It was first
seen clearly at this time, I think, the uses that might be
drawn from our heathen subjects. Alonso de Ojeda, Juan
Ponce de Leon and Pedro Margarite rode with the Admiral.
Others followed on black and bay and white horses. Juan
Lepe marched with the footmen. He was glad to find Luis
Torres.
Before setting out we went to mass in the new church.
Candles burned, incense rose in clouds, the friars chanted,
the bell rang, we took the wafer, the priest lifted the chalice.
The sun rose, the trumpets rang, we were gone. South,
before us, the mountain line was broken by a deep notch.
That would be our pass, afar, and set high, filled with an
intense, a burning sapphire. We had Indian guides.
Day, evening, camp and night. Dawn, trumpets, breakfast
and good understanding and jollity. After breakfast
the march, and where was any road up the heights? And
being none we would make one and did, our hidalgos toiling
with the least. By eve we were in the high pass, level
ground under our feet, above us magnificent trees. We
called it the Pass of the Hidalgos. We threw ourselves down
and slept. At sunrise we pushed on, and presently saw what
Juan Lepe once before had seen, the vast southward-lying
plain and the golden mountains of Cibao.
There rose a cry, it was so beautiful! The Admiral
named it Vega Real, the Royal Plain.
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