“Why,” said Diego, “there is nothing new to tell you. I have told you all I know twenty times over.”
“Then tell us for the twenty-first time,” said Rodrigo.
“How well that worthy Rodrigo calculates!” said Diego, paternally. “He can add one to twenty and know the result. It is because he has taken to counting maravedis lately, no doubt.”
Everybody laughed, for it was very well known that Rodrigo had spent many times over, in imagination, the ten thousand maravedis which were to be his for first seeing land.
“If he get them,” interposed Miguel, sourly. “Deserters are not like to have many favors shown them.”
“Oh,” interposed Juan, who often came between Miguel’s crookedness and the anger of the men, “he will never think again of his maravedis after he has been a few days at Bohio, if what Diego tells has but a grain of truth in it.”
“This is Bohio, then?” demanded one of the men, eagerly.
“The Indians say so,” answered Diego, “and are so mightily afraid at the very thought of landing here that I think they must be right.”
“They say the inhabitants are great warriors and cannibals, do they not, Diego?” asked Juan.
“They do, indeed,” answered he.