will be no shame or sin to make
the Indians carry it, saving the women, whom God forbid we should
burden. But we must pass through the very heart of the Spanish
settlements, and by the town of Saint Martha itself. So the clothes and
weapons of these Spaniards we must have, let it cost us what labor it
may. How many lie in the road?"

"Thirteen here, and about ten up above," said Cary.[191-9]

"Then there are near twenty missing. Who will volunteer to go down over
the cliff, and bring up the spoil of them?"

"I, and I, and I"; and a dozen stepped out, as they did always when
Amyas wanted anything done; for the simple reason, that they knew that
he meant to help at the doing of it himself.

"Very well, then, follow me. Sir John,[192-10] take the Indian lad for
your interpreter, and try and comfort the souls of these poor heathens.
Tell them that they shall all be free."

"Why, who is that comes up the road?"

All eyes were turned in the direction of which he spoke. And, wonder of
wonders! up came none other than Ayacanora[192-11] herself, blow-gun in
hand, bow on back, and bedecked in all her feather garments, which last
were rather the worse for a fortnight's woodland travel.

All stood mute with astonishment, as, seeing Amyas, she uttered a cry of
joy, quickened her pace into a run, and at last fell panting and
exhausted at his feet.

"I have found you!" she said; "you ran away from me, but you could not
escape me!" And she fawned round Amyas, like a dog who has found his
master, and then sat down on the bank, and burst into wild sobs.

"God help us!" said Amyas, clutching his hair, as he looked down upon
the beautiful weeper. "What am I to do with her, over and above all
these poor heathens?"

But there was no time to be lost, and over the cliff he scrambled; while
the girl, seeing that the main body of the English remained, sat down on
a point of rock to watch him.

After half-an-hour's hard work, the weapons, clothes, and armor of the
fallen Spaniards were hauled up the cliff, and distributed in bundles
among the men; the rest of the corpses were thrown over the precipice,
and they started again upon their road toward the Magdalena, while Yeo
snorted like a war-horse who smells the battle, at the delight of once
more handling powder and ball.

"We can face the world now, sir! Why not go back and try Santa Fe, after
all?"

But Amyas thought that enough was as good as a feast, and they held on
downward