The monk shook his head mournfully.
"No," he at length answered; "the Indians love and respect us, owing to the protection you have deigned to afford us, Señor Don—"
"Silence!" the chief interrupted him, with a smile; "no other name but that of Thunderbolt."
"That is true; I always forget that you have surrendered the one received at your baptism; still it is one of the most noble in the martyrology. Well," he continued with a sigh, "the will of Heaven be done! The glorious days of conversion have passed since we have become Mexicans; the Indians no longer believe in the Spanish good faith, and sooner than accept our God, persist in their old errors. This makes me remember that I have a favour to ask of you."
"Of me? Oh, it is granted beforehand, if it be in my power to satisfy you."
"Doña Esperanza, with whom I have spoken about it, leads me to hope that you will not refuse it."
"Did you not say to me one day that the señora's name brought you good luck? It will probably be the same today."
The monk took a furtive glance at the old lady.
"This is the matter, my dear," she said, mingling in the conversation; "the good father wishes your authority to follow, with another monk, the warriors during the coming expedition."
"That is a singular idea, father; and what may your object be? For I presume you do not intend to fight in our ranks."