in the hall of the inn; one could scarcely through the
darkness, rendered still more obscure by the tobacco-smoke, distinguish
the frequenters of this tavern. Fifty Indians were ranged around a long
table; some were chewing the _coca_, a kind of tea-leaf, mingled with a
little piece of fragrant earth called _manubi_; others were drinking
from large pots of fermented maize; but these occupations did not
distract their attention, and they were closely listening to the speech
of an Indian.

This was the Sambo, whose fixed eyes were strangely wild. He was clad as
on the Plaza-Mayor.

After having carefully observed his auditors, the Sambo commenced in
these terms:

"The children of the Sun can converse on grave affairs; there is no
perfidious ear to hear them; on the square, some of our friends,
disguised as street-singers, will attract the attention of the
passers-by, and we shall enjoy entire liberty."

In fact the tones of a mandoline and of a _viguela_ were echoing
without.

The Indians within, knowing themselves in safety, lent therefore close
attention to the words of the Sambo, in whom they placed entire
confidence.

"What news can the Sambo give us of Martin Paz?" asked an Indian.

"None--is he dead or not? The Great Spirit only knows. I am expecting
some of our brethren, who have descended the river to its mouth, perhaps
they will have found the body of Martin Paz."

"He was a good chief," said Manangani, a ferocious Indian, much dreaded;
"but why was he not at his post on the day when the schooner brought us
arms?"

The Sambo cast down his head without reply.

"Did not my brethren know," resumed Manangani, "that there was an
exchange of shots between the _Annonciation_ and the custom-house
officers, and that the capture of the vessel would have ruined our
projects of conspiracy?"

A murmur of approbation received the words of the Indian.

"Those of my brethren who will wait before they judge will be the
beloved of my heart," resumed the Sambo; "who knows whether my son
Martin Paz will not one day re-appear? Listen now; the arms which have
been sent us from Sechura are in our power; they are concealed in the
mountains of the Cordilleras, and ready to do their office when you
shall be prepared to do your duty."

"And what delays us?" said a young Indian; "we have sharpened our knives
and are waiting."

"Let the hour come," said the Sambo; "do my brethren know what enemy
their arms should strike f