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Father Joachim, pensively took the road to Chorillos.
    He had just recognized in Sarah, the pretended Jewess, the young girl whom he had seen praying with such Christian fervor, at the church of Santa Anna.
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CHAPTER V.
THE HATRED OF THE INDIANS.
    Since the Colombian troops, confided by Bolivar to the orders of General Santa Cruz, had been driven from lower Peru, this country, which had been incessantly agitated by pronunciamentos , military revolts, had recovered some calmness and tranquillity.
    In fact, private ambition no longer had any thing to expect; the president Gambarra seemed immovable in his palace of the Plaza-Mayor. In this direction there was nothing to fear; but the true danger, concealed, imminent, was not from these rebellions, as promptly extinguished as kindled, and which seemed to flatter the taste of the Americans for military parades.
    This unknown peril escaped the eyes of the Spaniards, too lofty to perceive it, and the attention of the mestizoes, who never wished to look beneath them.
    And yet there was an unusual agitation among the Indians of the city; they often mingled with the serranos , the inhabitants of the mountains; these people seemed to have shaken off their natural apathy. Instead of rolling themselves in their ponchos , with their feet turned to the spring sun, they were scattered throughout the country, stopping one another, exchanging private signals, and haunting the least frequented pulperias , in which they could converse without danger.
    This movement was principally to be observed on one of the squares remote from the centre of the city. At the corner of a street stood a house, of only one story, whose wretched appearance struck the eye disagreeably.
    A tavern of the lowest order, a chingana , kept by an old Indian woman, offered to the lowest zambos the chica , beer of fermented maize, and the quarapo , a beverage made of the sugar-cane.
    The concourse of Indians on this square took place only at certain hours, and principally when a long pole was raised on the roof of the inn as a signal of assemblage, then the zambos of every profession, the capataz , the arrieros , muleteers, the carreteros , carters, entered the chingana , one by one, and immediately disappeared in the great hall; the padrona (hostess) seemed very busy, and leaving to her servant the care of the shop, hastened to serve herself her usual customers.
    A few days after the disappearance of Martin Paz, there was a numerous assembly 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