from above.

"Now, we shall have the whole pack upon us," said my companion.

In this prediction he was right, for within a moment the whole body of
twelve Indians had surrounded us, and stood gazing at us with faces in
which I looked in vain for any sign of compassion at our forlorn state.
Behind them came the monk, still clad in his shroud-like cowl, and
moving with silent steps as if he were a ghost rather than a living man.
But as he drew near to where we stood he threw back the hood from his
head, and then we saw his face for the first time.

I will describe this man to you, because he was not only the most
remarkable but also the most relentlessly cruel man that I have ever
come across in my life. As for his name, which we learnt ere long, it
was Bartolomeo de los Rios, and his one aim and passion was the hunting,
torturing, and burning of heretics. He had the faculties of a
sleuth-hound and the instincts of a serpent, and when he had once set
his heart on hunting a man to his death, it was only by God's mercy that
that man escaped.

Nevertheless this man as he stood before us, looking steadily upon us
from under his cowl, did not seem so fearful a monster of cruelty as we
afterwards knew him to be. We saw simply a thin, dark-faced monk, whose
face was pale as parchment, and whose eyes were extraordinarily bright
and keen. The lines and furrows on his brow and cheeks seemed to tell
of pain or thought, and his tightly-pursed, thin lips betokened firmness
and resolution. I think he could have stood calmly by while his own
father was being tortured and have changed no muscle of his face. Thus
he was an object of much greater fear than the Indians, who were
certainly horrible enough to frighten anybody that had never seen them
before.

We stood gazing at the monk and his Indians for a moment ere either of
us spoke. The Indians seemed to wait instructions from the monk, and
looked toward him with eager eyes. As for Pharaoh and myself, we waited
to see what would happen. I think we both realized that fortune had
suddenly deserted us, but nevertheless we kept a firm grip on our
cudgels, and were both resolved to use them if necessary.

The monk spoke. His voice was low, sweet and gentle--there was naught of
cruelty in it.

"Greeting, my children," said he, addressing us. "Be not afraid. There
shall no harm come to you."

"It will be ill for the man who threatens us with any," answered Pharaoh
in Spanish. "We a