They went, Gahra’s face expressing the keenest anguish, the senora half dead with fear.  As they rode away I turned into the pathway and prepared for the encounter.  The foot-people might do as they liked, they could not overtake the fugitives, but I was resolved that the horsemen should only pass over my body.

The foremost of them was Chimu himself.  When he saw that I had no intention of turning aside, he and his companion (who rode behind him) reined in their horses.  The cacique was quivering with rage.

“My wife has gone off with your negro,” he said, hoarsely.

I made no answer.

“I saw you help her to mount.  You have met her before.  Mamcuna shall know of this, and my wife shall die.”

Still I made no answer.

“Let me pass!”

I drew my machete.

Chimu drew his and came at me, but he was so poor a swordsman, that I merely played with him, my object being to gain time, and only when the other fellow tried to push past me and get to my left-rear, did I cut the cacique down.  On this his companion bolted the way he had come.  I galloped after him, more with the intention of frightening than hurting him, and was just on the point of turning back and following the fugitives, when something dropped over my head, my arms were pinioned to my side, and I was dragged from my saddle.

The foot-people had lassoed me.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE MAN-KILLER.

I was as helpless as a man in a strait waistcoat.  When I tried to rise, my captors tautened the rope and dragged me along the ground.  Resistance being futile, I resigned myself to my fate.

On seeing what had happened, the flying brave (a kinsman of Chimu’s) returned, and he and the others held a palaver.  As Mamcuna’s affianced husband, I was a person of importance, and they were evidently at a loss how to dispose of me.  If they treated me roughly, they might incur her displeasure.  The discussion was long and rather stormy.  In the result, I was asked whether I would go with them quietly to the queen’s house or be taken thither, nolens volens.  On answering that I would go quietly, I was unbound and allowed to mount my horse.

I do not think I am a coward, and in helping Senora de la Vega to escape and sending her off with Gahra, I knew that I had done the right thing.  Yet I looked forward to the approaching interview with some misgiving.  Barbarian though Mamcuna was, I could not help entertaining a certain respect for her.  She had treated me handsomely; in offering to make me her husband she had paid me the greatest compliment in her power; and how little soever you may reciprocate the sentiment, it is impossible to think altogether unkindly of the woman who has given you her love.  And my conscience was not free from reproach; I had let her think that I loved her—­as I now perceived, a great mistake.  Courageous herself, she could appreciate courage in others, and had I boldly and unequivocally refused her offer and given my reasons, I did not believe she would have dealt hardly with me.