The emotions that closed that day were stronger and deeper than those with which it opened. Even the turbulent priest, Juan Diaz, put on an appearance of satisfaction now, whatever he might really still feel as to the discomforts of pestilent marshes, uncertain commons, and the faint prospect of better things for the future.
"Before all things spread the Catholic faith," was the watchword in that age, of all exploring expeditions, the one universal plea for their aid and countenance. Cortes held to it with the intense fervour natural to his strong nature. So did his followers; but all the same that Merry Andrew, Juan de Cabrera, took occasion during the course of the afternoon to remark to Alvarado—
"Now, my most estimable and dearly-beloved friend, when we get into those heathen temples do the friendly part by me, and just give me a quiet hint where to lay my fingers on any easily-portable little bits of gold."
"If you don't take better heed to that impudent tongue of thine," interfered Escalante with a laugh, "he is more likely to introduce thee to a good cudgelling."
Alvarado himself as usual shrugged his shoulders with calm indifference. Words that would have led to fatal combats amongst those fiery, proud Spaniards if spoken by any one else were uttered by the young, laughing-eyed Cabrera with perfect impunity.
"Did thy mother never think," said Don Pedro with an air of kind pity, "of putting thee in the way of earning an honest livelihood as Court fool?"
"Ay, that did she," was the instant reply; "but thy mother heard of it, and begged of her not to stand in thy light. She said there were so many comfortable little pickings——"
"Now, now, Cabrera! Hold!" sharply interrupted Montoro; "it is enough. Verily thou dost allow that tongue of thine too much licence. Alvarado, I would a few words in private with you, if you can for awhile forego this youngster's company."
So saying, he linked his hand in the other's arm and drew him away, before amusement should change into anger. And for the next hour and more even Cabrera was deep in converse of the gravest nature with Escalante, Alonzo de Grado, Velasquez de Leon, and Gonzalo de Sandoval.
Not a man in that little camp-city slept much that night, from Hernando Cortes the leader down to the meanest soldier amongst his followers. All felt that they were on the eve of great things. What had gone before was, as it were, drill-work; but now there loomed before them the true tug of war.