rs old, and was taller and stronger than most of his
countrymen. His head was large, and he might have been called handsome
but for his fierce and bloodshot eyes. His bearing was calm and
dignified, and he gazed upon the multitudes about him like one
accustomed to command. Not a Spaniard was to be seen as the procession,
in admirable order, entered the great square of the building that had
been assigned to them, and when the place was occupied by some six
thousand of his people Atahuallpa halted, and asked, 'Where are the
strangers?' Upon this Father Valverde, Pizarro's chaplain, came forward
Bible in hand, and proceeded to expound to him the doctrines of his
faith, declaring finally that the Pope had commissioned the Spanish
Emperor to conquer and convert the inhabitants of the western world, and
beseeching the Inca to embrace the Christian faith and acknowledge
himself a tributary of the Emperor Charles, who would aid and protect
him as a loyal vassal. The eyes of Atahuallpa flashed fire as he
answered: 'I will be no man's tributary; I am greater than any prince
upon earth. Your Emperor may be a great prince. I do not doubt it when I
see that he has sent his subjects so far across the waters, and I am
willing to hold him as a brother. As for the Pope of whom you speak, he
must be crazy to talk of giving away countries which do not belong to
him. For my faith, I will not change it. Your own God, you say, was put
to death by the very men whom he created, but mine'--and here he pointed
to the setting sun--'my god still lives in the heavens and looks down
upon his children.' He then demanded of Valverde by what authority he
had said these things. The friar pointed to the book he held. Atahuallpa
took it, looked at it for an instant, and then threw it violently down,
exclaiming: 'Tell your comrades they shall give an account of their
doings in my land. I will not go from here till they have made me full
satisfaction for all the wrongs they have committed.'

The friar thereupon rushed to Pizarro crying: 'Do you not see that while
we stand here wasting our breath in talking with this dog--full of pride
as he is--the fields are filling with Indians? Set on at once; I absolve
you.'

Pizarro saw that the hour had come. He waved a white scarf, the fatal
gun was fired, and from every opening the Spaniards poured into the
great square, sword in hand, shouting their old battle-cry, 'St. Jago,
and at them!' The Indians, unarmed, ta