"Have you tried it?" asked Coronado.
"Yes, and found it quite an easy task. I spent last night there, and as the rays of the sun took leave of the lofty Sierras, I felt forsaken, and as if I were about to float away into the darkness."
"Did the Indians suspect your purpose in coming?"
"Certainly not, and all my gloomy feelings passed away as soon as the fires began to blaze on the roofs at different heights of the same building. Inside the houses laughing voices greeted me, and I was glad to be the guest of such simple people."
"Do you think we would be safe from attacks and surprises at night?"
"Perfectly. And when once up there it would be almost impossible to come down at night. The narrow paths are really unsafe except in daylight."
It was not long until the Spaniards had forcible possession of the village, and during the long, dreary winter months they went about in rusty helmets, battered cuirasses, ragged doublets and worn-out boots, while the Indians wrapped themselves in thick coverings made of rabbit skins. Every morning the bell called them to mass, and then the criers went up and down announcing the day's duty to every one in the camp. On the plains below was heard the neighing of horses, the lowing of cattle and the bleating of sheep.
In the pueblos near by the Indians danced, and gathered around the fires to listen to the old men's stories of their past, and as the winter drew to a close the Spaniards were no longer homesick and despondent, but ready and willing to test the truth of some of the things the Indians had told them of the Wrathy Chieftain and the Kingdom of Quivera.
At Pecos the scouts were received with music and presents of cotton cloth and handfuls of turquoises, because the inhabitants were not sure but that the white men came from the sun, and were sent by the Golden Hearted, whom they revered and honored as the Wrathy Chieftain.
In this village they met a strange-looking Indian.