cavaliers, did not God fight against us, when He let us, the men of
iron, us, the heroes of Cuzco and Vilcaconga, be foiled by a scholar in
a black gown, with a pen behind his ear? We were beaten. Some ran; some
did not run, senors; and I did not. Geronimo de Alvarado shouted to
me, 'We slew Pizarro! We killed the tyrant!' and we rushed upon the
conqueror's lances, to die like cavaliers. There was a gallant gentleman
in front of me. His lance struck me in the crest, and bore me over my
horse's croup: but mine, senors, struck him full in the vizor. We both
went to the ground together, and the battle galloped over us.

"I know not how long I lay, for I was stunned: but after awhile I lifted
myself. My lance was still clenched in my hand, broken but not parted.
The point of it was in my foeman's brain. I crawled to him, weary and
wounded, and saw that he was a noble cavalier. He lay on his back, his
arms spread wide. I knew that he was dead: but there came over me the
strangest longing to see that dead man's face. Perhaps I knew him. At
least I could set my foot upon it, and say, 'Vanquished as I am, there
lies a foe!' I caught hold of the rivets, and tore his helmet off. The
moon shone bright, senors, as bright as she shines now--the glaring,
ghastly, tell-tale moon, which shows man all the sins which he tries to
hide; and by that moonlight, senors, I beheld the dead man's face. And
it was the face of my brother!

* * * * *

"Did you ever guess, most noble cavaliers, what Cain's curse might be
like? Look on me, and know!

"I tore off my armor and fled, as Cain fled--northward ever, till I
should reach a land where the name of Spaniard, yea, and the name of
Christian, which the Spaniard has caused to be blasphemed from east to
west, should never come. I sank fainting, and waked beneath this rock,
this tree, forty-four years ago, and I have never left them since, save
once, to obtain seeds from Indians, who knew not that I was a Spanish
Conquistador. And may God have mercy on my soul!"

The old man ceased; and his young hearers, deeply affected by his tale,
sat silent for a few minutes. Then John Brimblecombe spoke:

"You are old, sir, and I am young; and perhaps it is not my place to
counsel you. Moreover, sir, in spite of this strange dress of mine, I am
neither more nor less than an English priest; and I suppose you will not
be willing to listen to a heretic."

"I have seen Catholics, senor, com