A
curious, sardonic look of recognition, appraisal, relinquishment,
sat in the Indian's face. From wrist to wrist of Caonabo
went a bright, short chain. The sun glittered upon the
bracelets and the links. I do not know--there was for a
moment--something in the sound of the bell, something
in the gleam of the manacles, that sent out faint pity and
horror and choking laughter.
All to the Viceroy's house, and Don Alonso sitting with
Christopherus Columbus, and Caonabo brought to stand before
them. Indians make much of indifferent behavior, taunting
calm, when taken. It is a point of honor, meeting death
so, even when, as often befalls, their death is a slow and hard
one. Among themselves, in their wars, it is either death
or quick adoption into the victor's tribe. They have no
gaols nor herds of slaves. Caonabo expected death. He
stood, a strong, contemptuous figure. But the Viceroy
meant to send him to Spain--trophy and show, and to be
made, if it could be, Christian.
CHAPTER XXXIII
IT did not end the war. For a fortnight we thought that
it had done so. Then came loud tidings. Caonabo's
wife, Anacaona, had put on the lioness. With her was
Caonabo's brother Manicoatex and her own brother Behechio,
cacique of Xaragua. There was a new confederacy,
Gwarionex again was with it. Only Guacanagari remained.
Pages:
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305