o be released from the
presence of the other. It is very certain that so soon as De Soto was
gone, Pizarro, instead of hurrying forward to support him in the
hazardous encounters to which he was exposed, immediately engaged,
with the main body of his army, in plundering all the mansions of the
wealthy and the temples on their line of march. And it is equally
certain that De Soto, instead of waiting for the troops of Pizarro to
come up, put spurs to his horse and pressed on, as if he were anxious
to place as great a distance as possible between himself and his
superior in command.

Though De Soto had allowed his troops to plunder the temple of Xauxa,
he would allow no robbery of private dwellings, and rigidly prohibited
the slightest act of violence or injustice towards the persons of the
natives.

It will be remembered that Pizarro had threatened to hold Chalcukima
responsible for any act of hostility on the part of the Peruvians. He
now summoned his captive before him, and charged him with treason;
accusing him of having incited his countrymen to measures of
resistance. Chalcukima, with dignity and firmness which indicate a
noble character, replied:

"If it had been possible for me to communicate with the people, I
should certainly have advised them to do their duty to their country,
without any regard to my personal safety. But you well know that the
vigilance with which you have guarded me, has prevented me from making
any communication of the kind. I am sorry that it has not been in my
power to be guilty of the fact with which you charge me."

The wretched Pizarro, utterly incapable of appreciating the grandeur
of such a character, ordered him to be burned at the stake. The
fanatic robber and murderer, insulting the cross of Christ, by calling
himself a Christian, sent his private chaplain, Friar Vincent, to
convert Chalcukima to what he called the Christian faith. The priest
gave an awful description of the glooms of hell, to which the prisoner
was destined as a heathen. In glowing colors he depicted the
splendors of the celestial Eden, to which he would be admitted the
moment after his execution if he would accept the Christian faith. The
captive coldly replied:

"I do not understand your religion, and all that I have seen of it
does not impress me in its favor."

He was led to the stake. Not a cry escaped his lips, as the fierce
flames consumed his quivering flesh. From that scene of short, sharp
agony,