ith a squadron to discover and
conquer the land ruled by the Lord of the Golden House, had stopped at
Cozumel and there heard of white men held as captives somewhere inland.
He had persuaded the Indians to send messengers for them, saying that if
the captives were sent to the sea-coast, at the cape of Cotoche, he
would leave two caravels there eight days, to wait for them.

While Aguilar read this letter the Indians were telling of the
water-houses of the strangers, their sharp weapons, their command of
thunder and lightning, and the wonderful presents they gave in exchange
for what they wanted. Aguilar's account of the squadron was even more
complete. He described the dress of the Spaniards, their weapons and
their manner of life without having seen them at all, and the Indians,
when asked, said it was so.

Taxmar's acute mind was adjusting itself to this event, which was not
altogether unexpected. He had heard more than Aguilar had about the
previous visits of the Spaniards to that coast. He asked Aguilar if he
thought that the strange warriors would accept him, their countryman, as
ambassador, and deal mildly with Taxmar and his people, if they let him
go. Aguilar answered that he thought they would.

Now freedom was within his grasp, and only one thing delayed him. He
could not leave his comrade Guerrero behind. The sailor had married the
daughter of a chief and become a great man in his adopted country.
Aguilar sent Indian messengers with the letter and a verbal message, and
waited.

Guerrero had never known much about reading, and he had forgotten nearly
all he knew. He understood, however, that he could now return to Spain.
Before his eyes rose a picture of the lofty austere sierras, the sunny
vineyards, the wine, so unlike pulque, the bread, so unlike flat cakes
of maize, the maidens of Barcelona and Malaga, so very different from
tattooed Indian girls. And then he surveyed his own brawny arms and
legs, and felt of his own grotesquely ornamented countenance.

To please the taste of his adopted people he had let himself be
decorated as they were, for life,--with tattooed pictures, with
nose-ring, with ear-rings of gold set with rudely cut gems and heavy
enough to drag down the lobe of the ear. He would cut a figure in the
streets of Seville. The little boys would run after him as if he were a
show. He grinned, sighed mightily, and sent word to Aguilar that he
thought it wiser to stay where he was. Aguilar se