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"You forget that I am proud of my Spanish blood, Uira," the lad interrupted, his cheeks flushing with resentment.

"Ah, yes, Juan, I forgot. Forgive my hasty speech and unintended insult. But to go on, the Spaniards, mad with lust for gold, marched with armies legion in number. If you do not know, boy, how many legion is, look at the tree tops above you; the leaves are countless; they are legion. The invaders, with the Pizarro at their head, burned our homes, desecrated our temples, and captured Attahualpa, who, elated with his conquest, was returning to Quito. The Attahualpa, the records say, collected in one room and gave the Pizarro the wealth of the Incas; and your traditions tell you that in fear of his own life, Pizarro put his captive to death. This is the story of Attahualpa as you have been taught it.

But I will now tell you what it is given only the few in whose veins still flows the blood of the Incas to know. Huayan had a daughter Manca, whose name is not written in the annals. She was sister to Attahualpa, and in her heart was all the mighty pride of the Incas. Oh, how she loved the name of her race! How she rejoiced in their conquests, their prowess! How she delighted to look upon the gold in the temples, and think that it was all part of the prosperity of her people! There was a woman, Juan, perhaps not beautiful, I cannot say, well worthy to bear the name of an Incan.