It was with no good news that he returned soon after to his companions in arms. Their saddest fears were realized. The noble-hearted, upright young officer, the beloved of all ranks of his companions, had met an early death with seven or eight of the garrison of Vera Cruz, in a pitched battle with a Mexican general.
"Is that the boasted discipline of this great empire," exclaimed Cortes indignantly, "that we should be cherished visitors of its Emperor, and meanwhile our comrades should be attacked and slain by his officers? What say you now, Montoro? Do you still place implicit trust in these base Indians?"
There was a moment's pause ere Montoro answered gravely—
"Base, I cannot call them, in that they fight for their lands and liberty; but I confess that I do feel now, strongly almost as yourself, that either we must re——"
"Retreat! never!" exclaimed Velasquez de Leon fiercely, interrupting the speaker. "What is thy other alternative, Don Diego, for the first is nought?"
"Ay, the other?" asked Cortes, with some extra touch of anxiety, to which Montoro's eyes replied with a grave, sad smile, as his lips answered—
"The other alternative then, I would say, that is forced upon us for the common safety, is, that some step be taken without delay to make our present position more secure."
Cortes grasped his friend's fingers tight as he muttered in a voice hoarse with emotion—
"Toro, I thank thee for those words. Thou hast strengthened my hands. Thy stern disapprobation of my intent lay too hardly on me. Now I can go forward."
"But meantime," muttered young Juan de Cabrera, with something of a gulp,—"meantime, poor old Escalante hath gone forward to that land whence none return."