The half-whimsical, unbidden thought darted through Montoro's brain that his mother had declared she should never see him again on earth, and so she could not reasonably feel hurt if her words came true. What unconnected thoughts flashed for that same supreme instant through the mind of Diego Mendez none can say. It had scarcely passed when he sprang into the shallow water, walked on shore, and with an air of the most dignified composure advanced alone into the very midst of the great fierce gathering. Utterly overawed by the white man's astounding temerity, the Indians fell back, with wonder and irresolution depicted on their countenances. They answered questions with trepidation. "Yes; they were on the war-path. Their Cacique had enemies in the neighbourhood." "Ah!" replied Diego Mendez with cool courtesy, "then our coming is well-timed. In return for your Cacique's attentions to us we will now aid his arms against his foes. We will accompany you on your expedition." "Not so," was the Indian chiefs angry reply. "We are strong enough to fight our own battles; we seek no help. Only leave us: that is all we desire." By manifold signs his followers equally betrayed their impatience to be rid of the new-comers, and strenuously declined to have anything to do with the boat, or its crew. Seating himself in the small barque with his face toward the Indian camp, and closely wrapped in his cloak, Diego Mendez calmly sat, hour after hour, and watched the dusky warriors. The day waned; the short twilight drew on. One of the occupants of the boat began to feel his courage cooling under this tedious inaction, and he ventured to mutter somewhat anxiously-- "The night is coming, Señor Mendez. We shall be wholly at their mercy in the darkness." "Even so, Juan," was the calm answer; "and yet we must remain. We set out with no thought of going in search of child's play. It is our lives or the expedition." And so they sat on in that boat, watching and watched, and the night fell. Easily could the Indians have slain them all, but they were afraid. The spirits of a thousand warriors were quelled by one man's fearlessness. And as the blackness of night began to fade away into pale dawn, the chief and his army faded from the scene--stole back to Veragua stupefied and conquered. Moral power had won its strange, bloodless victory. Then the watchers in the boat roused up, took their oars again, and returned with their news to the ships. "And thus the woman's truth is proved," said Montoro eagerly. But his convictions were something lessened when the Admiral said slowly-- "You are more sure than I, my son. That you saw an army of the natives I fully believe. But that they had any purpose to attack us I strongly doubt. Quibian has given many proofs of his friendly feelings towards us. And even to-day he has sent us a plentiful supply of fish, and game, and cocoa-nuts, maize, bananas, and pine-apples."