r of mind, and a good power of heart. Their will was good
toward mankind.

They had floods to surmount and many a howling tempest to out-endure.
By and large they did well with life,--very well. There was alloy, base
metal of course, even in the greatest of the three. They were still
men. But they were such men as Nature might put forward among her goodly
fruit.

The Viceroy lay still in his bed, for each time he would rise came
faintness and old fatigue. The Adelantado acted.

There was storm in Hispaniola, storm of human passions. I found Luis
Torres, and he put me within leg-stride of the present.

Margarite! It seemed to begin with Don Pedro Margarite.

He and his men had early made choice between the rich, the fruitful,
easy Vega and the mountains they were to pierce for gold and hunt over
for a fierce mountain chief. In the Vega they established themselves.
The Indians brought them "tribute", and they exacted over-tribute, and
reviled and slew when it pleased them, and they took the Indian women,
and if it pleased them they burned a village. "Sorry tale," said Luis.
"Old, sorry tale!"

Indians came to Isabella and with fierce gesture and eyes that cast
lances talked to Don Diego. Don Diego sent a stern letter to Don Pedro
Margarite. Don Pedro answered that he was doing soldier's duty, as the
Sovereigns would understand when it came before them. Don Diego sent
again, summoning him upon his allegiance to Isabella. He chose for a
month no answer to that at all, and the breezes still brought from
the Vega cries of anger, wails of sorrow. Then he appeared suddenly in
Isabella.

Don Diego would have arrested him and laid him in prison to await the
Admiral's return. But with suddenness, that was of truth no suddenness,
Margarite had with him three out of four of our hidalgos, and more than
that, our Apostolic Vicar of the Indies! Don Diego must bend aside,
speak him fair, remonstrate, not command. The Viceroy of the Indies
and Admiral of Ocean-Sea? Dead probably!--and what were these Colombos?
Italian wool-combers! But here stood hidalgos of Spain!--"Old
story," said Luis Torres. "Many times, many places, man being one in
imperfection."

A choppy sea had followed Margarite's return. Up and down, to and fro,
and one day it might seem Margarite was in control, and the next, Don
Diego, but with Margarite's wave racing up behind. Then appeared three
ships with men and supplies and Don Bartholomew! Margarite saw Don