that never had he given it such a feast.

The Inca warriors grew afraid and shrank back.

"This Red-Beard from the sea is indeed a god. He cannot be slain!" I
heard them cry.

Then Urco appeared, bloody and furious, shouting:

"Cowards! I will show you whether he cannot be slain."

He rushed onward to meet--not me, but Huaracha, who seeing that I was
weary, had leapt in front of me. They fought, and Huaracha went down and
was dragged away by some of his servants.

Now Urco and I were face to face, he wielding a huge copper-headed club
with which, as my mail could not be pierced, he thought to batter out
my life. I caught the blow upon my shield, but so great was the giant's
strength that it brought me to my knees. Next second I was up and at
him. Shouting, I smote with both hands, for my shield had fallen. The
thick, turban-like headdress that Urco wore was severed, cut through as
the axe had been, and Wave-Flame bit deep into the skull beneath.

Urco fell like a stunned ox and I sprang upon him to make an end. Then
it was that a rope was flung about my shoulders, a noosed rope that was
hauled tight. In vain I struggled. I was thrown down; I was seized by a
score of hands and dragged away into the heart of Urco's host.

Waiting till a litter could be brought, they set me on my feet again, my
arms still bound by the noose that these Indians call _laso_, which they
know so well how to throw, the red sword Wave-Flame still hanging by its
thong from my right wrist. Whilst I stood thus, like a bull in a net,
they gathered round, staring at me, not with hate as it seemed to me,
but in fear and with reverence. When at length the litter came they
aided me to enter it quite gently.

As I did so I looked back. The battle still raged but it seemed to me
with less fury than before. It was as though both sides were weary of
slaughter, their leaders being fallen. The litter was borne forward,
till at length the noise of shouting and tumult grew low. Twisting
myself round I peered through the back curtains and saw that the Inca
host and that of the Chancas were separating sullenly, neither of them
broken since they carried their wounded away with them. It was plain
that the battle remained drawn for there was no rout and no triumph.

I saw, too, that I was entering the great city of Cuzco, where women
and children stood at the doors of the houses gazing, and some of them
wringing their hands with tears upon their faces.

P