r the agony of
suspense. "Speak, Manco; has Ithulpo not arrived?"

"Alas! no," he answered, sorrowfully shaking his head. "I have too
certain evidence of Ithulpo's death; and, faithful as he was, he would
never have deserted your parents. His body has been discovered near a
village which has been attacked and burned by my countrymen. There can
be no doubt that they had taken refuge within it. Alas that I should
say it, who have received such benefits from them! The Indians put to
the sword every inhabitant they found there, and among them your parents
must have perished."

At first I was stunned with what he said, though I could not bring
myself to believe the horrid tale.

"I will go in search of them," I at length exclaimed. "I will find them
if they are alive; or I must see their bodies, if, as you say, they have
been murdered, before I can believe you. The Indians, whom they always
loved and pitied, could not have been guilty of such barbarity. If your
countrymen have murdered their benefactors, I tell you that they are
miserable worthless wretches; and the Spaniards will be justified in
sweeping them from the face of the earth."

As I gave utterance to these exclamations, I felt my spirit maddening
within me. I cared not what I said; I felt no fear for the
consequences. At first, after I had spoken, a cloud came over Manco's
brow; but it quickly cleared away, and he regarded me with looks of deep
commiseration.

"Should I not feel as he does, if all those I loved best on earth had
been slaughtered?" he muttered to himself. "I feel for you, my friend,
and most deeply grieve," he said aloud, taking my hand, which I had
withdrawn, and watering it with his tears. "Yet you are unjust in thus
speaking of my people. They did not kill your parents knowingly. The
sin rests with the Spaniards, whom they desired to punish; and the
innocent have perished with the guilty. Sure I am that not an Indian
would have injured them; and had they been able to come into our camp,
they would have been received with honour and reverence."

I hung down my head, and my bursting heart at length found relief in
tears. I was still very weak, or I believe that my feelings would have
assumed a fiercer character.

"I have been unjust to you, Manco," I said, when I could once more give
utterance to my thoughts. "I will try not to blame your countrymen for
your sake; but I must leave you, to discover whether your dreadful