"It is peace. The Mexicans see my master as I have seen him for many weeks now," said Tamba, suddenly, as both looked down from the summit of the tower upon the crowds below. "Look, my lord, they are carrying banners and flowers, and they are coming towards this place with smiles of welcome." The native clapped his hands with delight, for though he had said little up to this, and had supported Roger faithfully, yet he had suffered torments at the thought of the fate which had awaited them, and more at the mention of such an end for the master who had been so kind to him. Now he eagerly acclaimed the coming of the crowd, feeling that it would bring friendship and a happier existence. "The priest and this Teotlili are ascending," he said. "Shall I go to them?" "Let them come, and meet them halfway up," answered Roger. "Tell them that I await them in all friendliness." The native was gone in a moment, and Roger watched him as he ran lightly down the broad steps of the tower. Soon he met the two figures which were ascending, and hailed them with cries of joy. A few minutes later the three were on the terrace, where the priest and the noble greeted Roger with low bows as before. "We are come to proclaim a truce," said Teotlili, with a smiling face. "Our king, nephew of Montezuma, and by name Guatemozin, follows, and he will take you by the hand, for he, as well as the people, recognize their error. He will ask you for your help, and will repeat the offer I made." The news was more than welcome, and for a little while our hero could scarcely answer. For the strain had been very trying, and the issue more than doubtful. But he had himself to thank alone, for had he not resisted as he had done, he would certainly have been dead. His desperate defence of the tower had given the Mexicans time to look into the matter, and now they were able to see in the tall white man a friend, a god indeed, who would aid them against the Spaniards. Very soon the shrill whistles of those who led the procession could be heard, and within ten minutes some two hundred gorgeously apparelled personages were on the terrace. The central figure was a young man, tall and calm, and possessing a face which showed friendship and gentleness. He was dressed in a suit of glittering golden armour, and was a king in every sense of the word. Roger advanced to him, and bowed deeply. "Do not stoop to me, I beg," said the king in broken Spanish. "I am but a vassal of yours, and am come to beg for forgiveness, and to ask for help. But I speak only a little of the tongue of these enemies, and therefore Teotlili will carry on the conversation." He nodded to the noble, while he advanced and took Roger's hand.