The bold monk had now much trouble in getting his frightened followers to go on with him, but by means of abundant presents he induced two of the chiefs to proceed. He was determined to gain at least a sight of the land of wonders, and with the chiefs and his own followers he cautiously proceeded. At length, from a hill summit, he looked down on a broad plain on which he saw the first of the famous seven cities. To his excited fancy it was greater than the city of Mexico, the houses of stone in many stories and with flat roofs. This was all he could tell from his distant view, in which the mountain hazes seem to have greatly magnified his power of vision. That was the end of Fray Marcos’s journey. He did not dare to approach nearer to that terrible people, and, as he quaintly says, "returned with more fear than victuals;" overtaking his escort, which, moved by still greater fear, had not waited for him. Back to Coronado he went with his story, a disappointing one, since he had seen nothing of either gold, silver, or precious stones, the nearest approach to treasure being the greenish turquoise. The story of the negro pioneer, as afterwards learned, was one that might have fitted the Orient. He advanced with savage magnificence, bells and feathers adorning his sable arms and legs, while he carried a gourd decorated with bells and with white and red feathers. This he knew to be a symbol of authority among the Indians. Two Spanish greyhounds followed him, and a number of handsome Indian women, whom he had taken up on the way, attended him. He was followed with a large escort of Indians, carrying his provisions and other effects, among them gifts received, or plunder taken, from the natives. When near Cibola, he, in disobedience of the orders given him, sent messengers to the city bearing his gourd, and saying that he came to treat for peace and to cure the sick. The chief to whom the gourd was presented, on observing the bells, cast it angrily to the ground, exclaiming,— "I know not those people; their bells are not of our fashion; tell them to return at once, or not a man of them will be left alive." In despite of this hostile message, the vain-glorious negro went on. He and his company were not permitted to enter the city, but were given a house outside of it, and here they were stripped of all their possessions and refused food and drink. The next morning they left the house, where they were quickly surrounded and attacked by a great number of the townspeople, all of them being killed except the two Indians who had brought the news to Fray Marcos. Why they were treated in this manner is not known. They seem to have been looked on as spies or enemies. But it is interesting that the legend of the killing of a Black Mexican still lingers in a pueblo of the Zuñi Indians, though three centuries and a half have since then elapsed.