emen 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