Slowly, and in almost breathless silence, a fold of his tent was pushed aside, and a man crept within, holding back the canvas for a moment, that by the faint light he might discover the object of his search. Then he dropped it again, and moved on the two or three paces in the darkness, until he dropped on his knees beside the low bed on which Montoro lay, and bent his mouth to the sleeper's ear. "My Señor--Señor Diego," he whispered urgently. "Rouse you, my Señor." And, with a soldier's watchful spirit, Montoro needed no second bidding to arouse him. Grasping his sword even before he was fully awake, he would have sprung to his feet the next instant, with a shout to banish slumber from the whole band, but that his probable conduct had been divined, and prudently guarded against. One firm, hard hand was pressed down upon the nobleman's chest, another closely covered his mouth, while the hushed voice beside him muttered hurriedly-- "Nay then, my Señor, nay then. Lie still, and be silent, or you will render my care fruitless. I have come to you with the discovery I have made, before all others, for your prudence's sake, and now you are eager as the Don Juan de Cabrera himself could be, to publish the whole matter to the very winds, methinks." In spite of this expostulation, which was in truth intended more as a warning than an expression of real belief, its speaker trustfully enough withdrew both his detaining hands at its conclusion, and permitted his companion to rise into a sitting posture on his bed, and to speak. "Who are you?" was the very natural first use that Montoro made of his power of speech, for he did not recognize the voice, and he could not see the face. However, he was soon enlightened so far. "I am Morla, the man you hung," was the comprehensive information. "And you were good to me then, my Señor," came the seemingly contradictory statement; "and so for that, and for those other reasons, that you are wise and wary, and have our Captain's confidence, I have come to you with my discovery of a conspiracy in the camp. It is intended by many to forsake the great cause, and, taking to the ships secretly, to flee from this land to Cuba, or to Spain, with evil reports of the expedition and of its leader, to exonerate themselves." Montoro was startled. "Wherefore," he demanded sternly, "hast thou not instantly carried news of this base treachery to our leader himself?" A smile, unseen in the darkness, flitted over the man's face. "Bethink you, my Señor, what credence should I be likely to gain from our commander, when he learns that I am, myself, a testimony of disobedience to his commands." There was some plausibility in that reasoning; nevertheless, he yielded to Montoro's desire that he should accompany him forthwith to Cortes' tent, to corroborate the statements he wished made.