"Against those who have a mission from on high, man's orders avail nought. The commands to slay and destroy, and leave not one remaining, have come to me from authority, supreme e'en over the Governor Velasquez himself. Speak not to me of orders!"
"Nay, then, that will I not," murmured Guzman to himself, as he went off to more cheerful companions. "I will spend no more words on thee, friend Botello," he continued in soliloquy, "so long as it appears that the remnants of thy late fever are yet burning in thy veins. It might chance thou wouldst find thou hadst an order to stick thy poniard into me."
A few minutes later the prudent soldier was consulting with some friends, whether a warning hint respecting Botello's aspirations should not be given to their priest commander.
"But say, then," laughed another, "what need to trouble the good clerigo for nought? What can one man's moody fancies do of harm, with so many against him on the other side?"
"Umph, no," said another, somewhat less confidently; "if all the rest are on the other side; but one fanatic can make an army of disciples, if his feelings be but strong enough."
"Just so," was the off-hand reply. "If they be strong enough, but not if they be the half-delirious fancies of a sick man, who ought still to be in his bed at St. Jago yonder, instead of travelling with us. But come on, let's hurry up to that party of redskins over there; they seem well laden, and for my part I prefer to dine on their providing than on my own, or that of our commanders. They treat us better."
The whole of the little expedition, including Las Casas and Montoro, appeared to be of the same way of thinking, to judge by the way the hospitable and kind-hearted Indians were soon surrounded. Whether owing to the absence of newspapers and telegrams in those days, or to the hopes of the poor inhabitants of the New World that kindness would gain kindness, at any rate in their own case, cannot now be said; but while the refugee Cacique, who had fled from the barbarities of the Spaniards on his own island, was being hunted down in one part of Cuba, in another the gentle, courteous natives were treating their invaders with the most true-hearted friendliness.
"They must, verily, be worse than the tigers of the forests who harm these simple creatures!" exclaimed Montoro one day, as a number of Indians hastened to the new encampment with the farewell offerings of fruit, rice, cooked food, and various little presents as tokens of peace and good-will, accepting smiles for thanks with inborn graciousness.
Las Casas smiled at his friend's ardour.
"I feel now," he said joyously, "that I can afford to smile, for all things here are going forward as I would wish. The natives are learning that there are at least some amongst the white men who have a knowledge of right and wrong. And for these with us, Montoro, thinkest thou not that they have begun to find it pleasant to continue in well-doing, and to awaken smiles instead of tears? For myself, I do hope so, I confess."