They had not made much way when an Indian scout flew back to them, with heels winged with fear, to say that the Cacique himself, at the head of his troops, was advancing to their encounter. "All the better," muttered Cabrera. "Saves our steps, and my boots are something the worse for wear." But before proceeding to extremities the two leaders called a parley: the Indian chief to expostulate on the violence done his gods in return for his great hospitality; and Cortes to desire that he and his subjects would hear from Father Olmedo a discourse, to prove that his gods were no gods, that it was no more possible to do them dishonour than to show respect or disrespect to an old tree-stump, and to teach them the principles of Divine truth. With a fine courtesy the Indian Cacique gave consent, even while burning under a sense of wrong; and something he must have gleaned through the interpreter of the required teaching, for he replied with dignity-- "Know this, ye white-faces, that it seemeth to me we have not much to learn from you, beyond that faithlessness that you would have us show to our gods. We too believe in a supreme Creator and Lord of the universe--that God by whom we live and move and have our being; the Giver of all good gifts, almighty, omnipresent, omniscient, perfect. We too believe in a future life--a heaven and a hell. We too believe in the virtues of temperance, charity, self-denial; and that of ourselves, being born in sin, we are capable of no good thing. We too are admitted into fellowship with the supreme Lord of all things by the rite of baptism. The lips and bosoms of our infants are sprinkled with water, and we beseech the Lord to permit the holy drops to wash away the sin that was given to them before the foundation of the world, so that they may be born anew. We too pray for grace to keep peace with all, to bear injuries with humility, trusting to the Almighty to avenge us." The fine old Cacique ceased, and in breathless amazement the Spaniards gazed at the Indian who had thus made confession of a faith so strangely in accord with their own, so utterly unexpected. "And with these sublime truths," murmured Father Olmedo with wide eyes, "there is mingled the awful Polytheism, the ghastly idol-worship that revels in human sacrifices. This is verily the devil's work, transforming himself into the likeness of an angel of light that his worship may gain in glory." Another thought came to Montoro de Diego. Imagination travels as the lightning, flashing from one end of the earth to the other. As Montoro stood there, in one of the flower-decked squares of the Indian town of Cempoalla, his spirit was hovering above the wide piazza of the Spanish city of Saragossa. It was the day, so imagination told him, of an Auto da Fé. Slowly entering the square came the long procession--priests of the true holy Catholic faith who had learnt 'God is love,' incense-bearers, candle-bearers, and all the troop of satellites.