ians, and we
will not injure you."

On hearing these words, I breathed more freely; for I had my misgivings
that the Indians would not believe Pedro, and would torture us before
they put us to death, as they had lately too often treated their white
captives. We soon became on very friendly terms. The chief told Pedro
that he and his followers belonged to the very war party which had
destroyed the village; that they had swept the country for some way
farther to the north, burning all the houses, and murdering all the
white inhabitants they encountered; and that now, laden with booty, they
were returning to their own homes in the far distant interior. The army
now lay encamped at a little distance from the village, in a strong
position, where they could not be surprised by any Spanish force which
might be near them. He and his band had, he said, come to the place for
the purpose of carrying off some of the spoil which they had concealed
when last there. They had found it undisturbed, and were consequently
in a very good humour.

I told Pedro to endeavour to learn from them, whether they had heard of
any English people being in the village when they attacked it. Pedro
put the questions I desired.

"If any English people were there, or other strangers, they shared the
fate of the rest," answered the chief with a look of fierceness. I
shuddered as he spoke. "It was not a time for us to distinguish people.
We had years and years of bitter cruelty and wrong to revenge on the
heads of the Spaniards. No one escaped. We came upon them in the
night, suddenly and without warning. We surrounded the village, and
then burst in upon them while they slept in fancied security, despising
the poor Indians whom they so long had trampled on. As they rose from
their beds and attempted to fly, we cut them down at the doors of their
houses. We threw burning brands upon the roofs, and closed them in till
the fire had destroyed them. We drove them shrieking through the
streets, and shot them down with our arrows. Some took refuge in the
church; but it did not save them. When the morning broke, not a soul
remained alive. But we were not content. We had begun to taste the
sweets of vengeance, and we rushed on through the country, burning and
destroying in our course. We have still more work to perform. Our
swords must not be sheathed till the Inca sits once more on the throne
of his ancestors, and till not a Spaniard remains