een travelling. Before us lay, deep and deeper, the dark
valleys of the lower mountain regions, among which, scarcely
discernible, were scattered numerous Indian villages. Far beyond a more
level country stretched out, till it was lost in the distant line of the
horizon. For several hours we descended, till we began to experience a
very great change of temperature. We rested that night at a village
inhabited entirely by Indians. It was situated among such inaccessible
rocks that they had no fear of being surprised by the Spaniards. To my
great grief, Manco told me that he must quit me by dawn on the morrow.
I of course could not be so selfish as to wish to detain him.

"I have been, fortunately, able to find a trustworthy guide for you," he
said. "He is a lad a year or so younger than you are, but very quick
and intelligent. He is of a white complexion, though he has an Indian
heart, for he has been among us from his childhood. When an infant he
was discovered by some of our people in a wood near a Spanish village,
and was brought hither by them. Their idea is, that either he had been
deserted by his mother, or that his parents had been murdered by
robbers, who, for some reason or other, saved his life. He is called
Pedro. He speaks Spanish well; and should you fall among the Spaniards,
he will be supposed to belong to their people. Should you discover your
parents, of which I have no hopes, give him his liberty, and he will
return to us; and if you abandon the attempt, he will lead you back to
us. But I will bring him to you, and he will speak for himself."

On this Manco left the hut where we were lodging, and soon returned,
accompanied by a youth, whose clear complexion and full black eyes
showed that he was descended from the race who had conquered Peru.

"Are you willing to accompany me, Pedro?" I asked in Spanish. "You
will probably have many dangers to encounter."

He looked at me attentively for some time, as if examining my
countenance to judge if he could trust me, before he answered.

"Yes," he at length said. "I will aid you gladly in the work you are
about. I care not for dangers. God will protect me, as He has before
done."

I was much struck with his words and manner, and gladly accepted his
services.

"But I have no means of rewarding you, Pedro," I remarked. "Some day I
may have, but the time is probably far distant."

"A good action is its own reward," he answered, in an una