peruvian civil wars battles were fought which de 
 cided the most important contests. 
 
 The men of Sanchez had rallied in front of the farm 
 buildings, when their commander joined them. A wild 
 shout of welcome rent the air the moment they descried 
 him. The gloomy despondency of the forenoon had given 
 way to fresh courage and enthusiasm. The leader whom 
 they had followed had retrieved himself. Again he had 
 grasped success. Again he had won, confirmed, and 
 strengthened their shaken confidence. The Spanish vet 
 eran who had been sent out to capture them, had become 
 their prisoner. It was almost too good to be true. 
 
 "Comrades and countrymen !" said Sanchez, as he rode 
 up to the front. " This is no time for words. This time 
 we took them by surprise. Now we must show them that 
 we can fight. We arc superior to them in numbers. Let 
 us show that we are their superiors in courage. Thus far 
 we have not met with a defeat ; and another victory is 
 within our grasp. Consider that our lives depend upon our 
 success. To-night we shall sup in Kiobamba ! And now 
 1'orward ! ' Duchicela !' shall be the battle-cry. Let us 
 take them as they emerge from the ravine." 
 
 This speech was received with loud acclamations, after 
 which the final dispositions were made. A vanguard was
 
 296 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 sent forward under young Garcia. Sanchez himself led the 
 main force, and Pedro Perez was assigned to the command 
 of the reserve. 
 
 The Revolutionary force had not advanced very far, 
 when the first of Antonio's riders emerged from the great 
 ravine of San Marcos. This gave Sanchez a tremendous 
 advantage. He had the enemy at his mercy. One part of 
 the Royalists was ascending the ravine on the hacienda side, 
 while the others were still descending into the precipice on 
 the other side. The few that were out of the defile had no 
 time to form, before the insurgents were on them.' The 
 Royalists could not withstand the shock. Their rout was 
 complete. 
 
 Before the shades of night had alien, Sanchez with his 
 prisoners was at Riobamba, and held it once more for the 
 cause of the Revolution. But that cause was on the wane. 
 It would have been better for the young commander not 
 to allow his soldiers the luxury of a night's rest tinder the 
 sheltering roofs of a large town. At Riobamba they learned 
 what until now they had but partly known, or, at least, but 
 vaguely apprehended. They were told of the helplessness 
 of the Quito authorities, of their irreparable losses of time, 
 spirit, and substance, of the apparent hopelessness of the 
 popular cause, and of the large numbers and splendid equip 
 ments of Arana's forces. It demoralized and disheartened 
 them, in spite of the brilliant success they had just achieved. 
 When the trumpets called them to the rally of the morn 
 ing, hardly one-half of the victors of yesterday responded 
 to the call. The others had deserted during the night or 
 at early daybreak, or were hiding away in or around Rio 
 bamba. Some had even spurred their horses to overtake 
 Arana, in order to make their submission acceptable by its 
 timeliness, and by the information they could give. Rob 
 erto's heart sank, when he saw how his band had dwindled 
 down. Would he be safe with those who had remained? 
 Would they not attempt to earn a full pardon with golden
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 297 
 
 rewards, b} 7 delivering 'their leader, the arch -traitor, into 
 the hands of the Royal Commander? Such treachery had 
 not been uncommon in the civil wars of Peru. Yet, ho 
 must run this risk. He had no alternative. His timely 
 arrival at Quito, and if it were with a dozen resolute men, 
 was the last hope on which his cause and his life depended. 
 And Arana? Should he turn back on the enemy in his 
 rear and finish him before continuing his march to Quito? 
 This was the course which the Marquis de Solando and 
 other loyalists advised. But the old fox would not listen 
 to it. Quito was the head and the soul of the rebellion. 
 That head he would strike. Sanchez was but a distant 
 limb which could not move or live after the head had fal 
 len. With Quito in Arana's power, the troop of Sanchez 
 would dissolve of itself. Hence, onward the old man 
 pressed unmindful of the young enthusiast in his rear. 
 But Sanchez did not long remain in the rear. While 
 Arana advanced through the table-lands and the valleys, 
 Sanchez climbed over the mountains, endeavoring to pass 
 the Boyalists, so as to reach Quito before them. The latter 
 had the advantage of better roads and populated districts 
 rich in provisions ; but the rebels were guided by Uma 
 and his men, who knew all the byways and recesses of the 
 Cordillera; and while Guzman Ponce, Paredes, Londono, 
 and other traitors lulled themselves into a comfortable be 
 lief that the army of Arana formed a safe barrier between 
 them and the guerrillas of Sanchez, the latter, worn-out 
 and foot-sore, half-starved and half-frozen on the cold 
 mountain-passes and paramos, but undaunted and clinging 
 to their two principal prisoners, Del Puente and Coronel, 
 appeared at the southern gate of Quito. And Arana was 
 still a day's march from the Capital.
 
 298 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 MARIQUITA. 
 
 " What does this noise mean, Mother?" asked Mercedes, 
 while bending lovingly over the cradle of her babe. "Men 
 on horseback were dashing by here, to and fro, shouting 
 and cheering, while you were at church. Some one was 
 hammering at our door, but the girl was out, and I was 
 afraid to open. Besides, I could not have left the child." 
 
 Dona Mariquita who had just entered the room, placed 
 her hands on her daughter's shoulders, gently turned her 
 around and kissed her on the forehead : " He has come 
 back, my child." 
 
 " Oh, Mother ! " exclaimed Mercedes ; and without an 
 other word, threw herself in Dona Mariquita's arms, 
 and wept. 
 
 And again the tramp of horses was heard outside, and 
 the riders shouted: "Viva el Senor Roberto Sanchez! 
 Death to the Audience ! Death to the traitors ! " 
 
 "Have you seen him, Mother?" asked the girl with 
 anxious expectation. 
 
 "No, child, I have not." 
 
 "When did he arrive?" 
 
 " Early this morning, and Santa Maria! wbat a commo 
 tion his arrival has caused. The city is wild with excite 
 ment. They say he has come to kill the Auditors, the 
 commanders, and more than one-half of the members of the 
 Cabildo." 
 
 " Oh, Mother, Mother ! It is false." 
 
 " Still they all believe it. Guzman Ponce de Leon, the 
 commander-in-chief, has fled to the Royal camp. He has 
 taken with him one of the Auditors, the Senor Cabeza de
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 299 
 
 Mcncses. The President and the other Auditors have 
 taken sanctuary in the Church of San Francisco, "which is 
 now surrounded by a mob of fierce and excited men, who 
 vow that nobody shall be allowed to carry food or drink to 
 the unfortunate Ministers. Detachments of soldiers are 
 searching the houses for the suspected. They are seeking 
 Juan de Londono and Manuel Paredes, whom Roberto 
 wants to hang." 
 
 ' Holy Virgin ! Have mercy ! " 
 
 " The .Revolutionists are crazy with enthusiasm over your 
 lover. He is the master of the town now, and does as ho 
 pleases He has disarmed one battalion, and imprisoned 
 over fifty officers and men. They say he will shoot twenty 
 to-morrow, in the Plaza of Santa Clara." 
 
 " O Mother, it can not be ! " 
 
 "He is hurrying troops in every direction. They are 
 fortifying Ml. Panecillo and the bridge near our house. 
 They say that Roberto has dismounted but once since his 
 return. He is in the saddle continually, and sees to every 
 thing himself. The King's friends are terrified, and t;,c 
 Bellidistas have everything their own way again, and 
 swear that the world never saw a man like young Sanchez." 
 
 And what will be the end of these dreadful doings?" 
 
 ' Let us pray to God to have mercy on us all. Be com 
 posed Merceditas, and put your trust in the Virgin. You 
 must be prepared for the worst." 
 
 " Oh my child ! My poor little child ! " 
 
 ' This Revolution can not succeed. Who can prevail 
 against the King of Spain, before whom the monarchs of 
 the world are trembling? Arana is said to be at Macha- 
 
 O 
 
 chi with a large army. He will soon be here, and all re 
 sistance will be in vain. He will take the city." 
 
 " He will take the city, and then ? " 
 
 " And then, my poor Merceditas, that babe of yours will 
 be without a father. It is dreadful, but it can not be other 
 wise and the Virgin will give you strength to bear it.
 
 300 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 You must not forget, Mercedes, that your child will want 
 a mother, when his father is gone." 
 
 Mercedes had slipped from her mother's arms, and lay 
 prostrate and sobbing, at the foot of the cradle. 
 
 " How glad I would be, daughter, if I could give 3*011 
 better consolation ; but I know that the blow must come, 
 and it is my duty to prepare you for it. Be brave, Mor- 
 cedes, and think of your child. Roberto Sanchez has 
 wrought his own destruction, and there is no help for him." 
 
 A knock was heard at the door of the shop below, and 
 still another. "I must go down and see who it is," said 
 Dofia Mariquita, lighting a candle. " Be sensible, Mer- 
 ceditas. Perhaps things may turn out better than you 
 fear; but you must prepare for the worst." 
 
 With these words, Dona Mariquita left the room, and de 
 scended to the shop. The street door was bolted and 
 barred, and before she opened it, she asked : ' Who knocks?" 
 
 " It is I, commadre!" said a male voice. 
 
 " Who is this I? Let me hear your name." 
 
 " Do n't you know me, Dona Mariquita, your compadre, 
 Tomas Jaramillo ? Open the door as quick as you can, for 
 the love of God !" 
 
 " I do not dare to open the door to-night." 
 
 " But you roust let me in, commadre. I am in danger." 
 
 " Then come around to the rear entrance. I shall open 
 the corral door for you." 
 
 This was done. Mariquita led her visitor through the 
 corral and court into the shop, and there they seated them 
 selves by the dim and flickering light of a tallow candle. 
 
 ' : You must let me stay here for a day or two, commadre," 
 said the Mayordomo of Paredes. " I should not know 
 where to go, if you were to refuse me this shelter." 
 
 " But why should you want to hide yourself, Don Tomas ? 
 You have not done anything." 
 
 " But they are after my master ; and, if the}* should take 
 me, they would question me about him. They might put
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 301 
 
 me to the rack to make me tell what I do not know. Upon 
 my soul, commadre, I do not know where my master is. 
 He was warned in the very nick of time. Five minutes 
 later, and he would have been taken. Roberto Sanchez 
 hates him. There is an old grudge between them. I know 
 it, commadre. I have witnessed several of their quarrels. 
 My master would be a dead man now, if Roberto Sanchez 
 had caught him." 
 
 "Por Dios ! What terrible times !" said Dona Mariquita, 
 pouring out a glass of liquor for her visitor. "And who 
 warned him ?" 
 
 "That is the strangest of all the wonderful incidents of 
 this rebellion. The warning came from a quarter where 
 we should have expected the bitterest hostility, rather than 
 an act of kindness. It came from the Indian Queen." 
 
 " You astonish me more and more, Don Tomas. Oh, tell 
 me how it was !" 
 
 " A few moments before the men of Sanchez came dash 
 ing toward our house, an Indian, whom I had never seen, 
 presented himself to my master. It is wonderfully strange !" 
 said Don Tomas, as he paused to sip his liquor. " The In 
 dian talked as if he had been a white man and a nobleman. 
 ' Senor Parcdes ! ' he said, as familiarly as if he had been 
 my master's equal. ' Senor Paredes ! I have come to re 
 turn good for evil. I have come to save your life. 1 am 
 the messenger of Queen Toa. She has just learned you 
 need not know how that Roberto Sanchez, who at this 
 very moment has entered the city, has determined to hang 
 you within thirty minutes after his arrival, and she has 
 sent me to warn you. You must flee at once. There is no 
 time to be lost. Change your apparel. Don the garb of a 
 Mestizo, and leave your house this very instant. The riders 
 of Sanchez will be here in a few minutes.' And, with these 
 words, the strange Indian left us thunderstruck. My mas 
 ter at first refused to believe him. But I hurried him into 
 my room, made him change his clothes, and then we both
 
 302 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 left the house. Before we had reached the next corner, the 
 men of Sanchez were at our door. By all the Saints of 
 Heaven, it was a narrow escape!" 
 
 "And where is your master now?" 
 
 " I do not know. He may still be in the city. He may 
 have taken sanctuary, or he may have gone to Aranu's 
 camp." 
 
 "And what did you do?" 
 
 " Through corrals and gardens and side streets, I made 
 my way to the Recoleta of San Domingo, and there I hid 
 until nightfall. Then I gathered courage and came, here. 
 And now, commadre, we must have a talk. There is a gold 
 piece for you. Take it now for the trouble" I may give you. 
 And here," he added, as he displayed the bright pieces to 
 the glittering and greed}' eyes of Dofia Mariquita, " are two 
 more, which you shall have if you can keep me here in 
 safety until the Royal troops have taken possession of the 
 town. I came here because, of all the houses in Quito, I 
 consider this the safest for me. The rebels will not trouble 
 the house where their chief's sweetheart lives." 
 
 " My dearest compadre" said Dofia Mariquita, with a 
 sudden change of tone, " you have no idea bow glad I am 
 to be of some service to you. You will be perfectly safe 
 here. !Nobod}* shall know that you arc here." 
 
 " You will not tell your daughter, of course ?" 
 
 " Why, Don Tomasito, you do not think I am a lunatic? 
 The girl shall know nothing about you. She would tell 
 Sanchez. She is still madly in love with him, and could 
 not keep any secrets." 
 
 " That is just what I expected, commadre." said Tomas ; 
 " and to show you how much I confide in you, I shall give 
 you the rest of the money now. There ! take it ! There is 
 no spark of distrust in me, and I hope you, too, will trust 
 me. It will be to your interest." 
 
 " God bless you, compadre," answered the woman as she 
 clutched the money. "You are the dearest man, and I
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 303 
 
 should dio rather than betray you. You will be as safe 
 here as in the Bishop's Palace. But, tell me, compadrecito, 
 how do you come by so much money ? You seem to be 
 possessed of a royal fortune." 
 
 " Ah, Doiia Mariquila," said Tomas with a significant 
 wink, " there is money to be made in these troublous times. 
 There is more to be gotten where this came from," he 
 added, jingling other pieces of gold and silver in his pock 
 ets. 
 
 " Of course, }-ou came by it honestly," said the woman. 
 
 " I hope you do not take me for a rogue," exclaimed the 
 Mayordomo with an air of virtuous indignation. " What 
 I have here I made by serving the cause of our master, the 
 King, whom it is my bounden duty to obey. It is God's 
 command that the subject should serve, honor, and obey 
 the King." . 
 
 "Of course he should," assented the woman. "It is a 
 sin and a shame if he does not. Ah, if I were a man !" 
 
 " Why, commadre ?" 
 
 " Well, you are a man, and I hear the gold jingle in your 
 pockets. Would you have gotten it without opportunities, 
 and would you have had these opportunities had you been 
 born a woman ?" 
 
 " Why, commadre, I would give all I have here for the 
 grand opportunity which is within the reach of a woman 
 whom I know. I should have enough to live in affluence 
 for the rest of my days." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" added JVlariquita with eager in 
 tensity. 
 
 " What do I mean, commadre? I mean that some peo 
 ple have eyes and can not see ; that they have ears and 
 can not hear; that they have hands and can not grasp 
 what is within their reach." 
 
 " Explain yourself, compadre, for the love of God !" 
 
 "Do you really require additional explanation, comma- 
 dre? Where is your usual keenness? 1 never found you
 
 304 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 dull before. Can it be possible that you are blind to the 
 glorious opportunity right under your nose?" 
 
 " Wait a moment, compadre" said Dofia Mariquita. " I 
 want to see whether our hand-maiden has come back. She 
 might be listening." 
 
 Doiia Mariquita left the shop, looked around in the court 
 yard, listened at the top of the staircase, and then returned 
 to her visitor, closing the door behind her. 
 
 " Nobody can hear us, compadre. Now tell me what 
 you mean !" 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP. 
 
 On the day after the scenes described in the preceding 
 chapter, the vanguard of Arana appeared in the plain to 
 the south of Quito. The Roj'al scouts dashed up to the 
 very gates of the capital. Sanchez had labored with 
 superhuman exertion, but he had not quite completed his 
 preparations. On the next day, however, he hoped to be 
 ready for an offensive movement, by taking possession of 
 the villages and other commanding positions between 
 Quito and Tambillo, at which latter place the Royal com 
 missioner had temporarily established his headquarters. 
 
 But now nature demanded her rights. Instead of rest 
 ing after the exhaustive fatigues and hardships of his march 
 over inhospitable mountains, and through shelterless soli 
 tudes, Roberto had accomplished herculean tasks in seizing 
 the reins of government, reorganizing the forces of the 
 Cabildo, weeding out those who were suspected of treason 
 able intents, and hastily preparing his reconstructed bat 
 talions for the decisive conflict. He^ labored from the 
 morning of his arrival until the early dawn of the follow 
 ing day. But then his strength gave way. His Lieuten-
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 305 
 
 ant, Pedro Perez, had already succumbed to excessive fa 
 tigue, and was confined to his bed by a fit of utter prostra 
 tion, of which Sanchez took warning. Leaving old Senor 
 Olmos in command, the young hero, accompanied by his 
 aid, Garcia, and a few of his most trusted men, whom he 
 had constituted his body -guard, re-entered his paternal man 
 sion, for the first time since he had left it with his poor 
 father on their way to Ambato and Riobamba. The tears of 
 the iron boy flowed freely as he lay in the trembling arms 
 of his mother, who had watched and waited for him along, 
 weary night, anxiously expecting him every minute, and 
 starting at every footstep in the street, in the hope that it 
 would be that of her darling. 
 
 " But now, Mother, I must sleep. I could give ten years 
 of life for an hour of sleep. Have the kindness, Mother, 
 to see to the comfort of these gentlemen, and let me retire." 
 
 There he lay, locked in the healthy sleep of youth, with 
 an anxious and haggard mother bending over him. He 
 lay undisturbed by her burning tears which trickled down 
 on his sunburnt face, bronzed by the winds and rains of 
 the Paramo. There he lay, undisturbed by the dangers 
 that had gathered around ; undisturbed by the uncertainty 
 of what the next moment would bring. His mother's eye 
 watched over him. The unfortunate lady had lost her hus 
 band ; would her son be spared? Was it possible that this 
 rebellion could succeed ? And what must be the fate of 
 her darling if it failed ? 
 
 Roberto's rest should not be of long duration. Two or 
 three important messages came, which brooked no delay, 
 and thus his sleep was broken repeatedly. Not until after 
 sunrise, he fell into a sleep which might have been refresh 
 ing, had it not been for a terrible dream. He felt himself 
 seized by unseen hands, from which he vainly endeavored 
 to escape. He was pressed to the ground by a tremenduous 
 weight, which soon rendered him incapable of moving his 
 arms or legs. He tried to utter a cry, but his voice failed
 
 30<) THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 him. He could not give forth a sound. When, at last, 
 with an almost superhuman effort, he broke into a groan, 
 he awoke, with the cold perspiration on his forehead, and a 
 heavy, inexplicable sensation of dark forebodings in his 
 heart. 
 
 " Garcia ! Garcia ! Are you awake ?" 
 
 No ; the young man still lay stretched out on the sofa 
 on which he had thrown himself the moment he had en 
 tered the room. There he lay, in the same position into 
 which he had dropped the night before. Sanchez thought 
 it would be cruel to wake him. 
 
 "Sentinel!" 
 
 The door opened, and the sentinel saluted. 
 
 "What time is it?" 
 
 " Nine o'clock." 
 
 " That 's very late. Is there anybody waiting for me ?" 
 
 "Yes, Senor. There is a woman below who wishes to 
 see your Grace. There is also an old Indian, who says 
 that he came by appointment. 
 
 "Yes! Yes !" said the young man, springing from his 
 bed and beginning to dress himself. '-Let him come in." 
 
 It was Cundurazu. He seemed sadl}* changed. Disap 
 pointed hopes had done what age alone would not have ac 
 complished. They had bowed his head and bent his noble 
 form. His step had lost its elasticity, and his eye its 
 wonted luster. He was deeply moved as he returned the 
 cordial embrace with which Eoberto welcomed him. 
 
 " At last you come, my worthy friend. How is the Shyri 
 Toa, and when shall I see her?" 
 
 " Your Grace shall see her after the victory, if we are 
 still to hope for victory. She has gone to Tambillo to de 
 liver the Roj'al Commander into the hands of your Grace." 
 
 " Oh, Prince Cundurazu ! could she really do that V ' 
 
 " She can ! But hold ! No human ear must hear what 
 I shall say to you now. This has been a time of base be 
 trayals, and 1 trust no one but you. The lion s strength
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 307 
 
 is powerless against the serpent's sting. That young man 
 might hear us." 
 
 " He is my aid, and fast asleep." 
 
 " No matter ! Let us step on the balcony, and close the 
 door behind us. Now we are safe. The ear that hears not 
 keeps the mouth closed. Now mark ! Arana is at Tam- 
 billo. His quarters are ut an hacienda, at the foot of a- 
 wild mountain. His men are scattered through and around 
 the village. He has guarded the roads in every direction, 
 but he has not dreamed that the mountain wilderness above 
 him might be fraught with danger. He is lying in wait 
 for the ounces and panthers ; but he has not thought of the 
 condors overhead. There is a large cave in the recesses of 
 the mountain at a short distance from the hacien/ia, acces 
 sible by paths and passes known onty to us. The Shyri 
 Toa will hide in that cave to-night two hundred of the most 
 resolute Indians of Chillogallo and Tarubillo. You must 
 join her there with fift}' picked men after midnight, when 
 the foreigners will have surrendered themselves to sleep 
 and security. We shall steal into the hacienda, kill the 
 sentinels, seize Arana, and carry him away with us. In 
 the meantime, your Grace will dash down from the moun 
 tain with your fifty men, who will seem a host to the panic- 
 stricken, and scatter them in every direction. Then, re 
 turning to the mountain, your Grace will prevent the for 
 eigners from pursuing us, and from rescuing their com 
 mander. They can not follow us into the mountains. We 
 shall bring Arana as a prisoner to Quito. He shalLremain 
 in our custody in yours and mine and the day afterward 
 your Grece will be able to strike a decisive blow at his de 
 moralized and headless army." 
 
 " May heaven reward you for this glorious plan !" said 
 Sanchez, seizing the old man by both hands. "It will, it 
 must succeed." 
 
 " If your Grace will keep it secret secret as the grave.
 
 308 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 Do not breathe it to your most trusted friend. Pick your 
 meji and take them with you, but let them know nothing.'' 
 
 " And when would J have to march ?" 
 
 " It will be dark at seven. Send one-half of your men 
 ahead. Let them leave the city quietly and unobserved. 
 Uma will guide them. An hour later you may follow with 
 the other half. I shall show you the way. It will be a 
 rough and difficult road for your men, but it will lead to 
 victory and salvation. We shall reach the rallying place 
 at one o'clock. If we succeed, you will be King of Quito, 
 and the Shj T ri Toa will be your Queen." 
 
 " Could she love me ; could she really be mine, Prince 
 Cundurazu?" 
 
 " She will belong to the liberator and protector of our 
 race ; and you, Senor Eoberto, shall be the man." 
 
 This was a bright and dazzling vision. The young man's 
 heart filled with all the happiness of glorious hope. His 
 bosom swelled, his eyes dilated, his pulse beat faster. 
 Glory, power, a throne, love, riches, momentarily arose be 
 fore him in the distance, where, until lately, his mind's eye 
 had beheld but the dreadful outlines of a scaffold. It was 
 the last and brightest vision of his life's short dream, and 
 the cruel awakening was near. 
 
 " There is but one difficulty," he said, after a pause. " I 
 fear to leave the city. Treason lurks in every corner, and 
 the traitors are kept down by the dread only with which I 
 have filled them. If I go, there is danger of a reaction. 
 The Royalists are incessantly tampering with my men. If, 
 owing to my absence, I must relhx my present unceasing 
 watchfulness, they might rise against us and overthrow the 
 Cabildo." 
 
 'Tour absence can be kept a secret for one night. To 
 morrow morning our Indian chasquis will bring the glori 
 ous news to Quito that your Grace has captured the Eo}-al 
 Commander. The news of such a success will forever
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 309 
 
 baffle the wiles of the traitors, and a few hours later your 
 Grace will return in triumph with your prisoner." 
 
 " You are right, Prince Cundurazu. It is my last, my 
 best, and perhaps my only chance. I am in the hands of 
 God, and His will be done. I have much to do during the 
 day ; but, thank God, Arana gives us breathing time. He 
 might have crushed me if he had moved on me yesterday. 
 To-morrow I shall be in good condition, if he lets me alone 
 to-day." 
 
 " He will, your Grace. From what our spies have 
 learned, there is no danger of a forward movement for 
 several days." 
 
 " Then we may hope for the best. I shall send the men 
 whom Uma is to guide to San Diego at seven o'clock. 
 Between half-past eight and nine o'clock 1 shall meet you 
 with my men at Sari Roquc. Will that do ?" 
 
 " It will.'* 1 
 
 " Then God.be with you, my dearest friend." 
 
 " May the Great Sun protect your Grace. But hold ! 
 This ring the Shyri Toa sends to the great Virococha, as a 
 token of her friendship and alliance. She hopes to greet 
 the wearer to-night." 
 
 " To-night I shall throw myself at the feet of Her 
 Majesty." 
 
 Thus the interview terminated. In the meantime, the 
 house was astir with detachment-commanders, members of 
 the Cabildo, and others, who had come to receive orders, or 
 consult with the young chief. The court-yard below 
 resounded with the tramp of horses, and the stairs and cor 
 ridors with the clanking of spurs, swords, and arquebuses. 
 Sanchez dispatched his visitors with the most obliging po 
 liteness, and yet cutting them short and going to the very 
 core of each man's business with the utmost rapidity. His 
 breakfast had been brought, superintended by his mother, 
 and he partook of it while listening to reports or giving 
 orders.
 
 1310 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 "The two companies from Otnbalo arc reported doubt 
 ful," said old Seiior Olrnos. " Thus far, the}* seemed to bo 
 well disposed, but during the last few hours they have 
 given cause for suspicion." 
 
 " That must be looked into," answered Roberto. " Keep 
 them at the barracks. Do not put them in charge of an 
 important position, until we are sure of their loyalty. Dis 
 solve them, if necessary. Where are they now?" 
 
 " I believe that they were to be sent to the bridge of 
 Machangara to-day." 
 
 14 That must not be done. You must have this order 
 countermanded, Seiior Olmos. Let one company of the 
 Pichinchas and one of the Ambatos be sent to the bridge 
 to-night. You will not neglect this, my fatherly friend?" 
 
 "Most surely not!" 
 
 "And the Ministers?" 
 
 "Are still in the sanctuary, while the populace are 
 guarding all the entrances to the church." 
 
 And now the business of his visitors having been dis 
 patched, Sanchez descended into the court-yard to mount 
 his horse, in order to make a lour of inspection. His foot 
 was in the stirrup when a hand touched his arm. Turn 
 ing around he beheld Dona Mariquita, the mother of 
 Mercedes. 
 
 " God be with you. Dofia Mariquita," he said, giving her 
 the customary embrace. "I hope you arc well. And how 
 is Merceditas?" 
 
 "How can you ask, Scuor Don Roberto? The poor 
 child is dy ing to see your Grace, and in despair at your 
 indifference." 
 
 " Let her take heart, Dofia Mariquita," answered Roberto, 
 turning to mount; "in a few days we shall see her, if we 
 live. Give her my love in the meantime." 
 
 "But, Sefior, will you not let me speak to you an in 
 stant?"
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 311 
 
 "Every moment is precious, Dofia Mariquita. You can 
 not imagine in what hurry I am." 
 
 " But only one second, for the love of God, and not before 
 nil these Cnballeros." 
 
 "Well, well, we must be obliging to ladies!" he said, 
 leading her to one of the servants' room in the court. "I 
 suppose you are in need of money, Dona Mariquita. I 
 should have been more thoughtful of your needs yester- 
 day." 
 
 " Money. Don Hoberto, money !" exclaimed the old 
 woman, with well-feigned indignation. "As poor and 
 helpless us I am, I should say, keep your money, if you 
 were to send me back without a crumb of comfort to that 
 poor and forlorn creature, who has been sitting up and 
 waiting for you ever since your arrival in the city. Not a 
 wink did she sleep during the last long night, not an in 
 stant did her wasting form press her bed. There she was, 
 ever restless, ever moving about, now listening at the win 
 dow, now rusliing down to the door, imagining that she 
 had heard your step. ' Surely he will come, Mother,' she 
 said. ' I know he will come to see his child, at least, if he 
 does not care for its mother.' " 
 
 " The Virgin bless my poor Merceditas, but I can not 
 spare a moment now. This is a struggle for life. I fight 
 with the noose around my neck, Doiia Mariquita, and I 
 must strain every nerve to save those that are intrusted to 
 my charge. On the day after to-morrow I shall come to 
 your house." 
 
 "But can you not come just for a minute this evening, 
 when your most pressing business is dispatched. They 
 say you are always in the saddle, riding from place to 
 place, and inspecting every post and position. They have 
 been fortifying the bridge near our house. Will you not 
 come to inspect it, and then just alight for a moment to 
 save the life of that grief-worn woman, the mother of your 
 child?"
 
 312 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " The Bridge of Machangara ! You arc right. Yes, 
 Doiia Mariquita, 1 shall inspect the bridge during the 
 course of the day. And now let me go !" 
 
 "But do not kill the poor child by keeping her in this 
 dreadful uncertainty. She will be restless and trembling 
 all day. Every horse will startle, every noise will frighten 
 her. Fix an hour when you can come, and if possible let 
 it be in the evening, for the poor girl suffers most during 
 the night." 
 
 "Let us see," said Sanchez, musing, "seven, eight, nine. 
 Well, tell her I shall be with her shortly before eight 
 o'clock, but only for a few minutes. And now I must be 
 gone." 
 
 The next moment he was on his horse, and dashed out 
 of the doorway, followed by his aids and guards. And 
 Dona Mariquita looked after him. It was a long, stony 
 look, and even after he was out of her sight, she still stood 
 gazing at the doorway through which he had disappeared. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE BRIDGE OF MACHANGARA. 
 
 It was nearly eight o'clock in the evening, when Sanchez, 
 followed by about thirty mounted men, rode to the bridge 
 of Machangara. 
 
 " Quien vive?" shouted the first picket he met, at a dis 
 tance of about two squares from the bridge. 
 
 "El Cabildol" 
 
 "Who comes?" 
 
 " The Commander-in-Chief 1 " 
 
 The sentinel saluted. 
 
 "What company dost thou belong to, comrade?" asked 
 Sanchez, checking his horse.
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 313 
 
 " First Otabalo, my General ! " 
 
 "And when were you sent here?" 
 
 " This afternoon ! " 
 
 "Strange!" said Eoberto to young Olmos, riding on at 
 a slow pace, and halting again as soon as he was out of the 
 sentinel's hearing. " Very strange ! could your father have 
 forgotten to countermand the order to send this company 
 to the bridge ? It was at his own suggestion that I de 
 cided not to send them here. There are doubts as to their 
 loyalty, and this post is too important to be intrusted to 
 any but our most reliable men." 
 
 " My father did not forget it, General. He spoke of it 
 several times to-day, and told me that he had stationed 
 the Third Pichincha and the First Ambato at the bridge. 
 I do not understand how the Otabalos happened to come 
 here." 
 
 " This is a riddle which stands in need of immediate solu 
 tion. Gallop back to the Cabildo, Olmos, a_nd inform your 
 worthy father of this misunderstanding. Let him sift the 
 matter, and ascertain who is responsible ; and let the guilty 
 parties be arrested, whoever they may be. Success, I as 
 sure you, lies within our grasp, Olmos, and wo must not 
 let treachery snatch it from us. Hurry on, now, and bring 
 back a most accurate report. In the meantime, you, Senor 
 Rodriguez, hasten to the barracks and bring the two com 
 panies that were intended to be here. Bring any available 
 company; but let not a minute be lost. I do not like this 
 mistake, and shall stay here myself until it is rectified. 
 Hurry!" 
 
 These words had been spoken in an undertone, so as not 
 to be overheard b}' Sanchez' own guard. Olmos and Rod 
 riguez dashed back to the city, and Sanchez rode on to the 
 bridge, where he was received with demonstrations of af 
 fection and enthusiasm which somewhat reassured him. 
 He exchanged a few friendly words with the men, and 
 then, followed by his own troop, rode back toward the
 
 314 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 city, halting at the house of Dona Mariquita. Here he dis 
 mounted, and turning to his men, he said: "Have the 
 kindness to hold my horse, Sefior Davila. I shall bo with 
 you again in a few minutes. Good evening, Dofia Mari 
 quita" the woman had appeared in the door of her iienda 
 " vrili you be good enongh to send out some refreshments 
 to these gentlemen, while I go in to see Merceditas." With 
 these words he entered the house, and walked up stairs to 
 the familiar room of Mercedes. 
 
 He had hardly dismounted, Avhen three or four men on 
 horseback, coming from the bridge, rode up to the men of 
 Sanchez, who were forming different groups, and engaged 
 them in a whispered conversation. At the same time a 
 movement became discernible at the bridge among the 
 Otabalo soldiers, some of whom rapidly mounted their 
 horses, while others moved toward the front and rear of 
 Mariquita's house. In a few minutes the post at the 
 bridge was broken up and abandoned. Not the bridge, but 
 the house, seemed to be guarded. At the same time an 
 altercation had arisen between the men of Sanchez and the 
 strangers that had come to them from the bridge. Swords 
 were drawn, the cry "traitor " resounded, and a scuffle be 
 gan, while a loud, piercing shriek was heard from the in 
 terior of the house. It was the voice of a female. An in 
 stant afterward, the voice of Sanchez was heard, but only 
 for a moment. He shouted : " Davila ! Help! Help!" 
 Then all was silence within, while the tumult increased 
 outside. The men of Sanchez were now surrounded by the 
 Otabalos, some of whom attempted to pull the Cabildo men 
 from their horses, while others sought to hold the hoi-sea, 
 and to reason with the riders. The Sanchez men seemed 
 undecided ; taken by surprise, and without a leader they 
 were helpless against their well-prepared assailants, who 
 outnumbered them, four to one. A few stray shots were 
 fired increasing the confusion. One or two of the Sanchez 
 men succeeded in cutting their way out and breaking away,
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 315 
 
 yelling: "Treason! Treason! To arms! To arms!" Others 
 were unhorsed and dispatched by their assailants, while 
 still others seemed to yield to the combined arguments of 
 persuasion and. force, and allowed themselves to be swept 
 along by the current which now had set in toward the 
 bridge. About this time, a dozen horsemen emerged from 
 the rear part of the house, dragging along a prisoner with 
 whom they dashed over the bridge, followed by their ac 
 complices, the Otabalo company, and by some of the men 
 of Sanchez, who had changed sides in less than three min 
 utes, to save th6ir lives and to share the fruits of this act of 
 treachery. 
 
 And now drums were beating in the direction of the city, 
 and shortly afterward the alarm-bells were ringing, and 
 two companies, headed by Olmos and Rodriguez came 
 rushing breathlessly to the fatal spot. It was too late to 
 save their commander, who was whirling away at this very 
 moment, tied to a horse, toward the camp of Arana. 
 
 But might they not have saved him if they had dashed 
 after his captors without delay ? Perhaps! But the mas 
 ter-spirit was gone, and the tottering edifice which he alone 
 had supported, tumbled down with a sudden, annihilating 
 crash. The news of the kidnaping of Sanchez, struck 
 terror into the ranks of the Cabildo-men. The blow was 
 so sudden that it deprived them of all presence of mind ; 
 and demoralization, amazement, uncertainty, culminating 
 in a panic, were its immediate effects. In vain the two 
 Olmos and others attempted to stem the tide of discourage 
 ment and defeat. A blank feeling of utter hopelessness 
 had seized the Revolutionary party. The cry " Viva el 
 Hey," silenced for so long, was heard again j first timidly, 
 but soon carried from mouth to mouth, until it startled the 
 terrified Councilors of the Cabildo in their hall, and sent 
 tidings of gladness and deliverance to the hearts of the 
 Ministers in their sanctuary. 
 
 And now the downfall of the Revolutionary cause was
 
 316 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 precipitated like the rout of Gonzalo Pizarro at Xapixa- 
 guano, by a mad rush of desertions to the Boyalist side. 
 Hundreds of leading rebels vied with each other to mani 
 fest their sudden conversion to loyalty by some signal act 
 of meanness in the service of the King against whom they 
 had rebelled. Each one wanted to be the first to make 
 atonement for his past conduct. The fiercest rebels of 
 yesterday, had suddenly become the loudest in advocating 
 submission, and endeavoring to prove the utter hopeless 
 ness of further resistance, or in preparing to deliver their 
 comrades to the hangman, in order to extrfcate their own 
 necks. The Eoyalists, who had been lurking in places of 
 concealment, or prowling around in disguises, now came 
 forward in order to swell the tide of reaction. Manuel 
 Paredes, the engineer of the plot by which poor Sanchez 
 had been ensnared, and Juan de Londoiio entered the Ca- 
 bildo at the head of an armed force of .Royalists, and spoke 
 in a voice half reasoning and half threatening: " Gentle 
 men ! We are betrayed ! There is no use of further re 
 sistance. Our only salvation lies in making our peace with 
 the Auditors, and throwing ourselves on their mercy. 
 Let us, at once, proceed to the 'Church of San Francisco, 
 and lead them hence to the Palace." The trembling Coun 
 cilors had no alternative but to follow this advice. The 
 same men that, a few months ago, had seized the roins 
 of government, now headed the procession which, followed 
 by a contrite multitude, repaired to the sanctuary, humbly 
 to beseech the deposed Ministers to resume their power, 
 and to deal gently with those who had offended against 
 them. In triumph, the President of the Audience, with 
 his three colleagues the fourth had flt-d to Arana's camp 
 with Guzman Ponce de Leon were escorted back to the 
 Palace that very night, through streets illuminated and 
 festooned, as if the city were rejoicing over a great victory. 
 The new government smiled kindly on its newly-won friends 
 that night. No arrests were made. The President did not
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 317 
 
 feel himself secure with Arana's forces eight leagues away 
 from the Capital. But one ominous order he gave in se 
 cret, while smilingly shaking hands with his late enemies 
 it was an order to guard all the outlets of the city, and 
 to allow no one to depart from it without a permit signed 
 by the Audience or the President. At the same time, a 
 messenger was dispatched to the Royal Commander at 
 Tambillo, to announce to him that Quito was a loyal city 
 once more, and that the King's Government had been re 
 stored. The Commander was notified that a festive recep 
 tion awaited him, whenever it should be his pleasure to 
 celebrate his triumphal entrance. 
 
 Such a complete and fatal change was wrought by one 
 man's dismounting from his horse to enter an humble 
 dwelling along the roadside. Had Sanchez kept away from 
 that fatal door, had he dashed back to his headquarters 
 with Ol-mos and Eodrignez to bring the faithful companies 
 with which to garrison the bridge, or had he only awaited 
 their arrival without dismounting, the Royal Commissioner 
 would have been his prisoner before the dawn of another 
 day. The traitors at the bridge would not have dared to 
 assail the dreaded captain at the head of bis body 
 guard, with re-enforcements in easy call. But such is the 
 lottery of life. Your fingers had touched the great prize 
 as they dived into the urn, but it slipped away as you 
 closed them on the next number, which brought the deadly 
 failure. 
 
 Pinioned and gagged, Roberto Sanchez had been carried 
 out of the room of his child's mother. The blow was so 
 sudden and so terrible that it stunned, tut did not fell, 
 Mercedes. She was like one awaking from a dream, un 
 able at once to comprehend the situation. She beard 
 nothing but one terrible sentence, which incessantly rang 
 in her ears: "Ah, thou miserable viper, that I have 
 warmed in my bosom, it is thou who hast sold me !" And 
 the look he had given her! Oh, the terrible look! Sbe
 
 318 THE SECRET OF THE ANDE3. 
 
 covered her eyes with her hands, but still she saw that 
 look. She buried her head in her shawl, but still that look 
 was before her. It was like the dying look of Abel, that 
 sank forever into the despairing soul of Cain. Oh, that 
 look ! It would drive her mad. 
 
 And now her mother entered the room. 
 
 "No, Mother!" screamed the girl. "I am not the viper 
 that betrayed him. Mother! If he was betrayed, if this 
 was a snare and a trap, may the curse of God crush those 
 who laid it. Ma}' the guilty be forever doomed to the tor 
 ments of perdition, no matter who it was, no matter who 
 and if it was you. If you did this, Mother, or knew of 
 it, I cease to be your child, and curse you, yes, curse 
 you, forevermore. May every maravedi of the blood- 
 money for which you sold him, turn into burning fire or 
 poisonous toads, as you hold it in }*our accursed hand. 
 May you die without shrift and sacrament, surrounded and 
 scoffed by heretics and 'Moors. For every Saint that you 
 invoke, a Devil shall come to your side. May the planets 
 strike you, may witchcraft blast you. If you did it, Mother, 
 I wish you leprosy and plague so that you may live an 
 outcast, begging at church-doors, and be driven, like a 
 Jewess or a Lutheran, from the charities of the Bishop's 
 Palace. STou shall have no rest or sleep, and demons shall 
 bar your entrance into church or chapel. I renounce you. 
 1 leave your house this very hour, this very minute." 
 
 And snatching up her child, with disheveled hair and 
 flying garments, the unfortunate girl rushed out into night 
 and darkness. 
 
 " For the Virgin's sake I" exclaimed her mother. " Eun 
 after her, Don Tomas, and help me to bring her back." 
 
 The girl rushed away in the direction of the bridge; but 
 her paroxysm was of short duration. She had advanced 
 hardly twenty paces when she sank on her knees, and 
 bending over her child, broke into convulsive sobs and a 
 flood of tears. In this attitude she was overtaken by her
 
 BOOK IV. THE REACTION. 319 
 
 mother and Don Tomas, the Mayordomo of Manuel Pared es. 
 The storm had spent its force, and the terrible strain was 
 followed by a prostrating reaction. Meek, like a lamb, she 
 allowed herself to be led back to the house. Meek like a 
 lamb she listened to Mariquita's burning protestations of 
 innocence an'd entire ignorance of the plot against Sanchez. 
 And the poor girl finally believed her, and begged her 
 pardon for the dreadful things she had uttered in the frenzy 
 of despair. What should she do? The oak will stand or 
 break ; but the ivy must cling to something, and if it be a 
 rotten beam of the wall that has just fallen. Poor Mer- 
 ccditas ! Cling to somebody she must. She can not stand 
 alone in the world. And" thus dissolved in tears, she hangs 
 around the neck of that mercenary mother, who has just 
 stolen from her daughter what she loved best in the world. 
 And this time Dona Mariqtiita does not ask her as she did 
 a few months ago : " Why do you weep, Merceditas ?"
 
 BOOK V. 
 THE VALUE OF LIFE. 
 
 Que horcas eran dellos ocupados, 
 Que jaulas de cabezas bastecidas, 
 Que de soberbias casas abatidas 
 Y por su eorupcion de sal sembradas, 
 Que prosperas haciendas confiscadas, 
 Que plaga de las honras, y las vidas, 
 Castigo merecido y justa pena 
 Del que contra su Rey se desenfrena. 
 
 PEDRO DE ONA, Arauco Domado, 
 
 Canto XYI, p. 280.
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 THE V^LLTJE OF LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 ARANA. 
 
 ORDER reigned at Quito. Arana had effected his tri 
 umphal entrance. He had been welcomed with the ring 
 ing of bells and firing of cannon. The Audience and the 
 Cabildo had gone forth to receive him, and to escort him 
 to the city. A solemn Te Deum had been sung at the 
 Cathedral, and those lately in rebellion had crouched be 
 fore, and fawned upon, their new master. The Royal Com 
 missioner had established his head-quarters at the house 
 of the Marquis of Solando, whose guest he was. The 
 Marquis and Dolores, being in deep mourning, could give 
 no public entertainments, as they would have done under 
 more auspicious circumstances ; but they had yielded the 
 largest and best part of the house to their honored guest, 
 arid overwhelmed him with attentions. Dolores, as we can 
 easily understand, had entirely captivated the old gentle 
 man, who had not seen her equal in America. 
 
 What Arana's policy would be, had not yet been devel 
 oped. As at Guayaquil, he had smiled upon everybody. 
 Two weeks had elapsed since his arrival, and but one sen 
 tence of death had been pronounced, and that was on 
 Eoberto Sanchez, the arch-rebel and traitor, the murderer 
 of so many of the King's most loyal servants. Eoberto 
 had been sentenced to be dragged to the place- of execution 
 the Plaza of Santa Clara in a hurdle, to have his hands 
 
 (323)
 
 324 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 cut off and his eyes put out by the hangman, and then to 
 suffer the extreme penalty by garroting. The estates of the 
 Sanchez family were to be confiscated, their family-mansion 
 was to be leveled to the ground, salt and ashes were to be 
 strewn on the spot where it had stood, and a tablet was to 
 be put up on the premises, with the inscription, that this 
 was the place where the traitors, Sanchez, once lived, who 
 had met with the doom which all traitors deserved. Young 
 Sanchez had been brought back to Quito from Tambillo, 
 at which place he had been delivered into the Commission 
 er's hands. He was now at the barracks, and such is the 
 fate of war placed in charge of his own former prisoners, 
 Juan del Puente and Ildefbnso Coronel. 
 
 Nobody was surprised at his sentence. Nobody had ex 
 pected it otherwise. The real cause of surprise was the ap 
 parent leniency of the .Royal Commander. Few arrests 
 had been made. The President of the Royal Audience had 
 been deposed, and the senior Auditor Don Estevan ilai-a- 
 non, had been charged with taking the residencia of his 
 late superior, a process well-known to Spanish law, and 
 consisting in an account of his administration, which the 
 deposed officer was required to give to the officer appointed 
 to make the investigation. This measure against the 
 worthless President had filled the popular party with a 
 vague hope that the Royal Commissioner might, after all, 
 be disposed to look upon their past offenses with a forgiv 
 ing eye. Only two changes had thus far been made in the 
 personale of the Municipal Government. Juan de Londono 
 and Guzman Ponce de Leon had been appointed Alcaldes 
 in the places of Olmos and Garcia. This change, it must 
 be admitted, was a violent one, as the Alcaldes had alwtvvs 
 been elected by the Cabildo, and not appointed by the 
 King's representatives; but as these appointments had 
 been designated as provisional, they had not given alarm 
 or caused suspicion. Not to give alarm was the very ob 
 ject and purpose of Arana's present policy. Those of his
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 325 
 
 intended victims who were at Quito, were within his grasp. 
 They could not escape from him. They were his prisoners, 
 even if he allowed them to go about. The entrances of the 
 city were well guarded, and nobody was permitted to leave 
 it under penalty of death, without a pass from the Com 
 mander. But there were rebels outside of the city, landed 
 proprietors and gentlemen of note, who had compromised 
 themselves during the .Revolution. It would not be so easy 
 to capture these, if they betook themselves to the moun 
 tains. Yet Arana wanted them in his net. He wanted 
 them all. Not one should slip away from him. It was 
 necessary, therefore, to allay their apprehensions and to in 
 duce them to come to the Capital. The way in which Alba 
 had captured Egmont and Home was the model after 
 which Arana fashioned his policy. No second Orange 
 should escape him, if he could help it. The moment he 
 had his victims safe in his net, it would be easy to abandon 
 the pi-etense of leniency, and resort to a policy of retribu 
 tive severity. 
 
 It was forenoon. A large crowd of people had assembled 
 around the house of the Marquis of Solando, forming 
 groups on the sidewalks or on the Plaza in front of the 
 building. In an age when newspapers were unknown, 
 those who thirsted for news had no means of gratifying 
 their curiosity other than personal exertion, to ascertain 
 what they desired to know. The populace of Quito always 
 lazy, gossipy and excitable, now hung around the head 
 quarters of the Eoyal Commissioner, as during the .Revolu 
 tion, they had hovered around the building of the Munici 
 pality, to pick up, and greedily to swallow, the news and 
 rumors of the day. 
 
 "Have they caught Juan Castro?" asked a wiry half- 
 breed, who stood in a group of butchers and shopmen from 
 the Carniceria, one of the most unruly districts of ancient 
 and modern Quito. 
 
 " Indeed they have not 1 " answered one of the group.
 
 326 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 "If he has succeeded in taking himself out of the city, they 
 will never catch him. He will be shrewd enough to stay 
 in the mountains, until the storm has blown over." 
 
 "Ah, but if he is still hidden in the city, that reward will 
 fetch him. It is a big amount of money. His best friend 
 would sell him for that." 
 
 " Hush ! Who comes there ? " 
 
 It was an elderly lady, all in black, followed by two 
 women and a man servant. 
 
 " Oh, 1 know ! " said another. " Do you see how sho 
 cries? It is the mother of Sanchez. She will beg for the 
 life of her son." 
 
 The men now suddenly became quiet, and intently stared 
 at the unfortunate lad} 7 as she walked or rather staggered 
 through the doorway of the Marquis, so that her women 
 had to hasten to her support. Most of those rough men 
 had instinctively uncovered their heads in silent sympathy 
 as they opened a passage for the Sefiora. 
 
 " There comes another woman in black, a young one." 
 
 " It is the ' Flower of Machangara,' Mercedes Castro, the 
 one that sold her lover, Roberto Sanchez, to the King's men." 
 
 " What may she want here? " resumed the first speaker. 
 
 Mercedes had passed them and entered the doorway. 
 
 " Now she raises her veil to speak to that Caballero." 
 
 " How pale and conscience-stricken she looks. Perhaps 
 she wants to atone for her treachery by begging for his 
 life." 
 
 "Ah!" shrieked an old woman who kept a chicha-shop. 
 " The witch ! The viper ! It is right enough to serve our 
 Lord the King, and this rebellion was all wrong ; but there 
 is no excuse for that fair-faced snake. No honest Christian 
 woman would sell her lover and the father of her child, 
 rebel or no rebel. Her face should be scorched with hen 
 bane. The conceited little snake ! " 
 
 In the meantime the subject of these remarks had ac 
 costed the Marquis of Solando, who was just about to leave
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 327 
 
 the house, accompanied by some of Arana's officers, and 
 followed by a retinue of servants. Mercedes had thrown 
 herself down before him, and dropping her black shawl 
 over her shoulders, disclosed a face so beautiful in its pale 
 agonj^. that it enlisted the interest of the Marquis' Spanish 
 companions, to whom this flower of the Sierra was un 
 known. 
 
 " What dost thou wish, my good woman ? " said the Mar 
 quis. 
 
 " For the sake of God, and by all that is sacred to your 
 Excellency, I beseech your Excellency to let me speak to 
 the Iloyal Commissioner ! " 
 
 ' ; And why shouldst thou wish to speak to his Grace, my 
 child?" inquired Solando with more kindness in his tone 
 than usual; but it flattered him to patronize a beautiful 
 young woman in the presence of the foreign officers. 
 
 " May it please your Excellency ! " answered Mercedes 
 still on her knees, " I want to implore him for mercy 
 mercy to one who is to be executed to-morrow." 
 
 " My poor girl ! Thy errand will be fruitless. The 
 Seuora Sanchez is now with his Grace, and she will im 
 plore him in vain. His Grace is inclined to be merciful 
 where he can, but it will be impossible in the case of that 
 desperate young man." 
 
 " Oh, no ! No ! Senor Marquis. Do not say it will be 
 impossible. Oh, let me see his Grace." 
 
 ''And what wouldst thou say to the Commissioner? 
 Hast thou ever spoken to persons of his quality and power?" 
 
 "No, your Excellency; but God will give me words to 
 move his heart. I have prayed to the Virgin as no woman 
 ever prayed to her. She will not abandon me in this sol 
 emn hour. And if I can not save his life, his Grace will at 
 least permit me to see him before he dies." And hero the 
 poor girl broke into wild, hysteric sobs. 
 
 " 1 should think thou mightst get that permission without 
 troubling his Grace."
 
 328 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " No, your Excellency ; they have refused to admit me. 
 I have besieged the doors of his prison. I have implored 
 his guards on my knees to let me see him. It was all in 
 vain. Without an order from bis Grace, they said, I could 
 not be permitted to see him. And see him I must, your 
 Excellency, and should I pay for it with my life." 
 
 " Well," said the Marquis. " What say you, Caballeros.? 
 Shall we accede to the request of this young woman. I 
 fear his Grace has been worried enough by applicants, and 
 I should like to spare him the annoyance." 
 
 "If your Excellency will permit," said one of the young 
 Spanish officers, " I shall take charge of this girl, and pro 
 cure her the audience which she so fervently prays for. I 
 am satisfied that the latter part of her request will be 
 granted. Come Senorita ! " 
 
 The officer led the way, and Mercedes followed him up 
 stairs. The house was built in the most approved style of 
 that period. An uncovered gallery, overlooking the court 
 yard below, ran along one side of the house. This was a 
 sunny place in the forenoon, for which reason Pedro de 
 Arana had sought it out, because the nights and mornings at 
 Quito are cold, the interior of the houses is generally cold, 
 and the Royal Commissioner was an old man, unaccus 
 tomed to the rarified and chilling atmosphere of the Sierra. 
 There he sat in an easy-chair, resting against the balus 
 trade, covered with a heavy cloak, and a poncho over his 
 knees, warming himself in the pleasant rays of the bright 
 sun of Quito. He was a queer-looking man of small stature, 
 heavily built and very fleshy. His iron-gray hair was 
 short and stood on end when he doffed the black velvet 
 cap which" now covered his head. His moustache was 
 shorter than usual with Spanish noblemen, and curled up 
 ward, bringing into high relief the humorous and some 
 times even Mephistophelian expression which played around 
 his mouth, If Don Quixote had been published in those 
 days, there would have been a great deal in Arana's ap-
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 329 
 
 pearance which might have reminded those who saw him, 
 of Sancho Fanza. He seemed to be a man of fifty although 
 in reality he was older. He produced the impression of a 
 cynic, yet when the occasion required it, he knew how to 
 make a great show of reverence, and could talk like a 
 preacher. He was not a man of learning, but of great 
 shrewdness and sound common sense. The proverbial say 
 ings, in which the Spanish language abounds, recurred to him 
 almost continually, and gave force and terseness to what 
 he said. He had received his mental and moral training 
 in camps and barracks, arid in the school of the Albas and 
 such other men as Philip II selected for his service. 
 Pedro de Araua seemed to be a jolly old soul, overflowing 
 with good nature and the milk of human kindness, fond of 
 good cheer and comfort, and still fonder of a good joke ; 
 yet he was not troubled with that sensibility which feels 
 the pain it inflicts upon others, or shrinks from inflicting 
 it. The sufferings of others had never disturbed his sleep, 
 nor would it have spoiled his appetite for dinner to pro 
 nounce sentence of death on a rebel prisoner. 
 
 Mercedes did not see the dreadful personage at once. 
 The officer led her to a covered gallery running at right 
 angles from the gallery on which the old Commissioner sat. 
 There her protector told her to sit down and to await his 
 return. He would speak to his Grace for her. A few 
 minutes elapsed before Mercedes dared to look around. At 
 last she looked up and beheld a sickening spectacle which 
 made her heart sink and her faintest hopes vanish. 
 Roberto's mother, more dead than alive, her face covered 
 with gastly pallor, her knees breaking, her dress torn and 
 disordered, was led away almost insensible by Dona Catita 
 and Mother Santos. Arrived at the head of the stair-case, 
 she turned back toward where the Commander sat, and 
 with uplifted hands folded in prayer, fell on her kneea 
 again, screaming: "Mercy! Mercy! For the love of 
 God ! "
 
 330 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 One of her own attendants who had waited on the land 
 ing of the main stair-case, now came up, and with the aid 
 of the other two women, lifted her from the stony floor and 
 carried her down stairs into one of the servants' rooms, 
 where they spoke, unavailingly, words of comfort, until the 
 poor lady had gathered strength enough to repair to the 
 prison of her son. whom she had obtained permission to 
 see for a last farewell. 
 
 It had become a terrible certainty to Mercedes that her 
 prayer would not be granted after the mother's prayer had 
 been refused. And yet does not the human heart hope 
 against hope, does it not cling even to the hope of hope, 
 after all real hope is gone? 
 
 The young officer returned. His Excellency would speak 
 to Mercedes. Her pretty face had secured her an audience, 
 which for the Senora Sanchez only the influential exer 
 tion of the Marquis, an old friend of the family, had been 
 able to obtain. 
 
 The Commander seemed to be in excellent spirits. The 
 scene with the mother of his victim had not ruffled his 
 composure. He was tasting a draught of sweetened chicha 
 which the Seiiorita Dolores had sent to convince him that 
 a very palatable drink could be made of the national bever 
 age of the aborigines by artistic treatment and additions. 
 
 The old gentleman winked knowingly at the young of 
 ficer as he approached with his protege. 
 
 "By Santiago! That scapegrace Ramirez is always in 
 luck," his Excellency was pleased to remark to the of 
 ficer who stood at his side, holding the silver plate from 
 which his commander had taken the goblet. "A beautiful 
 face! Dofla Inez of Ambato will be forgotten, now. 'Out 
 of sight, out of mind.' 'Young heart, light heart!" 
 
 The bystanders laughed dutifully at the pleasantry of 
 their superior. 
 
 " Well, Ramirez," continued the old man. " We are 
 ready to inspect your new flame. Curamba! This is a
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 331 
 
 treasure of an inheritance. Accept our congratulations, if 
 you are to be the heir, of which I have no doubt, judging 
 from 3*our past successes. ' To be born lucky is better than 
 to be born rich.' " 
 
 In the meantime, the trembling subject of his Excel 
 lency's coarse jokes had thrown herself on her knees before 
 the old man, and stammered: " Mercy, Senor, mercy! " 
 
 " Well ! Well ! " said Arana, pleased with the appearance 
 of the girl, " this, then, is the pretty bait with which our 
 friends entrapped the rebel chief. By Santiago! If I were 
 not so old, I should have gone into that trap myself. We 
 owe thee an important debt, my pretty American, for the 
 service thou and thy house have rendered to the King's 
 cause." 
 
 The first impulse of Mercedes was to deny the dreadful 
 charge which weighed so heavily on her soul, although 
 she was conscious of her innocence; but at that moment 
 the thought flashed through her mind that Arana's mis 
 taken belief might give her a claim on his mercy. Hence 
 she said after a moment's reflection : 
 
 " On my knees, I thank your Excellency for these kind 
 words, and if the service my my mother has rendered, 
 should really be considered important by your Excel 
 lency " 
 
 . " Do not let us speak of your mother now, my little one. 
 Thy mother has received her reward. It is the daughter 
 to whom some acknowledgment is due. If thou wilt ask 
 a favor which I have the power to grant, I will grant it. 
 Speak out without fear, and be short about it. ' Long 
 speeches will make the soup boil over.' " 
 
 " Yes, your Excellency. One word will express all that 
 I pray for on this side of the grave. It is the life of Rob 
 erto Sanchez. Mercy, Seuor, misericordia /'' 
 
 The commander had taken a sip from the goblet he still 
 held, and then handed it with a grimace to the officer be 
 hind his chair, saying : " With all due respect and admira-
 
 332 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 X 
 
 tion for our excellent hostess, the Senorita Dolores, I must 
 say that this native drink is detestable. Of course we shall 
 not tell her so, but bring me some Christian aguardiente to 
 get this heathenish taste out of my mouth." And, turning 
 to the girl, he continued : "Thou art a strange <;hild ! If 
 thou didst not wish him to die, why didst thou entrap him ? 
 Jealousy, perhaps ! I see! I see! The young man had 
 played with others, and we became mad with jealousy, 
 thirsting for revenge, and now we repent of it. O, women, 
 Avomen ! They are all alike." 
 
 All the considerations of prudence to which Mercedes 
 had forced herself to yield, broke down now, and before the 
 Count had quite finished his speech, she exclaimed ! " But 
 I did not entrap him, your Excellency. I am innocent of 
 all treachery !" 
 
 " There ! there !" replied Arana. " Upon what ground, 
 then, dost thou come before me to ask favors?" 
 
 " On the ground of mercy, Senor, in the name of God, 
 and for the love of Jesus Christ. God is mercy, and he 
 has placed the King over us, whose loyal servant I am. 
 Why should not the King be merciful? God forgives us 
 our sins; why should not the King forgive ? Your Excel 
 lency stands in the King's place. Why should not your 
 Excellency be merciful ? What is one life to the King, 
 who has been set to rule over millions ? Who could prevail 
 against the King's power ? The King can afford to pardon 
 those who err, as God in Heaven forgives us our trespasses." 
 
 " This girl talks remarkably well," said Arana, quite 
 amused ; " but we must impart a little religious instruction 
 to her ignorant mind. Thou considerest not, my child, that 
 the King can not change the hearts and minds of men. 
 The King is not almighty. The King must punish where 
 God might pardon. Mercy to the wicked is cruelty to the 
 good. The lions and the tigers must be killed ; they can 
 not be tamed. The man whom thou lovest has committed 
 almost every crime mortal man can commit. He has been
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 333 
 
 a rebel and a traitor to his King, and an apostate to his 
 God ; he has committed murder after murder ; he has been 
 guilty of tyranny and robbery. To spare his life would 
 be an encouragement to others to do as he has done. No, 
 my child ! God may pardon, but I must condemn him. 
 Thank you, Olivarez," he added, as he took the glass of 
 rum presented to him by an officer, and emptied it at one 
 draught ; " that 's better than that Indian abomination." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN THE TOILS. 
 
 A SUITE of three rooms in the barracks was occupied by 
 Juan del Puente and Idelfonso Coronel. These rooms had 
 the view of the street, and doors leading to an arched cor 
 ridor, running along a large, square court. The outside door 
 to the third of these rooms, and its only window, had re 
 cently been walled up. This room was the prison of Ro 
 berto Sanchez. Whatever light and air it had, it received 
 through a door inside, which led into the second room, and 
 was always kept open. This was Juan del Puente's room, who 
 thus kept his prisoner continually in sight. The third and 
 outer I'oom was the present habitation of Idelfonso Coronel. 
 Sentinels were pacing the corridors, the court, and the streets 
 outside. In addition to all these precautions, Sanchez was 
 chained by the foot to a ring in the floor, the chain being long 
 enough to enable him to lie down on a bed of straw, cov 
 ered with sheepskins and a few ponchos. His wrists were 
 in fetters connected by a chain, the shortness of which 
 was a source of constant annoyance. In this prison he 
 had languished since Arana's triumphal entrance in Quito. 
 No one hud been allowed to see him. Del Puente and 
 Coronel were his only companions, with the exception of a
 
 334 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 Spanish priest, whose visits had been permitted since the 
 promulgation of the death-sentence. 
 
 On the day before the execution, however, Roberto's 
 mother, as we already know thanks to the intercession 
 of the Marquis of Solarido had secured the privilege of 
 being admitted to her son's prison. She was now with 
 him, pressing him to her bosom in an agonized embrace, 
 as if she could tear him away from the hateful flight of 
 time, or stem the terrible escape of the sand which was irre 
 trievably ebbing away from the hour-glass, steadily dimin 
 ishing the short remainder of life. 
 
 " Senor Del Puente! " said Sanchez after he had extricated 
 himself from her first embraces. "May I ask a favor of 
 you. 1 have given you little or no trouble, and complied 
 with all your regulations ; and you might now do a little 
 act of kindness to me." 
 
 " What is it, Senor Don Roberto?" 
 
 " Take off my handcuffs take them off for a few minutes 
 at least. I could not escape if I would, and, while you 
 oblige me, I would not if I could." 
 
 " I regret to say, Senor Don Roberto, that I have no 
 authority to do so." 
 
 "Authority ! You are in command here, Don Juan. 
 Your will is your authority, I dislike to remind you that 
 you were my prisoner once a very, ver} r short time ago. 
 I saved your life, Don Juan, which my comrades would 
 have sacrificed, and I leave it to you to say whether I did 
 not treat you as a Christian knight should treat a prisoner 
 of war?" 
 
 " What you say, Senor Don Roberto, is true, and thous 
 and thanks to your Grace for it. But your Grace must 
 consider that you were your own master, while I am my 
 master's servant. Your Grace gnve orders instead of re 
 ceiving them. I receive orders and must obey. If I were 
 not afraid of committing high treason myself, I should like 
 to say that if the King of Spain were not my master, but
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE_OF LIFE. 335 
 
 if I had the choice of a master, I could not wish a better 
 one than your Grace. But the King of Spain is my mas 
 ter, and that's the end of it." 
 
 "But I ask a mere nothing, Senor Del Pucnte. Here is 
 my mother, to whom I must bid a last, an eternal farewell. 
 Let me clasp her to my breast but for a few seconds. I can 
 not do it with these handcuffs on. Look at the shortness 
 of this chain, and have pity on both of us. Nobody will 
 know it, Seiior Del Puente." 
 
 "Ah, Seiior Don .Roberto, should a soldier, a splendid 
 soldier like your Grace, thus speak to a soldier like myself, 
 acting under orders. Suppose your Grace, while in com 
 mand, had given an order to one of your men. Would your 
 Grace have him disregard it, on the supposition that his 
 offense would not come to the knowledge of 3 T our Grace?" 
 
 "I shall. not trouble 3-011 again," said Sanchez, turning 
 away. " Come, Mother, let us sit down on this bed and let 
 us speak of yourself. Mother. My account is easily settled, 
 and 1 do not fear death. If I did fear it, I should not bo 
 where I am now. But I grieve for you, dear Mother. It 
 is my only grief. To suffer death under some circum 
 stances is not as hard a task as to suffer life. What will be 
 come of 3 r ou. Mother?. They have confiscated our estates; 
 they will drive you from our house in order to raze it to the 
 ground. This thought, Mother, is more horrid to me than 
 the cruel death which I must suffer to-morrow." 
 
 We shall drop the curtain over this painful scene. 
 There is an end to all things, and where time is most pre 
 cious, its flight is the swiftest. 
 
 The door between the room of Del Puente and the ad 
 joining room of Coronel was closed, and a sentinel was 
 placed before it. The time allotted for the visit of the 
 Seuora Sanchez had expired. She begged to return on 
 the following morning, but Sanchez insisted that she should 
 not. He also made her promise not to see him led out to 
 his end, but to offer up prayers during his last hours on
 
 336 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 earth. Del Puente led her away. He opened the door for 
 her and almost carried her to the room of Coronel. That 
 worthy was out, but the attendants of the Senora awaited 
 her. In the darkest corner of the room sat a woman 
 dressed in deep mourning, covered with a black veil, and 
 attended by a young Mestizo girl who played with a smil 
 ing babe which she held in her arms. 
 
 The Sefiora Sanchez was so overcome that for a long 
 time she was unable to compose herself. Sinking into a 
 chair, she buried her face in her hands, and wept until her 
 sobs died away in a heart-rending moan. At last her at 
 tendants prevailed upon her to arouse herself, and to go. 
 At the same time, Del Puente, who had strolled out into 
 the court-yard, returned, and said to the woman in the cor 
 ner, that he would now announce her to Don Roberto. 
 Mercedes for it was Mercedes arose tremblingly, and 
 stepped forward, waiting to be called in. Just then the 
 eyes of Hoberto's mother fell upon her, and recognized her 
 in spite of her veil. The old lady at once pressed back her 
 garments, as if to escape the polluting touch, and grasping 
 the arm of one of her companions with her other hand, 
 drew her away, exclaiming: "Hence! Hence! Let us 
 not breathe the air poisoned by that viper, that vile, 
 treacherous murderess." 
 
 These words stunned and nearly crushed poor Mercedes, 
 and she sank back into the chair from which she had 
 arisen. 
 
 " I will not see her! " said Roberto, after he had learned 
 from Juan del Puente that Mercedes was in waiting. 
 
 "But she has an order from the Royal Commissioner al 
 lowing her to see your Grace ! " rejoined the Spaniard. 
 
 "Allowing her to see me ; yes. But has she an order 
 compelling me to see her, Senor del Puente ? " 
 
 The Spaniard seemed puzzled. " My orders are to let 
 her in ! " 
 
 " You may let her in, Senor del Puente, if I wish to see
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 337 
 
 her. Tho Royal Commissioner does not object to my sec- 
 ing her. But I will not receive her, unless the Royal Com 
 missioner compels me to undergo this additional punish 
 ment. Go, Senor del Puente! Do not torment your 
 prisoner. You refused to tako off these manacles for a 
 moment, because you had no orders allowing it. Stand by 
 3- our orders now. You have no orders to inflict a visitor 
 on me, whom I refuse to admit. There comes rny Rever 
 end Father. Do not distract my thoughts now, Senor del 
 Puente, but leave me with him.'' 
 
 Del Puente left, but after a little, returned again. 
 
 " That girl is distracted, your Grace. She swears she 
 did not betray your Grace. She implores your Grace, by 
 all that is sacred, to let her come in." 
 
 " Senor del Puente, must I be tormented during the few 
 hours that are left to me of life. I have decided, and the 
 moments are too precious to be wasted thus." 
 
 " Well, then, she begs that your Grace may at least see 
 and bless the child." 
 
 " The child ! Whose child ? How do I know that it is 
 my child? Shall I believe the woman who sold me? She 
 must have betrayed rno before, as she did afterward." 
 
 " My son ! My son ! " now interrupted the monk, who 
 was no less a person than the Superior of La Merced. 
 ' Hast thou forgotten that Christ on the cross forgave his 
 enemies? 1 do not find thce in the spirit in which I left 
 thee on yesterday. Thou must forgive this girl ! " 
 
 'I do so, Eevercnd Father; I forgive her. It is hard, 
 dreadfully hard to forgive her. When I think that victory 
 was in my grasp ; that but for her the Royal Commander 
 would have been my prisoner ; that I should have been 
 King of the realm, the happy husband of a beautiful and 
 lovely Princess, the possessor of untold wealth, the com 
 mander of an army of my own formation, and that even if 
 I had failed in the end, my name would have lived for 
 ever ; when I think that success, glory, happiness, greatness
 
 338 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 would have been mine, but for the viper who entrapped me 
 into destruction it is almost too hard to forgive." 
 
 " Think of thy Savior, my son. Time flies. The hour 
 approaches; thou must appear before thy God." 
 
 " 1 know, Reverend Father, and I forgive I forgive 
 her." 
 
 "With all thy heart?" 
 
 " With all my heart, Father ; but I can riot see her. It 
 would unsettle my mind; it would distract my thoughts ; 
 it would disturb my composure. I could not drink in 
 your holy words as I wish to. I forgive her, and you may 
 tell her so. Impose any penance upon me, Father, but do 
 not compel me to see her. Anything but that! I will 
 not, I can not, see her !" 
 
 An hour after these scenes. Juan del Puente stepped out 
 into the court-yard and looked around for Ildefonso Cor- 
 onel. Not seeing him anywhere, Del Pnente asked one of 
 the sentinels whither that worth}" had gone. The soldier 
 said that Sefior Ildefonso had left word be would be back 
 in a very short time to relieve the Sefior Captain." 
 
 "Yes, indeed," thought Del Puente, " it is no pleasure 
 to be a jailer. I long for a little fresh air and for a chat 
 with Dona Panchita, after having been locked up all day." 
 
 At last Ildefonso returned, growling as usual. 
 
 " Where have you been, man?" asked Del Puente. 
 
 "Hang your impudence!" muttered his worthy com 
 rade. " Am I to be a prisoner because we have to keep 
 one?" 
 
 " I do not like to remind you, Ildefonso, of a fact which 
 you seem to forget. Are you at all aware that I am your 
 superior officer?" 
 
 " And why should you be? How came you to be my 
 superior officer? By snatching from me what belonged to 
 me. You are pushing and bold, while I am modest and 
 retiring." 
 
 " I see ! I see, Ildefonso. I am in your way again. If
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 339 
 
 it were not for me you would rise in the world. It is well. 
 You shall not remain with me any longer. To-morrow 1 
 shall make application to the Commander to put you in 
 charge of an independent post to send you anywhere, so 
 that you get away from me." 
 
 "Go to the devil, Del Puente!" interrupted the other, 
 "you will never understand me. Here I have been hurry 
 ing back to relieve you; in fact, I have hardly been out. 
 I hastened home to enable you to rush into the arms of 
 Doila Panchita, and now you grumble and rail at my good 
 will, and scold me for my readiness to sit here all alone 
 with our prisoner until you get through with your love- 
 making." 
 
 "Your good will! Your readiness! Let me tell you, 
 once for all, Ildefonso Coronel, that I am tired, thoroughly 
 tired, of your grumbling, your ingratitude, and your 
 insubordination. I am in earnest, Ildefonso. Either 
 you will now and forever realize your position as my 
 subordinate, and act accordingly, or we shall part to-mor 
 row. I shall give you a night to sleep over it. Do not 
 say another word ! I am not in a humor to listen. 
 Adios!" 
 
 "His Grace is not in a humor to listen to Ildefonso 
 Coronel," muttered that subordinate, as he entered his 
 room. "His Grace is tired of me, thoroughly tired of my 
 insubordination, his Grace was pleased to remark. Yes, 
 yes, the swine-herd, the beggar, the hired assassin is get 
 ting tired of the ingratitude of those who made him. We 
 shall see! There is a bull for this sin!* We shall see 
 who will be the better and the richer man, when we return 
 to Spain. Is the prisoner alone, sentinel ?" 
 
 "No, Senor. His .Reverence, the Father Superior, is 
 with him." 
 
 " It is well !" And now Ildefonso entered Del Puente's 
 
 * A well-known Spanish proverb: " Contra este pecado hay una 
 bula."
 
 340 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 room, and closed the door behind him. .Roberto and the 
 monk were engaged in close conversation. " I hope that 
 friar will go," thought Coronel, u before Del Puente comes 
 back. I must prepare the young rebel. But now the 
 goblet. I must fix that first. Ten drops will do to put a 
 man into a death-like sleep, which will last ten hours. 
 'No power on earth,' the fellow said, 'will awake your 
 man before the time is up. But,' said he, ' if you do not 
 want him to awake at all, give him more. If you give 
 him twenty drops, your man will sleep forever.' Now, let 
 me see whether 1 understand it right. Ten drops I want 
 in mine, for I do want to awake and to go back to glorious 
 Spain, to enjoy this great good fortune, this unexpected 
 windfall of luck. Ten drops for me, to avert suspicion. I 
 shall be careful to count them, and shall not mix them be 
 fore Del Puente has gone to sleep. But Del Puente's gob 
 let must be fixed now. There it goes ! One, two, three, 
 five, seven, eight, nine, eleven, twelve what a mistake ! 
 These drops rushed out before I could count them ! H'm ! 
 what was it he said ? He is tired of my impudence. I 
 must not forget that I am his subordinate, or he will have 
 me sent elsewhere! There drops another! Thirteen! 
 Now, really, I did not mean that. It was not my inten 
 tion. But I can not waste the precious liquor by throwing 
 this out. There would not be enough left for the senti 
 nels. He will not put up with rny hatefulness any longer 
 the great man who allowed himself to be captured, like 
 a monkey, by a handful of half-starved insurgents will 
 he not? But suppose I should not put up with him any 
 longer? Suppose this were my turn, Juan del Puente 
 the turn of grumbling, ungrateful, impudent, incapable, 
 envious, and insubordinate Ildefonso Coronel, who did all 
 the hard work, and suffered all the heavy blows, while 
 you reaped the honors and the emoluments. Fourteen, 
 fifteen ! No, Juan del Puente, I will not cheat the devil 
 of his due. My conscience would not allow it. The
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 341 
 
 devil must got thce in the end, and the sooner he gets thee 
 the better it will be for all Christians. Sixteen, eighteen, 
 twenty and one over, for better assurance. It will be a 
 good, sound sleep, Senor Captain. Thou wilt surely 
 enjoy it. Now for the wine Cararnba ! What elegant 
 flavor! Here goes! Your very good health, Senor del 
 Puente !" 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 THE UNSEEN PROTECTRESS. 
 
 THE Count of Arana was an early riser. He took two 
 or three naps during the day, but he rose before five in the 
 morning ia order to dispatch his civil business and corres 
 pondence, so as to be free to devote the rest of the day to 
 military matters and to amusements. In this, as in every 
 thing else, he was pedantically systematic, and his civil 
 and military dependents were compelled to accommodate 
 themselves to his unreasonable hours. 
 
 The mail from Lima and the coast had arrived the even 
 ing before, and Arana's secretaries had spent half the night 
 in digesting and abbreviating its contents so as to present 
 a short summary of the principal points to their chief in 
 the morning. Arana had risen earlier than usual this day, 
 for he wished to hold himself in special readiness for the 
 execution. He was now at work with his secretaries while 
 sipping a cup of hot chocolate with a strong admixture of 
 rum. Two or three wax candles burned on the table, dim 
 ming under the increasing daylight. 
 
 " There are several long communications with reference 
 to the Seiior Julio de Carrera," said one of the secretaries. 
 " Society at Lima is in ecstasies over his martyrdom. The 
 poets have sung his praises. Seiior Odriozola, by special 
 instruction of His Eoyal Highness, has collected copies of
 
 342 THE SECRET or THE ANDES. 
 
 all their pieces, and be transmits them herewith to your 
 Excellency." 
 
 " By Santiago ! Not for me to read 1" thundered the old 
 man. 
 
 "No, most excellent Senor," replied the secretary, un 
 able to suppress a smile, " but to cause them to be delivered 
 to the young gentleman's relatives, whom it is His High 
 ness' purpose to honor by this attention." 
 
 " Did the young gentleman have any relatives?" 
 
 " No, most excellent Sefior, none but his uncle, who is 
 dead." 
 
 "Do you know who his principal friends were, or at 
 whose house he made his tertulia?" * 
 
 " He was a regular and constant visitor at this house, 
 your Excellency^ 
 
 " Well, then, we shall refer these papers to the Marquis. 
 The Senorita Dolores will tell us what to do with them." 
 
 'The ladies at Lima are wearing Carrera-ribbons and 
 Carrera-combs ; and at the theater they will have his story 
 written up for a tragedy. His Royal Highness, the Viceroy, 
 is satisfied that our Master the King will reward Carrera's 
 noble self-sacrifice by some special act of recognition, either 
 to the gentlemen himself, if he should ever be found, or to 
 his family. In the meantime, His Royal Highness requests 
 your Excellency to make special exertions to ascertain what 
 has become of Carrera, and if there should be no doubt of 
 his death to honor his memory by some temporary monu 
 ment, with a suitable inscription, until the royal pleasure 
 can be ascertained." 
 
 " Well and good!" said Arana. "The instructions of 
 His Highness must be complied with to the letter. I think 
 it would be best to offer a reward for the discovery and 
 identification of Carrera's remains or for a clue to this mys 
 tery. If anything can do it, it will be money. I find the 
 
 *His regular daily visits.
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 343 
 
 Americans are as fond of it as our people at home. Rami- 
 rez ! " 
 
 That officer, who had been standing in the door, now 
 sprang forward. 
 
 " Let Juan del Puente come here at once. I want to in 
 struct him, personally, as to his duties to-day. This is our 
 first execution, and it must be made as impressive as possi 
 ble. I would not, for anything in the world, have this bus 
 iness bunglingly done. You had better go for Del Puente 
 yourself, Senor Ramirez, and on your way to and fro, see 
 whether everything is in proper readiness. Examine the 
 scaffold, if you please. I saw an execution once where 
 they had not fastened the fellow's seat properly. It broke 
 down under his weight, and the whole thing became ridicu 
 lous. We will have no break-downs to-day, gentlemen, no 
 break-downs. We shall break a neck, but not a seat." 
 And, as usual, the old gentleman graciously led the laugh 
 ter over his own pleasantry. 
 
 ''Proceed, Mr. Secretary!" said Arana, after Ramirez 
 had left the room. 
 
 '' The Fisc/il of the court-martial reports five sentences 
 of death and confiscation for your Excellency's confirma 
 tion." 
 
 " Five ! What a folly. Could he not have made it four 
 or six for the time being ? I do not like odd numbers. They 
 always leave a chance for the devil. When we shall have 
 to hang you, Mr. Secretary, you may rest assured we shall 
 give you a companion." And over this new pleasantry 
 his Excellencj' laughed until his laughter changed into a 
 coughing fit, and his cough terminated in an oath. "And 
 who are they ? " 
 
 The Senores Garcia, father and son, the Senores Olmos, 
 father and son, and old Pedro Perez, the lieutenant of Ro 
 berto Sanchez. Old Perez was too sick to make a de 
 fense." 
 
 " Not necessary. If he is very sick, we shall save him
 
 344 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 the trouble of dying, by cutting off his bead. We shall 
 do the part of a doctor by him. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! Hand 
 me the sentences. I shall sign them now, but they must 
 not be published until we have secured the gentlemen from 
 the country. We can not catch flies with vinegar. That 
 must be a stupid fish which would swallow the bait after 
 having seen the hook under it. No, Senor, let us go slowly, 
 but be sure. Skill is worth more than strength. Let 
 these sentences be kept secret until the proper time has 
 come. I wonder how well Seftor Paredes has succeeded in 
 overcoming the shyness of some of these gentlemen ? " 
 
 "He said he expected to make a favorable report to your 
 Excellency this morning." 
 
 " Well, why has he not come ? Where is he ? He knows 
 I require punctuality. Feed a horse regularly and you 
 will save half the fodder." 
 
 "Ah, but your Excellency began work half an hour ear 
 lier this morning than usual." 
 
 "That's so! I had forgotten. Well, let it pass. Do 
 you think," he added, leaning forward over the table and 
 reducing his voice to a whisper, " that that man would 
 presume to keep up a clandestine correspondence with the 
 authorities at Lima or Madrid, now that I have arrived to 
 take charge of matters ? " 
 
 " I do not know, your Excellency. In fact, I can not 
 suspect that he would presume to do so, now that his, or 
 rather the Marquis' commission, has been superseded by 
 your Excellency's. And how could he do it without our 
 being informed by the post-office authorities?" 
 
 "True enough ! But he is a man of great resources and 
 I say so cheerfully and willingly a man of good uses. 
 But the egg must not attempt to bo wiser than the hen. 
 While I am on deck I will be the captain, and I shall tol 
 erate no meddling with my affairs. Men who have ren 
 dered valuable services are apt to become conceited or 
 overbearing, or to think they are indispensable, and that
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 345 
 
 the world would come to a stand-still without them. They 
 are mistaken, Mr. Secretary. The world will not come to 
 a stand-still when they are gone. Time and tide will roll 
 on, Mr. Secretary, when you and I shall be no more. But 
 there comes our great man himself!" 
 
 " I kiss your Excellency's hands," said Paredes as he 
 entered, "and beg your Excellency's pardon if I should be 
 late." 
 
 " Not at all, friend Paredes. We began our work a little 
 earlier than usual. What good news can our friend give us 
 this morning?" 
 
 " I think, your Excellency, I shall soon succeed in ob 
 taining a clue as to the hiding place of that ruffianly and 
 brutal murderer, Juan Castro, the chief of the ragamuffins 
 of Quito." 
 
 " Castro ! -Castro !" repeated Arana. " Who is he ?" 
 
 "He was the ringleader in the dastardly murder of my 
 lamented and noble friend, the Count Valverde." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! Now I recollect ! We have offered a reward 
 for his apprehension." 
 
 " Yes, most excellent Senor, a large reward has been 
 offered. But Castro is a most desperate character, who 
 swayed the rabble by the terror with which he inspired 
 them. I have no doubt there is a strong disposition among 
 his former associates to earn the reward; but the}'' are 
 afraid of him. He is as brave as he is wicked and mur 
 derous. The difficulty would be in taking him alive. He 
 would not allow himself to be taken alive. And if those 
 who intend to capture him should kill him during the 
 struggle, they would have had their risk and trouble for 
 nothing. If your Excellency should not consider it for 
 ward or presumptuous on my part, I would suggest that 
 the reward be promised to those who bring hina dead or 
 alive." 
 
 "Senor Paredes," answered the Count, "is undoubtedly 
 a very shrewd man, who desires to serve the interests of
 
 346 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 the King to the best of his ability. But as to how these 
 interests may be served best, your Grace must allow me to 
 be the judge. More than the death of the villain, we want 
 the example of his execution. The bringing in of his dead 
 body would terrify nobody. No, SeSor; let him be drag 
 ged into a public square, and there receive his punishment 
 in the presence of hundreds of his awe-stricken confeder 
 ates. That is the way we administer justice in Spain. 
 You gentlemen of America may have your own way to do 
 things; but it is not the right way, as your past troubles 
 and your past helplessness have shown." 
 
 Paredes bit his lip, and, with a prompt effort, concealed 
 and suppressed his resentment. A native American gen 
 tleman, be he never so able and useful, was a nothing, a 
 nobody, in the eyes of those haughty Spaniards, who came 
 to devour the substance of the colonies. With all the tact 
 and shrewdness of Paredes, he had not been able to ingra 
 tiate himself with the Eoyal Commissioner. Paredes had 
 tried his best to win the old man's favor, but he had 
 foiled. Perhaps the very greatness and value of the ser 
 vices rendei'ed by Manuel Paredes had earned for him the 
 jealousy and ill-will of Arana, 
 
 "But does it not strike your Excellency," resumed the 
 Creole, " that it might be better to have his dead body, than 
 not to get him at all ? " 
 
 " How would your Grace accomplish his death ? " 
 
 " I thought," answered Paredes, somewhat embarrassed, 
 " that some of his old confederates who know of his hiding- 
 place, would be willing to sell and deliver him, if they 
 could do it without danger to. themselves." 
 
 " But does Colonel Paredes know that those men are 
 really so disposed ? " 
 
 ' : I think, I may be sure of it." 
 
 "Well, then, why not seize the men who are suspected 
 of knowing his hiding-place, and make them talk ? The 
 boot and the thumbscrew would soon open their mouths.
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 347 
 
 We have appliances, Senor Paredes, which would make 
 them very anxious to divulge what they know. Nothing 
 like a little gentle persuasion. Ha ! ha ! ha ' Just give 
 us their names, friend Paredes, and I shall answer for their 
 readiness to talk." 
 
 i " I have had no direct overtures, your Excellency, but I 
 have received many an indirect hint or message through 
 third and fourth parties, that if a reward might be earned 
 by bringing him in dead, his body would soon be forth 
 coming." 
 
 " Well, the next time that such hints and messages are 
 brought to your Grace, you will do me the favor of ascer 
 taining the sources from which they came, and " 
 
 Arana's sentence was interrupted by a tumult outside. 
 Wild exclamations, hurried steps, and clanking swords 
 were heard in the hall and on the staircase, and Ramirez, 
 followed by five or six officers, and an equal number of men, 
 appeared in the door. A number of civilians headed by 
 the Marquis of Solando, Juan de Londono, Ponce de Leon 
 and others, also crowded into the room. 
 
 "Well, Caballeros," exclaimed Arana. "What is the 
 cause of this most extraordinary excitement?" 
 
 " 1 hardly dare," said .Ramirez, advancing with a piece 
 of paper in his hand. "I hardly dare to acquaint your 
 Excellency with what has happened." 
 
 " Speak man ! What is the matter ? " 
 
 " Roberto Sanchez has escaped! " 
 
 Arana stared at the speaker as if he had not understood 
 him. His eyes protruded from their sockets, and his hair, 
 which always seemed to stand on end, straightened itself 
 still more, if that was possible. Absolute silence prevailed 
 in the room. The civilians who were present, hardly dared 
 to draw their breaths, while the soldiers were living pic 
 tures of amazement and apprehension. 
 
 The silence was painful. It was at last broken by
 
 348 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 Arana, who, with a violent curse, exclaimed : " What did 
 you dare to tell me ? .Repeat it, Seflor ! " 
 
 Arana now rose from his chair, and bent forward, as if 
 to assure himself that he had heard right. 
 
 " The prisoner, .Roberto Sanchez, I am sorry to inform 
 your Excellency " 
 
 " To the dogs with your sorrow ! Do you tell me he has 
 escaped ? " 
 
 " Yes, your Excellency ! " 
 
 " By all the Saints of Heaven ! " exclaimed the Commis 
 sioner, inadvertently throwing down and dashing to pieces 
 the valuable cup from which he had sipped his chocolate, 
 "this shall cost more heads than there were hairs on that 
 cursed rebel's head." 
 
 And here the old man fell into another coughing fit, 
 during which the company in the room stood silent and 
 motionless. " Keport, sir, why do you not report? What 
 is it you are twisting in your hands? " 
 
 " The paper which was found in the empty cell this 
 morning. It was stuck to the wall, with a nail in the 
 center." 
 
 " Let me see," said Arana grabbing it with trembling 
 hands. It took some time until he had sufficiently mas 
 tered his excitement, to adjust the paper to the light, and 
 his age-worn eyesight, and not being much of a clerk, 
 he read slowly,and in a stammering manner: " ' Thus Toa 
 Duchicela protects her friends.' A plague on that Indian 
 witch ! But where is Juan del Puente? His head shall 
 fall for this. The miserable incompetent ! First he allows 
 himself to be captured by a handful of nobodies, and now 
 he lets them steal his prisoner under his very nose." 
 
 " Juan del Puente's head, your Excellency, I am afraid, 
 is past the danger of being lost. We found him in a death 
 like stupor, breathing but faintly. By this time he will 
 probably be dead."
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 349 
 
 "Good for him. He docs not deserve to live. And where 
 was Ildcfonso Coronel ? " 
 
 " Ho was found on the floor of his room in the same con 
 dition, although breathing more freely. They did every 
 thing to arouse him, but it was impossible. They pinched 
 him, burned him, cut him, but could not make him come 
 to. The surgeons are now in charge of him." 
 
 " Were there no soldiers inside or outside?" 
 
 ' Yes, most excellent Seiior. There were two men inside, 
 who were also found on the floor in a condition of uncon 
 sciousness, and whom the leeches are now endeavoring to 
 revive. The sentinels outside report that a little after mid 
 night, Senor del Puente passed them, giving the watchword 
 and walking out on the street. As he did not come back, 
 they thought he had gone to see a, certain woman of doubt 
 ful repute, whom he was in the habit of visiting. But 
 when he was found in his room this morning, it was also 
 discovered that his hat, cloak, sword, boots, and spurs were 
 gone. Hence, the man who left the barracks after mid 
 night must have been the traitor, Sanchez, wrapped up in 
 the cloak and under the hat of Juan del Puente." 
 
 "And how did he get the watchword ? " 
 
 " We shall not be able to learn more of this mystery, 
 unless one or more of the drugged soldiers can be restored. 
 On one of the tables two bottles were found that must have 
 held Xerez of excellent quality. A little of the wine had 
 been left in one of them." 
 
 " Let there be a searching investigation. Let it be as 
 certained from whom this wine was obtained." 
 
 There was a commotion at the door. An officer entered 
 with news. 
 
 ' Well," said Arana ; " What else must I hear, Seiior 
 Luzarraga ? " 
 
 "Juan del Puente is dead, most excellent Seiior; so are 
 the two soldiers; but the physicians entertain hopes of re 
 storing Ildefonso Coronel ; he shows symptoms of recovery."
 
 350 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 "Well, well," said Arana. "Del Puente was a bravo 
 man and a good soldier. May the Lord have mercy on his 
 soul. If he wns guilty of negligence, he paid for it with 
 his life. But I think the cause of this escape was witch 
 craft, not negligence. At what time was the escape dis 
 covered ? " 
 
 " Between five and six, your Excellency," continued Lu- 
 zarraga. " The sentinels outside were relieved every two 
 hours. The men inside had been supplanted by two order 
 lies, who were to remain with Captain Del Puente from 
 midnight to day-break. When the day dawned and no 
 body came out, although reveille had been beaten at five, 
 I entered the room and discovered the hideous sight." 
 
 "And what has been done to secure the recapture of 
 the traitor ? " 
 
 " Maj- it please your Excellency," answered Lieutenant 
 Luzarraga, ' I at once dispatched cavalry in every direc 
 tion, with instructions to scour the by-roads and to search 
 the mountain-passes. Every post inside and outside of the 
 city was notified, and the whole country must now be 
 swarming with our troopers. I did this on my own re 
 sponsibility, and before my messenger could have reached 
 your Excellency, so as not to lose a minute of precious 
 time." 
 
 ' \ou did right, Luzarraga. We shall put you in com 
 mand of the barracks. Continue to send out your men ; 
 have the whole city searched ; have every village searched. 
 We must have him again. Go!" 
 
 The lieutenant and some of the soldiers left. 
 
 " Ah ! I told you this morning, Mr. Secretary, that odd 
 numbers would always leave a chance for the devil. We 
 should have given Sanchez a companion in death." With 
 these words, the old commander le^l his position behind 
 the table, and joined the group of civilians in the center of 
 the room. "And now, gentlemen, what is your opinion?
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 351 
 
 Have you any advice to offer in this most unfortunate 
 emergency?" 
 
 "I think your Excellency's plan," answered Juan de 
 Londoilo submissively, " is the best and only one under the 
 circumstances. Let the search be incessant, and especially 
 let it be directed to the Indian villages." 
 
 " You are right, Seiior Alcalde. And you, friend Ponce, 
 what is your counsel ?" 
 
 " With the permission of your Excellency, we shall em 
 ploy the Municipality Guards to aid in the search, so as to 
 make it general and effective." 
 
 " Many thanks ! I shall accept your assistance. And 
 you, Senor Paredes, has your Grace nothing to offer?" 
 
 This temptation was too strong to be overcome by consid 
 erations of prudence, and so Paredes answered, in his most 
 obliging tones : " Your Excellency knows how these things 
 are done in Spain, where they do them so much better. I 
 could suggest only some clumsy American way which, as 
 your Excellency has well said, would not be the right way. 
 I caught the traitor once and delivered him into your Ex 
 cellency's hands; but, owing to our Creole helplessness, I 
 might not catch him again. Still my services are at your 
 Excellenc3 T 's command. Your Excellency may dispose of 
 them at pleasure." 
 
 " We shall make use of them shortly, Senor Paredes," 
 said Arana. stung to the quick, ' to ferret out the parties 
 who have been troubling your Grace with indirect hints or 
 messages as to that arch-traitor, Juan Castro. For the 
 present, gentlemen, we shall detain you but another mo 
 ment. It is time to put an end to the carnival of Indian 
 witchcraft in this kingdom. There is one witch especially, 
 who, as I am informed, has played a most prominent part 
 in the late disturbances the witch, Mama Eucu. This 
 dangerous person, it seems, has practiced her vile arts for 
 years, with the connivance almost, of the authorities. It 
 has been intimated to me that persons high in power were
 
 352 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 afraid of her, because she was supposed to know every 
 body's secrets. It is certainly evident that she has been 
 treated with most incomprehensible indulgence. Well, 
 old Arana is not afraid. The witch does not know any of 
 my secrets; for I have none except those of the King's 
 service. I have concluded to have her arrested and put 
 to trial. If she knows any secrets I am willing to 
 have her divulge them. I am not interested in shielding 
 the possessors of evil consciences. All I ask of you, gen 
 tlemen, is a guide to show my soldiers the way to her cot 
 tage. Sefior Londofio, have the kindness to attend to this. 
 And now, gentlemen, I wish you good morning. .Ramirez ! 
 Have my horse in readiness. 1 am going to mount." And, 
 without another word or nod, Arana turned his back on 
 the company, and walked into the adjoining room. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 NOS PATRIAM FUGIMUS. 
 
 WE must now turn back to the night preceding the 
 scenes described in the last chapter. It was a dark 
 and starless night, premonitory of the approaching rainy 
 season. The clouds were hanging low, some layers rest 
 ing on the very roofs of public buildings in the city. 
 Now and then a streak of lightning relieved the dark 
 ness, and the rolling thunder was heard in the distance, 
 but it, did not rain. The stillness of Mount Pichincha 
 was hardly broken by the murmur of voices around 
 Mama Rucu's cottage. A number of Indians were there, 
 and others were going and coming. They glided along 
 like shadows of night, and their faces could not be recog 
 nized in the darkness. Only one group of them spoke, the
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 353 
 
 one nearest the cottage ; the others were silent, silent as 
 the mountain solitude around them. 
 
 The Shyri Toa sat on the little stone bench, which had 
 been occupied by Marna JRucu when she was first introduced 
 to the reader. Before her knelt or stood the one to whom she 
 gave audience at the time, while the others kept at a re 
 spectful distance, so as not to hear what their Queen had 
 not intended for their ears. They were happy if they could 
 hear but the musical murmur of their beloved sovereign's 
 voice. Toa's dress was not different from those of the 
 people around her; but on her head she wore the diadem 
 with the emerald emblem of her ill-fated house. This was 
 her only badge of royalty, and it appeared and disappeared 
 as the lightning struggled with the dense darkness of the 
 night. 
 
 " Else, Mariano !" she said to an Indian who lay on the 
 ground before her, pressing the hem of her garment to his 
 lips. 
 
 "Oh, take me along Shyri, take me!" he answered with 
 out changing his attitude. "Do not leave thy most faith 
 ful servant behind." 
 
 "Poor boy! Hast thou considered the hardships, the 
 freezing cold, the gnawing hunger, the drenching rains, 
 the shelterless nights of the journey? Hast thou con 
 sidered the sickening climate, the poisonous serpents, the 
 fierce beasts of the tropical forests, whither I am bound. 
 Child of the genial table lands, the Paradise of earth, house- 
 servant of Viracocha gentlemen, thou art brought up and 
 accustomed to ease and comfort ; the tropical forests, along 
 the great rivers, with their steaming heat and aching fevers 
 are not for thee !" 
 
 "But thou wilt be there, Shyri, and whither thou goest 
 I want to go. To die where thou art will be happiness. 
 Oh, deny it not to thy faithful servant." 
 
 "Mariano !" said Toa sternly, and yet with kindness, " I 
 must treat all my children alike. They would all follow
 
 354 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 i 
 
 me and depopulate the land of our fathers, which they leave 
 behind. They would follow me by thousands, only to perish 
 by thousands on the way. We have to pass an unhospitahle 
 wilderness, where nothing can be found to sustain life. We 
 can not carry provisions for the thousands that would go 
 with me. Hence I have determined that not more than 
 five hundred shall go, and I have selected them from the 
 factories, and the mines, and the fields; tbou art a gentle 
 man's body-servant, thy condition will be one of ease and 
 comfort if compared to the cruel lot of thy brethren. Yet 
 thy devotion has touched my heart, and if among the five 
 hundred that are to go, thou canst find one who will stay 
 for thee, I grant thee permission to take his place." 
 
 " Thanks, a thousand thanks, most gracious Shyri," an 
 swered the Indian Mariano, whom the reader has met before, 
 as the servant of Carrera; and again fervently kissing the 
 hem of her garment, he arose and hurried away. 
 
 Ton now clapped her hands, at which signal a dark figure 
 emerged noiselessly from the cottage and placed itself be 
 fore her, with its head and shoulders bent low. 
 
 "Call Santos!" she said. The dark figure disappeared, 
 and immediately afterward an Inflian woman knelt before 
 her Queen. 
 
 "Santos!" Toa began, with great solemnity, "Grand 
 daughter of Cozopangui, of the noblest blood of our race ! 
 Toa Duchicela has sent, for thee to bid thee an everlasting 
 farewell." With these words she gently placed her hands 
 on the woman's head, drew it to her, and kissed her on 
 the forehead, while Santos broke into sobs and tears. 
 
 " Be quiet, Mama Santos ! Diy thy tears and compose 
 thyself. Knowest thou not that thou must be the custodian 
 of my revenge. I do not speak to thee as thy sovereign 
 now. It is the woman Toa who speaks to the woman 
 Santos. Toa speaks -not to her subject Santos, but to 
 Santos her friend. The revenge of my crushed heart I 
 have left with thee."
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 355 
 
 "Oh, speak, Shyri !" asked the other, with the quickness 
 of burning zeal. " Wilt thou let me use the sharp dagger 
 of the Viracochas, which I might send with unerring cer 
 tainty to her cold heart?" 
 
 "No, Santos!" 
 
 " Or wouldst thou let me use the never-failing poison 
 which I have learned to distil from plants and fruits, the 
 poison which leaves no mark or trace for the eye of sus 
 picion?" 
 
 " No, Santos ! I told thee what it shall be. Not death, 
 but life shall be his punishment. Death is short, and then 
 all is over. But there is a life which is worse than death, 
 and that life shall be his. Use not a knife of iron or steel, 
 but a knife that enters the heart and kills not; a knife that 
 wounds and stabs day after da}', j-ear after year ; a knife 
 that draws no blood, and yet causes intense suffering. Let 
 it be a poison that consumes not the body, but the mind, a 
 poison which does not cause death, but misery and heart 
 ache, a poison which instead of giving rest takes it away. 
 A rankling wound in the heart, the pangs of jealousy, love 
 unrequited, bitter disappointment, blasted expectations, 
 vain regrets, pride mortified, confidence betrayed, and end 
 less humiliation; such a life as the years roll on without 
 change, without relief, without hope, will be a punishment 
 worse than a thousand deaths. And if he were to live an 
 eternity, it would not be revenge enough for the heart-ache, 
 the misery, the disappointment, the defeat, which he has 
 brought upon me and my race. And in order to secui'e 
 this punishment that. wicked woman must live, Santos! 
 Hearest thou, Santos! She must live! Hence, kill her 
 not, granddaughter of Cozopangui, but watch over her, 
 nurse her, protect her, until my revenge is complete." 
 
 " Eely on me, Shyri ! Thy commands shall be fulfilled." 
 
 " Yes, Santos, and fulfill them intelligently. Use thy 
 best judgment. Thou art of a wise family, and thy grand 
 father was one of the wisest men of bis day. Use thy wis-
 
 356 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 dom ! Bo vigilant! Let nothing escape thy attention! 
 Arm thyself with the facts and circumstances which will 
 nourish his suspicion, and use them slowly, cautiously, but 
 continually, and with the irrepressible force of fate. And 
 now, Santos, farewell ! 1 must attend to others before I go, 
 and the hours are fleeting. It is my last night in the cap 
 ital of my fathers, and, alas ! it will be so short ! " 
 
 "Oh, gracious Shyri, life of my soul, let thy humble ser 
 vant beg for a last favor on this side of the grave." 
 
 " What is it, Santos?" 
 
 " Let thy queenly lips once more press my loyal fore 
 head, as they did before." 
 
 " Come into my arms, Santos! " said the Queen, unable 
 to repress the bitter tears which had started to her eyes. 
 " May the great Pachacamac protect thee kindly until the 
 last ! " With these words, Toa kissed her on both cheeks 
 and dismissed her. 
 
 The dark figure again approached and said : " Thy ser 
 vant Uma is now ready to receive thy parting commands." 
 
 " Let him come! " 
 
 "I have everything in readiness, Shyri!" said Uma. 
 " If we succeed, he will be free after midnight. Shall I 
 bring him to thee ? 
 
 " No, Uma ; he must not lose a minute. Take him into 
 the mountains, at once, on thy way to the coast. I have 
 provided thee with gold to send him out of this unhappy 
 country, and to protect him from want for the rest of his 
 days. Tell him that Toa Duchicela will never forget him, 
 and that of all the Yiracochas on earth, he is the only one 
 whom she will ever hold in grateful Remembrance. Tell 
 him that his mother and child will not be abandoned or 
 forgotten. Tell him that he has wronged the woman Mer 
 cedes, who is innocent of his betrayal. Tell him that the 
 Sun and the Moon will ever hear my prayers for his hap 
 piness." 
 
 " I shall, Shyri ! flualpa shall bring the tidings of our
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 357 
 
 success. If we fail, I shall myself be the bearer of the 
 news." 
 
 " Go with him to the coast. Leave him not until he is 
 safe, and when thou hast accomplished thy task, join me 
 on the banks of the Napo, if thou wilt still link thy for 
 tunes to mine. But if thou wilt no longer follow the 
 fading star, the waning emerald, thou art free, Uma, to go 
 whithersoever thy heart may tempt thee, and so much of 
 my treasures as thy future wants shall require, shall be 
 thine." 
 
 "Where Toa Duchicela is," answered Uma slowly and 
 in measured tones, "there Uma will be. He will follow 
 in her path. He will wander where she wanders ; he will 
 tarry where she tarries; and wherever she sleepeth, there 
 will he wake and watch ! " 
 
 " I thank thee, Uma ! 1 knew thou wouldst be faithful 
 to the last. Thy house and our house have stood together 
 in the days of their greatness and prosperity. Their de 
 scendants will be together in exile and adversity. Fare 
 well, Uma; we shall meet again." 
 
 " If I live, Shyri, I shall soon be with thee ! " 
 
 With these words he departed, calm, dignified and im 
 perturbable as ever. Toa looked after him until his form 
 had disappeared in the darkness. Then she rested her 
 elbow on her knee and her head on her hand, and sank 
 into gloomy meditation. A darkness blacker than that of 
 the starless night had settled upon her soul. " Thousands 
 of hearts," she sighed, "will cling to me, and yet I am 
 nothing to them but a powerless, shadowy Queen, who de 
 mands services and accepts sacrifices ; thousands of these 
 unfortunates would follow me through poverty and misery 
 to an untimely death ; yet he, the one for whose love I 
 yearned, the man upon whom I should have showered 
 greatness, renown, and prosperity, has turned away from 
 me. Those to whom I give nothing will die for me ; he to
 
 358 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 whom I should have given everything will not even live 
 for me." 
 
 " It is a just punishment, Shyri Toa," said a voice at her 
 side. 
 
 " Punishment ? For what, Prince Cundurazu ? " 
 
 " For the levity and thoughtless selfishness with which 
 thou didst subordinate thy sacred mission to the petty fan 
 cies and desires of a woman's heart." 
 
 " Cnndurazu " 
 
 " Raise not thy voice in anger, for I will speak, and thou 
 shalt hear me in spite of thy frowns. My days are num 
 bered on earth. I can not follow thee to the land of the 
 savage. What little strength there is left to me I shall 
 fully need to carry back this worn-out body to Purruha, 
 the land of my fathers. There where thy ancestors lived 
 and died as well as mine, in the recesses of the mountain 
 whose name I bear, my bones shall bleach. There, among 
 inaccessible crags, never to be polluted by the invader's 
 tread, this weary wanderer shall sleep the last sleep undis 
 turbed by the dream and hope of my long life, that glori 
 ous hope which thou hast wrecked." 
 
 "Yes, thou, Shyri Toa, thou! It is hard to bear the 
 burden of defeat; but defeat self-inflicted, misery of one's 
 own creation, failure by one's own dereliction, is the most 
 galling of all defeats, miseries, and failures. I can not 
 spare thee this misery, Shyri Toa. Thou hast sacrificed 
 the cause of thy race, and I must hold up a mirror to thy 
 soul in order to let thee see what thou hast done." 
 
 Toa hung her head and said nothing. 
 
 " Have I thy permission to proceed, daughter of Autachi, 
 whom I saved from the bloody fangs of Kummagui of 
 Autachi, whom I hid and nursed and brought up to be thy 
 father, Toa Duchicela?" 
 
 "Thou hast! I am a woman. I am heart-broken and 
 crushed, Cunduruzu! Proceed, then, and add what thou
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 359 
 
 canst to the load of misery and disappointment by which 
 I am oppressed." 
 
 " I can not spare thee for the wrong thou hast done to thy 
 race. After thou hadst agreed to the great plan of Collo- 
 huaso and myself, thou shouldst have carried it out in 
 earnest. Thou shouldst not have thrown thyself awa% r on 
 the first pretty face that struck thy fancy. A man of iron 
 thou necdedst, but a toy of wax captured th}' idle fancy. 
 Thou shouldst have consulted the welfare of thy race, the 
 purposes of thy royal mission, and not the untried predi 
 lections of an inexperienced female heart. Thy choice fell 
 on the weakest, instead of the strongest, the ficklest, instead 
 of the steadiest of the Viracochas. Instead of choosing 
 wisely, thou didst not choose at all. There were hundreds 
 among whom tbou mightst have chosen and who would 
 have died for the glory, the honor, and the wealth thy hand 
 might have bestowed. Why didst thou not winnow and 
 separate the chaff from the grain? Why didst thou not 
 test the metal of the man and approve him worthy of thy 
 cause and favor, before, like a heedless girl, thou threwest 
 the treasure of thy love at the feet of a fool, who would not 
 stoop to pick it up ?" 
 
 "It is cruel, Cundurazu. to upbraid me with the mistake 
 I have made. Have I not suffered for it? And would I 
 not have rectified it, if the gods had granted the opportu 
 nity? 
 
 "No, Toa Duchicela! Blame not the gods for the crime 
 which lies at thine own door. Thou hadst the opportunity. 
 The gods had kindly granted it; but thou, Toa Ducbicela, 
 unworthy granddaughter of Atahualpa, unworthy daughter 
 of Autachi, wantonly threwest it away. The glorious op 
 portunity was sacrificed, discarded, trampled upon by thce. 
 The gods had sent the man of iron to the relief of our 
 sinking cause. There was victory in his hand and loyalty 
 in his heart. He came, and our despair was changed into 
 gladness the certainty of defeat into the certainty of vie-
 
 360 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 tory. Hadst thou but let him alone ! But no ! Thy heed 
 less, reckless, shameless interference, destroyed our last 
 hope. Thou didst take it upon thyself to arrest his uplifted 
 hand. He would have crushed the viper before it stung 
 his unarmed heel, and laid him low, but for thy unwar 
 ranted interference. What made thee send that fatal 
 warning to Manuel Paredes, the enemy of our race? But 
 for this warning, that traitor would have died, and our 
 noble Viracocha friend would have captured the chief of 
 the foreigners, and, with one glorious blow, forever set us 
 free. Thy interference shielded the traitor and sacrificed 
 our deliverer. Hence, blame not the gods, Toa Duchicela; 
 blame not the Sun and the Moon for thine own crime. It 
 is thou that hast betrayed us ; it is thou that hast sacrificed 
 us, and upon thy guilty, giddy, self-indulgent head, be the 
 curse of our race." 
 
 Toa remained silent, stunned and crushed. 
 
 "I know why thou didst commit this reckless crime. I 
 can read thy shallow heart, and discern the motive of thy 
 wanton act. It was revenge on thy fickle and faithless 
 lover, which seemed to thee more important than the 
 success of our great cause. Millions had to be sacrificed 
 in order to punish one whose whole guilt was but thy own 
 folly. The brave men whom thou hast doomed to the 
 scaffold, the friends thou hast abandoned, thy own race 
 and kingly office, which thou hast trifled away, will rise 
 against thee, darkening the Sun with sorrow and drawing 
 tears from the loving Moon. No woman on earth has ever 
 sacrificed so much to gain so little a lover's punishment, 
 for which a knife, a dagger, a stone, might have sufficed." 
 
 A flash of lightning lit up the scene for a moment, and 
 discovered Toa's face bathed in tears. .Rolling thunder, 
 reverberating from the mountains and culminating in a 
 terrible clap, interrupted the fierce eloquence of Curidu- 
 i'azu. The old man's wrath has exhausted itself, and he
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 361 
 
 sank into silent contemplation, and all was stillness and 
 darkness again. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE COYA CISA. 
 
 TOA arose at last and walked into the hut, without say 
 ing a word. Cundurazu followed her. We are familiar 
 with the interior of the cottage. Nothing had changed 
 since our last visit. A curtain suspended across its only 
 room still divided it in two compartments. The kettle 
 with the Samarucu was still boiling over a fire of aromatic 
 woods. Mama Rucu sat before it, stirring the precious 
 liquid as of old, and filling the calabash from which she 
 drank. Her back was turned to the door, as usual, yet 
 she knew who had entered. 
 
 "Granddaughter," she said, without turning round, 
 " the great Sun be praised ! I am once more under the in 
 fluence of the divine potion. For weeks and weeks it had 
 lost its effect upon me. I feared I should die without a 
 last taste of its blessings. But now it has come again. 
 The veil is rent once more ; the dim mists are lifted be 
 fore me, and by the clear light of our Great Father, the 
 Sun, I see as of old. The future is again clear to me. 
 What the next hours, the next years, will bring I see it 
 all. I see it all." 
 
 There was a moment of silence, during which Mama 
 iiucu took another draught of the charmed liquid. 
 
 "Granddaughter," she resumed, after a while, "and 
 thou, Cundurazu, the best, the truest, the only friend I 
 have had, the Coya Cisa, the widow of Atahualpa, the 
 mother of Autachi, the prophetess, whom our conquerors 
 call Mama Rucu, has but six hours to live. Her long, 
 weary pilgrimage at last approaches its end. She will go
 
 362 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 to her eternal resting-place by the side of her son Autaehi, 
 in the cave of Pichincha, the mountain which has shel 
 tered her for the last sixty years. Six short hours and 
 the Coya Cisa will be no more." 
 
 A deep sigh from Cundurazu responded to her sad an 
 nouncement. 
 
 "In twelve hours from now the soldiers of the foreigner 
 will appear at this cottage to seize Mama Rueu and drug 
 her before the tribunal of our oppressors. They will not 
 find her. They will be balked of their prey. Death will 
 be kinder to Coya Cisa than the oppressors of her race. 
 Six hours are left to me on earth. Great Pachacamac! I 
 praise thy kindness. Thou hast given me a life longer 
 than that of thousands, and thou givest me six hours of 
 preparation when I needed but one. Prince Cundurazu, 
 Great Curaca of Purruha, listen to the dying words of 
 Cisa." 
 
 "Coya! I am listening." 
 
 " I see them again before me the happy days of my 
 early youth. I see the blooming child once more whom 
 they called Cisa. Is it possible that these pretty features 
 should wither and harden, that the long and smooth black 
 hair should turn grizzly and white, that these smiling eyes 
 should change into fiercely rolling orbs of fire? Ah, but 
 this dreadful change is only a picture of the more dreadful 
 change which has come to our race. Our costly garments 
 of alpaca have changed into beggarly rags ; the golden 
 ornaments of our nobles into iron chains ; our palaces into 
 prisons ; our temples into the tombs of our happiness ; our 
 free-born children into beasts of burden ; our warriors into 
 slaves. The great men of our land are gone, all gone, 
 with but one last exception Prince Cundurazu, Curaca of 
 Purruha " 
 
 " Who will soon follow in the footsteps of his betters." 
 
 " Curaca of Purruha ! Do I recognize thy noble features 
 in that shrivelled and care-worn face, the features that
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIEF. 363 
 
 first awoke the delicious sentiment of love in this now 
 stony breast? Where is the heart that once beat so wildly 
 at thy approach ? It is here it beats faintly, faintly; it 
 will soon have ceased to beat." 
 
 Toa threw herself on a low stool near the door and bur 
 ied her face it her hands. Cundurazu stood motionless 
 with his white head hung upon his breast. 
 
 " For all thy love, Curaca, I thank thee. There was a 
 time when we dreamed of happiness. It was a dream 
 never verified a hope never realized a beautiful sunbeam 
 on the icy paramo, a sunbeam that soen died away in 
 mists, 'clouds, tempests, and snow. Alas, the day of our 
 hope was so short, and the night of our misery was so long. 
 To thee, Curaca, I once hoped to belong ; but our dread 
 Inca, the ill-fated son of the unfortunate Pacha, willed it 
 otherwise. .The Coya Cisa found favor in his blood-shot 
 eyes; the Inca took me to his royal bed. Great was the 
 honor he conferred on me ; but I paid for it with a broken 
 heart. And thou, noble Curaca, never ceasedst to love me 
 and to mourn for what thou hadst lost. And when Kumi- 
 liagui, the villain, the tyrant, the usurper, was bent on my 
 death because I cai'ried an heir to Atahualpa under my 
 heart, it was thou, Curaca, to whom I owed my rescue and 
 deliverance. To thee I owed my life and that of Autachi, 
 my son. Once more, Curaca, I' thank tbee. I was a loyal 
 wife to Atahualpa, the father of my royal child; but my 
 heart remained faithful to thee, until the childish love for 
 one man expanded to that great loving compassion for our 
 groaning and bleeding race. But now, as I stand upon the 
 brink of death, the old tenderness steals back into this dy 
 ing bosom. I shall ask thee a last favor, Cundurazu." 
 
 " Speak, Coya." 
 
 " Thy hand has rescued me from death and given me a 
 life of almost endless years. Let thy hand restore me to 
 the silence of death, from which it snatched me sixty years 
 ago."
 
 364 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " What shall I do, Goya?" 
 
 "Thou shalt put me into my mountain-chair. Thy 
 faithful hand shall help to carry me to the cave of Pichin- 
 cha. It shall place me on my last seat by the side of 
 Autachi, my son. And when I have ceased to breathe, thy 
 hand shall rest on my silent head, while thy lips utter the 
 greafprayer for the scions of the royal house of the Shyris. 
 Doest thou remember the words of the prayer, Curaca of 
 Purruha ?" 
 
 " I do, Coya." 
 
 " Then speak them for me when I am dead, and perform 
 my funeral rites in the cave of Autachi. And now. thou 
 must not harden thy heart in anger against the Shyri Toa. 
 Thou hast done her injustice. Eemember that it was our 
 plan we persuaded her to adopt, not hers. It may be, after 
 all, that I was mistaken in the interpretation of my visions- 
 Now that the veil is again lifted, now that I can see 
 more clearly than ever before, 1 am almost convinced that 
 I was mistaken. See, Cundurazu, I dreamt of the union 
 of two races, as in the days of the first Toa, the daughter 
 of the last Shyri and of Duchieela, of Purrulua. Toa was 
 to represent our race a friendly Viracocha, the race of our 
 conquerors. This was my mistake, not hers. Not by a 
 union with a Viracocha, but by a union with one of the 
 powerful chiefs in the country of the dense forests and the 
 great rivers, where the Samarucu grows, my vision will 
 be fulfilled. That union will give freedom to the In 
 dian in the country of the rising sun beyond you moun 
 tain-range. There we shall be avenged on our oppressors. 
 The rivers will run red with the blood of their men. The 
 forests will resound with the shrieks of their women. The 
 puma will crush the bones of their children. Their cities 
 will be wiped from the face of the earth. The nights will 
 be ablaze with the flames of their burning habitations. A 
 great Indian confederation of freemen will accomplish this 
 work of deliverance, and Toa will be their Queen."
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIPB. 3G5 
 
 " To reign over worthless tribes of naked savages !" 
 sneered Cundurazu. ' What is that to me ? What is it to 
 the suffering children of Purrului, to the bleeding sons of 
 Quito, to the enslaved nations of Otabalo and Caranqui ? 
 The savages beyond the mountain range are nothing to us. 
 Their freedom will not lighten our hardships. Their inde 
 pendence will not break our chains. They are strangers 
 to us, strangers in blood, in customs, and in allegiance. 
 They never were united to us in bonds of common interest 
 and fellowship. Divided from us by almost impassable 
 mountains and deserts, they never partook of the blessings 
 of our civilization. Savages they were, and savages they 
 will remain, and Toa will be a Queen of naked barbarians, 
 while she might have reigned over the land of her fathers, 
 and over the descendants of our Viracocha conquerors, 
 breaking tl>e fetters and righting the wrongs of our race. 
 What can those savages ever be to her? Her palace will 
 be the four poles of a hut with a roof of palm-leaves. A 
 hammock of twine will be her throne. Her garden will 
 be the steaming forest with its serpents, wild beasts, and 
 fevers. Her allies will be men who feast upon human 
 flesh, and paint their unsightly faces and forms. She will 
 be a stranger among strangers, who can be nothing to her 
 polished mind. Separated from all the surroundings that 
 were dear to her, she will pine away in the wilderness by 
 the side of a brute, who will soon discard her; she will die 
 without honor, without glory, without benefit to herself 
 and her own people, with the gnawing consciousness of 
 what might have been, with that everlasting and regretful 
 remembrance of what she has thrown away." 
 
 "It is well, Cundurazu," now interrupted Toa, rising 
 from her stool with all the majesty of a Queen. " I shall 
 not embitter thy few remaining days on earth by recrim 
 inations. I was young, and thou wast old. I was blinded 
 by love, and thou hadst eyes. I was without the experi 
 ence in which thou aboundedst. I was a silly, loving
 
 366 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 woman, and thou wast a wise old man. 1 was a Queen, 
 and thou wast my councilor. I shall not reproach thee, 
 Cundurazu. I shall be more generous to thee than thou 
 hast been to me. It is true, I am going among savages. 
 It is true, my life will be joyless and sad, even if I do 
 succeed. It is true, 1 must bury the aspirations, the 
 hopes, the dreams of my life, and content myself with a 
 lot little above that of the animals of the forests I shall 
 inhabit. But has thy cold and unloving heart died even to 
 the feelings of revenge? Our plans thy plans have failed, 
 and the past is irrevocable. I can not free our people, but 
 I can avenge their wrongs upon so many of their oppress 
 ors. I can not punish them all for the crimes they have 
 committed against us, but 1 can punish thousands of them. 
 I am defeated and betrayed, but yet I may be revenged. 
 This revenge, it is true, means self-sacrifice ; but still it is 
 revenge. When my aunt, Carmen Duchicela, had sent for 
 masters to Lima, to instruct her rebellious niece in the 
 mysteries of the new faith, they taught me the story of an 
 ancient warrior, whose name I have forgotten. He had 
 been made a prisoner i>y his enemies, who put out his eyes, 
 and compelled him to play a musical instrument in the 
 temple of a god who was not his God, to enliven their sac 
 rificial feast. He was a man of almost inci'edible strength, 
 who could work miracles by it. And when thousands of 
 his enemies had assembled in the temple and on the roof 
 of it, he seized the two pillars on which the edifice rested, 
 and by the wondrous strength of his arms, broke them 
 down and buried himself and his tormentors. Secst thou, 
 Cundurazu ! such will be my revenge. I am broken, and 
 my life is hopeless, like that of the blind Hebrew warrior 
 in the story. What is life to me now? But I can bring 
 down the roof of the temple upon thousands of my enemies. 
 What if I do perish it will be in a glorious blaze of re 
 venge." 
 
 "And, after all," she continued, after a pause, during
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 3G7 
 
 which nothing was heard but the bubbli ng of the water in 
 llama Bucu's caldron, " thou, Prince Cundurazu, wantedst 
 me to be a Queen. To that purpose thou hadst trained and 
 shaped my mind ever since my childhood. Thy wish shall 
 be fulfilled. I shall be a Queen. And if I can not rule 
 over our own race and the Viracochas of our land, I shall 
 rule over painted savages. The Zaparos and Jivaros are 
 not entire strangers to our royal house. My great-grand 
 father conquered them. My grandfather kept them in 
 obedience. The descendants of our mitimaes* are still 
 among them. My reign may not be one of glory or great 
 ness; it will not fulfill the great dream and purpose of my 
 life ; but 1 shall be a Queen, which is better than to be a 
 wanderer without a home, or a prisoner in the hands of the 
 Spaniards." 
 
 With these words, she walked to the fire, snatched a 
 brand from it, and lit a taper, which stood on the table. 
 She then disappeared behind the curtain, where she re 
 mained for the next fifteen minutes. Cundurazu took the 
 seat which she had left, covered his head with his capisayo, 
 and his face with his hands, and was soon lost in medita 
 tion. Mama Kucu, in the meantime, proceeded, with calm 
 composure, with the preparations for the journey to her 
 eternal resting-place. A large earthen jar, with a long 
 neck of Indian workmanship, stood by the side of her fire, 
 arid into this vessel she slowly and carefully poured the 
 liquid from the caldron, using her calabash instead of a 
 ladle, and sipping from it from time to time. When the 
 kettle had been emptied, she blew a little silver whistle, 
 which hung from a string around her neck. The Fool, 
 whom our readers will remember, answered her call. 
 
 " Take this kettle away, and give it to Mama Guantu, to 
 keep it for my sake. Take it away and come back." 
 
 The Fool left, with* a puzzled expression, and the old 
 
 * Colonists.
 
 368 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 woman stirred the fire and then arose ; but her strength 
 gave way, and she fell back on her stool. 
 
 " My strength is going fast," she muttered. " My limbs 
 refuse to obey my head ; and yet this head," she added, 
 striking her forehead, " is so clear, so clear !" 
 
 The Fool returned. 
 
 " Take these herbs, man, and throw them on the fire I" 
 
 The Fool looked at her in hesitation and amazement. 
 
 " Do as I tell thee. Nobody could use them to advantage 
 after I am gone. And it is better our children should not 
 know the future, than to behold the misery of centuries 
 which is before them." 
 
 " But, Coya, how canst thou do without the Samarucu ? " 
 
 " Look at this jar. It is full. It will do me for ages." 
 
 " The vessel of the dead ?" 
 
 " It is filled and prepared. Thou shalt carry it to my 
 tola* 
 
 The Fool burst into tears. 
 
 "No childishness, mun ! I have lived long enough. Do 
 as I tell thee !" 
 
 Sobbing and moaning, the Fool took bundle after bundle 
 of the dried herbs piled up along the wall, and threw them 
 on the fire. With a sudden flash, tke flames leaped up and 
 strangely illumined the cottage, throwing ghastly shades 
 on the features of the living mummy who had ordered this 
 holocaust. 
 
 Toa now reappeared from behind the curtain. 
 
 "And our patient, Grandmother? Does he require 
 nothing else ?" 
 
 " Nothing at all. He will sleep until the soldiers come." 
 
 "Is he sure to recover ?" 
 
 " He will surely recover. I have steeled his system 
 against the poisons which the Viracocha medicine- men 
 will give him." , 
 
 * Mound over a tomb.
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 369 
 
 " Is he sure to live ?" 
 
 " He is sure to live." 
 
 " For years ?" 
 
 "For years; and I can tell thee more. Thou shalt see 
 him again." 
 
 Toa started in terror. " Grandmother, what dost thou 
 mean ?" 
 
 " I mean what I have said. Thou shalt see him and 
 speak to him once more." 
 
 " Where?" 
 
 "In the country of the great forests and rivers, over 
 which thou shalt be Queen." 
 
 '' And when ?" 
 
 " On the day of his death." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TRUE TO HIS FAITH. 
 
 THE spirit of Mama Eucu had fled. Cundurazu had 
 spoken the great prayer for the departed of the royal 
 house, and a band of faithful Indians had embalmed her 
 remains and placed them in a chair of state by the side of 
 her son, Autachi, with the jar of Samarucu on her right. 
 Toa had knelt in prayer and meditation before the ghastly 
 skeleton of her father. She had knelt before the new throne 
 of death occupied by her grandmother. There was now 
 but one direct lineal descendant of the house of Shyri- 
 Duchicela-Inca, and that one was about to bid an everlast 
 ing farewell to the land of her fathers. And there were 
 mounds of gold and silver piled up around her in the cave 
 of Autachi, and she was poor and miserable in the midst 
 of all these riches. Full of love and of hopes, she had 
 been here a few short months ago with the man of her
 
 370 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 choice, and now, alas ! her heart was broken, and life was 
 a bleak waste of despair. 
 
 When everything was finished, the funeral party left the 
 cave as silently as they had entered it. The day had begun 
 to dawn, as they emerged from the bowels of the earth. The 
 darkness of a tempestuous night had given away to a 
 cheerless morn 
 
 " Man has another day to swell the past, 
 And bring him near to little hut his last." 
 
 They had reached the place where the water of the 
 mountain -stream could be turned off in order to facilitate 
 the passage of a ravine through which the cave had to be 
 reached. Toa swung herself on a protruding rock, and, 
 leaping from stone to stone, followed the course of the ra 
 vine upward for a short distance, and then stopped, intently 
 examining a rock against which the water dashed with 
 great violence. Cundurazu followed her, in strange be 
 wilderment, and watched her closely with an expression of 
 mingled surprise and suspicion. 
 
 " If I order this rock to be removed," she said, after a 
 pause, " the water will make itself a new bed. and wash 
 away the entrances to the cave of Autachi, which would 
 then be closed up forever." 
 
 "And why should it be closed up forever?" 
 
 " Why should it not be closed up forever? The hopes 
 of our house are forever extinguished. Why should a 
 royal tomb be maintained, when royalty itself is dead ? 
 Who should be buried here ?" 
 
 "Thou, Toa Duchicela, when thou art gone. If thou 
 art worthy of thy name and family, thou wilt make pro 
 vision to be brought here and be entombed by the side of 
 thy father when thou art dead." 
 
 "My remains will need to be disposed of according to 
 the customs of the nation whose chief will be my future 
 lord." 
 
 " But thou wilt have followers of thy own race even in
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 371 
 
 those forests. Some of them will be left when the time 
 has come to bury Toa Dnchicela according to the rites of 
 her house, after bringing her back dead to the country of 
 her fathers, over which, living, she might have reigned. 
 Thou talkest wildry, Shyri Toa. Close up the entrances to 
 the cave of Autachi ? It would be sacrilege ! Hast thou 
 forgotten that that cave containeth the great treasure of 
 Quito?" 
 
 Toa uttered a contemptuous laugh. " Paltry, miserable 
 gold, worthless as dust or ashes. With all these millions 
 1 could not buy liberty for my people or happiness for my 
 own poor heart. Let that rubbish perish ! Let it be 
 buried in the womb of the earth from which it came." 
 
 " Hadst thou thought less of thy own selfish heart, and 
 more of the cause of thy people, that treasure would have 
 done its great work, and wrought innumerable blessings, 
 instead of lying idly around the crumbling shapes of 
 death." 
 
 " Wilt thou renew thy bootless upbraiding? I will not 
 listen to it again. That rock shall be removed !" 
 
 ' it shall not be removed ! " 
 
 "And who will hinder it?" 
 
 " I, Cundurazu, Curaca of Purruha, the next in dignity 
 to thj^self, Toa Duchicela I, who will assume the reins of 
 our secret government, and transmit it to him whom I 
 shall deem worthy of it, in case of thy death, thy abdica 
 tion, or thy forfeiture of the throne by an act of faithless 
 ness to the cause of thy people. Thou dost not know me 
 yet, Toa Duchicela. This old man may have failed in the 
 great work of his life. He may be a visionary, as thy 
 aunt Carmen, the apostate's daughter, calls him, but he 
 clings to his belief or vision with unremitting tenacity, and 
 will worship even the empty shadow of that belief, while 
 a drop of red blood is left in his shriveling veins. This 
 treasure is the great hope of our race." 
 
 " Has not the Coya Cisa foretold that centuries of hope-
 
 372 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 less misery will come? And did she ever err in any of her 
 predictions ? " 
 
 "Ah, but there will be a time, even after the lapse of cen 
 turies. My love for my race, is not a love for myself or 
 those whom I have known on earth, i love my race in its 
 unborn generations. To them, to our remotest posterity, 
 let this treasure be handed down. Two families of this 
 province will be the custodians of the secret, which the 
 father will hand down to his first-born, from generation to 
 generation. As the traditions of our past greatness and 
 glory, the existence of this hidden treasure will be known 
 to thousands ; its precise location will be known to but two 
 living beings at the time. But two shall always know it, 
 until the time of deliverance comes; and if it never comes, 
 yet this treasure shall be held as a secret trust for the holy 
 purpose of breaking, or at least lightening the chains of our 
 people. If thou wilt not defend it and protect it, Toa 
 Duchicela, I will. Thou must order the murder of the man 
 who saved thy grandmother and thy father, before thou 
 wilt succeed in destroying the enti-ances to the cave of Au- 
 tachi. Order my death, thou future Queen of painted sav 
 ages ! It is very questionable whether thy order will be 
 obeyed by the men who are now behind thee." 
 
 Toa hung her head in silence. At last she broke into 
 tears. " Oh, Cundurazu, the most cruel of all my friends,' 
 hadst thou but let me die when I was a child. Would, I 
 had never known thee, and thou hadst never haunted me 
 with that spectral phantom of a throne. The humblest 
 hand-maiden of Carmen Duchicela is happier than this 
 mockery of a Queen. Oh, Carmen, Carmen, why did I not 
 listen to thy voice of warning while it was time ? " 
 
 " Thus speaketh a woman, in whom those tears are natu 
 ral, although they are unworthy of a Shyri Inca. Then 
 thou wilt not order the death of Cundurazu or the destruc 
 tion of the entrances of the cave?" 
 
 "I shall not, Cundurazu. Thou art right. Yon treasure
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 373 
 
 belongs to that royalty, which I resign by emigration. 
 Let its secret be kept as thy wisdom shall direct. Art thou 
 content?" 
 
 a I thank thee, Shj-ri Toa, for this last favor to the old 
 man who could not bear to depart even a hair's breath from 
 the belief of his lifetime, and the belief of his fathers. And 
 now Shyri Toa, our ways do separate. Thou wilt go to the 
 north and the east. I shall return to the south, the cradle 
 of my family. This was our last meeting, Shyri Toa. 
 Farewell ! " 
 
 "And wilt thou thus turn thy face on me forever, with 
 out a last friendly word or token of love. Where is thy 
 heart, Curidurazu ? Have I ceased to be anything to thee?" 
 
 "The Shyri Toa was everything to me. The woman Toa 
 can not be more to me than any other of the noble women 
 of our race. Look at yon snow-peak, now kissed by the 
 first rays of our great Sun. Even the kiss of the Sun-God 
 does not melt that everlasting garment of ice and snow. 
 I havo outlived n^self, Toa Duchicela, and to the common 
 feelings of the human kind, this old heart has died died 
 died." 
 
 And with these words, the old man walked away with 
 out looking back, and was soon lost behind a bend of the 
 mountain. 
 
 Toa felt crushed, deserted, hopeless, alone. With Cun- 
 durazu, a part of her past self had gone. The glorious 
 dream, which he had instilled into her mind, had vanished. 
 No longer a Queen, she was but a woman now, and it is so 
 unspeakably sad and wretched for a woman to be alone in 
 the world, a stranger among strangers, with all the yearn 
 ings of her heart disappointed, with no future to look for 
 ward, and the past a regret. 
 
 And as she looked down on the city of Quito at her feet, 
 the peals of Christian bells ascended to her lonely station, 
 arousing her from her lethargy, and reminding her that 
 there was no rest for the fugitive and the wanderer.
 
 374 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 OUT OF THE JAWS OP DEATH. 
 
 PAREDES had informed Dolores of the scene between 
 himself and Arana. Dolores at once proceeded to patch 
 up a peace between her friend and the .Royal Commissioner. 
 After dinner, on the very day of the disagreement, she 
 began to labor with the Count in the interest of Manuel 
 Paredes. Her task did not prove very difficult. The 
 merits of Paredes should not be overlooked. The confis 
 cation of the estates of the Sanchez, Olmos, Garcias, 
 Perez, and other leaders of the rebellion would furnish 
 ample means of doing justice to all the loyal servants of 
 the King. At the same time Arana advised his amiable 
 hostess to urge upon her protege the propriety of moder 
 ation and modesty ; for, after all, he had but performed 
 his duty to his master, the King. It was true he had per 
 formed it fully and successfully ; but was he not bound to 
 perform it to the best of his ability? And although the 
 King would graciously remember and appreciate such con 
 duct, a subject acquired no rights or claims on his Majesty 
 by doing a duty properly, the omission, neglect, or im 
 proper discharge of which would be considered criminal, 
 and make the offender liable to punishment. The King 
 owed nothing to Manuel Paredes; but if, in the fullness of 
 his generosity, he should considerately bestow rewards on 
 those who had served him best, it was his royal privilege, 
 as it would certainly be his princely inclination, to do so. 
 By these rules, he, the Count Arana, the Commissioner and 
 Representative of the King, would be guided in the distri 
 bution of the confiscated encomiendas and estates. He ad 
 mitted no debt to anybody, and he would tolerate no pre-
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 375 
 
 sumption ; yet he entertained no prejudice or ill-feeling 
 toward the Senor Paredes, and if the latter would leave 
 his cause in the hands of his fair advocate, instead of re 
 sorting to personal reminders of most questionable pro 
 priety, his interests would be taken care of. Such was the 
 language intended for, if not directly addressed to, the 
 man whose unscrupulous boldness and wonderful skill had 
 either saved the kingdoms of Peru and Quito to the crown 
 of Spain, or at least averted the dangerous necessity of a 
 long and costly war. He had saved the lives of the King's 
 ministers, and delivered the master spirit of the rebellion 
 into the hands of the King's representative ; and now he 
 was told that he had only performed a duty, the non- 
 performance of which would have been a crime. The 
 puppets, Juan de Londono, Pedro Guzman Ponce de 
 Leon, and others whom he, Paredes, had manipulated and 
 directed, were basking in the sunshine of commissarial 
 favor, while he whose genius had shaped hopelessness into 
 success and triumph was coldly ignored and neglected. 
 
 Dolores, by order of Arana, had received through her 
 father all the Carrera papers that had been sent from 
 Lima. She had retired with them to her room, and read 
 the long and glowing eulogies in poetry and in prose with 
 which the literati of Lima had celebrated his noble mar 
 tyrdom. She also read the assurances of the deep interest 
 which the Viceroy had taken in the young gentleman's 
 fate, and the announcement that Carrera's heroism should 
 be recognized and rewarded if he lived, and immortalized 
 if he was dead. Had she caused his death ? Perhaps she 
 had! But had she intended his death? Certainly not. 
 Could she have foreseen that such violence would be done 
 to him, she would not have acted as she did. And yet 
 why not? Had it not been her duty to do so? At the 
 time of the crisis she had been acting under her father's 
 commission. "Was it not her duty, in order to save the 
 royal cause, to sacrifice Carrera, if it was necessary, as her
 
 376 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 own brother was sacrificed, and as she should have sacri 
 ficed herself if the King's service had demanded it? The 
 slaughter of Carrera was certainly to be deplored; and 
 who had deplored it more profoundly than Dolores So- 
 lando? Many a sigh and many a tear, especially in the 
 company of others, had she devoted to the memory of her 
 ill-fated lover. But her conscience acquitted her of all 
 guilt in his death. Had she profited by his sacrifice? 
 Was she not the heaviest loser? No, Dolores Solando had 
 nothing to reproach herself with in the death of Carrera, 
 by which she had personally gained nothing, yet lost so 
 much. 
 
 While she was still poring over the papers, a sudden 
 confusion of voices arose in and around the house. The 
 plaza in front of her window had filled with people, who 
 crowded around the main entrance. Yet they were not 
 tumultuous or clamorous, but spoke in subdued tones, with 
 surprise and excited curiosity depicted on every face. 
 
 Dolores arose to ascertain the cause of the excitement, 
 when Aunt Catita burst into the room. 
 
 "Oh, Doloritas ! Doloritas!" exclaimed that lady, gasp 
 ing for breath. 
 
 "What is it, Auntie, dear? What makes you look so 
 pale and excited ?" 
 
 "Doloritas, they have found him ! They have brought 
 him into the house!" W T ith these words Dona Catita sank 
 into a chair. 
 
 " Whom?" exclaimed Dolores, while her heart began to 
 palpitate. 
 
 "Oh, how haggard and wan he looks! It is pitiful to 
 see him." 
 
 " But 3'ou have not told me who it is. Is it Carrera?" 
 
 " Of course it is Carrera, risen from the dead, and the 
 very picture of death." 
 
 Dolores stood thunderstruck. For an instant her usual 
 presence of mind seemed to have deserted her.
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 377 
 
 "The soldiers," continued Aunt Catita, "who had been 
 sent to arrest Mama Rucu, found him in her cottage. 
 There he lay in a dark place behind a curtain, weak and 
 insensible, and O ! so thin and emaciated ; he looks almost 
 like a skeleton." 
 
 " And Mama Rucu?" asked Dolores, with a shudder. 
 
 " Could not be found anywhere. They searched the 
 mountain, far and near, but she was gone." 
 
 "Where is Carrera?" 
 
 " Still in the doorway. They brought him in on a rough 
 board covered with sheep-skins, and now they do not 
 know what to do with him. Count Arana has gone out ; 
 the Marquis is not at home ; Carrera's house is closed up, 
 and without comforts or attendance, and so nobody knew 
 what should be done, and this is the reason why I flew up 
 stairs to hear your opinion, Doloritas." 
 
 " There is but one thing to be done under the circum 
 stances," said Dolores with decision ; " he must be brought 
 upstairs and placed in the best room that we can give him. 
 Our house is very crowded now, but I shall give him my 
 own room as long as his condition demands it. You will 
 allow me to share your room in the meantime? Let it be 
 done at once, Auntie." 
 
 " But your father, Dolores, what will he say to this?" 
 
 " He will be delighted with it, I assure you. Let us lose 
 no time where a human life may be at stake;" and thus 
 saying, Dolores snatched up her shawl and rushed down 
 stairs, followed by her aunt. 
 
 The soldiers had formed a barrier to keep back the mul 
 titude, which was pressing against the main entrance. A 
 part of the rabble had pushed themselves in during the 
 first rush, and filled tho doorway and the lower part of 
 the staircase, in order to obtain a better view of what was 
 going on. The officers were just driving them out into 
 the court-yard when Dolores came down. Another 
 woman had quietly preceded her, and knelt at the head
 
 378 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 of the stretcher on which Carrera lay, holding up his head 
 and arranging his covering. It was Mama Santos. The 
 Fool, with his hands tied upon his back, stood between 
 two soldiers who had him in charge. lie looked the 
 very picture of discomfiture and wretchedness. 
 
 Carrera's wounds had healed, but his shattered nerves 
 had not yet recovered from the terrible shock on the 
 day of the riot. His mind was still wandering. He had 
 been delirious for weeks and months, after having been 
 brought to Mama Eucu's cottage. Even after the fever 
 had subsided, his consciousness returned only rarely and 
 for short intervals, after which he relapsed into a sleep or 
 torpor, which was diligently nursed by Mama Eticu's po 
 tions. What he saw or heard during his lucid intervals 
 became irretrievably blended in his mind with his feverish 
 dreams and the visions produced by the samarucu and 
 other decoctions with which the Indian prophetess kept 
 him alive. His eyes were open as Dolores approached 
 him, but they rested on the Fool with a queer expression 
 of astonishment and solicitude. 
 
 "Seiior de Carrera Don Julio!" exclaimed Dolores, 
 kneeling at his side. u The Holy Virgin be praised that 
 you are alive and with us!" 
 
 Carrera's eyes wandered toward her, but expressed no 
 recognition. He stared at her for a moment, after which 
 his looks sought out the Fool again. 
 
 " Do you know me, Don Julio ? Dolores Solando have 
 you forgotten her?" 
 
 There was no answer, no ray of intellect in that pale and 
 haggard face, shadowed over by long and tangled hair, 
 and covered with a shaggy beard of disordered and irreg 
 ular growth. 
 
 " He does not recognize me, the poor darling ! His mind 
 is wandering. Have him taken up stairs at once, Seilor 
 Eamirez ! Let him be carried to my room, which I have 
 given up to him until his condition shall allow his removal."
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 379 
 
 Carrera's face assumed an expression of uneasiness as 
 they lifted him up. But when they started to carry him 
 away, he uttered a piteous cry. His carriers halted, and 
 Dolores bent over him, endeavoring to ascertain what had 
 pained him. He returned no answer to her question, but 
 when his carriers again attempted to move on, he anxiously 
 raised his head and stretched out his right hand in the direc 
 tion where the Fool stood, accompanying this gesture with a 
 low moan. None of the bystanders could divine the cause of 
 his agitation. 
 
 " He seems to bo delirious," said Dolores after a pause. 
 "Take him up stairs where he can be comfortable." But, 
 as they carried him away, he uttered another cry, and then 
 fell back insensible. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DOUBTS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 SINCE the events narrated in our last chapter, nine 
 months have elapsed. They had been months of gloom 
 and terror for Quito. Executions had followed executions. 
 The two Olmos, father and son, 'the two Garcias, father 
 and son, old Pedro Perez, and a number of other pa 
 tricians, and a much larger number of plebeians had been 
 garroted in the Plaza of Santa Clara, in the Plaza of Santo 
 Domingo, and in the Square of La Carniceria. Still others 
 had been sent to penal colonies on the river Napo. And 
 yet the prisons were full of men who were awaiting their 
 sentences, or the results of the appeals which, as a special 
 favor, they had been allowed to make to the clemency of 
 the Viceroy. Some of the finest houses of Quito had been 
 razed to the ground, salt had been strewn, and stone tab 
 lets sunk on their sites, with inscriptions stating the crime 
 and punishment of their former owners. Among the exe-
 
 380 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 cutions those of young Garcia and young Olrnos were 
 heart-rending in the extreme. Handsome, dashing, brave, 
 and popular, they were the victims who were most be 
 wailed. Hundreds of women witnessed the death of these 
 young officers, and rent the air with sobs and shrieks. 
 Several of the noblest matrons of the city had made great 
 efforts to secure their pardon, but no such appeals could 
 touch the stony heart of the lioyal Commissioner, who 
 knew no mercy, llich and childless, he was not accessible 
 to bribes to which those who had governed before, and those 
 who came after him, hardly ever failed to succumb. It 
 seemed as if he delighted in human suffering. He relished 
 the preparations for an execution, and planned and super 
 intended them personally in all their details. Only one 
 man had escaped his wrath, but Arana vowed that no one else 
 should; and the representative of King Philip had kept 
 his word. There was no escape for those whom he had 
 doomed. Many a head had to fall for the one that had 
 eluded him. Many a sentence of death was inflicted in 
 stead of a lighter punishment, because that one man was 
 beyond the reach of the Royal Commissioner. 
 
 It is needless to say that all efforts for the recapture of 
 Sanchez had failed. He was never heard of again. Xot 
 even his tracks had been discovered. The whole country 
 from the northern confines of the kingdom to the coast of 
 Buenaventura, Guayaquil, Esmeraldas, and Tumbez, had 
 been explored in every direction, but no trace could be 
 fouad, no clue to the mystery of his escape could be ob 
 tained. The belief finally gained ground and was eagerly 
 accepted and circulated by Arana and his party, that San 
 chez must have perished miserably on the paramos, while 
 crossing the mountain ranges, or that he must have found 
 his death in the tropical forests and jungles at the base of 
 the Cordillera. 
 
 Having crushed the rebellion, restored the legitimate 
 authorities, and re-established order and quietude the
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 381 
 
 quiet of the graveyard and being about to announce the 
 distrioution of rewards, and the division of the spoils of 
 confiscation. Count Arana was anxious to return to Lima, 
 and thence to Spain. At all events he was anxious to get 
 away from Quito, where his life was threatened by the 
 plots of those whose fathers, brothers, husbands, or other 
 relations he had put to death, and still more by the revenge 
 of those whom his confiscations had reduced to beggary. 
 He was anxious to get away from the ingratitude and dis 
 appointment of those whom he was about to reward for 
 the services they had rendered to the King's cause. They 
 were sure to be disappointed. Disappointments and re 
 sentments had always followed the reassignment of encomi- 
 endas, and the distribution of confiscated estates in Peru. 
 All wanted what but a few could get. And even what 
 there was could not all be distributed, as the Viceroyal 
 coffers had to be reimbursed for the funds which had been 
 advanced to fit out Alcana's expedition. 
 
 But the Eoyal Commissioner did not intend to leave the 
 city of Quito without having graced, by his distinguished 
 presence, the approaching nuptials of Julio de Carrera and 
 Dolores Solando. The marriage was announced to take 
 place immediately after the expiration of the year of mourn 
 ing consecrated to the memory of the mother and brother 
 of Dolores. The distinctions and honors which the King 
 and Viceroy had graciously pleased to shower on Carrera 
 were, thus far, known only to Count Arana, who intended 
 to announce them as his wedding present, on the day pre 
 ceding the marriage. Both courts had been exceedingly 
 liberal, so much the more, as, in this case, liberality 
 would not entail any expense on the treasury. Carrera, as 
 the heir of his uncle, and the heir presumptive of the Mar 
 quis de Solando, would be the wealthiest gentleman of the 
 old Kingdom of Quito, and perhaps the wealthiest of the 
 whole Viceroyalty of Peru. -N"o estates or donations were 
 required to honor his martyrdom and loyal self-sacrifice.
 
 382 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 Tho title of Countess would sound more bewitching to the 
 ears of Dolores, than the announcement of an addition to 
 her wordly possessions. Hence Carrera was to be made a, 
 Count, and should be authorized, by a royal ceflula, to wear 
 in his escutcheon an aloe, with the blades of which plant 
 he had been so cruelly beaten by the infuriated mob. In 
 addition to this the high and honorable dignity of lloyal 
 Standard-bearer should be conferred on him, and be in 
 herited by his male descendants. He should be entitled to 
 visit Spain, or any of her colonies, without first making 
 application for special permission, as other subjects were 
 required to do. The royal standard which he was to bear 
 on all festive or warlike occasions, should be made in Spain 
 by the artisans of the Court, consecrated by the Archbishop 
 of Toledo, and sent to America by a special messenger, who 
 should also bring the chain and cross which the King him 
 self would transmit to Carrera. The Viceroy sent a mag 
 nificent sword, with belt and hangings of exquisite work 
 manship, such as had never been seen at Quito. The patents 
 of these grants were in the hands of Arana, and their de 
 livery should be made the occasion of great public cere 
 monies in the Cathedral and the Palace. These were honors 
 enough to turn the head of any ordinary young gentleman, 
 but Carrera bore them modestly and meekly, and with a 
 vague and secret apprehension that something was wrong, 
 with a consciousness of regret and suspicion lurking some 
 where in the inmost recesses of his heart. He felt, at 
 times, as if some calamity were impending, or as if 
 something were to happen that would disturb his se 
 curity or endanger bis well-being. He could not account 
 for these sensations, although in a measure he attributed 
 them to the shock his nervous system had suffered. And 
 in this, perhaps, he was right. The weakness and prostra 
 tion following a long and serious illness, will often produce 
 those unaccountable attacks of moral fear, startling us like
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 383 
 
 sudden presentiments of evil. But Carrera's physical con 
 dition was not the only and not even the principal cause 
 of these attacks, which he did not confide to anyone, and 
 which he hardly confessed to himself. The image of Toa 
 had not faded from his mind. She was continually in his 
 thoughts. She had returned good for evil. He had de 
 ceived and rejected her, and she had saved his life. As to 
 this he had no doubt. Without her orders he would not 
 have been carried to Mama Eucu's cottage. He had seen 
 Toa's face bent over him in his dreams, while he lay help 
 less on his couch. He had seen her in his lucid intervals, 
 when he was awake. He did not know how she had come 
 and how she went, but he knew that she was there. During 
 none of these visits had she spoken to him. Her face was 
 bent over him many a time, not in reproach or in anger, 
 but in sadness and resignation. Her eyes, as they looked 
 at him, steadily, watchfully, not in bitterness, yet unfor 
 giving, had sunk deep into his heart, and there they were 
 an ineffaceable remembrance, a mortifying problem, a wor 
 rying doubt, an ever-recurring regret, now speaking to his 
 conscience in whispers hardly audible, then in tones of deep 
 meaning, sorrow, and humiliation. 
 
 During his illness, he had contracted habits of solitude. 
 He had learned to shrink within himself and to shun visitors. 
 He had become fond of self-communion. There were so 
 many things over which he wished 'to ponder; so many 
 questions which he alone could ask, and which no one else 
 could answer. How little those around us dream what a 
 vast world expands within the hearts and minds of those 
 of whom they believe to know so much, while in reality 
 they know so little. That world of secret thoughts and 
 feelings could hardly be translated into words ; and even 
 if it could be, would we not shrink from revealing it even 
 to those that are near and dear to us, as from an act 
 of profanation or sacrilege? No! However vast and
 
 384 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 wonderful, however lonely and inexplicable, however full 
 of love, and of undefined yearnings, or of regrets and dis 
 appointments, of hopes and airy castles, or of doubts, 
 wrecks, and ruins, of soaring lightness, or of heavy sad 
 ness, that hidden inner world may be, let it remain hidden 
 and impenetrable to all but our own mental eye, which 
 alone can discern and understand it, and realize its trea 
 sures and beauties, as well as its chasms and its miseries. 
 
 Now that Toa was forever gone from him, he bogan to 
 wish that he had not lost her by his own unworthy con 
 duct, ingratitude, and fickleness. She had shown herself 
 so noble and so great, while he had shown himself so 
 ignoble and so little. Grand, true and unselfish, she had 
 appeared to him; small, false, and selfish, he must have ap 
 peared to her. She was a heroine, physically and morally, 
 while his great act of physical bravery and self-sacrifice 
 was, after all, but an act of moral cowardice. He felt that 
 she must despise him, and yet he wished that she would 
 not. What right had he to betray her? He had accepted 
 her love. He had professed love to her. Had he acted in 
 good faith ? He had done the worst a man could do to a 
 woman ; she had rescued him from the jaws of death, and 
 then flung him back contemptuously upon the world. He 
 was too despicable for her revenge. This thought was 
 humiliating in the extreme. He had destroyed the ambi 
 tion of her life, and God alone knew what he had thrown 
 away that might have come to him through her. His 
 uncle had made him believe that the cause of the rebellion 
 was hopeless from the beginning; and Dolores had told 
 him that it was betrayed from the beginning, and experi 
 ence had shown that both were right; yet when be con 
 sidered how much the fierce energy of one earnest and 
 determined man had been able to accomplish, and how 
 Roberto Sanchez, if not entrapped, might still have saved 
 the cause of the Revolution, Can-era fell into a course of
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 385 
 
 thoughts which suddenly brought back to his rnind the 
 two memorable visions which Mama Rucu's potion had 
 made him see in her cottage on the evening before his first 
 meeting with Toa. Had he not beheld victory, and had 
 not Toa appeared to him as his queenly bride? And had 
 he not seen Sanchez at his side, fighting his battles? It 
 was a vision only, but Mama Rucu's visions, like her pro 
 phecies, were but the announcements of things real which 
 always came to pass. The attack of the mob on himself 
 to force him to be their King, and the terrible treatment ho 
 endured at their hands had he not seen it all, in its 
 minutest details, months before it happened? Mama Rucu 
 had promised to show him what would follow, if he took to 
 the right, and what would befall him, if he took to the left. 
 He had made his decision, and his vision was fulfilled ac 
 cordingly, if the one was fulfilled, would not the other 
 have been fulfilled just as well, if his decision had been 
 different? It was all clear to him now. and he brooded 
 and pondered over what he had lost. 
 
 But why should he brood and ponder he, the most hon 
 ored, the wealthiest, the most renowned, and the most en 
 vied gentleman of the old kingdom of Quito. The wildest 
 dreams of his youth had not carried him to an eminence 
 loftier than the one upon which he now stood. Out of all 
 dangers, overwhelmed with honors and distinctions, and 
 engaged to big first love, the most accomplished lady in 
 America, what more could his heart desire? Yet Carrera 
 was one of those characters who wear themselves out in 
 longing and striving for the unattainable, and subject to the 
 microscopic tests of the most searching and fault-finding 
 criticism what they may or do possess. The moment the 
 possession of Dolores had become an assured fact to him, 
 the blindness of love had left him, and he began to observe, 
 to study, to analyze her features, her ways, her character, 
 and her conduct; to take notice of every one of her words, 
 looks, gestures, and expressions, and to weigh them, not
 
 386 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 with the scales of an infatuated lover, but with the self- 
 tormenting soberness of one who has rashly entered into an 
 ill-considered engagement. Having made his choice of a 
 wife, he longed to be free to choose. Love and desire had 
 seized him first; doubt and distrust took hold of him 
 afterward. With such men, the distant prospect of suc 
 cess will redouble the vigor of pursuit; the certainty of 
 success will at once relax it, and even turn it into halting 
 hesitation or regretful disappointment. The objections 
 and undesirable features which prudent men will consider 
 befo-e entering into an engagement, men like Can-era, will 
 not consider until after the engagement is made. "But 
 then these objections will strike them not only with their 
 own force, but with the additional sting produced by 
 the reproachful consciousness that it was imprudent and 
 foolish to overlook them. 
 
 There were many things in Dolores which he had not 
 noticed while he was a nightly visitor at her house, but 
 which forced themselves upon his observation since he lived 
 under the same roof with her things which somewhat 
 grated upon his finer feelings. But, most of all, he felt 
 nettled by a certain tone of confidence in her intercourse 
 with Paredes, which troubled, while it occupied, the mind 
 of Carrera. It did not show itself in acts or words; not 
 even in looks or anything that might have given room to 
 comments. There was nothing improper in their behavior 
 to each other; nothing that implied either familiarity or 
 the cautious and generally suspicious avoidance of the 
 semblance of familiarity ; yet Carrera felt instinctively, as 
 it were, that there was an understanding of some kind be 
 tween the two, to which he was not a party. He had not 
 betrayed this apprehension to Dolores, except once, when 
 he hinted at it in a half-jocular, half-remonstrative way; 
 but Dolores had answered him so skillfully, candidty, and 
 submissively, that he felt disarmed, and even rebuked. 
 " This man," she said, " has saved the life of my father,
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 387 
 
 Julio, for which ho is entitled to my eternal gratitude ; 
 but if my treating him with that confidence to which his 
 position as an old friend of the family and his great ser 
 vices to. my father have entitled him, should displease you, 
 I shall certainly be more distant to him hereafter, although 
 I am riot conscious of anything in words, conduct, or 
 thought which might be considered in the least improper 
 or unbecoming iny dignity as a lady and as your future 
 wife." 
 
 After this, Carrera did not dare to recur to the subject, 
 but kept his observations to himself, jealously adding atom 
 to atom, treasuring up in his memory every little trifling 
 incident, gesture, or circumstance, and nursing in secret 
 what his silent watchfulness had gathered. 
 
 He had resumed, as soon as he was strong enough to do 
 so, those lonely walks of which he had been so fond even 
 long before the great trials through which he had passed 
 had made him older in mind and seriousness than he was 
 in years. Very often he sought out that secluded moun 
 tain spot, where Toa had appeared to him first, and where 
 he had been searching for hidden treasures with Valverde 
 and Paredes. He sat for hours at the place where he had 
 met Toa, Cundurazu, and Bellido on the night of their 
 visit to the cave. A book was generally on his knee as he 
 rested with his back against a rock ; but his eyes were not 
 on the printed characters, but stared vacantly into space. 
 He roamed over the mountain in every direction, tracing 
 every ravine and every watercourse to its beginning, and 
 constantly expecting, yet dreading to see her once more, of 
 whom his thoughts were full. On these occasions, the Fool 
 was almost invariably his followei*. He was not obtrusive, 
 never spoke unless he was spoken to, and always kept at a 
 respectful distance. Carrera had succeeded in dissuading 
 Arana from subjecting the poor devil to an inquisition, and 
 had taken him in his service for what little he could do. 
 Carrera's old servant, Mariano, had disappeared while his
 
 388 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 master lay senseless in Mama Kucu's cottage. Nobody 
 could tell what had become of him. Many Indian 
 house-servants, field-laborers, and factory-workmen had 
 disappeared at the same time. Their number was estimated 
 at from six hundred to a thousand. Their tracks showed 
 that they had betaken themselves to the eastern mountain 
 range, which, as far as the wild and inhospitable nature of 
 the sierra would permit, was searched in every direction 
 by the men of the Afguacil del campo, whose office it was to 
 catch fugitive Indians and Negroes, and to restore them to 
 their owners. But it was impossible to discover the where 
 abouts of the missing Indians. Their flight was a heavy 
 loss to their owners, considering the general impoverish 
 ment, which had been aggravated by the late disturbances 
 and the introduction of a new and burdensome tax. 
 
 The Koyal Commissioner seemed to have relented to 
 Manuel Paredes. Dolores had the promise of the Count 
 that the man who had saved her father's life should be 
 properly taken care of in the final distribution of rewards. 
 This promise, Paredes felt, could be relied on. He no 
 longer feared that others would be unjustly and dispropor- 
 lionally preferred to him. But aside from this it was ex 
 ceedingly mortifying to him to see that he had absolutely 
 no influence with Count Arana, who systematically disre 
 garded or rejected all suggestions or advice that came from 
 Manuel Paredes, and left his requests almost invariably un 
 attended to. This unfriendly disposition bad been very 
 disagreeable, if not alarming, in one respect, to Manuel Pa 
 redes. He had never been able to induce the Count to 
 change the proclamation promising a reward for the cap 
 ture of Juan Castro, by the addition of the words " dead 
 or alive." Paredes had tried it on several occasions, until 
 he became afraid that, b}* referring to it again, he might 
 arouse a suspicion in the Commissioner's mind. And yet 
 it was very important that Juan Castro should be dead
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 389 
 
 when delivered to the authorities. He knew too much for 
 the comfort of Manuel Paredes. Perhaps it was not prob 
 able that those in power would believe the slanderous in 
 ventions of the lying ruffian ; still it would be exceedingly 
 unpleasant, if not dangerous, to let those " inventions" be 
 come known, circulated about, and commented upon. Cas- 
 trr>, if taken alive, would look upon Paredes as his pro 
 tector ; and if abandoned by him, the reckles ruffian might 
 revenge himself by charging the responsibilit} 7 of his own 
 crimes upon his noble patron. It was out of the question to 
 surrender Juan Castro alive. And yet his surrender de 
 pended upon Manuel Paredes, who not only knew the hid 
 ing-place of the villain, but, in fact, had helped him to get 
 there. If it should ever become known that the chief of the 
 murderers of Valverde had been protected and hidden by 
 Manuel Parjedes on territory belonging to one of his hacien- 
 das, he would be ruined. Under these circumstances, Paredes 
 had no hope of extricating himself from this difficulty, 
 other than the departure of Arana, after which the latter's 
 successor in power, the new President of the Royal Audi 
 ence, would probably be more accessible to well-meant 
 suggestions and prudent advice. 
 
 Things had turned out quite differently from what Pare 
 des had hoped and expected when he accepted the secret 
 commission intrusted to him, under the King's seal, by the 
 Marquis of Solando.
 
 390 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 IN THE COUNTRY OP THE SAMARTTCU. 
 
 ENDLESS are the forests along the many rivers forming 
 the great'fluvial system of the Amazons. On the left bank 
 of one of these rivers, abounding in rapids -and falls of both 
 picturesqueness and danger, the machete* which the In 
 dian buys from the white corregidors, and their trading 
 partners or agents, had cleared away the dense under 
 growth of creepers and jungle for a considerable distance, 
 so as to make the place available for the primitive habita 
 tions of the children of the wilderness. The virgin trees 
 had risen to an immense height, and their entwined crowns 
 of dense foliage afforded protection from the burning sun 
 and the dense showers, which, on the eastern slope of the 
 Cordillera, are of almost daily occurrence, impregnating the 
 atmosphere with an annoying excess of moisture, destruc 
 tive to garments as well as cereals. 
 
 On this secluded spot, situated, at a considerable distance, 
 to the northeast ofthe Spanish settlements Logrono, Men- 
 dozaandSevilladeOro Toa had encamped with her follow 
 ers, in order to give them a rest after the painful hardships 
 of a long and dangerous march across the mountains, and 
 of the equally trying descent into the lowlands, where 
 esculents could again be found tropical fruits, fish in the 
 rivers, and birds and monkeys on the trees. For the tinie 
 required to reach these lowlands, provisions had to be car 
 ried on the backs of Indians the foot-paths, or tracks 
 rather, which must serve instead of roads, being entirely 
 impracticable for beasts of burden ; and as a greater number 
 
 * Sword-knife.
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OP LIFE. 391 
 
 of her people had followed Toa than she had intended and 
 commanded, their supplies of provisions had not held out long 
 enough, and, hence, privations .had been the result, to 
 which many of the fugitives had succumbed. The hardy 
 children of the Sierra were accustomed to the colds and 
 snows of the mountain -passes over which they had to 
 climb, but not to the heat and fevers of the tropical low 
 lands, which broke their powers of endurance, weakened 
 as they were by the hardships of the journey. In addi 
 tion to those who had perished during the descent, 
 many more died after their arrival in the hot forests, and 
 others were now prostrate with dysenteries and fevers, and 
 unable to proceed. Toa was unwilling to abandon them, 
 and as her present task was not one which required pre 
 cipitation or haste, she had commanded a halt, so as to give 
 the sick time to recover, and to inure those that were well 
 to a climate to which they were unaccustomed. 
 
 This was the sixth week of her encampment, during 
 which time she had been a ministering angel to those who 
 stood in need of nursing and kindness. The messengers 
 of Quirruba, the Chief of the Jivaros, had met her as she 
 descended the Cordillera, and had guided her to this place. 
 They had brought her a hammock of twine as a present 
 from their chief; they had also brought bows and arrows 
 for the chase, and bows arid other weapons for warfare, and 
 poison in which to steep the points of deadly missiles. 
 
 Quirruba's men had helped to put up the encampment 
 for Toa and her followei's. The hut for the Queen rested 
 on poles driven into the ground, with a roof of bijao leaves, 
 and a flooring of wild cane. The hammock, swung from 
 two of the poles, served her, as Cundurazu had predicted, 
 for a throne, a chair of state, and a bed. Her followers 
 camped under the low shelter of reeds and cane, support 
 ing extemporized roofs of dried leaves and grasses. The 
 modest wants of these people were easily satisfied, and if it 
 had not been for the deadly climate which undermined
 
 392 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 their vital strength, they would have been happy in their 
 escape from their cruel Spanish task-masters, and in the 
 presence of their Queen. . 
 
 It was early in the forenoon. The ground was still wet, 
 and the trees and bushes were dripping with the dews and 
 showers 'of the night. Toa sat in her hammock. A number 
 of her followers surrounded her in a semi-circle, and Quir- 
 ruba's half-naked and painted messengers stood before her, 
 four of them ready to return to their chief, while two of 
 them were to remain to serve her as guides through the 
 wilderness. The former were about to receive their part 
 ing orders, and to take leave of the Shyri-Inca. 
 
 "Take these presents to your great chief," said Toa, 
 in the language of the Jivaros, which very few of her 
 own followers understood, "and assure him of my friend 
 ship and regard. His enemies are my enemies. The for 
 eigners who have invaded his country are the same that 
 have oppressed my people. Tell him that I shall come to 
 him, to concert with him the plans for the expulsion of the 
 Viracochas from the country of the great rivers and for 
 ests. I shall visit the territories of other tribes and na 
 tions on my way. They must all unite for the common 
 purpose." 
 
 " Yes, Shyri Toa ; but my chief, the noble Quirruba, 
 wishes thee to hasten thy journey* to his country, for he is 
 anxious to celebrate his nuptials with the great Queen whom 
 he has loved for yeare." 
 
 " Tell him that on this point I must and shall inflexibly 
 adhere lo my determination. Among all the Indian na 
 tions, on both sides of the mountain range, there is but one 
 man whom Toa will have for a husband. That man is your 
 chief, Quirruba ! But Toa has made a solemn vow to the 
 great God Inti, the Sun, that she will be wedded to no man 
 who is a subject to the invader. She will live in no coun 
 try which tolerates the rule of the foreigner. On the day 
 when our great plans have succeeded on the day when
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 393 
 
 the bearded oppressors of our nations are driven from the 
 land that belongs to Quirruba and his allies on the day 
 when the Spanish towns in the heart of these glorious for 
 ests shall be wiped from the surface of the earth, and their 
 inhabitants shall either be dead or in wild flight back to 
 the table-lands on the other side of the Cordillera on 
 that day of retribution and revenge Toa will be the wife 
 of Quirruba, but not before." 
 
 " It was the hope of my chief, great Shyri-Inca, that the 
 marriage should take place upon thy arrival in his coun 
 try, and that then, by your united efforts, the great work 
 should be prosecuted to a happy conclusion." 
 
 " I have spoken. When Toa Duchicela has made a vow, 
 but two things are possible Toa Duchicela will either keep 
 her vow, or she will die in the attempt to keep it. The 
 Shyri Toa never breaks her word. -She has devoted her 
 self to the service of thy chief, Quirruba, and while life is 
 left in her she will be true to him. She will work night 
 and day to make him a great king. He shall be the 
 chief of the united nations of the rivers and forests, 
 and those nations shall be free from the yoke of the inva 
 der. Until then Quirruba must have patience. Now she 
 knows but the love of the race to which, we all belong, 
 although we may be divided into many nations and 
 tribes. But when our work is done she will know but one 
 love, the love for the man who has accomplished it. Tell 
 him all this, and bid him, in my name, to begin the work 
 at once. Let him visit the tribes of the east and of the 
 south, as 1 shall visit the tribes of the west and of the 
 north. And now, go! May the Sun and the Moon guide 
 your steps, and grant you a safe and welcome return." 
 
 The messengers threw themselves on the ground and 
 pressed their faces against the earth, reverently kissing it 
 before they arose to take their departure. Nearly all 
 those that were well, accompanied them to the river to see 
 them embark in two small canoes, which were rapidly
 
 394 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 borne away by the strong current, and were soon out of 
 sight. 
 
 The messengers were not gone long when a shout arose 
 at the other end of the encampment. Toa had adopted the 
 European system of using a number of her available men 
 for picket- and sentry-duty. These men were placed on 
 knolls, rocks, or trees, from which they could command a 
 view of the surrounding country. The shout had pro 
 ceeded from one of these guards, and it was taken up 
 by those that happened to be near the bank of the river. 
 They had descried a long log with three men on it. It 
 came floating down along the shore. One man piloted it 
 with a pole, while the others waved their bats in token of 
 recognition. In a few seconds the whole camp was astir. 
 "It is Uma! It is Uma!" was the joyful cry which was 
 repeated from mouth to mouth. And really it was Uma, 
 who, bounding from the log with his two companions, 
 was at once locked in the embrace of the fugitives, who 
 received him with delirious joy, as a messenger from the 
 dear old home which they had left behind. In triumph 
 they conducted him to the hut of their Queen, before whom 
 he prostrated himself, according to the custom of their 
 fathers. 
 
 "Rise, Uma, trustiest of my servants. Toa bids thee 
 welcome, thrice welcomd, to the country of the great rivers 
 and forests." 
 
 Uma did not rise, but remained motionless. 
 
 " Why dost thou hide thy noble face ? Why dost thou 
 not rise to thy feet? Is it evil news thou bringest ?" 
 
 " Yes, Shyri ; but it is not my fault. My work was done 
 well. But the Gods wei-e against us." 
 
 " Sad news is no news to Toa Duchicela. She is not 
 used to glad tidings. Speak ! how is our Viracocha friend ?" 
 
 " He is dead !" 
 
 " Dead !" repeated Toa, and sunk her head in silence. 
 A pause followed, during which nothing was heard but a
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OF LIFE. 395 
 
 low wail from those around them, who were doubty affected 
 when they saw the two tears which slowly trickled down 
 the cheeks of their Queen. 
 
 But Toa was soon composed. Dashing the tears away, 
 she roused herself and said : " Why should I weep for one 
 man, a stranger, where thousands of our people have died. 
 Yet he was a good man the noblest, the truest, the best 
 of the Viracocha race. Eise, Uma, and tell me how it 
 happened." 
 
 " Everything had succeeded admirably. I met him as 
 he walked out of the barracks, and led him to the moun 
 tain. We passed the Goya Cisa's cottage a few minutes 
 after thou hadst left it. But our friend's feet were swollen 
 from the chains he had worn, and his long imprisonment 
 had made him weak and unable to undertake our arduous 
 march that night. Thus we had to rest in one of the caves 
 the remainder of the night and the whole of the next day. 
 It was nearly dark when we skirted the dread cliffs of Rucu 
 Pichincha, and descended into the wilderness on the other 
 side. The storms howled, and the fogs enveloped us, so 
 that I feared we should have to retrace our steps ; but the 
 great Moon was kind, and dispelled the threatening clouds, 
 and lent us sufficient light to get over the most dangerous 
 passes. It was a long and troublesome journey. Our 
 friend was weak, and we had to rest so often that our sup 
 plies gave out, and we were left without provisions long 
 before we had escaped from the Paramos. Often I thought, 
 during those trying days, I should never behold thy Royal 
 face again. One of my men succumbed to starvation and 
 cold, and we placed him in a sheltered spot where the spir 
 its of the mountain will shrivel up his flesh and preserve 
 his skin from decay. O, that our Viracocha friend should 
 have survived all these dangers and hardships to die at 
 the very moment that would have perfected the success of 
 his escape!" 
 
 " And how did he die ?"
 
 396 TUB SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " I took him down the mountain range and through the 
 forests to the coast of Esrneraldas. Thy messsenger had 
 arrived before us, and had communicated with the ships of 
 the smugglers who trade with the people of those villages. 
 Thy servant Hualpa, who knows the secret of the emerald 
 mines, conducted the negotiations, and the captain of one 
 of those vessels consented to take away our friend and 
 carry him to some port outside of the dominions of Spain. 
 For this service the captain was 'to receive two hats full of 
 emeralds ; one of them at once, and the second upon his 
 return to the bay of Esmeraldas, with a letter from 
 our friend informing thy servants of his arrival and land 
 ing at a port of safety. Everything had been arranged 
 before we arrived. The ship had been in waiting for more 
 than two days when we came. But this was our misfor 
 tune. The smugglers feared to tarry longer. The vessels 
 of Arana had lately been cruising along the coast. The 
 pirate captain was afraid of being chased, and insisted 
 that the Senor Sanchez must embark on the very night of 
 our arrival. It was a dark and stormj- night. The rain 
 poured down in torrents, and the sea went high. Still, the 
 boat of the smugglers had plied easily between the vessel 
 and the shore, and we dreamt of no danger. He embraced 
 me long and tenderly before he stepped into the boat. He 
 begged me to assure thee of his eternal gratitude. I helped 
 him into the boat. By the light of our torches I saw the 
 boat glide away. I heard his inspiriting voice come to me 
 through storm and darkness ; but all at once a big rolling 
 wave struck the boat sideways, capsizing it I saw it by 
 the glare of the sheet-lightning and our friend was 
 lost. The two oarsmen, familiar with the element and its 
 perils, saved themselves in the shallow water, and recov 
 ered even the boat, but the Senor Sanchez was lost. Thus 
 it all came, Shyri Toa. I swear by the great Sun that it 
 was not my fault." 
 
 " I know it, Uma, I know it. Thou hast done thy full
 
 BOOK V. THE VALUE OB' LIFE. 397 
 
 duty. And, perhaps," she added after a pause, "it was 
 better for him to end thus, than to suffer the miseries and 
 privations of exile among strangers, whose language even 
 he would not have understood. Was his body recovered ?" 
 
 " It was washed ashore a day or two afterward. We 
 saved it from discovery, and gave it a secret burial. His 
 sword, and an amulet which we found around his neck, 
 Hualpa will send to the Senora Sanchez at Quito, as soon 
 a it can safely be done." 
 
 "It is well! To-day we shall celebrate his obsequies hero 
 in the forest, and honor him, as we should have honored 
 one of the great and brave men of our own race. And 
 what news dost thou bring me from Purruha and Quito?" 
 
 " I bring a message from Purruha where I tarried to see 
 thy grand-aunt, Carmen Duchicela. She begs thee to de 
 sist from a roaming life of wretchedness, as she calls it, and 
 bids me to implore thee to come back to her." 
 
 "The kind and noble woman ! Does she not consider that 
 it would be certain death to harbor the outlaw and a 
 traitress on whose head a prize is set by the Spanish 
 Government?" 
 
 " She sa} T 8 nobody will know it. Her estates are large 
 and exempt from surveillance. She has houses in the 
 mountains, never visited by Viracochas, and wholly un 
 known to them. ' Let her come,' she said, ' and she will 
 be safe. Toa knows that my Indians would die rather than 
 betray her.' " 
 
 "And Cundurazu?" 
 
 " He staid wi'th thy grandaunt, Carmen for nearly a 
 week, after which he went to the mountains, and was not 
 seen or heard of again. The Coya Carmen wanted him to 
 remain, but he said his hour had come, and that he must 
 go to sleep among the rocks where his great ancestor, 
 whose name he bears, found everlasting rest and shelter." 
 
 " Gone to sleep among the rocks," said Toa, slowly, as if
 
 398 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 speaking to herself, '-and here I am in the wilderness of 
 rivers and forests, and it is his work." 
 
 A pause followed, after which Toa said to her men : " Go, 
 my children, and prepare a meal for Uma of what little 
 there is left to us. He must be fatigued and hungry, having 
 traveled BO far and so long to join us. Stay with me, 
 Uma, while thej T prepare thy simple repast. 1 have other 
 questions to ask thee." 
 
 The men withdrew. Toa and Uma remained alone, but 
 in full sight of the camp. 
 
 " And he?" asked Toa after a while. 
 
 "Js married to Dolores Solando !" 
 
 The Queen remained silent. No muscle in her face be 
 trayed her emotion. Another pause followed, during which 
 nothing was heard but the quiet bustle of the camp and 
 the rustling of the wind in the trees above them. 
 
 " Didst thou see Santos?" asked Toa at last. 
 
 "I did, Shyri!" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " She is doing her work." 
 
 Tea's eyes lit up for a moment with an expression of 
 triumphant fierceness. 
 
 " Successfully ?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes, Shyri. This is what the granddaughter of Cozo- 
 pangui said to thy servant, Uma: 'Tell the Shyri Toa that 
 he who has wronged and betrayed her, now meets with his 
 reward. His life is a waste, and every hour brings its 
 pangs and its miseries.' "
 
 BOOK VI. 
 THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 
 
 Las ojas del arbol caidas When shall I meet thee ? 
 
 Juguetes del viento son. After long years. 
 
 Las ilusiones perdidas How shall I greet thee? 
 
 Ai ! son las ojas caidas In silence and tears. 
 
 Del arhol del corazon. BYROK. 
 
 ESI'RONCKDA.
 
 BOOK VI. 
 THE WORTH LESSNESS OF LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SEVEN YEARS LATER. 
 
 NEARLY seven years have elapsed since our story closed 
 in the tropical forests on the eastern slope of the Cordil 
 lera. Seve'n years a short span in the history of a na 
 tion, but, aye, a long and eventful time in an individual's 
 life, of which it often forms the best or the worst part. 
 Great and continuous are the changes which seven years 
 must effect around the individual man ; but infinitely 
 greater are the changes and transformations which seven 
 years will work within him ; changes imperceptible to him 
 self and others, and changes painfully or gladly present to 
 his own mind, and regretfully or wonderingly noticed by 
 those who are near to him ; and, hence, should know him 
 best. Near to him ? Those that were near or nearest to 
 him seven years ago, may be dead or absent, or, what is 
 still worse, may be farthest away from him in thought and 
 feeling, though bodily near. The ravages of death are 
 heart-rending, but leave sweet memories behind, growing 
 dearer to us who cherish them, the nearer the fatal hour 
 draws to ourselves. But for those whom estrangement has 
 alienated, sweetness generally turns into gall, friendship 
 and love into coldness or bitterness, and regard into dis 
 paragement. And when two human beings thus estranged 
 are chained together by bands from which there is no es 
 cape on this side of the grave ; when the one, sick and 
 
 (401)
 
 402 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 hopeless at heart, disenchanted, disappointed, and perhaps 
 betrayed, must toil on to the end of life's journey by the 
 side of the other, to whom he has sacrificed the best part 
 of his life, his aspirations, his hopes of happiness, his 
 present and" future, while that other does not appreciate, 
 and probably not even understand, the sacrifice, and, if so, 
 would not repay it with charity, much less with gratitude ; 
 when the friction of souls which have become unsympa 
 thetic, nay, repellant to each other, is made chafing by a 
 thousand annoying circumstances, by the peevishness or 
 unreasonableness of the one, and the sensitiveness or in 
 dignation of the other; by spite and selfishness on one 
 side, and deep anguish, regret, suspicion, or mortification, 
 on the other ; when each leads his own life, incessantly 
 conflicting with, and grating upon, that of the other ; then 
 what a change there will be, at the end of seven years, in the 
 heart of the one who has suffered most during the secret 
 but remorseless conflict what a contrast between the 
 morning so hopeful and bright, and the long, dark night of 
 misery and despair. 
 
 The Plaza Mayor the Great Square of the city where 
 we once beheld the bloody conflict between the assailants 
 of the Palace and its heroic defenders, presents a lively 
 scene. Drums are beating, and the bugles resound lustily. 
 Two companies, made up of regulars, militia-men, and 
 fresh recruits, are drilling in the Square, and a great num 
 ber of ladies and gentlemen have assembled to look on. The 
 Marquis of Solando, withered by age, and steadying his 
 uncertain steps with a cane, but still full of stately pomp- 
 ousness, is engaged in conversation with the President of 
 the Eoyal Audience, and some of his Ministers, surrounded 
 by a number of civil and military officers and ecclesiastics. 
 The bishop occupies one of the balconies of his palace, while 
 the Alcaldes and some of their colleagues of the Cabildo, gaze 
 at the scene from the windows of the Municipality Building. 
 The rabble of Quito, always idle and fond of sights, has
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTIILESSNESS OP LIFE. 403 
 
 been attracted in great numbers, by the military pageant, 
 but is kept at a respectful distance by the Municipal Guards. 
 And the equatorial sky is so bright and beautiful, and the 
 whole scene looks so gay and festive, that we are tempted 
 to forget the dark side of the picture, and the 'suppressed 
 sighs and groaning heartaches masked by smiling faces. 
 The men who are now drilling amidst the acclamations of 
 the multitude, have a long and tedious march before them, 
 which, for months to come, will take them away from their 
 homes and their families, and expose them, not only to the 
 pernicious effects of a dreadful climate and innumerable 
 hardships and privations, but also to the dangers of an ap 
 prehended insurrection or rebellion. 
 
 Taught by past experience, the -Royal Audience will not 
 again permit the seeds of rebellion to grow, owing to the 
 absence of timely and energetic repression. Any attempt 
 at disobedience must be crushed in the beginning, so as not 
 to develop into an insurrection, and thus bring about a 
 repetition of the disorders of seven years ago. Hence 
 these preparations. Hence the pomp and circumstance of 
 war, after seven long years of peaceful repose. 
 
 The new cloud had arisen on the eastern side of the Cor 
 dillera, in the Province of Macas, containing four extensive 
 departments, and including the towns of Logrono, Sevilla 
 de Oro, and Mendoza. The origin of the trouble was this: 
 Philip II, the remorseless despot, had died at last. Philip 
 III had succeeded him. The announcement of his coro 
 nation had been received in America, and in all the col 
 onies and provinces great festivals were arranged to ac 
 company the pompous ceremony Jura del Hey swearing 
 fealty and obedience to the new King. The Governor of 
 Mueas, too, had issued his orders for the occasion, and, with 
 the usual rapacity of the Spanish Pro-Consul, he planned 
 to avail himself of this opportunity for his own enrich 
 ment. He had issued a proclamation imposing, under 
 the misnomer of a donation, an enormous tax from
 
 404 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 which to defray the expenses of the festivals which were 
 to be celebrated in each of the departments of his juris 
 diction. This tax was to be made up chiefly by the own 
 ers of landed estates and mines, by the shop-keepers ;md 
 artisans in the towns, and by the Caciques or Chiefs of In 
 dian tribes. It had been announced, in this proclamation, 
 that the Governor himself would visit the three principal 
 cities of his domain, in order to receive the money and at 
 tend the festivals. His first visit was to be made to Logrono, 
 a young town which, by its rapid progress and develop 
 ment, had surpassed many of its elder sisters throughout 
 the Kingdom. Logrono and Sevilla de Oro, by the fame 
 of their gold mines, had attracted settlers and adventurers 
 from every part of Peru. For miles around these cities. 
 the forests had been cleared away, and many public and 
 private edifices of taste and comfort, as well as churches 
 and convents, had arisen where, twenty or thirty years be 
 fore, the solitude of the forest had not been disturbed by 
 the encroaching advance of civilization. 
 
 The impudent rapacity of the Governor created general 
 indignation. It was universally understood that not one- 
 twentieth part of the money demanded by him would be 
 needed and actually expended for the festivals. The set 
 tlers well knew that the latter formed but a miserable pre 
 text, and that the real purpose of the Governor was his 
 own enrichment. Under these circumstances, they would 
 have rebelled against this imposition, even if the tax de 
 manded had not exceeded their abilities. But in a new 
 country, where the struggle of civilization against the ex 
 uberant forces of tropical nature had just begun, they needed 
 whatever gold-dust or ready money they could accumulate. 
 The royal fifth of the proceeds of their mines was in itself 
 a great burden, which heavily weighed them down. The 
 distance from the coast, from which they were separated 
 by both chains of the Cordillera, and the wretched condi 
 tion of the roads, had increased the prices of all imported
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OP LIFE. 405 
 
 commodities to an extent such as to reduce the profits of 
 all domestic enterprises to a pitiable figure, and leave the 
 settlers poor, in spite of the large quantities of gold which 
 they dug from the mountains and washed from the streams. 
 Hence, when the Governor's rapacious intentions became 
 known, the old spirit of resistance, crushed under the iron 
 heel of Arana, at once revived. Conferences were held at 
 the principal haciendas, as well as in the towns, and a 
 league was formed for mutual support and armed resist 
 ance. The Governor trembled when he heard of these 
 movements. He had no military power with which to 
 curb the spirit of sedition. The militia, which he might 
 have called out, consisted of, and was commanded by, the 
 very men whom it would have been his object to put down. 
 He. therefore, concluded that discretion was the better part 
 of valor, and assured the leading colonists, either person 
 ally or by messenger, that they had misunderstood his 
 proclamation. He had not intended to require or exact 
 anything of them. He had asked for a donation only. It 
 was a mere request, with which they were at liberty to 
 comply according to the best of their ability, or not at all. 
 The minimum which his proclamation had named had been 
 fixed merely with a view of informing the Indian Caciques 
 how much the}* were expected to pay. To bring these In 
 dians to a sense of duty, the Governor very cunningly rep 
 resented, had been the principal object of his proclamation. 
 The Indian inhabitants of these forests had not bent their 
 necks to the Spanish yoke as meekly and profitably as the 
 Indians of the table-lands. The Macas Indians still lived 
 together in separate and independent tribes, which paid 
 their tributes very irregularly, and furnished their quota 
 of farm- and mine-laborers only with great reluctance. It 
 was necessary to break their independent spirit, and get 
 them more completely under subjection, by involving them 
 in debt. To effect this had been his main object. He 
 thought that if the Indian Caciques were unable or unwil-
 
 406 THE SECRET OF TIIE ANDES. 
 
 ling to pay the required amounts, they would furnish him 
 with peons instead, who would be of great service to fehe 
 colonists themselves. By these representations, grateful to 
 the rapacity of his white subjects, the Governor soon suc 
 ceeded in allaying their indignation and disarming their 
 suspicions. If his rapacity was to be directed against the 
 Indians only, and if it WHS to be gratified in such a man 
 ner as to increase the number of slaves in the colony, it 
 was not at all objectionable to the Spanish cavaliers and 
 their plebeian followers; and. instead of opposition, his 
 scheme met with applause and encouragement. 
 
 But the perfidious Spaniard had only dissembled his re 
 sentment. It was not his intention to forgive those who 
 had thwarted him and defied his authority. He intended 
 to make them pay for their disobedience. Hence, he had 
 secretly dispatched special messengers to the Koyal 
 Audience at Quito with letters in which he gave a 
 most alarming account of the sentiment and dispo 
 sition prevailing in his Provinces. The spirit of sedition, 
 he said, was rife. The leading men of the four depart 
 ment had thrown off all restraint and obedience. A great 
 number of the banished or fugitive rebels of 1592 had found 
 asylums on the farms and in the mines of his government, 
 and infected the others with a spirit of restlessness and dis 
 loyalty. Still he, the Governor, had no power to prevent 
 mischief or to bring offenders to justice. He was without 
 troops, and the militia would turn against him, should he be 
 imprudent enough to call it out. It was almost impossible, 
 his representation continued, to collect the King's fifth of 
 the proceeds of the mines, without an ai-med force. The 
 colonists were unwilling to pay any taxes or contributions. 
 Even a moderate donation for which he had asked in order 
 to defray the expenses of the festive ceremonies in honor 
 of the accession of the new King, had been refused. Un 
 der these circumstances, the Governor concluded, the out 
 break of a new rebellion would only be a question of time.
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTI1LESSNESS OF LIFE. 407 
 
 unless the Audience should send a sufficient number of 
 troops so as to enable him to restore the Koyal authority. 
 
 And this was the meaning of the military pageant on 
 the Great Square of Quito. The two companies which were 
 drilling there under the bright and beautiful sky of Quito, 
 were to be sent to the Governor of Macas to crush the spirit 
 of sedition in the country of the " great rivers and forests," 
 on the eastern side of the Andean Cordillera. 
 
 " And what officer," asked the Marquis of Solando of the 
 President of the Audience, " will your Excellency desig 
 nate for the command of this expedition ?" 
 
 " We have not quite determined yet, my dear Marquis," 
 answered the President, " whether to give the command to 
 the senior captain, or whether to put both captains under 
 a regimental officer, so as to avoid jealousies. To speak 
 frankly," added the President, laying his hand on the 
 shoulder of the Marquis, and whispering in his ear, " I 
 should greatly prefer to put the expedition in charge of a 
 commissioner with civil powers. 1 have a suspicion that 
 there is something wrong in the administration of the gov 
 ernment of Macas. The Governor's own doings may re 
 quire looking into. Of course, we must make an impos 
 ing military display, and strike terror to the souls of the 
 evil-minded, but I think a man of judgment and shrewd 
 ness, entrusted with both civil and military powers, would 
 soon set matters to rights." 
 
 At this moment, a gentleman on horseback, in traveling 
 dress, followed by a servant, and both men and horses be 
 spattered with mud, galloped across the opposite end of the 
 Plaza, as if he had just arrived in the city. For a moment 
 he stopped to look at the military pageant, and then rode 
 on. 
 
 " Was not that your son-in-law, my dear Marquis?" in 
 quired the President. 
 
 " My eyes have become very dim," replied the old man. 
 " I could not discern his face, but I should not wonder if
 
 408 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 it was the Count, for we expect him home to-day from his 
 hacienda at Puembo, where he has been detained for over 
 two weeks." 
 
 "He seems to be away from the city a great deal," con 
 tinued the President with affected innocence. 
 
 " Undoubtedly, your Excellency ; but, in addition to the 
 care of the estates which he inherited from his uncle, I 
 have to trouble him with the superintendence of my own 
 haciendas, because I am old and decrepit ; and your Excel 
 lency well knows that it will not do to leave the manage 
 ment of important interests entirely to mayordomos and 
 other employes." 
 
 In the meantime, Carrera for the horseman referred to 
 by the President was Carrera had ridden to the Plaza of 
 San Francisco, and stopped at the house of his father-in- 
 Uiw, with whom he resided, the old gentleman having re 
 fused to allow his daughter to leave him. The servants, 
 with whom Carrera always was a favorite, welcomed him 
 gladly as he ascended the staircase and walked to the suite 
 of rooms occupied by himself and Dolores. The hounds, 
 little and big, jumped around and up to him in big bounds, 
 barking with delight at their master's return ; the parrots 
 screeched, and one little perroquet joyfully flew on his 
 shoulder and then perched on his finger, repeating without 
 end the two words he could say: " periquito chiquitito." 
 And the pet ape, which was fastened to a ring and a thong 
 in the Court-yard, sent up a tremendous chatter. Every 
 being brute and human in the house greeted the return 
 ing master, except the one who should have been first to 
 welcome him. Carrera felt the cut, because he had noti 
 fied his wife by letter of the day and hour of his return, 
 and he knew that the letter had been placed in her hands. 
 
 Sullenly lie threw himself on a sofa and allowed his ser 
 vant to divest him of his spurs and leggings, and there 
 was quite a pause before he could prevail upon himself to 
 aisk the question : " Where is the Senora ?''
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 409 
 
 " She went out!" answered one of the servants. 
 
 "Out?" echoed Carrera in amazement, "with whom?" 
 
 " With the Senora Catita." 
 
 " Whither did they go ?" 
 
 " To the Plaza Mayor, to join his Excellency, the Mar 
 quis, who is there, to see the soldiers drill. Your Grace 
 might have met them. They went a short time ago." 
 
 Carrera bit his lips. Would she not even save appear 
 ances ? Was it right, was it wife-like, was it lady-like to 
 go out when she knew that he would return after a pro 
 tracted absence, and when the servants knew that she 
 knew it?" 
 
 "Have we had any visitors to-day?" he asked after another 
 pause, while brushing the dust out of his hair and beard. 
 
 The servants seemed embarrassed, and exchanged sly 
 glances among themselves, but said nothing. 
 
 Carrera repeated the question . 
 
 " The Senora Eamirez was here," said Mama Santos. 
 
 " Ah, good ! Is she well again ?" 
 
 " Yes, your Grace." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it," continued Carrera, and then 
 added, attempting the greatest possible display of indiffer 
 ence in the tone of his voice: "Has anybody else been 
 here ?" 
 
 " Yes, your Gi*ace," answered Mama Santos. " The Senor 
 ParedesF' And again the servants exchanged furtive 
 glances, while Carrera winced inwardly, but said nothing. 
 
 When he had finished his toilette, he asked whether any 
 letters or documents had come for him. They were brought, 
 and he gave them a hasty perusal, after which he locked 
 them in his desk. He then left the house to go to the 
 Plaza. His wife had disgraced him before the servants by 
 not waiting to receive him, and by not even leaving a mes 
 sage for him when she went ; but he would not disgrace 
 her and himself by not going to seek her on the Plaza, or 
 whithersoever she bad gone.
 
 410 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 He did not have to go far, but met the party as thej* re 
 turned to the house Dolores and her aunt, the Marquis, 
 Juan de London, Manuel Paredes, and two or three young 
 gentlemen. Dolores stepped forward to meet her husband, 
 and gave him a cold and formal embrace. She did not 
 kiss him, but presented her cheek to him, which, for the 
 sake of appearances, he touched with his lips with equal 
 coldness. Much more cordial was the reception Aunt 
 Catita gave him, and still heartier the embrace of the old 
 Marquis, who was very fond of his son-in-law. The gen 
 tlemen, in their turn, approached to salute their returning 
 friend, and none of them with more warmth and cordiality 
 than Manuel Paredes. Carrera felt as if he were taking a 
 viper to his bosom when he opened his arms to Paredes lor 
 the customary Spanish embrace. 
 
 The Marquis invited the whole party to stay with him 
 for dinner, claiming to have received a fresh quantity of 
 most excellent wine from Lima ; and they all accepted, and 
 tasted the wine, which was strong and fiery, and made 
 them exceedingly merry, all except Carrera, who remained 
 moody and apparently abstracted, saying little, but drink 
 ing a great deal. Yet, while he seemed to be lost in thought, 
 and returned short and unconnected answers to ques 
 tions asked of him, he was incessantly, but furtively, watch 
 ing Paredes and Dolores, who felt that his 03*6 was on them, 
 and consequently conducted themselves with the greatest 
 circumspection. 
 
 A much larger number of gentlemen called after dinner 
 to pay their respects to Carrera. Ladies, too, came in to 
 see Dolores, and the company's merriment increased as the 
 afternoon wore on. Carrera longed to get away from them. 
 He longed to be alone with his thoughts. But it was im 
 possible for him to go. Most of the persons present had 
 come expressh r to call on him, and so he had to bear it and 
 force a smile on his lips, and small talk out of his mouth, 
 while his heart was sick and heavy. The merriment led
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 411 
 
 to cards, as usual, and a monte-table was organized, which 
 soon absorbed the attention of everybody. The excitement 
 of the game afforded some relief to Carrera, and he played 
 and drank in order to stun the grief within him. Once, he 
 noticed, while the plaj-ers were going to, and coming from, 
 the refreshment table, that Paredes and Dolores met in the 
 center of the room, and that something was said by her in 
 an abrupt manner while passing Paredes a something 
 which hardly anybody could have heard or noticed, a some 
 thing that Carrera could not hear ; but be saw or imagined 
 to see the knowing and responsive look of Paredes, and 
 that was enough. The supposition: that there must be an 
 understanding between Paredes and Dolores recurred to 
 the mind of her husband with irresistible power ; and oth 
 ers, evidently, had noticed it likewise. Many a time he 
 thought he had seen people, who sat or stood at a distance 
 from the main table, look at the two when they happened 
 to stand together, and then exchanged looks and whispers 
 among themselves. What did they think? Did their 
 looks and whispers really refer to his domestic relations ? 
 Had it gone thus far? Had he become an object of 
 pity or ridicule ? If he could only know it ! And yet 
 he could not ask ; and, besides, people would not tell him 
 their thoughts or acquaint him with rumors or reports 
 discreditable to himself, even if he should ask them. Such 
 a life was terrible. Even the certainty of his shame would 
 have been less intolerable than these vexing, wearing, gnaw 
 ing doubts and suspicions. 
 
 The company broke up in time to get to their homes be 
 fore the sounding of the stay-bell, a regulation which we 
 described in the beginning of our story. No conversation 
 had as yet taken place between husband and wife. After 
 the visitors had departed, Carrera sat awhile with the old 
 gentleman, giving him the information he was anxious to 
 obtain about the state of the crops, the condition of the 
 herds, and other matters of interest to a landed proprietor.
 
 412 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 At last the Marquis retired. Dolores escorted him to his 
 room to see to his comforts, while Carrera withdrew to his 
 part of the house. Soon afterward his wife joined him. 
 And now the time most dreaded by those who are chained 
 together in conjugal misery had returned, the time when 
 they are alone together, unprotected by the presence of 
 outsiders or the restraints of society. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 
 
 DOLORES said nothing, but without looking at her hus 
 band, quietly began to divest herself of her shawl, combs, 
 and jewelry. Carrera had caught her eye but once ; but 
 this was enough to satisfy him that she was ready and pre 
 pared for a conflict. What should have aroused her wrath, 
 masked for the present by an air of studied indifference, 
 Carrera was unable to tell. She had returned his caresses 
 when he took leave of her to go to Puembo. A temporary 
 peace had been restored before he left the city. What 
 could have disturbed that peace again? If she had any 
 ground of complaint against him, why did she not state it, 
 KO that it might either be removed, rectified, or explained ? 
 Why should two human lives be made miserable, when a 
 few friendly words of understanding could set them right? 
 His wife's frequent fits of sullen silence had been among 
 the worst trials of his wretched married life. They had 
 either pained him like a slow, gnawing toothache, or they 
 had filled him with rage and indignation, which often made 
 him lose his temper when he struggled hardest to maintain 
 it. 
 
 Should he speak first? But what should he say? He 
 had often rehearsed in his mind, while absent from Quito,
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 413 
 
 how he would talk to her on certain irritating subjects, how 
 he would reason with her, and through words of kindness 
 and persuasion open a new way to her heart. But he could 
 not attempt to deliver these fine speeches now, when she 
 met him with cold defiance, when she showed hostilitj 7 " 
 without cause, and when he knew that the very first words 
 he spoke would be the opening of a battle which he 
 dreaded, because such conflicts were so entirely repugnant 
 to his whole nature, which excelled by its anxiety to please 
 and to conciliate, and longed almost morbidly for that re 
 ciprocity of kindness and affection, which, of all others, 
 life seemed to deny to him who needed it most. He knew 
 that a battle was before him if he spoke,andyet how could 
 he remain silent? His heart began to palpitate the very 
 moment he attempted to speak. He knew his pent-up ex 
 citement would give a strange tone and quiver to his 
 voice, which would mar his most conciliatoiy language. 
 And thus it was, that several times he opened his mouth to 
 speak, but hesitation weighed down his tongue and sealed 
 his lips ; his voice refused to give utterance to the words 
 his mind had spoken. 
 
 Carrera had stood at his desk waiting for something that 
 might relieve this state of painful suspense, but nothing 
 came to his aid. He, therefore, concluded to forego all his 
 prepared speeches and arguments, and to make an effort to 
 disarm her by demonstrative kindness. It was peace he 
 wanted more than anything. If he was not to be treated 
 affectionately, he would, at least, strive for peace. He 
 knew he would have to buy it by humiliation and self- 
 abasement ; but it was indispensable to his wounded heart. 
 It was the best he could attain under any circumstances, 
 and he would make one more honest effort to attain it. 
 
 Hence, he approached Dolores, as if nothing had hap 
 pened, ready to ignore and forgive the slight of the morn 
 ing, and attempted to draw her to his breast. But she 
 pushed him away contemptuously, and went to the other
 
 414 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 end of the room, where she sat down and began to undo 
 her hair. 
 
 ""What is the matter?" he asked, with a superhuman 
 effort at self-control. 
 
 No answer. He repeated his question, and again there 
 was no answer. True to his resolution to secure peace at 
 any price, he continued : "Why doj'ou act thus, Doloritas? 
 Must there always be discord and bitterness between us? 
 Can we never live in peace and pleasantness like other 
 married people?" 
 
 Still no answer. Slowly, but irresistibly, the anger arid 
 indignation of Carrera gained the ascendancy over his 
 prudent and peaceful resolutions. 
 
 "You seem to be angry," he said, "that I have come 
 back. You wanted me to stay away longer, perhaps en 
 tirely. You could not express your disappointment at 
 my return more manifestly than by the reception you 
 gave me this morning." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right," she said, after a pause. 
 
 Carrera was stunned. He was not prepared for such an 
 admission. It surprised and mortified him. " Then your 
 conduct this morning," he asked, " was intentional?" 
 
 " I must give you the flattering satisfaction to say that 
 it was not, although it would have been just as well if it 
 had been. I wanted to see the soldiers on the square, but 
 1 expected to be back before your arrival. Not that I 
 think you deserve any such considerateness on my part, 
 but I know what 1 owe to myself. I do not intend to dis 
 grace 3'ou, and consequently myself, before the servants, as 
 you disgrace me in the presence of other people." 
 
 "I?" asked Carrera, amazed. 
 
 " Yes, you !" answered Dolores, who, woman-like, dis 
 dained to remain on the defensive. 
 
 " Would you have the kindness to explain," said Carrera, 
 with increasing irritation, " how I disgrace you in the 
 presence of other people ?"
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OP LIFE. 415 
 
 " Of course what you do is right. It never strikes j'ou 
 that anybody else can have feelings. You are conscious 
 only of your own whims and suspicions." 
 
 "Suspicions?" 
 
 " Yes, suspicions !" resumed Dolores, aggressively. "Your 
 unfounded and insulting suspicions have made me an 
 object of public talk and derision. The way you watch 
 me in company is scandalous. Or do you think I do 
 not notice what to almost everybody else has become an 
 object of comment and ridicule? When Senor Paredes 
 happens to be with us, your eyes are always on me. Your 
 looks are never averted for an instant. Wherever I go, 
 they follow me. You look at me as intently as if I were a 
 wild beast, every motion of which must be watched. Do 
 you think that this is pleasing to me? Are you so dull as 
 not to perceive that your conduct must expose me to in 
 jurious talk? People must notice, and have noticed, that 
 you are dreadfully suspicious of me. Will their idle curiosity 
 content itself with this one fact? Most certainly not. They 
 will go, and have gone, farther. They will reason thus: 'If 
 the Count de Carrera is so suspicious of his wife, that he for 
 gets himself in company, and disregards the considerations 
 which are due to her and to others, he must have grounds 
 for his suspicions, reasons for his jealousy. He would not 
 make such a persistent and reckless display of it, if she had 
 not given him cause.' This is the way people will talk. 
 Hence, if discreditable reports concerning myself and the 
 Senor Paredes should be set afloat, it is your conduct to 
 which they owe their origin. Do you think I thank you 
 for it. Indeed, not ! I hate you for it !" 
 
 Carrera was dumbfounded. His presence of mind was 
 gone. He did not know what to say. By this sweeping 
 attack, she had changed his position from that of a husband 
 who dreaded to be injured by his wife, to that of a culprit 
 who had injured and disgraced her. As our best thoughts 
 are after-thoughts, so Carrera could not, at this moment,
 
 416 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 recall any of the many circumstances, of greater or lesser 
 importance, which he had laid up in his mind against his 
 wife. She had taken him by surprise by broaching a sub 
 ject boldly from which he himself had shrunk. Her tone 
 and bearing were those of injured innocence. And perhaps 
 she was innocent. It was clear that she did not love 
 him, as he yearned to be loved. Yet hers was a cold 
 nature in which love's roots could not strike very deep; 
 but she was proud and ambitious, and her pride might 
 have done for her what virtue alone would not have ac 
 complished. 
 
 She perceived the advantage she had obtained, and de 
 termined to press it. " Once and for all, Julio, I tell you 
 that I am weary and tired of your unreasonable conduct. 
 I have borne with it as long as I could ; I can not and will 
 not bear with it any longer. If you have no regard for my 
 feelings, you should understand, at least, that by persisting 
 in your insulting ways, you will disgrace our whole house, 
 and worst of all, yourself. Whatever change my feelings 
 toward you may have undergone, I am your wife, Julio, 
 and know my position as such. The Countess of Carrera 
 will never disgrace herself, and her family. I know my 
 duty as a wife. Do you know yours as a husband? You 
 have vowed to protect me, but instead of protecting, you 
 disgrace me." And with these words she covered her eyes 
 with her handkerchief, and broke into a sob. 
 
 Carrera was nearly subdued. He groped for a reply, but 
 neither the suitable words nor the suitable ideas presented 
 themselves. 
 
 "I am sure," he said at last in an apologetic way, "that 
 you greatly exaggerate, Doloritns. But even if some of 
 your charges were true, they would only prove my love. 
 There could not be jealousy without love." 
 
 ".Ridiculous! I know better! 1 have seen the great men 
 of our city, and know what their jealousy is made of. It is 
 wounded self-love and nothing else. They can even be
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 417 
 
 jealous of a woman whom they have discarded. You may 
 have ceased to love me, you may even hate me, still I see 
 you tortured by the suspicion that I might have given 
 another that love which you have rejected." 
 
 "But how unjust you are, Dolores. You seem to forget 
 that your conduct toward Paredes has not been as strictly 
 guarded as I should have desired. His visits are incessant" 
 
 ' To my father and family, such as they were before I 
 married you." 
 
 " No, Dolores. He comes to see you. He is admitted to 
 our rooms during my absence." 
 
 "But never when I am alone," interrupted Dolores. '-'I 
 have never received him here, unless Aunt Catita, Mama 
 Santos, or some of the servants were in the room. Where 
 is the human being who can say that I ever received him 
 without witnesses? Where is the man or woman who can 
 charge me with anything wrong or even improper? What 
 have 1 done? Why should I be disgraced by false suspicions, 
 and persecuted with insults by my own husband? No, 
 Julio, what you are doing to me is hateful, and it is but too 
 natural that I hate you for it, and repel your treacherous 
 caresses." 
 
 She had nearly subdued him. He did not know what to 
 say. But there is this great defect in the strategy of women, 
 that when once on the war-path, they do not seem to know 
 when to stop ; and that they are disinclined to rest on 
 their laurels after having achieved a victory. It should 
 have been clear to her discerning mind that her husband 
 had been completely worsted during the engagement, 
 and that in the softness of his sensitive nature he was 
 now most anxious to surrender. She should have ac 
 cepted this surrender, because by doing so she would have 
 completely re-established her ascendency. After having 
 defeated and captured the enemy she should have abstained 
 from torturing her prisoner. But this is a temptation which 
 women of a shrewish or tyrannical disposition will hardly
 
 418 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 ever be able to resist. It is not enough to fell the enemy 
 to the ground ; he must also be scalped and mutilated so 
 as to punish him for the resistance he had attempted. 
 Hence when Carrera meekly pleaded for reconciliation, 
 mutual forgiveness, and peace, she persisted in trampling 
 upon what she supposed to be his helplessness, and in do 
 ing so she forgot that it is not the heavy weight, but the 
 additional straw which breaks the back of the over-laden 
 camel. Not by stabbing him to the quick, but by turning 
 the knife around in the wound, she wrung from her hus 
 band that cry of anguish with which the agonized slave at 
 last breaks his fetters, and escapes from his tormentor. 
 
 Carrera had ceased to argue, to reason, to remonstrate. 
 He sued for the peace which she withheld. Her real or 
 pretended implacability made him unspeakably miserable. 
 Death was preferable to such a life. He said so, but was 
 answered with a sneer. At last he said, slowly nodding 
 his head, and speaking to himself, while his memory wan 
 dered back to the happy time when he was still free to 
 choose : "And this is the woman to whom I have sacrificed 
 so much ! " 
 
 " Sacrificed what, Senor?" she exclaimed sharply. " Have 
 you considered, in the selfishness of your heart, which was 
 the side that made the heaviest sacrifice ? You are prob 
 ably thinking of that Indian witch and adventuress, with 
 whom you carried on amorous, treasonable, and ungodly 
 relations, which would have landed you on the scaffold, or 
 in the prisons of the Holy Office and rightfully so if my 
 hand and my father's position had not saved you. Your 
 impudence, Julio, can only be excelled by your ingrati 
 tude. What have you sacrificed to me ? Your head would 
 have ornamented the gates of the city, if it had not been 
 for me. I risked my reputation to warn you the night 
 before the riot. I told you what was to come on the 
 next morning. But you, like a fool, waited for it, instead 
 of betaking yourself to a place of safety. And who
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTIILESSNESS OF LIFE. 419 
 
 nursed you day and night when they brought yon, a 
 living corpse, to this house? For the fabulous treasure 
 of that witch, which would .have disappeared in your 
 hands like a mockery, I have given you solid wealth. I 
 have conferred honors and distinctions on your empty 
 head, instead of a traitor's hood or the San Benito which 
 you should have worn if I had not saved you, and made 
 you what you are. And now you talk of sacrifices, be 
 cause you were once favored by an Indian impostress and 
 vagabond." 
 
 "Not another word?" said Carrera, arising from her side, 
 at which he had seated himself while pleading for recon 
 ciliation and forbearance. " Do not insult the memory of 
 one who was infinitely belter, nobler, purer, and truer than 
 you. I have discarded the pearl for the shell, the jewel for 
 the base imitation, and I am now suffering the just punish 
 ment of my treachery and folly. A short life of happiness 
 and glory by the side of Toa, the great, the good, and the 
 true, and ev<jn if followed by death on the scaffold, would 
 have been preferable, immensely preferable, to a long and 
 wretched life of misery by the side of Dolores, the wicked, 
 the cruel, and the false. I might have been a King if it 
 had not been for you ?'" 
 
 "And why were you not?" she asked, rising from her 
 chair likewise, and drawing herself up opposite to him, 
 with her long and beautiful hair flowing over her shoul 
 ders, and her eyes sparkling with the fire of hate and 
 fierceness, beautiful as Medusa, but still beautiful, even in 
 her moral deformity. " And why were you not, you faint 
 hearted slave? Why were you a coward? Do you think 
 that I esteem the wretch who is too pusillanimous to con 
 quer glory and immortality? Give me a man ! It is man 
 hood I admire ! But you, Julio, are a Avoman, and a slave. 
 Had I been a man and in your place, I should have been 
 a King, at whatever cost, and if it had been only for a day, 
 with death at the end of it, vet I should have been a King."
 
 420 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 Carrera did not know whether he was awake or whether 
 he was dreaming. He stood listening, with his eyes riv 
 eted on her, like the bird charmed by a serpent, and long 
 after she had ended he still stood looking at her, unable to 
 recover from the amazement which had overwhelmed him. 
 At last he began to wring his hands, and said, in a piteous, 
 incredulous, and almost shrieking tone of voice : -'Dolores, 
 did I hear right? Did you you you say all this 
 to me?" 
 
 "1 think I spoke plainly enough !" she answered, walk 
 ing awaj r from him haughtily to the other end of the room. 
 .But Carrera followed her. 
 
 " Did you mean these words, Dolores, you, the very 
 woman for whom I refused it all ? Dolores, you who came 
 to me to warn me, to plead with me not to succumb to the 
 temptation, do you now reproach me with doing what you 
 had implored me to do?" 
 
 " I did my duty to my King, to my father, and to you, 
 whom I then looked upon as a friend, /was right in what 
 I then said, and you acted most properly and prudently 
 in following my advice. But did you act heroically ? Did 
 you act like a man? Did you act as a, cavalier to the In 
 dian Princess who pretended to love you, and perhaps did 
 really love you, and to whom you must have given some 
 pledges to encourage her in the advances she had made to 
 you ? Did you act in good faith to lioberto Sanchez, your 
 best friend? He might have supplied what you lacked, 
 courage, determination, energy, ambition. Your Toa was 
 a Queen, and possessed a treasure which you say you saw 
 with your own eyes. Public opinion was on your side ; 
 hundreds of armed men stood waiting and anxious to 
 strike. Arana might have been crushed in the mountains. 
 You certainly had chances enough in your favor, but you 
 were too dull to see and too timid to seize them. J despise 
 a coward !" 
 
 "Almighty God!" exclaimed Carrera, still wringing his
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 421 
 
 bands, "and this from the woman who asked me to act as 1 
 have acted, and for whose sake I did what I have done." 
 
 But now the reaction set in. Whatever there was manly 
 and noble in his nature rebelled against her heartless cru 
 elty. He snatched up some of his ponchos, and, turning to 
 the door, he said : u I shall relieve you from the presence of 
 a man whom you hate and despise. What I have suffered 
 during the long years of our unhappy marriage, language 
 is inadequate to express. But to-night you snapped the 
 last chord that held you to my heart. It is over now. 
 May God forgive you the life of wretchedness and misery 
 which you have led me!" 
 
 With these words he left the room. The darkness into 
 which he stepped, as he closed the door behind him, was 
 almost impenetrable. The night was as black as the hope 
 lessness of his wounded soul. Every thing was still in the 
 house. Once it seemed to him as it' a shadow flitted past 
 him, but he was too preoccupied to take notice of anything 
 but the wounds from which his heart was bleeding. He 
 felt his way out of the corridor into the main hall. The 
 inhabitants of the mansion were all asleep, and little they 
 dreamed of the anguish of their future master, who groped 
 for the door of the reception-room. He feared lest he 
 should find it locked. Fortunately it was open. He en 
 tered noiselessly, closed the door behind him, and stumbled 
 over chairs and stools until he reached a sofa, on which he 
 threw himself, covering his limbs, cold and trembling from 
 excitement, with the ponchos he had brought. Here he 
 would pass the night, not sleep, for sleep had fled from 
 him. He had tasted the bitterest fruits of the tree of 
 knowledge. His eyes were open, fully open, at last, and 
 his heart was dead.
 
 422 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 REVELATIONS. 
 
 HE must have lain for about an hour, during which the 
 tension of his nervous system, and with it his -bold deter 
 mination had given way to fresh doubts, hesitations, and 
 fears. Was it not too bold a step, he meditated ? Carrera 
 was not a man of action, and he shrank from the difficul 
 ties and troubles with which the execution of his resolution 
 was beset. He felt like one helpless in the toils. What 
 would the old Marquis say? Would not he and Dona 
 Catita and all their relations and friends beseech him with 
 all their influence, remonstrances, prayers, and authority, 
 in order to prevent the scandal of a separation ? And what 
 excuse could he give for it? By what facts could he justify 
 so momentous a step? His complaints were matters of feel 
 ing which could not be made public, and would be consid 
 ered trifles and partly imaginary, could they be made 
 known. There was no marriage without its quarrels ; and 
 the Church, as well as the woi'ld, would require him to bear 
 his cross with charity, and to forget and forgive. But need 
 there be a declared separation ? He might go back to one 
 of his haciendas, and from that to another. The produc 
 tiveness of the estates of his father-in-law, as well as of his 
 own depended upon his personal superintendence and ex 
 ertions, and the more time he devoted to them, the better 
 they would prosper. But could he stay away from Quito 
 continually? Would not Dolores and her famil} T require 
 him to spend at least a part of his time with them in order 
 to save appearances ? His frequent and prolonged ab 
 sences had already been commented upon by the idle gos 
 sips of Quito. And yet, how could he return to a woman
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTI1LESSNESS OP LIFE. 423 
 
 who had treated him with such mi natural hatred and 
 cruelty ; a woman who trampled upon his heart and de 
 lighted in his sufferings ? Could she reaHy be such a fiend ? 
 Was it possible for a human being to be so destitute of all 
 affection and charity ? No. It could not be. She had 
 evidently been very excited; he had wronged and offended 
 her concerning Paredes ; if she was really innocent, she 
 had just cause to be indignant, and in the proud conscious 
 ness of her innocence, stung to the quick by his insulting 
 suspicions, she had gone further than she intended, saying 
 things which she had not meant, and could not have meant. 
 If this was so, she was, to a certain extent, excusable, 
 while he was in the wrong. But, being in the wrong, it 
 was his duty to put himself in the right. Yet, had he not 
 done so ? Had he not already apologized to her and im 
 plored her forgiveness ? Should there be no end to his 
 self-abasement? Perhaps, however, he had made no allow 
 ance for the fact that women could not make up a quarrel 
 as easily as men. A man might fire up in one moment and 
 cool down in the next. A woman could not do that ; her 
 excitement lasted longer; she required more time to calm 
 herself, and again to become accessible to considerations of 
 reason and charity. By this time, probably, she had 
 cooled down and was sorry for what she had said But 
 why, then, did she not come to call him back ? Because 
 she expected him to come, he being the one whose jealous 
 conduct had given the first offense. Yes ; he would make 
 one more effort. He would go back to her bed, and if 
 she again repelled him, then let the chord be cut forever. 
 He was about to rise in order to carry out this resolu 
 tion, when the thought struck him that by doing so he 
 would completely sacrifice all control over her, and forever 
 lose all the ascendency which he. as the husband, should 
 maintain. This consideration started a new train of 
 thoughts in his mind, and threw fresh doubts on the prob 
 lem which he was debating with himself. Should he
 
 424 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 His brooding was interrupted by a creaking noise caused 
 by the opening of the door. A white figure appeared on 
 the threshold. Was it Dolores ? Who else should it be? 
 Yes, it must be his wife, who, having come to her senses, 
 at last had left her bed to seek him and to restore the peace 
 for which he longed. In spite of all his misery his heart 
 leaped with joy at the approach of relief, and if it were 
 only temporary relief, from the difficulties and troubles with 
 which he was surrounded. But why had she not brought 
 a light? How could she find him in this darkness? Sud- 
 denty it struck him that tins w:is not the figure of Dolores. 
 Dolores was one of the tallest women at Quito, while the 
 female apparition which stood in the door seemed to be 
 much smaller. His eyes had now become used to the dark 
 ness. The hall outside, too, had become a little lighter, as 
 the storm-clouds had passed away which had made the 
 night so black when he left his room. He could plainly 
 discern now that it w r as not the figure of Dolores which 
 stood on the threshold ; and yet who could it be? Super 
 stitious terrors seized him. He had never seen a ghost, 
 but he had heard those who pretended to have seen ghosts 
 in which he and everybody else believed. The hair of the 
 figure in the door seemed to be the long and coarse hair 
 of an Indian woman. Could it be Toa, who had died and 
 now appeared to him in the hour of his worst misery to 
 reproach him with his treachery and desertion ? He had 
 lifted himself up on his elbows, and gazed speechless at the 
 white figure before him. The apparition stood motionless 
 for a few seconds, and then advanced toward him. The 
 cold perspiration broke from his forehead, and his heart 
 beat audibly. He was brave in danger, but helpless in the 
 face of what he supposed to be the supernatural. 
 
 Nearer and iiearer the apparition drew, until Carrera 
 uttered an involuntary and hardly audible exclamation of 
 terror. At this the figure halted. Carrera had now suffi-
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 425 
 
 ciently recovered himself to invoke the Divinity, the Yir- 
 gin, and the saints in order to ward off the specter. 
 
 " Is it your Grace?" the figure said at last, and Carrera 
 heaved a deep sigh of relief, as he recognized the low and 
 musical voice of Mama Santos. 
 
 u What art thou doing here, Mamita?" 
 
 "I hope your Grace is not sick," continued the Indian, 
 without taking notice of his question. 
 
 "Not in body, Mamita," he said, half dreamily, "but I 
 am sick at heart." 
 
 "I know it, amo," she said. "I have known it for 
 years." 
 
 " Yes, I remember," answered Carrera, peevishly, " and 
 I remember thee, woman, and the poison I always drew 
 from thee.'* 
 
 " From me, amo?" 
 
 " Yes, from thee ! It was thou, I remember, from whom 
 I received all the information that slowly but irresistibly 
 drove the sharp and poisonous dagger of doubt and dis 
 trust into my heart. Whatever troubled my mind, and 
 took away my rest and my peace, I learned from thee. I 
 remember it all." 
 
 " Your Grace is unjust," replied Santos, " cruelly unjust 
 to a faithful servant. I am a servant at this house. The 
 Nina Dolores is my mistress, and your Gracei 8 my mas 
 ter. I belong to the conquered race. Obedience is my 
 duty. When I am commanded, I must do as I am told. 
 When I am questioned, I must answer. I volunteer no 
 information, and I carry no tales. What your Grace has 
 asked of me, is all that I have ever told." 
 
 "Yes, but didst thou tell me the truth? Were thy an 
 swers always what they should have been ?" 
 
 No answer. 
 
 ' Why dost thou remain silent?" 
 
 " I am the granddaughter of Cozopangui, the governor 
 of Quito under Atahualpa and Kumiiiagui. I came from
 
 426 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 a noble house undefilcd by lies or treachery. But your 
 Grace need not believe me. Your Grace asked, and I an 
 swered. Your Grace asked a great deal ; I never answered 
 much. Am I to be blamed because I said too much or too 
 little?" 
 
 "Dost thou insinuate that there is more to be told? 
 Am I to understand that there are things which wei-e left 
 unsaid bythee? Answer me ! Tell me the truth for the 
 love of God.! I am harassed to death by uncertainty. It 
 is certainty I want. Canst thou give it to me?" 
 
 Again there was no answer. 
 
 " Speak woman ! Wilt thou drive me mad ? " 
 
 " I am a servant in this house," said Santos with Indian 
 indirectness and stoicism. " I have never refused to an 
 swer my master's questions." 
 
 " Well, why dost thou not tell me all? Dost thou not see 
 that I am heart-broken and miserable? " 
 
 " I know it without seeing it. I knew that it would be 
 so, long before your Grace came to this house as the hus 
 band of ^Tina Dolores." 
 
 Carrera now jumped to his feet, and seizing her by both 
 arras, he shook her passionately. " What didst thou know 
 before I came to this house? Speak, woman, or I shall 
 murder thee! " 
 
 " Calm yourself, Master. The grand-daughter of Cozo- 
 pangui will not yield to threats or violence. But when 
 spoken to in kindness, she will promptly obey the commands 
 of her Master, whom she honors, because of all the inmates 
 of this house, he is the only one who has been kind to her 
 race." 
 
 Carrera accepted this rebuke, which restored him to his 
 senses. " Forgive me, Marnita! I did not mean any harm 
 to thee. I was excited, and 1 am so miserable. Sit down 
 by me, Mamita. and tell me all. How didst thou know be 
 fore 1 came to this house that I would be miserable?" 
 
 There was a pause, during which Carrera waited pa-
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 427 
 
 tiently for an answer. At last the answer came : " Because 
 the Nilia Dolores never loved the man to whom she gave 
 her hand in marriage." 
 
 "Art thou sure of it, Mamita? " 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " How dost thou know it?" 
 
 " Because I know that she loves another! " 
 
 " Who is that other?" 
 
 "Your Grace knows it as well as I." 
 
 " How dost thou know that she loves him?" 
 
 " Give me your hand, Master." With these words she 
 seized his left hand, lifted it to the level of his head, and 
 then pressed it back against the wall. " Here, Amo," she 
 continued. " Pass your fingers over the tapestry! Press 
 it! Do you find anything? " 
 
 " Yes, there is a depression, a hole." 
 
 " Just so, Master. It was made by the Nina Catita, in 
 order to listen to the conversation of people in the recep 
 tion-room, and to see what they were doing. I discovered 
 it in the wardrobe, and used it myself on several occa 
 sions." 
 
 " AYell, what didst thou hear or see ? " 
 
 " I both heard and saw ! " 
 
 " Speak ! " said Carrera, although he dreaded to listen. 
 
 " I heard them on the night before the riot, at which 
 your Grace was nearly killed by the rabble " 
 
 "Well, and?" 
 
 " They were quarreling. The Nina Dolores said that she 
 would go to your house to prevail upon your Grace to re 
 ject the offer of the crown. He objected to her going. He 
 said he would go himself, and mold you. She insisted 
 that she would. He then became jealous, very jealous, and 
 there was a quarrel. But finally they made it up." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "She told him that she did not love you, and that she 
 never would. They then embraced and kissed each other ! "
 
 428 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 " Enough ! Enough ! I will not listen to more. At 
 least not now. If it is false, the crudest of all deaths would 
 not be sufficient punishment for thee. If it is tru^e, it is too 
 much for me at once. I can not bear it all at once. It is 
 too terrible a betrayal to be believed. My head swims. I 
 feel dizzy and faint. Leave me, Mamita, leave me now ! I 
 must be alone with my thoughts.. Go! Go ! Mamita! I 
 shall see thee to-morrow, when I am strong euough to hear 
 the rest." 
 
 " You will be sick, Master." 
 
 " No, I shall not; but 1 must be left alone." 
 
 " You will not betray me, Amo ?" 
 
 "Upon the honor of a cavalier, I will not. But, now, 
 go ; for the love of thfi Virgin, go !" 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 RESOLUTION. 
 
 THE weary hours of the long night seemed to be inter 
 minable to Carrera, as he lay on the sofa, praying to God 
 and the Virgin to show him a way out of this dreadful 
 labyrinth. He was ashamed to face Mama Santos again, 
 the woman who had direct and positive evidence of his 
 disgrace. He was ashamed of himself and of the ridiculous 
 part he had played, with the whole society of Quito for an 
 audience. What was his title, what were his honors, what 
 was his wealth to him now to him, a cuckold at whom 
 the finger of scorn and contempt would be pointed, and 
 behind whose back people would laugh and sneer, and in 
 dulge in vile jokes and ribaldry at his expense? Should 
 he kill that villain Paredes ? Perhaps he should. A " dag 
 ger of the mind " assumed distinct and bloody shape in 
 Carrera's imagination. But would it not be reckless to
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTIILESSNESS OF LIFE. 429 
 
 take life upon such testimony as this? Accepting all that 
 Mama Santos had said as true, the proof was still deficient. 
 Dolores may have dallied with Paredes before she married 
 Carrera. Paredes was known to be one of her earliest 
 pretenders. Yet she may have come to the conclusion 
 that he was not the man whom she would prefer to all 
 others. Carrera's heroism and sufferings, together with 
 his titles and distinctions, may have turned the scale in his 
 favor. She may have allowed Paredes to take certain lib 
 erties before she became another man's wife, and yet this 
 conduct, however improper, might not be incompatible 
 with her subsequent loyalty to her husband. Of acts or 
 circumstances from which the crime of adultery might 
 have been inferred, he had no proof except the treatment 
 he experienced at her hands. And yet, did not this very 
 treatment support the presumption of her innocence ? If 
 she were really guilty, would she not fawn upon him and 
 kill him with kindness, rather than lead him to suspect her 
 of infidelity? But guilty or not, the life she led him was 
 unbearable. Any rescue from it, and if by death, would 
 be a welcome relief after the years of suffering through 
 which he had passed. And, after all, had he not told Mama 
 Santos to stop before she had concluded her statements? 
 She evidently knew more than she had told ; but he had 
 refused to listen. There was more behind, but he had been 
 too cowardly to hear the whole truth. 
 
 Day dawned at last and brought no consolation, no ray 
 of light to the darkness of his heart. The servants began 
 to bustle about the house, and would soon enter the recep 
 tion-room. What would they think if they should find 
 their master lying on a sofa, and covered with ponchos, 
 thus displaying the fact that he had spent the night away 
 from his wife? He hastily arose and returned to his room. 
 He opened the door noiselessly and entered. Dolores was 
 asleep. Carrera dressed himself and then took up his 
 plumed hat, his sword, and cloak, and was just about to
 
 430 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 leave the room when he turned to cast a last look at his 
 wife. Dolores was now awake. Her eyes were wide open, 
 and looked at him with cold indifference. Carrera was 
 about to put a barrier of separation between himself and 
 her. He had not yet determined how to do it, but he was 
 resolved that it should be done. Still he would give her a 
 last chance to return to her conjugal duty. So he advanced 
 one or two steps toward the bed, and said, still holding his 
 hat, cloak, and sword: "Dolores! Have you nothing to 
 say to me with reference to our disagreement of last night?" 
 She stared at him for a moment and then said : "Nothing!" 
 
 " Nothing with reference to the future ?" 
 
 " Nothing, except this : I am willing to save appearances, 
 if you are. Do not act the fool before people, but behave 
 like a reasonable being." 
 
 "Is this all you have to say nothing more?" 
 
 "Nothing!" 
 
 " It is well !" Thus saying, Carrera left the room. 
 
 With his hat over his eyes and wrapped up in his cloak, 
 he had descended the first steps of the main staircase, when 
 something pulled him back by his cloak. It was Mama 
 Santos. "One word, Master!" she said, descending with 
 him to the landing. "I found this paper in the scila this 
 morning. I do not know who dropped it or from whom it 
 came!" Carrera took it, and read the following lines: 
 " The President insists on my going, at least as far as 
 Riobamba. I must leave to-morrow morning, and shall 
 not see you for several weeks." Carrera turned pale, as he 
 read the paper which, he doubted not, had been written by 
 Paredes. And to whom had it been written ? Clearly it 
 could have been intended for nobody but Dolores. 
 
 " I thank thee, Mamita," he said, as he hurried down 
 stairs. " It is well." 
 
 He hastened on without knowing whither. Incessantly 
 haunted by perplexities, he did not know what course to 
 take. What should he do? What could he do? Where
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OP LIFE. 431 
 
 was the road to escape? The morning was cold. The sun 
 had not yet arisen. Carrera shivering with chilliness 
 and excitement kept up a rapid walk, so as to produce at 
 least a physical reaction. Suddenly he was startled by the 
 beating of drams. He stopped and listened. A thought 
 flashed through his mind. It made him listen almost with 
 rapture to what sounded to him like notes of deliverance. 
 At the same time, soldiers equipped for a journey came 
 riding down from the barracks, preceded and followed by 
 pack-mules with provisions and military stores. The road 
 to escape was now open. There was his chance. Why 
 had he not thought of this before? He would go and see 
 the President of the Jioyal Audience as soon as he could be 
 seen. His Excellency was not a very early riser, and 
 Carrera could hardly restrain his impatience. He would 
 have to wait two or three hours at least. There was no 
 help for it. He would also have to get some breakfast, as 
 he had eaten very little the evening before. But he did 
 not intend to return home, before it was all done and ir 
 revocable. He did not trust his own firmness. He knew 
 but too well how easily he could be swayed and influenced. 
 Hence, he would not -go home for breakfast, nor would he 
 go to the house of any of his friends where he might be 
 molested and annoyed with questions, and compelled to 
 talk when he preferred to be silent. 
 
 He, therefore, wended his way to the bridge of Macban- 
 gara and across it to the now famous tienda of Dona Mari- 
 quita, the mother of Juan and Mercedes Castro. Dona 
 Mariquita had not changed much in seven years. Her 
 features had become a little sharper, her face a little stonier, 
 and her hair a little whiter; but her neck was still unbent, 
 her bearing as erect and her step as elastic as of old. Her 
 circumstances had improved since the profitable night, 
 when Eoberto Sanchez was entrapped under her treacher 
 ous roof, and thence delivered a prisoner into the hands of 
 Arana. But the payment of pressing debts, the restoration
 
 432 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 of her almost dilapidated house, and losses owing to ig 
 norance and mismanagement, had greatly reduced the 
 golden reward of the part which she had played in the 
 plot. She was disappointed, too, in her daughter Mercedes. 
 The worthy mother had hoped that Mercedes, in the course 
 of time and events, would forget her dead lover, and con 
 sole herself with a living successor, whose liberality would 
 help to defray the expenses of the household. But in this 
 Dona Mariquita was mistaken. Mercedes never forgot the 
 lost Roberto, and never forgave herself for having been the 
 innocent and unsuspecting cause of his shameful betrayal. 
 Her life was devoted to God and to her child, a bright and 
 energetic boy of seven years, the only link that connected 
 his mother with the things of this earth. Aside from him 
 she bad neither eyes nor ears for the attractions and allure 
 ments of the world. The church was her only place of 
 refuge. For whole hours she lay on her knees before some 
 image of the blessed Virgin. The fasts she imposed upon 
 herself, the pilgrimages she undertook, the number of 
 masses she heard, the discipline to which she subjected 
 herself, had made her a beata in the eyes of the multitude 
 which at first had been inclined to judge her very harshly. 
 But now everybody pitied the pale and angelic sufferer 
 who quietly glided through the streets on her way to or 
 from church or chapel, with her head bent low and her 
 eyes seeking the ground, speaking to nobody unasked, yet 
 when spoken to, having a polite and modest answer for 
 everybody, which pleased and conciliated, while it pre 
 cluded familiarity, if her boy was with her, her whole 
 being was wrapt in him. He was her past, her present, 
 and her future, in whom and for whom alone she lived. 
 If her boy was not with her, her thoughts and hopes were 
 in the other world, where some day, after this long and 
 weary earthly suffering had ended, she would be reunited 
 to her Roberto, who must know then, if he did not know 
 it now, that she had not betrayed him in life, and that she
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTIILESSNESS OF LIFE. 433 
 
 was true and faithful to him until death. In the meantime 
 she earnestly, fervently, and continually prayed for his 
 release from purgatory; and what little money she was 
 able to save was spent for masses for the peace and salva 
 tion of his soul. Time, that wears out everything could 
 not deaden or diminish the intense love of that gentle crea 
 ture for the dead hero who had rested in her arms when 
 Hhe dreamed that short dream of happiness alas! so very 
 short which was followed by such a cruel and terrible 
 awaking. 
 
 Dona Mariquita was in ecstasies to see such a great and 
 distinguised personage in her humble P'enda as the Count 
 Julio de Carrera. She cringed before, and fawned upon, 
 him, and flew about, as if on wings of lightning, to obey 
 the comman'ds and gratify the wishes of his Excellency. 
 Such high honor had not been conferred on her lowly 
 house since the great Count Arana had condescended to 
 enter it, in order to look at the room in which Roberto 
 Sanchez had been taken prisoner. Mercenary visions of 
 frequent and profitable repetitions of Carrera's visit arose 
 in the mind of Mariquita, who, in spite of seven years' ex 
 perience, did not yet quite know her daughter. Count 
 Carrera's unhapy domestic relations constituted a public 
 secret. He was the richest man of the kingdom. Mercedes 
 was still young and her beauty had increased instead of 
 fading. Perhaps the Senor Count had come with a view 
 to establish more intimate relations. 
 
 What else should he have come for? Mercedes, it is 
 true, had proved strangely inaccessible and intractable 
 thus far. but Carrera had been the best friend of Roberto 
 Sanchez, a fact which was known to everybody and well- 
 known to Mercedes. Perhaps she would look upon the 
 confidential friend of her dead lover with more willingness 
 than upon the other cavaliers who had endeavored to suc 
 ceed him in her favors. It was so provoking that she was not 
 at home. She had gone to mass with her boy ; and she
 
 434 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 was such a religionist nowadays that there was no tell 
 ing when she would return. 
 
 The prattling of Dona Mariquita was grating to Car- 
 rera ; but it was preferable to what he might have had to 
 endure elsewhere. Her loquacity relieved him of the ne 
 cessity of saying anything in return. He listened to hardly 
 one-half of what she said, and returned only short and un 
 suitable answers. But his moodiness did not discourage 
 the worthy mother, who received it as evidence of his dis 
 appointment at not finding her daughter at home, for 
 whose absence she continued to apologize, while assuring 
 him of the probability of her immediate return. Even the 
 breakfast Carrera had ordered was delayed so as to give 
 Mercedes a chance to return, before the distinguished and 
 promising visitor should take his departure. 
 
 Mariquita had conducted her guest to the best room of 
 the house, apologizing for its dust and disorder on the 
 ground of the early morning hour, and entirely ignoring 
 the very great probability, if not certainty, that he would 
 not have found it differently, had he called at any other 
 time of the day. Carrera was greatly relieved when his 
 hostess betook herself to the kitchen in order to give her 
 personal superintendence and co-operation to the prepara 
 tion of his breakfast. He took the paper which M:ima 
 Santos had given him out of his pocket and looked at ft in 
 tently. He was not familiar enough with the handwriting 
 of Paredes to be convinced that he was the writer. But he 
 would soon know. If Paredes had really gone to Eiobamha, 
 there was no doubt that he had written the paper. And 
 to whom could he have written it but to Dolores? He 
 may have dropped it on the floor, while attempting to slip 
 it into her hand. Or she may have dropped it inadvert 
 ently, before or after she had read it, thinking that she 
 had put it in her pocket. 
 
 Carrera's perplexing thoughts were at last interrupted
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTH LESSN ESS OP LIFE. 435 
 
 by Doiia Mariquita and her servant, who brought in Ins 
 breakfast. 
 
 " There must be a great deal of travel and custom now, 
 Dona Mariquita," he began, "on account of the sending of 
 troops from here to Macas." 
 
 " O, yes, your Grace. I have been up before daybreak 
 this morning, in order to attend to business." 
 
 " Did an}- person of note come by here this morning?" 
 
 "Yes, Seiior Count, the Sefior Manuel Paredes passed 
 here this morning on his way to JRiobamba, where he is to 
 make arrangements for the collection of provisions and the 
 impressment of Indian carriers for the expedition to Ma 
 cas." 
 
 Carrera turned deathly pale and could hardly swallow 
 the morsel he had in his mouth when he heard the prompt 
 confirmation of his suspicions. Dona Mariquita, not no 
 ticing her guest's perturbation, continued: "His Mayor- 
 dome, Don Tomas, is now in my tienda. He accompanied 
 the Seiior Paredes as far as Turubamba, arid has just come 
 back. The Seiior Paredes, he said, might have had the 
 command of the Macas expedition, but declined it on the 
 ground of the dreadful hardships of such a campaign. It 
 is a fearful task to cross the Cordillera into the wilds on 
 the other side, where the roads are so bad that half the 
 time the travelers will have no use for their horses, but 
 must wade through mud, swamps, or jungle. Besides, that 
 country is said to be very sickly, full of fevers and insects, 
 and so damp that the clothes will rot from the bodies of 
 travelers. They say its mines are wonderfully rich in gold 
 and emeralds; but the Seiior Paredes has become so 
 wealthy since half the estates of the Sanchez were al 
 lotted to him, that he need not expose his life in search 
 of mines. But your Excellency does not eat. Have 
 I failed to give satisfaction to your Excellency? This 
 is the best breakfast we are able to get up here ; but, of 
 course, your Excellency is used to such splendid living
 
 436 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 that even our best must appear unpalatable to the SeSor 
 Count." 
 
 " Not at all, Dofia Mariqnita. Your breakfast is very 
 good. But, to tell the truth, 1 am not well. I have not 
 felt well for several weeks. It is rest more than nourish 
 ment I require. Would you have the kindness to let me 
 rest here for about half an hour? -1 shall not put you to 
 any further trouble/' 
 
 Dona Mariquita was delighted. Carrera evidently 
 wanted to wait for Mercedes. If that girl would only 
 hurry home! Why must she stay away so long? The 
 old woman placed a pillow on the sofa and then hurried to 
 her shop, where she had a long conversation with her old 
 friend and compadre, the Mayordomo of Manuel Paredes. 
 When she returned to the room she discovered, to her great 
 amazement, that her visitor was gone. He had left a gold 
 piece on the table; but his breakfast had remained almost 
 untouched. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE APPOINTMENT. 
 
 AN hour later Count Carrera was in the august pres 
 ence of the President of the Royal Audience. 
 
 u I have come," the former began, "to remind your Ex 
 cellency of an old promise. I had fondly hoped that it 
 would not become necessary for me to trouble your Excel 
 lency with a request for its fulfillment." 
 
 "I should have regretted very much if his Majesty's 
 most loyal and most prominent subject in this kingdom, 
 had never given me the opportunity to serve him." 
 
 "When, years ago, I had taken the liberty of appealing 
 to your Excellency on behalf of the Seuora Sanchez and 
 others who had suffered on account of the Rebellion of
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OP LIFE. 437 
 
 1592, your Excellency, while regretting the inability of the 
 government to comply with my request, assured me of 
 your Excellency's willingness and desire to grant anything 
 that I should ever ask for myself. Thus far I have had no 
 occasion to avail myself of your Excellency's kindness; but 
 now the opportunity has arisen. I am ambitious to dis 
 tinguish myself. I long for activity. I am dissatisfied 
 with myself and restless for the want of something to do 
 different from the routine of hacienda life. There is to be 
 an expedition to Macas. Its commander has not yet been 
 appointed, and I beg to offer myself for the position." 
 
 " You, my dear Count ?" exclaimed the President, with 
 unfeigned surprise. "You? Would you really exchange 
 a life of luxury, of ease, and of pleasure, for the hardships, 
 the annoyances, and the dangers of such a command?" 
 
 "I wish for nothing better, and I only hope your Ex 
 cellency will grant my request." 
 
 " But do you know, amigo, that I have offered this posi 
 tion to a number of prominent gentlemen, both Spaniards 
 and natives, by all of whom it has been declined ? " 
 
 " Then my offer. I am delighted to hope, will relieve 
 your Excellency of a serious embarrassment, provided, of 
 course, your Excellency entertains no doubt as to my fit 
 ness for the task." 
 
 "Not the least, my dear Count; but I am too great a 
 friend of your family to allow you to make such a self- 
 sacrifice. AVhat would the old Marquis say? It would 
 kill him to lose }~ou. He loves you like a real son. You 
 are his main-stay. You are his factotum. He would be 
 perfectly helpless without you. And your wife, the charm 
 ing Scilorita Dolores. She would be in despair if I should 
 confer on you such a dangerous appointment." 
 
 " On the contrary, your Excellency, she is as desirous as 
 I am that her husband should distinguish himself in some 
 civil or military capacity." 
 
 " Yes, of coflrse; but not such an appointment. The
 
 438 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 chances would be nine to one against your return, in case 
 there should be real trouble in Alacas." 
 
 " I can only add that I would pay the expenses of my 
 own equipment, that I should serve without compensation, 
 and that I am ready to leave to-day, or whenever the troops 
 may be ready to march." 
 
 "I could not think of it, Senor Count. Your wife 
 would think that I must be a monster for thus depriving 
 her of her husband." 
 
 "But whom would yonr Excellency appoint in case my 
 own application should be unsuccessful?" 
 
 " Well, we might fall back on our first idea of making 
 one of the two captains who will go the commander of the 
 whole force. This will be the proper thing to do, in case a 
 man of prominence and distinction can not be found." 
 
 " I do not know what degree of prominence and dis 
 tinction your Excellency requires. Without immodesty I 
 may claim that I am not without either. I was forced into 
 prominence by the assault made upon me seven years ago; 
 and I was subsequently distinguished by the favor of my 
 gracious master, the King, which I have done so little to 
 deserve. And herein lies my ambition. I wish to merit 
 the honors which have been conferred upon me. I long to 
 prove my patriotic zeal. If your Excellency will appoint 
 me to this command, I shall not only pay my own expenses, 
 as I have said, but I shall also contribute my share toward 
 the payment of the costs of the expedition, by placing in 
 jour Excellency's hands, within an hour from now, a thou 
 sand ounces of gold, to be used solely and exclusively by 
 your Excellency for the best service of the King in this 
 matter." 
 
 This offer at once overcame the objections of the greedy 
 Spaniard. In fact, he had waited for it. He would have 
 conferred the appointment on Carrera for nothing, and 
 been glad enough if the latter had accepted it ; but when 
 he saw how anxious Carrera was to obtain it, and how lav-
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 439 
 
 ish he seemed to be with his money, the sly President held 
 back on purpose, in order to bring about this very result. 
 Having succeeded at last, he fell on Carrera's neck with 
 affected pathos, and gave him a most fervent embrace, ex 
 claiming' " Count, you are really a patriot. The King has 
 no better subject in this realm. You deserve to be what 
 you are, the first gentleman of the kingdom. God bless 
 your loyal heart. Such a noble spirit of self-sacrifice re 
 calls to my mind the palmiest days of classic Greece and 
 Eome. As much, as I regret," he added, releasing Carrera's 
 neck and seizing both his bands, which he shook enthusi 
 astically, " to yield to your patriotic request, I have no right ; 
 under the circumstances, to refuse it. You have made my 
 consent an imperative duty, the fulfillment of which I owe 
 to the KJng's service. You shall have the appointment. 
 You are the bearer of the royal standard for the kingdom, 
 and it is quite proper and just that this post should be as 
 signed to you. Your commission will be made out at once. 
 The instructions for the commander have long been pre 
 pared. I can hand them to you now." 
 
 " There is one additional favor I must ask of your ex 
 cellency." 
 
 " Speak on ! " 
 
 " My wife, as I have told your Excellency, desires me to 
 go." This statement, Carrera thought, would be literally 
 true, although not correct in the sense in which the Presi 
 dent would naturally understand it. " Her ambition will 
 soon reconcile her to my absence. .But as to the old gentle 
 man, my father-in-law, I fear your Excellency's apprehen 
 sions are well founded. I should not wish to hurt his feel 
 ings. Hence, I beg your Excellency not to let it be pub 
 licly known that I applied for this appointment myself. 
 Let it be considered as having been tendered to me with 
 out a previous understanding." 
 
 " I comprehend ! Rely on me, my dear Count. I not 
 only understand, but appreciate your delicacy and consid-
 
 440 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 erateness, and honor you for it. Leave the old gentleman 
 to me. I shall set you right as far as he is concerned." 
 
 Before an hour had elapsed the thousand ounces of gold 
 were in the hands of the President of the Royal Audience, 
 who immediately transferred them, not to the royal treas 
 ury, but to his own strong-box, from which they did not 
 emerge until his Excellency's return to Spain several years 
 afterward. There was no deduction made on account of 
 Carrera's donation from the items of expense that were 
 charged against the treasury in connection with the expe 
 dition. 
 
 A detachment of the two companies of which the expe 
 dition was to consist had left Quito on the day before Car 
 rera's appointment. Another detachment had left the city 
 that very morning. The remainder of the force received 
 marching orders from him almost before. the ink was dry 
 with which his commission had been signed. Carrera him 
 self determined to leave at once. When Dolores returned 
 home from a round of visits to some of her lady-friends, 
 she found her father, Aunt Catita, and all the servants in 
 tears surrounding Carrera, who stood in the court-yard, 
 booted and spurred and ready to mount, having delayed 
 his departure to await the return of his wife. 
 
 Determined as he was, his courage nearly failed him 
 when the decisive moment came. His face was ashy pale 
 and his heart almost burst through his breast with wild 
 palpitation when he stepped up to her and said, within the 
 hearing of those around him. in a hurried tone so as to give 
 her no time to recover from her surprise : " Dolores ! The 
 President of the Royal Audience has seen fit to appoint me 
 commander of the expedition to Macas. Considering the 
 favors I have received from my sovereign and his repre 
 sentatives, 1 had no right to deny myself to this call of 
 duty. I have accepted the appointment." 
 
 "Julio!" she exclaimed, almost overcome with surprise, 
 but whether it was secret joy or real amazement, that
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OP LIFE. 441 
 
 made her shiver and tremble, Carrera was unable to 
 decide. 
 
 "I have accepted the appointment," he continued, "and 
 it is of the utmost importance that I should leave at once. 
 I have waited to say good-bye to you. You will soon hear 
 from me lay letter. Adios, Dolores!" 
 
 The customary embrace now followed. Both parties 
 seemed to be deeply moved, while those around them were 
 sobbing loud. 
 
 " What do you mean by this?" whispered Dolores, as she 
 lay in his arms. 
 
 'You willed it so. It was your own doing," he replied 
 in the same manner. " This morning you might have kept 
 me. Now it is too late !" 
 
 "And what are your intentions?" she whispered, still in 
 his arms and clinging to him for the benefit of those who 
 witnessed the scene. 
 
 "This is an adios forever ! Farewell, Dolores, forever!" 
 was the whispered reply with which he released her. 
 
 He had walked two steps from her, when he suddenly 
 turned back, and, taking her by the hand, led her away 
 from the group. "This paper," he said in an undertone, 
 handing her the lines of Paredes, "you must have lost, or 
 it failed to reach you. I know the writer, and shall per 
 sonally give him your answer at Riobamba. Farewell!" 
 
 A few seconds afterward he was on his horse, and dashed 
 out of the doorway. He was followed by a mounted serv 
 ant and by the Fool on foot, who would not allow himself 
 to be left behind by his benefactor. 
 
 As Count Carrera appeared on the Plaza in front 
 of the house he was received by about a dozen mounted 
 soldiers and a much larger number of friends, who, 
 having heard of his appointment and intended depart 
 ure, had come to escort him beyond the city limits, a 
 custom still prevailing in South America. Soldiers and
 
 442 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 cavaliers waved their hats to welcome him, and shouted: 
 11 Viva el Senor Commandante /" 
 
 Carrera waved his hat in return, and shouted ic Viva el 
 ReyT (" Long live the King!") 
 
 Then with the old Spanish battle-cry, " Santiago ! San 
 tiago?' the cavalcade moved on. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE AND NEW DANGERS. 
 
 PAREDES, who traveled alone, had traveled fast, while 
 Carrera could only advance by slow stages, if he wanted 
 to provide for the comfort of the troops under his com 
 mand. The result was that the former reached Riohtunba 
 in three days, while it took the latter thrice that time to 
 get there. When he arrived, Paredes was already on his 
 way back to Quito. He had loft Riobaraba as soon as he 
 received the news, astounding to him, of Carrera's appoint 
 ment to the command of the expedition. Paredes had 
 more than one reason for avoiding a meeting with Carrera. 
 The supplies and provisions which Paredes had been au 
 thorized to purchase for the maintenance of the expedi 
 tionary force during its march across the Cordillera, and 
 down the uninhabited slopes on the other side, were mis 
 erably deficient, both in quantity and quality. Paredes 
 had purchased the cheapest and the worst, for which the 
 Government had been charged enormous prices, while its 
 agent had to share the profits of this iniquitous transac 
 tion vath the President of the Royal Audience. Most of 
 the goods were found worthless on inspection, and Carrera 
 had to make additional sacrifices out of his private means 
 in order to provide for the absolute necessities of the men 
 intrusted to his charge. To inform the Royal Audience of
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OP LIFE. 443 
 
 the rascalities of Paredes would have been not only use 
 less, but dangerous to the informer. Though this was Car- 
 rcra's first experience of official life, he had learned enough 
 to know that the real guilt rested not with the criminal, 
 but with those who, in case of a complaint, would be the 
 indulgent judges of their accomplice. Moreover, against 
 Paredes Carrera did not intend to invoke the sword of the 
 law. It was his own sword which he hoped, some day, to 
 steep in the blood of the villain. 
 
 In the meantime, however, the latter was safe and pros 
 perous in Quito, where he enjoyed his steadily increasing 
 wealth and the favor of his powerful patron, the President 
 of the Audience, to whom Manuel Paredes was a much 
 more grateful person than lie had been to the Count 
 A ran a. 
 
 Paredes had returned in time slily to contribute his share 
 to the judgment of condemnation which public opinion had 
 determined to pass upon poor Carrera, who was absent, 
 and hence, according to the French proverb, unquestion 
 ably in the wrong. His domestic difficulties had been 
 made the subject of endless discussion in all the family cir 
 cles of Quito, on the streets, and in the houses, by the pa 
 tricians as well as the plebeians. It was generally asserted 
 and believed that for years past he had treated his wife 
 with insulting coldness and shameless indifference. He 
 had passed most of his time away from her on his haciendas 
 in the country, where he amused himself in the company 
 of low-born characters and half-breed or Indian women. 
 During the short intervals he spent with his wife, the most 
 amiable, the most refined, and the most accomplished lady 
 of Quito, he had tormented her with groundless jealousy 
 and unfounded reproaches, invented probably as a blind 
 for his own derelictions. He had nearly broken the heart 
 of his aged father-in-law, who had loved him as fondly as 
 if he had been his own son. He had applied for the com 
 mand of the expedition to Macas for the only purpose of
 
 444 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 releasing himself from all restraint and freely indulging 
 his low and immoral tastes. That he was unfit for the task 
 he had undertaken, nobody doubted. He had never had 
 any military experience, and should not have accepted a 
 position for which different qualifications were required. 
 There were at least a dozen men, tried and skilled soldiers, 
 to whom the appointment should have been tendered in 
 preference to Carrera, to whose inexperienced ambition 
 their better claims had been sacrificed. Of course, it was 
 not known, and would not have been believed, that the 
 appointment liad been tendered to all these men, and that 
 for reasons of indolence and unwillingness, they had de 
 clined it. Falsehoods and slanders travel with the rapidity 
 of the lightning, while the truth advances at a snail pace, 
 ever unable to overtake them. It also became known that 
 on the morning of his departure from Quito, Carrera had 
 called at the house of Dona Mariquita Ycaza for no osten 
 sible purpose, and had taken breakfast there. Why he 
 should have gone there, instead of breakfasting at his own 
 house, was eniirely inexplicable, except on one hypothesis. 
 Dofia Mariquita had a very beautiful daughter, Mercedes 
 Castro, whom Carrera probably had desired to take with 
 him on his expedition to Macas. It would have been very 
 easy for him to obtain the consent of a mother who was 
 known to be mercenary, but her daughter had led such an 
 exemplary and almost sainted life since the death of her 
 seducer, Roberto Sanchez, that it was clear that she must 
 have rejected Can-era's dishonorable proposals with indig 
 nant contempt. 
 
 Thus public opinion had worked itself to a high pitch 
 of virtuous indignation against its absent victim, who was 
 universally condemned, while everybody overflowed with 
 sympathy and regard for Dolores, the injured and the 
 crushed, and with pity for her venerable father, whose 
 love and liberality had been rewarded with such unfeeling 
 ingratitude. Carrera, who had always preferred solitude
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 445 
 
 to idle gossip, and books to bull-baitings and cock-fights, 
 ani who was not in the habit of proclaiming his real or 
 imaginary wrongs from the house-tops, remained without 
 a defender in the elegant circles of the capital. It had 
 become fashionable to denounce him, and thus, as usual, 
 societ}^ pronounced its infallible judgment upon the merits 
 of a case of which only one side had been heard. Those 
 who knew him least were the fiercest in their condemna 
 tion, and those who lived in the most brittle glass houses 
 threw the heaviest stones. 
 
 And now we must follow Carrera's expedition through 
 the almost impenetrable forests on the eastern slope of the 
 Andean Cordillera. We find it trudging and toiling along 
 the wretched track, for it did not deserve the name of a 
 road, from Sevilla de Oro to Logrono. Both cities have 
 since disappeared from the face of the earth. Over the 
 sites once occupied by them, the tropical forest has closed. 
 Their names have become mere reminiscences in the blood 
 stained history of Peru. 
 
 Carrera had reached Sevilla de Oro after a long and ard 
 uous march across the Cordillera, and down the slopes, and 
 through the forests. As usual, during such expeditions, he 
 had lost a considerable number of his soldiers, and a still 
 larger number of his Indian carriers. They had succumbed 
 to the climate and died in the wilderness, where there were 
 no human habitations to receive them, and no resources 
 of any kind from which to draw food, shelter, or supplies. 
 
 On his arrival at Sevilla de Oro, Carrera learned that the 
 governor had proceeded to Lograno, having left orders for 
 the expeditionary force to join him there. At Logrono he 
 was to receive the " donations " which he had demanded of 
 the chiefs of the Indian tribes under his jurisdiction, as 
 ' ; voluntary contributions " toward defraying the expenses 
 of the great festivals which he intended to celebrate in 
 honor of the accession of Philip III. The white settlers of 
 Logrono had evinced a most rebellious disposition so the
 
 446 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 governor thought and to them he wanted to pay his first 
 military compliments, as soon as he had secured all the 
 gold-dust he could extort from the Indians. 
 
 Carrera's men needed rest and recreation. Having toiled 
 through the wilderness for weeks, they needed, first of all, 
 the stimulus of human society. But the governor's orders 
 were peremptory, and the causes for which Carrcra, un 
 der his instructions, might have deposed and superseded 
 him, were not yet clearly established. Nor would Can-era 
 avail himself of his powers, before he had met the governor, 
 and had heard his statement of the controversy. Hence, 
 Carrera determined to leave those of his men who were too 
 sick or exhausted to follow him, at Sevilla de Oro, while 
 with the available remainder of his force he continued his 
 march to Logrono. The remainder of his force ! It con 
 sisted of about one-third of the men with whom he had 
 marched from Kiobamba. The climate of the forests was 
 an insidious foe against whom even the loving and self- 
 sacrificing care of Carrera was of no avail. 
 
 Two or three days had elapsed since his departure from 
 Sevilla de Oro. His march was tedious and toilsome in the 
 extreme. The roads were almost impassable " roads for 
 birds and not for men," as the Spanish proverb sa}*s while 
 the country seemed to be without inhabitants. For the 
 last twenty-four hours the expedition had not met with a 
 human soul, except painted savages, who shrunk away from 
 the approaching troops and disappeared in the thickets. 
 There were no haciendas to be found along the road after 
 the first day's inarch from Sevilla de Oro. The stillness 
 and loneliness of the primeval forest had become oppressive 
 in the extreme. The rains, too, increased as the troops 
 struck the heart of the forest, and it had become almost im 
 possible for the soldiers to keep their weapons from rusting, 
 and their powder dry. 
 
 Toward the close of their third day's march, when, ac 
 cording to the assurances of their guides, the steeples of
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OP LIFE. 447 
 
 Logrono should soon be in sight, the foremost men of the 
 van-guard discovered four or five men, who emerged from 
 behind the bushes on the road-side and hailed the soldiers 
 with frantic demonstrations of delight. The soldiers of the 
 van rode up to them, and were soon joined by their chief, 
 who had just returned from an inspection of his long and 
 straggling line. 
 
 As the strangers climbed down from the steep hill-side 
 to the left of the road, Carrera was struck by the appearance 
 of one of them ; for in spite of the hair and beards of these 
 men, which had grown to an inordinate length, and in spite 
 of their almost unearthly appearance of shagginess and 
 dilapidation, he recognized the never-to-be-forgotten eyes 
 of Juan Castro, in all their terrible fierceness. 
 
 " Keep your eye on these men ! " he whispered to tha 
 soldier next to him. " Do not let them get away from us. 
 I have my reasons ! '"' 
 
 In the meantime the commander of the van had begun 
 to question the strangers : " Who are you, and where do 
 you come from? " 
 
 " For the love of God !" exclaimed Juan Castro, " Let 
 us have something to eat. We are nearly dead with hun- 
 ger." 
 
 " Where do you come from?" continued the officer, while 
 some of the soldiers opened their saddle-bags to the in 
 tense joy of the strangers, who watched every motion of 
 the men on horseback, with a fierce expression of greed, 
 almost painful to behold. 
 
 " We have been hiding in the forest among the bushes, 
 in ravines and hollow trees, for the last forty -eight hours, 
 and have had nothing to eat for nearly three days." 
 
 " Why were you hiding?" resumed the officer; but he 
 received no answer. The pieces of bread and smoked 
 meat which the soldiers had taken from their saddle-bags, 
 bad created a contention among the strangers. In their 
 struggle for the first morsel, two had fallen to the ground,
 
 448 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 and being too weak to rise to their feet, raised a piteous 
 howl, while their luckier comrades devoured the pieces 
 which they had been able to snatch with wolfish rapacity. 
 
 Some of the soldiers on foot had now overtaken the van, 
 and supporting the strangers, who had sunk to the ground, 
 strengthened them with a little aguardiente. But the poor 
 wretches did not cease their wail until food had been given 
 them. 
 
 The soldier first spoken to by Carrera, now said : ' Your 
 Excellency need not fear that these men will run away. 
 They are more dead than alive." 
 
 " It is very strange !" answered Carrera, " Very strange! 
 Jaramillo ! proceed with your examination. They can 
 speak while they eat." 
 
 The officer repeated his question : " Why were you hid- 
 ing?" 
 
 " For fear of the Indians, Senor." 
 
 " The Indians ?" 
 
 " Yes, your Grace, the Indian tribes have risen in re 
 bellion, under the lead of the Jibaros. They have de 
 stroyed all the settlements in this neighborhood and mur 
 dered all the inhabitants." 
 
 " This is terrible news," said the officer, turning to Car 
 rera, who now felt that it devolved upon himself to con 
 tinue the examination. " Had yoa no time," he asked, 
 ' to take refuge in Logrono ?" 
 
 " The Lord have mercy on our souls," answered one of 
 the strangers. " There is nothing left of Logrouo." 
 
 A general cry of amazement and horror followed this 
 announcement, and the soldiers crowded anxiously around 
 the newcomers, who continued to eat with unabated vorac 
 ity, reckless as to the next moment, and indifferent to 
 everything save the morsels of bread, which their eyes 
 seemed to swallow faster than their mouths. 
 
 " Man ! Thou art delirious !" said Carrera. <; What dost 
 thou mean ?"
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OP LIFE. 449 
 
 " It is true, your Lordship," said Castro. " Logrofio 
 has been destroyed. The Indians took it by surprise dur 
 ing the night. Not a soul has escaped." 
 
 "And the Governor?" 
 
 " His fate was terrible. They seized him and tied him 
 to a bench. Then they melted the gold they had brought 
 as their donation for the festivals, opened his mouth with 
 a bone, and slowly poured the molten mass into his throat 
 until he died." 
 
 There was a pause, during which Carrera and his men 
 stood horror-struck, while Castro and his comrades con 
 tinued to eat as if for dear life. 
 
 " Did you, men, live at Logrouo ?" asked Carrera, after 
 a few seconds. 
 
 "No, Seiior, we are outlaws," replied Castro, without 
 reserve or fear, " fugitives from justice. I have no doubt 
 your Excellency has recognized one of us by this time. 
 We could not live in the towns, but had to establish our 
 homes in the neighborhood of the 'frontier- posts, where we 
 were secure, and could hide away in case of necessity. 
 But a few days ago, while hunting in the woods, we saw 
 the smoke of our burning cottage, and heard the yells of 
 the savages, and we knew what it meant. Had we not 
 been outlaws we should have fallen into the hands of the 
 barbarians. But, having made the art of hiding the busi 
 ness of our lives, we knew how to skulk, and were more 
 familiar with the forest than the Indians who had come 
 from a distance. We had made a secret pathway between 
 our cottage and the outskirts of Logrono, where we had 
 friends, good friends, who often helped us. But for the 
 Virgin's sake, <rive me another swallow of aguardiente. I 
 feel like fainting." 
 
 His request was complied with, after which he fell to 
 eating again. 
 
 " But if you did not live at Logrouo," resumed Carrera, 
 " how did you learn what had happened there?"
 
 450 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 "I was just about to tell your Excellency," answered 
 Castro. " We intended to go to Logrono. Outlaws as we 
 were, we should have been welcomed as men who could 
 fight. But the Indians were there before us and destroyed 
 the place. There is nothing left of it but charred ruins 
 and smouldering ashes. It was a slaughter without re 
 sistance. The beasts and birds of prey are now reveling 
 on the corpses of the residents. When we reached the 
 place where Logrono had stood, the Indians had gone, 
 probably to Sevilla do Ora, and to this most fortunate cir 
 cumstance I attribute our escape. We searched among the 
 ruins but found nothing except corpses. At last we tried 
 the ranch of one of our friends and found him helpless and 
 wounded, but alive. The fiends had left him for dead, and 
 he had crawled into the bushes. They had made him, and 
 a great many others, witness the horrible death of the gov 
 ernor before they killed them. Our friend had learned, 
 from the conversation of the Indians, that their rising was 
 to be general throughout the government of Macas. They 
 had conspired to rise, at the same time, everywhere, and 
 to destroy all the towns. The chief of their confederation 
 is Quirruba, the King of the Jivaros. But my friend 
 heard them shout for Toa, the Shyri, who must also be in 
 the plot." 
 
 Carrera felt a pang shoot through his breast, as if an 
 arrow had pierced him. Toa here, and in arms against 
 the Spaniards, and he in command against her! The 
 vision in Mama Rucu's cottage again returned to his mind, 
 to which it conveyed the terrible certainty that he should 
 never leave these forests. He had felt, thought, and some 
 times almost hoped that he would perish during this ex 
 pedition; yet, when the dreadful certainty presented itself, 
 it came like a stunning blow stunning, because it had 
 come so sudden and unexpected. 
 
 11 What has become of your friend?" he asked, after a 
 pause.
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 451 
 
 "He is dead!" 
 
 "Did you kill him?" 
 
 " What else should we do, your Excellency? The poor 
 fellow could not go with us. Should we leave him to die a 
 slow and lingering death, or to be found and tortured by 
 the Indians? It was a Christian's duty to put him out 
 of the world." 
 
 " You say the Indians have left the neighborhood of Lo- 
 groiio?" 
 
 "Yes, Sefior!" 
 
 In the meantime the main body of Carrera's force had 
 come up. The detention of the van had brought the 
 whole expedition to a halt. The men who had listened to 
 Castro communicated the news to those who were behind 
 them, and in a short time it had penetrated to the rear, 
 spreading dismay and demoralization as it went. 
 
 " Jaramillo!" said Carrera to the officer at his side, "if 
 what these men report is true, we must turn back at once. 
 We are too late to save anybody at Logroiio ; but we may 
 still be able to come to the rescue of our friends at Sevill? 
 de Oro or at Mendoza. And what do you intend to do?" 
 he added, turning to Castro and his companions. 
 
 " For the love of God'! Your Excellency will not leavo 
 us behind in the wilderness. Misericordia ! Seiior ! Take 
 us along, for the sake of the Holy Cross. We can fight, 
 your Excellenc3 T , and we know the roads and the country." 
 
 '' It would be but a just punishment of thy crimes, Juan 
 Castro, to leave thee alone in the wilderness to the mercy 
 of savages and wild beasts." 
 
 "I know, your Excellency, and I do not deny it. Grod 
 is just, and my punishment will come. The innocent and 
 the guilty will be punished alike. The chances are that 
 we shall all perish. Your Excellency's command may be 
 overwhelmed by the savages and we may all be killed, 
 But let me die with your Excellency and with your men ! 
 Do not let me perish alone ! Do not cast me out in the
 
 452 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 wilderness ! Lot me remain with my own race, with 
 whjte men and Christians. If we escape I shall be in 
 your Excellency's hands, and your Grace may deal with me 
 according to my deserts ; but, by all the saints in heaven, 
 do not drive us away! On our knees we implore your 
 Excellency for this mercy." 
 
 "How are we off for provisions, Jaramillo?" asked Car- 
 rera, without seeming to notice the outlaws who were 
 kneeling before him. 
 
 " Very poorly, Senor Commander !" answered the officer 
 spoken to. " As we expected to reach Logroiio to-night, 
 we had supplied ourselves for only three days." 
 
 "We shall have to kill our horses if we find nothing to 
 eat," remarked Carrera. " Horses are of little or no use on 
 these wretched roads." Then addressing himself to Cas 
 tro, he added: "Juan Castro, if there is a man in the 
 world who deserves to be hung to the first tree, thou art 
 the man ! If there is a man in the world who should 
 order thee to be hung to the first tree, 1 am the man !" 
 
 "I know it! I know it! your Excellency!" groaned 
 Castro. 
 
 "But, with the judgment of God impending over us all, 
 I will not attempt to be thy judge. God has delivered 
 tbee into my hands. I shall reserve thee for the judgment 
 of God. You may assign, these men to such .duty, Jara 
 millo, as they may best be fitted for. Perhaps we shall 
 need them! And now let us turn back. The clearing 
 which we observed about an hour ago will be a safe place 
 to pass the night." 
 
 But there was to be no safe place for the men of Carrera 
 to pass the coming night. The order to turn back hud 
 hardly been given, when the stillness of the forest was 
 broken \)y the report of an arquebus, from what, until now, 
 had been the rear of his line of march. At the same time 
 the thickets along the road seemed to be alive with savages, 
 with whose wild war-whoops the tropical forest suddenly
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 453 
 
 resounded. A hail-storm of deadly arrows poured down 
 upon Carrera's devoted band, which \vas at once thrown 
 into confusion. It was one of those attacks from which 
 flight is impossible, because the troops were surrounded on 
 all sides. They could neither retreat nor advance. They 
 were hemmed in, and helpless against an almost invisible 
 foe. Their powder had become wet and nearly useless, in 
 consequence of which their fire was weak, and did little or 
 no execution. 
 
 At last, however, the elements came to their rescue. A 
 terrible shower of rain, a perfect freshet, broke over their 
 heads, and by compelling a temporary cessation of hostili 
 ties, afforded a respite for organization, and a breathing 
 spell for consultation. Yet this rain was but a treacherous 
 relief. It took away more than it gave. It made the soil 
 so slippery for men and horses, that it became as difficult 
 to move on as to maintain a firm foothold where they stood. 
 The garments of the soldiers hung so heavily to their limbs, 
 that they could hardly bear the weight of their arms and 
 accoutrements. They could not reload their arquebuses for 
 fear of spoiling what little powder had remained dry. And 
 thus they stood like sheep in the shambles, helpless, hope 
 less, and suffering all the agonies of despair. 
 
 After an hour the clouds parted, and the rain ceased. It 
 was now twilight, and swarms of mosquitoes ushered in 
 the terrors of the approaching night. It was impossible to 
 reach the clearing of which Carrera had spoken, as the men 
 and horses stumbled and fell at nearly every other step, cr 
 stuck fast in the mire, while the arrows of the Indians har 
 assed them incessantly. The sufferings of the disheartened 
 band increased as night wore on, when fatigue, indescrib 
 able fatigue, and hunger were added to the terrors of the 
 situation. It is under such circumstances that life loses its 
 value and becomes a burden, and death is hailed as a relief, 
 gladly welcomed by the hopeless sufferer.
 
 454 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 CHAPTEJR VII. 
 
 THE LAST ENCAMPMENT. 
 
 AFTER days of fighting, marching, and fasting, the little 
 band of fugitives, reduced to about one-third of those who 
 had marched from Sevilla de Oro, reached an open knoll 
 where they might rest from the fatigues of pushing through 
 the jungle, and recover strength to plunge into the tropi 
 cal forest again. Here they might be protected for a short 
 breathing spell, from Indian ambuscades, and from the 
 mosquitoes which were unbearable in the thickets. The 
 clouds had cleared away, and some respite might be hoped 
 from the drenching rains. The sun which had been hid 
 den for several hopeless days, smiled upon the fugitives 
 again, and promised to dry their shapeless clothes which 
 rotted from their weary limbs. At the foot of the hill on 
 which they now encamped, there was a mountain-stream 
 sparkling with cool and limpid water. 
 
 They had dragged themselves to this beautiful spot, with 
 out hope. The instinct of self-preservation, the love of life, 
 the expectation of escape had long since died out. Their 
 comrades who had dropped down by the wayside or had 
 been poisoned by the arrows of the invisible enemy, had 
 welcomed death as the end of their intolerable sufferings. 
 The preservation of life had become a matter of the utmost 
 indifference. Death had lost its terrors for those poor, 
 emaciated, foot-sore creatures, shaken with fevers, bleeding 
 from suppurating wounds, and panting with physical ex 
 haustion. AVords are inadequate to describe the agonies of 
 their march through the pathless forest, with its quag 
 mires and lacerating creepers. The rest of the grave was 
 infinite^ preferable to such hardships. It was only the
 
 BOOK IV. THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 455 
 
 fear of greater tortures, the fear of being captured, and put 
 to a slow and excruciating death by the savages, that had 
 given these soldiers the strength to persevere without sleep 
 at nights, without a moment's rest during the days. 
 
 But now, the cessation of the rain, the reappearance of 
 the sun, the sudden and almost unaccountable withdrawal 
 of their pursuers, and the discovery of an opening in the 
 forest which promised respite, had rekindled the spark of 
 extinguished hope; the love of life returned to their de 
 sponding hearts, and the hope of reaching again the abodes 
 of civilization revived in the midst of despair. 
 
 Another discovery gladdened their hearts. There was 
 fish in the mountain-stream at the foot of the hill. For 
 days they had trudged forward almost without nourish 
 ment. There were birds and game in abundance, but there 
 was no powder. It had either been expended in the fruit 
 less contest with the lurking foe, or rendered unfit for use 
 by the rains. The men had gnawed roots, and the stems 
 and leaves of plants, but this expedient furnished no sub 
 stantial relief. Those who were not too weak to move 
 about, now applied themselves to the stream, and with nets 
 improvised from the remnants of their linen, caught fish 
 which they at once devoured uncooked. After having 
 somewhat appeased their own hunger, they caught more in 
 order to relieve their comrades, and to gather a supply for 
 the following day. Those who had become too weak to 
 walk, attempted to dry in the sun what few rags remained 
 to them to cover their nakedness, or were engaged in manu 
 facturing a sort of sandals from withes which were to be 
 fastened ,to their swollen and bleeding feet with tough 
 creepers or pieces torn from the belts of their swords. 
 
 The Indians, after having destroyed Logroiio, had 
 marched upon Sevilla de Oro ; but the Macas and Huam- 
 bayas tribes who were to join the Jivaros and their allies in 
 this attack, had disappointed them by not appearing at the 
 place of rendezvous. They had not betrayed the plot to the
 
 456 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 Spaniards, being in deadly fear of the Jivaros, but had re 
 tired toward the Cordillera with the intention of keeping 
 out of the way until the result was known. The Jivaros 
 waited for them in the forests near Sevilla de Oro for a 
 whole day, and then concluded to make the attack with 
 their own force. But this delay had been fatal to the com 
 plete success of their enterprise. Had they made the attack 
 as they originally intended, the inhabitants of Sevilla de 
 Oro would have shared the fate of those of Logrono. Not 
 one of them would have escaped. But during the day lost 
 by the Jivaros, the Spaniards at Sevilla heard of the ap 
 proach of a large number of savages whose intentions could 
 not be peaceable, and hasty preparations were made for re 
 sistance. When the Jivaros appeared in sight of the town 
 on the next day, their arrival was not a surprise. Still the 
 Spaniards were but^badly prepared, and almost without 
 arms and proper organization. They attempted to rout 
 the savages by an attack in the open fields outside of the 
 town, but instead of routing the Indians, the Indians routed 
 them, and drove them back into the town with terrible 
 slaughter. The savages entered Sevilla de Oro, set fire to 
 the houses, and laid seige to the church on the great square, 
 in which the inhabitants had barricaded themselves as a 
 last refuge. 
 
 Had the Jivaros only held out and pressed their advan 
 tage, they would have attained their whole object. But 
 from some cause which the historians of those days are un 
 able to explain, the Indians suddenly withdrew, giving the 
 Spaniards the opportunity to evacuate the place and to re 
 tire to the other side of the Cordillera. The settlers never 
 returned to the deserted town, which remained abandoned 
 forever afterward, the same as Logrono. 
 
 After their retreat from Sevilla de Oro, the Indians di 
 vided their force in two bodies. One of them marched 
 against Mendoza, the inhabitants of which saved themselves 
 by timely flight, and by the abandonment of their homes
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OP LIFE. 457 
 
 and property. The other detachment fell upon Carrera, as 
 we have seen, and harassed him da}' and night, as he en 
 deavored to cut his way through, in order to reach the shel 
 ter of the Cordillera, where he might put himself in com 
 munication with Hiobamba. But his heroic resistance was 
 of no avail. His advance was necessarily slow, and the 
 distance which separated him from the mountain range so 
 great, that he could not expect to reach it with his dying 
 band of sufferers. Hence, if help did not come from some 
 where, unexpected help, for which to hope was hoping 
 against hope, the position which he now occupied on the 
 open knoll would be his last stand, and his dream in Mama 
 Hueu's cottage w r ould be fulfilled here. 
 
 Carrera lay under the shelter of a rock and rested. He 
 had not rested for many days, and it was so sweet to 
 stretch his weary limbs once more. How delightful would 
 be that eternal rest when all weariness was at an end ! He 
 occupied a position at some distance from his comrades. 
 It was the .post of danger, as it was nearer to the forest 
 than any other place in the encampment. Carrera had re 
 served this post to himself, because he was, physically, in 
 better condition than any of his companions. They had 
 struggled between the extremes of intense hope and absolute 
 despair, while he, no longer tormented by uncertainty, had 
 resigned himself to the inevitable, He knew what was to 
 come, and the sooner it came, the more welcome it should 
 be. 
 
 His eye was on the forest ahead of him, which he scru 
 tinized with close attention, so as to give the alarm in case 
 of a fresh attack by the Indians. Many of his men 
 were asleep. They had longed and prayed for an unbroken 
 hour of sleep. It had come at last, and Carrera did what 
 he could to secure them in the undisturbed enjoyment of 
 that precious rest. There were some that could not sleep. 
 They had nearly fallen asleep while marching, but now 
 that there was an opportunity to sleep, sleep had fled, and
 
 458 - THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 they tossed restlessly on the ground. There were others 
 who were delirious with fever, and would soon be raving 
 maniacs. It was difficult to keep them quiet. But fortun 
 ately, or unfortunately, they were too weak to disturb the 
 slumber of their luckier comrades. 
 
 The sun had set with the bright promise of a clear and 
 rainless day. The rays of the moon were struggling with 
 the twilight, and playing tenderly on grass, trees, and jun 
 gle. Although determined to remain awake and watch for 
 his comrades, he was too exhausted to resist the overpower 
 ing temptation. Fatigue proved stronger than resolution. 
 An irresistible drowsiness came over him. and soon he sank 
 in that indefinable state of torpor on the dim border-line of 
 sleep and waking, when everything becomes uncertain, when 
 dreams seem to be realities and realities seem to be dreams. 
 
 He thought, or dreamed, he saw the Fool (who had de 
 serted on the day of the first attack, and had not since been 
 seen or heard from), bend over him to see whether his mas 
 ter was alive or dead, and then turn around and beckon to 
 some one in the direction of the forest. 
 
 " Ingrate ! " Carrera muttered in his waking dream. 
 " Thou hast deserted thy benefactor. Wilt thou betray him 
 now?" 
 
 " No, Amo" answered the Fool. " I bring help rescue 
 salvation." 
 
 " There is no rescue for me," continued Carrera in the 
 same tone of drowsy helplessness. " I must die in the wil 
 derness." 
 
 During all this time Carrera had eeen a figure, which 
 after emerging from the forest, stealthily crawled toward 
 him. It was an Indian, but not of the savage race of the 
 Jivaros. Instinctively and unconsciously Carrera put his 
 hand on his sword, while he muttered : "As long as it is 
 but one man I will not awake my comrades." And he 
 dreamt that he raised his sword and struck at the ap 
 proaching cnem}*. But this certainly was a dream only,
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTH LESSNESS OF LIFE. 459 
 
 for his arm lay motionless, and his hand had not even 
 closed around the hilt of his sword. Again he had become 
 oblivious. 
 
 He was aroused by a whispered call. Some one bending 
 over him, said : "Amo! Amo! Do you recognize me?" 
 
 He opened his eyes and recognized the face which was 
 over him. " Mariano ! " he said in token of recognition, but 
 without surprise or astonishment. He was too benumbed 
 and dreamy to wonder how Mariano had come here, and 
 where he could have come from. 
 
 " Yes, Amo, it is Mariano, who has come to save you. 
 Open your lips and drink this," and while the Fool lifted 
 up Carrera's head, Mariano poured the contents of a bottle 
 into his mouth. Carrera swallowed it eagerly. It warmed 
 and strengthened his whole system. A delicious feeling of 
 languor came over him, similar to what he had felt after 
 the first draught of Samarucu in Mama Eucu's cottage. 
 
 "!S T ow sleep, Amo, sleep without fear. There will be no 
 attack to-night. After midnight the Sh}*ri Toa will come 
 to see you. Meet her down by the stream under the big 
 trees. I shall imitate the chattering of a monkey, followed 
 by the shrieking of a parrot. When you hear that, come 
 down to see the Shyri. You will be as safe as in your 
 house at Quito. No harm will befall you while she is near." 
 
 After Mariano had spoken, everything became hushed, 
 all visions disappeared, and Carrera fell into a long and 
 dreamless sleep. Was it to be his last sleep on earth ?
 
 460 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 CHAPTER. VIII. 
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 Carrera felt like a new being when he awoke. His faint- 
 ness was gone ; his weary limbs were rested ; even a feel 
 ing of bodily strength had returned to him. He arose with 
 out pain, and cast a look at his encampment. Nearly ail 
 the men slept with the exception of those whom the fever 
 kept awake. .Even the guards had fallen asleep at the 
 other outposts. Should he allow these guards to sleep? 
 Why not? There was to be no attack this night. Had he 
 dreamed this or had somebody said it to him? Was it 
 Mariano ? Yes, he must have dreamed of Mariano, who 
 had told him that after midnight he should see the Shyri 
 Toa. And yet, this dream was so life-like and so real. 
 Could it have been a dream merely? Carrera had swal 
 lowed the beverage which they had given him. He still 
 had the taste of it in his mouth. If it was a dream, it was 
 the most vivid he had ever dreamed. 
 
 While thus pondering, he was startled by the chattering 
 of a monkey, near one of the big trees down by the stream. 
 That was to be the signal. If it was followed by the shriek 
 of a- parrot, it was n r ) dream, and he must go. And for 
 sooth, the shriek of the parrot came. Sharp and shrill it 
 broke through the stillness of the night. Now there was 
 no doubt of it. It was a reality. He was called upon to 
 face the woman who had loved him, and whom he had 
 betrayed, and whom he had sacrificed for the woman who 
 had not loved him, and by whom he had been betrayed. 
 He went. 
 
 There, under the da*k shade of the big trees, she stood 
 awaiting his approach, dressed in a tunic of coarse and
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 4G1 
 
 dark-brown lienzo, such as the Napo Indians wore, with 
 her arms and feet bare, with no ornament but the gold- 
 hoop with the emerald on her forehead. Against one of 
 the trees she had leaned her lance and bow, and the shield of 
 hard wood covered with hides, such as the Jivaro warriors 
 used. The quiver for her arrows was strapped to her back. 
 There she stood, her beautiful face still full of intellectual 
 ity, but with deeper traces of hardness, hopelessness, and 
 severity. These harder and sharper lines his treachery had 
 engraved upon her countenance. They were bat faint in 
 dications of the destruction he had wrought in her heart. 
 Of a, princess once so exquisite in her sensibilities, and of 
 such refinement of thought and feeling, his faithlessness 
 had made a savage Jivaro warrior. He had disappointed 
 her hopes, blasted her existence, and thwarted the great 
 purpose of her life His punishment was just, lie had 
 ruined her life; and his own life was ruined in return. He 
 had driven her into the wilderness, and he was now lost in 
 the wilderness himself. He had defeated her -aspirations, 
 and shipwrecked the cause of her people ; and now he was 
 in her hands, a helpless victim of those whom she com 
 manded. It was just retribution. 
 
 In silence Toa awaited his approach. When he was 
 near enough to distinguish her features, and behold those 
 wonderful eyes again, that once had looked upon, him so 
 lovingly, and now looked on him with v such sadness, not 
 with reproach, but with regret a-nd tenderness, he was com 
 pletely unmanned, and prostrating himself at her feet, he 
 broke into long and convulsive sobs, which shook his weak 
 and emaciated body as the storm shakes the reed. 
 
 Toa Avas speechless Avith emotion. Her breast heaved 
 heavily, and tears choked her utterance. But she Avas 
 stronger than Can-era. She had not hungered, toiled, and 
 suffered as he. and so she succeeded first in regaining her 
 composure. 
 
 " When we parted on Mt. Pichincha." she began, speak-
 
 
 462 THE SECRET OP THE ANDES. 
 
 ing slowly and sadly, " on our return from the cave to 
 which I had conducted you, neither of us could have 
 dreamed that such would be our next meeting." 
 
 Carrera continued to weep bitterly. 
 
 " You spoke words of love to me then, Julio. I have not 
 forgotten them. Those words formed the short and sweet 
 dream of my life. I am still grateful to him who spoke 
 them." 
 
 "No, no ! Toa, not thus ! " exclaimed Carrera in the an 
 guish of his heart. u Take that lance and pierce me. I will 
 bless the stroke of death, if dealt by your hand. But do 
 not speak kindly to me. Tell me that you hate me, and I 
 shall bless you for it. Tell me that you despise me, as I 
 deserve it ! Spurn me ! Curse me ! Trample upon me ! 
 But do not speak in these tones of kindness! It is too 
 terrible a punishment. It is the worst of all the agonies I 
 have undergone." 
 
 " Rise, Julio ! " she said, bending over him, " and do not 
 waste the precious moments in idle regrets. What is done, 
 is done, and can not be undone. The past can.not be re 
 called. The tide of time can not be turned back. You 
 would act differently if you had to do it again. I know 
 you would, and have forgiven you." 
 
 " Mere} 7 ", Toa, mercy! You lacerate my heart." 
 
 " Would I not act differently myself, if the last seven 
 years could be lived over again? What am I now? I 
 shudder at what I have done ! The blood of thousands is 
 on my head. I have wiped the Spanish colonies along these 
 rivers from the face of the earth. I have secured the in- 
 dependenee of the native inhabitants of these forests. But 
 in order to do it, I have shed blood like water, i have 
 slaughtered men, women, and children. I have been a fury 
 of death and destruction to these settlements, and among 
 my victims is the only being whom I ever truly, fondly, 
 passionately, madly loved ! But no ! This shall not be, 
 Julio. I can save you, and I will save you. In the dis-
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 463 
 
 guise of an Indian, you shall be led out of these forests by 
 my trusted servant, Uma. You shall live and think of me." 
 
 "And my comrades, noble Shyri ? " asked Carrera, still 
 on the ground. "What is to become of them?" 
 
 " I can not save them," answered Toa, plaintively. " On 
 the other side of the mountains, in my own dear home, I 
 was an absolute Queen, and my will was law. But here 
 among these savages even their rulers are slaves, the slaves 
 of iron custom through which they can not break without 
 destroying their own authority. The men under your 
 command are doomed. They will either die in battle or as 
 prisoners. It will be better for them to die sword in band!" 
 
 "And is there no escape for them ? " urged Carrera en 
 deavoring to rise, while a sudden attack of faintness, 
 brought on by the effect of violent emotion on his debilit 
 ated and broken constitution, caused him to fall back to 
 the ground. 
 
 " You are weak ! " sighed Toa. I have ordered fruit to 
 be brought. It is there, behind you. Eat! There is 
 enough of it for yourself and your men for one meal. It 
 is all I can give you. A poor gift of wild fruits is the 
 best and only repast the owner of Atahualpa's treasure 
 can now give to the richest man of the Kingdom of Quito. 
 What are our riches to us now ? " 
 
 "And there is no hope for my men?" 
 
 "None!" 
 
 " Can we not force our way through ? " 
 
 " You are surrounded by ten Indian tribes. And the 
 victorious warriors of twenty Indian nations are between 
 you and escape. Your firearms have become useless. You 
 have no bows and arrows. Your men are starving. There 
 is no hope for them. But let me save you, Julio. It is all 
 I can do." 
 
 " Would I ever have deserved your love, and woujd I 
 now deserve your esteem, if I should be base enough to 
 abandon those poor creatures who are intrusted to my
 
 464 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 care? I must share the fate of my comrades. Be 
 hold!" he said, pointing to the few tattered rags still 
 dangling from the flag-staff in his encampment, plainly 
 discernible hy the light of the moon. " There is the 
 royal standard of which I am the bearer, distinguished 
 and trusted by my King. How could I desert both 
 flag and comrades for the purpose of saving my own 
 miserable and wretched life, which is not worth saving. 
 I did not come to these forests to save my life ; I came 
 to lose it. I recognize the place where we now are. I 
 saw it in a dream in Mama Kucu's cottage, the night before 
 I first spoke to you. All I then saw, has come to pass as 
 I saw it; all except the end ; and the end is near." 
 
 There was a long pause which was first broken by Toa : 
 "Your refusal is what I dreaded. I knew you would re 
 fuse. It nearly drives me mad, that you will not let me 
 save you; and yet, I can not but say that you are right." 
 
 " 1 thank you, Toa, I thank you!" he said, embracing 
 her knees, and kissing the hem of her garment. 
 
 At this moment, the chattering of a monkey, followed 
 by a parrot's shriek, was heard again. 
 
 "This is the signal that I am wanted," said Toa. " My 
 savage allies must not discover that I have spoken to the 
 enemy of their race. I must go." 
 
 With these words, she took his hands, lifted him up, and 
 drew him into her arms. It was a moment of sharp and 
 bitter anguish ; this last moment of parting and of eternal 
 separation, with all the regrets of the past and all the 
 hopelessness of the future concentrated into one deathly 
 pang of utter and absolute despair. It was doubtful which 
 was the unhappier, he who was to die in the morning, or 
 she who was doomed to live on. 
 
 "And when shall we be attacked again?" asked Carrera, 
 as she turned to go. 
 
 "At sunrise !"
 
 BOOK VI. THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LIFE. 465 
 
 " Shall I see you during the last struggle ?" 
 " You shall !" 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 THE sun had arisen as bright and rosy as if it were to 
 shine on nothing but happiness, and not on scenes of cruelty 
 and carnage. 
 
 Carrera had led his men to the big trees down by the 
 stream, where he delighted them with the discovery of the 
 fruit which Toa had left for them. It was a banquet to 
 the starving sufferers, after so many days of gnawing hun 
 ger. They felt refreshed and revived, and strong enough 
 to carry those who had become too sick and weak to 
 march, under the shelter of the big trees. 
 
 There, where his meeting with Toa had taken place, 
 Carrera took his last stand. This position afforded the ad 
 vantage of water to wash their wounds and to quench 
 their thirst during the heat of a protracted contest. The 
 trees, too, promised at least some protection from the ar 
 rows of the Indians, while the clearing into which the 
 Spaniards could dash, when necessary, without exposing 
 themselves to hidden dangers, would cover their rear. 
 
 Carrera had told his men that, from what he had ob 
 served during the night, he was sure of an attack after 
 sunrise. The enemy had harassed and pursued them until 
 their firearms had become useless. This calamity having 
 come to pass, it was probable tha-t the Jivaros would risk 
 a hand-to-hand engagement. Hence he bade his men to 
 kneel down and once more to recommend their souls to 
 God, before whose throne the next moment might summon 
 them to appear.
 
 466 THE SECRET OF THE ANDES. 
 
 The men obeyed, and passed a few moments in silent 
 prayer. It was their last. 
 
 With the rays of the rising sun transforming the dew- 
 drops on trees and grass into so many glittering diamonds, 
 the Indians had emerged from their hiding places in the 
 forest, and threw themselves with piercing yells upon the 
 Spanish position, darkening the air for a moment with a 
 shower of arrows, and then advancing to a close encounter. 
 
 The contest was short. 
 
 The Spaniards, weakened by starvation and disease, 
 were soon overpowered. They fell like sheaves under the 
 scythe. Those that had not been killed, were reserved for 
 the more cruel fate of prisoners. 
 
 In less than twenty minutes, they were all overpowered 
 but one, and he the leader. He stood with his back to the 
 tree under which Toa had awaited him the night before. 
 Here he would die, after selling his life as dearly as he 
 could. Many an Indian warrior had bitten the dust under 
 the desperate strokes of the Christian knight. At last one 
 of them, upon whom the others looked as their chief, came 
 up and shouted : " Take him alive ! It is the Commander !" 
 
 A rush was made against him, but again his sword did 
 terrible execution, and kept his assailants at a respectful 
 distance. This last charge and repulse was followed by a 
 moment of anxious suspense. Suddenly he heard his name 
 called. "Julio !" a familiar voice had exclaimed, which 
 seemed to come from the opposite tree. He looked up and 
 saw Toa in its foremost branches, with an arrow drawn 
 from the bow and aimed at his breast. 
 
 "God of mercy!" he shouted, opening his arms. " Speed 
 it to my heart!" 
 
 The arrow flew as he spoke. It had reached its aim. 
 " God bless the hand that sent it," muttered his dying lips, 
 as he fell to the ground. His broken he^w^had ceased to 
 beat. His troubled spirit was at res
 
 ! => 
 
 5. _M I g %~>* I S 
 
 Vo i uwunn -\\xv Sn.\ uwuan.iv>
 
 Oc