“Wilt thou pronounce it after me?”
“That will I; though, cierto, I will not promise my horse if I fail.”
“Huitzilpotchli,” said the boy, slowly.
“The saints defend us!” exclaimed the knight, crossing himself. “Where didst thou get so foul a name?”
“Of the Doña Marina. Well, the Señor Hernan, my master, designeth visiting those towers, and seeing what horrors they hold.”
Olmedo’s countenance became unusually grave. “Holy Mother, keep his temper in check, that nothing rash be done!”
Alvarado received the news differently. “Thou art a good boy, Orteguilla,” he said. “I owe thee a ducat. Remind me of the debt when next thou seest me with gold. Espiritu Santo! Now will I take the rust out of my knees, and the dull out of my head, and the spite from my stomach! Now will I give my sword, that hath hungered so long, to surfeit on the heart-eaters! Bien Quisto! What jargon didst thou use a moment ago when speaking of the temple?”
“Huitzilpotchli,” said the boy, laughing.
“Murrain take the idol, if only for his name’s sake! Come; we shall have a good time.”
The knight turned to descend. Orteguilla caught him by the mantle. “A word, Don Pedro.”