"Nay, I was slaving down Panama way six years ago. Is it him you come a-seeking of, master?"

"Aye," I nodded. "A very masterful man, hale and florid and of a full habit."

"Nay, the only Englishman ever I see in Nombre was old and bent wi' white hair, and went wi' a limp, so it can't be him."

"No!" said I, frowning. "No!" After this, small chance had we for talk by reason of the difficulty of our going, yet remembering all he had told, I had enough to think on, G.o.d knows.

We had now reached a broken, mountainous country very trying and perilous, what with torrents that foamed athwart our way, jagged boulders, shifting stones and the like, yet John strode on untiring; but as for me, what with all this, the heat of sun and the burden I carried, my breath began to labour painfully. The first thing I tossed away was my gun that fell, ringing and clattering, down the precipitous rocks below, and the next was my pack and thereafter my hatchet and pistols, so that by the time we reached the top of the ascent all I had to enc.u.mber me was my sword, and this I kept, since it was light and seemingly a good blade.

"Master," said John, with a flourish of his ragged arm, "here's freedom--here's G.o.d. A land o' milk and honey given over to devils--curse all Spanishers, say I!"

Now looking around me I stood mute in wonder, for from this height I might behold a vast stretch of country, towering mountains, deep, shady valleys, impenetrable woods, rushing rivers, wide-stretching plains and far beyond a vague haze that I knew was the sea.

"And yonder, master," said John, pointing with his blowpipe, "yonder lieth Nombre, though ye can't see it, the which we shall reach ere nightfall, wherefore it behoveth me to look to my artillery."

So saying, he squatted down upon his hams and from his rags produced a small gourd carefully wrapped about with leaves; unwinding these, I saw the gourd to contain a sticky, blackish substance.

"Aha!" said John, viewing this with gloating eyes. "Snake poison is mother's milk to this, master. Here's enough good stuff to make pocky corpses o' every cursed Spanisher in Nombre ere sunset. Here's that might end the sufferings o' the poor Indians, the hangings, burnings and mutilations. I've seen an Indian cut up alive to feed to the dogs afore now--but here's a cure for croolty, master!"

While speaking, he had laid on the ground before him some dozen or so little darts no longer than my finger, each armed with a needle-like point and feathered with a wad of silky fibres; the point of each of these darts he dipped into the poison one after the other and laid them in the sun to dry, which done he wrapped up the little gourd mighty carefully and thrust it back among his rags. And in a while, the poison on the darts or arrows being dried to his satisfaction, he took forth a small leathern quiver of native make and setting the missiles therein, shut down the lid securely and sprang to his feet.

"Here's sure death and sarten for some o' the dogs, master," quoth he, "and now if there truly be a G.o.d aloft there, all I ask is one chance at Alexo Valdez as burns women and maids, as tortures the innocent, as killed my friend and druv me into the wild--one chance, master, and I'm done!"

Thus he spake with eyes uplift and one hairy hand upraised to the serene heavens, then with a nod to me set off along the hazardous track before us.

Of this, the last stage of our journeying, I will make no mention save that footsore, bruised and weary I sank amid a place of trees and gloomy thickets as the sun went down and night came.

"Straight afore you about half a mile lieth Nombre, master!" said John in my ear. "Hearken! You may hear the dogs like bees in a hive and be cursed to 'em!"

And sure enough I heard an indistinct murmur of sound that was made up of many; and presently came others more distinct; the faint baying of a hound, the distant roll of a drum, the soft, sweet tolling of a bell.

"So here y'are, master, and good luck t'ye!" said John and with scarce a rustle, swift and stealthy as an Indian, he was gone and I alone in the gloom. Hereupon I debated with myself whether I should get me into the city straight away or wait till the morrow, the which question was resolved by my falling into a sweet and dreamless slumber.

CHAPTER XXI

HOW I CAME TO NOMBRE DE DIOS

I awoke to the glare of a light and, starting up, was smitten to my knees and, lying half-stunned, was conscious of voices loud and excited, of hands that wrenched me here and there. And now (my hands securely trussed) I was hauled up and marched on stumbling feet amid shadowy captors, all of whom seemed to talk excitedly and none to listen, the which I little heeded being yet dazed by the blow. And presently I was aware of a dim street where lights gleamed, of tall buildings, an open square and a shadowy pile soaring upward into the dark. And presently from the surrounding gloom a darker figure stole, slow-moving and silent, at sight of which my captors halted to kneel, one and all, with bowed heads, whereupon the form raised a shadowy arm in salutation or blessing. And then a voice spake in sonorous Spanish, very soft and low and sweet, yet a voice that chilled me none the less:

"Whom bring ye?"

Here came voices five or six, speaking also in Spanish, and amid this babel I caught such words as:

"A stranger, holy father!"

"An Englishman!"

"A Lutheran dog!"

"Follow!" the sweet voice commanded, whereupon up sprang my captors and hauled me along and so presently into a s.p.a.cious hall with a dais at one end where stood a table and great elbow-chair; but what drew and held my gaze was the slender, dark-robed ecclesiastic that, moving on leisured, soundless feet, went on before until, reaching the table, he seated himself there, head bowed upon one hand; and thus he sat awhile then beckoned with one imperious finger, whereupon my captors led me forward to the dais.

"Begone!" spake the pleasant voice and immediately my captors drew away and presently were gone, leaving me staring upon the tonsured crown of the man at the table who, with head still bowed upon his hand, struck a silver bell that stood beside him. Scarce had the sound died away than I heard a stealthy rustling and beheld divers forms that closed silently about me, figures shrouded from head to foot in black habits and nought of them to see save their hands and the glitter of eyes that gazed on me through the holes of them black, enveloping hoods.

Now turning to him at the table, I saw that he had raised his head at last and was viewing me also, and as he stared on me so stared I on him and this is what I saw: A lean and pallid face with eyes dim and slumberous, a high nose with nostrils thin and curling, a wide, close-lipped mouth and long, pointed chin. When we had stared thus a while, he leaned him back in the great chair and spoke me in his soft, sweet voice:

"You are English, senor?"

"I am!" said I in Spanish.

"What do you here?"

"Seek another Englishman known to be prisoner to the Inquisition of Nombre de Dios."

"His name?"

"Richard Brandon. Is he here?"

"Are you of the Faith?"

"Of all or any save that of Rome!" said I, staring up into the pale, emotionless face. "But Rome I do abominate and all its devil's work!" At this, from the hooded figures about me rose a gasp of horror and amaze, while into the dim eyes of my questioner came a momentary glow.

"Oh, fleshly lips!" quoth he. "Oh, tongue of blasphemy d.a.m.ned. Since you by the flesh have sinned, so by the flesh, its pains and travail, must your soul win forgiveness and life hereafter. Oh, vain soul, though your flesh hath uttered d.a.m.nable sin and heresy, yet Holy Church in its infinite mercy shall save your soul in despite sinful flesh, to which end we must lay on your evil flesh such castigation as shall, by its very pain, purge your soul and win it to life hereafter--"

But now, and even as the black-robed familiars closed upon me, I heard steps behind me, a clash of arms and thereafter a voice whose calm tones I recognised.

"What is this, Father Alexo?"

"An Englishman and blasphemous Lutheran, captured and brought hither within the hour, Your Excellency." Now here the familiars, at sign of Fra Alexo, moved aside, and thus I beheld to my surprise and inexpressible joy, Don Federigo, pale from his late sickness, the which the sombre blackness of his rich velvet habit did but offset; for a moment his eyes met mine and with no sign of recognition, whereupon I checked the greeting on my lips.

"And am I of so little account as not to be warned of this?" said he.

"Alas, Excellency, if I have something forgot the respect due your high and n.o.ble office, let my zeal plead my excuse. In your faithful charge do we leave this miserable one until Holy Church shall require him of you." So saying, Fra Alexo, crossing lean hands meekly on his bosom, bowed himself in humble fashion, and yet I thought to see his dull eyes lit by that stealthy glow as Don Federigo, having duly acknowledged his salutation, turned away.

Thence I was led into the soft night air to a n.o.ble house, through goodly chambers richly furnished and so at last to a small room; and ever as I went I had an uneasy feeling that a long, black robe rustled stealthily amid the shadows, and of dull eyes that watched me unseen, nor could I altogether shake off the feeling even when the door closed and I found myself alone with Don Federigo. Indeed it almost seemed as he too felt something of this, for he stood a while, his head bowed and very still, like one listening intently; suddenly he was before me, had grasped my two fettered hands, and when he spake it was in little more than whisper.

"Alas, Don Martino--good my friend, Death creepeth all about you here--"

"Fra Alexo's spies!" I nodded. Now at this he gave me a troubled look and fell to pacing to and fro.

"A hard man and cunning!" quoth he, as to himself. "The Church--ah, the power of the Church! Yet must I get you safe away, but how--how?"

"Nay, Don Federigo, never trouble."

"Trouble, Senor? Ah, think you I count that? My life is yours, Don Martino, and joyfully do I risk it--"