In
short, we are at war," ended Luis. "Alonso de Ojeda at
the moment is the Cid. He maneuvers now in the Vega."
I looked around. We were sitting under palm trees, by
the mud wall of our town. Beyond the forest waved in the
wind, and soft white clouds sailed over it in a sky of essential
sapphire. "There's an aspect here of peace!"
"That is because Guacanagari, from his new town, holds
his people still. For that Indian the scent of godship has
not yet departed! He sees the Admiral always as a silver-haired hero bringing warmth and light. He is like a
dog
for fidelity!--But I saw three Indians from outside his
country curse him in the name of all the other tribes, with a
kind of magical ceremony. Is he right, or is he wrong,
Juan Lepe? Or is he neither the one nor the other, but
Something moves him from above?"
"Have you never seen again the butio, Guarin?"
"No."
We sat and looked at the rich forest, and at that strange,
rude, small town called Isabella, and at the blue harbor with
the ships, and the blue, blue sea beyond. Over us--what
is over us? Something seemed to come from it, stealing
down the stair to us!
The fourth day after his return, Don Francisco de Las
Casas, Don Juan Ponce de Leon, and others told to the
Viceroy, lying upon his bed in his house, much what Luis
Torres told Juan Lepe.
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