Chapter XXIV: Kindred Feeling

"He shall be hung; I have said it."

And Hernan Cortes looked very much indeed at that moment as if he had said it.

"As if he had said the whole band of us should be hung," muttered that incorrigible Juan de Cabrera. After a moment's pause he added, "Toro, my brother."

"Thy brother!" exclaimed a companion standing by. "Thy very reverend, great, great-grandfather, thou shouldst say."

"Doubtless," returned the other calmly; "but still my brother in arms, so do not interrupt thy betters, Rodrigo, but hearken. My brother Toro, dost thou not feel thankful that there is no rope in the camp strong enough to hang us all at one go?"

Montoro lifted his proud head high.

"If I were a thief I should be glad," he said slowly, and with a significance little relished by not a few of those about him.

Some of them sauntered off to the neighbourhood of less strict censors. Cabrera laughed. Thieving propensities were not amongst the long list of his faults. But he looked grave again as he said--

"After all, though, it is hard lines upon that unlucky dog Morla, that he should have to be the one to do duty--hanging for the rest of the culprits. A flogging now, or some such penance as that, you know, that--that--"

"That should leave him little the worse after it is over, you would say," said Montoro.

"Just so," was the slow reply, as the young adventurer thought upon some of his own penances in the way of heavy fines, which decidedly did leave him a good deal the worse in pocket, at any rate, whatever might be the case as to person. "But to be hung! That was another thing."

"What was it that Morla stole from the black beggars?" asked Ordaz, who had but just returned with a couple of escorts from a short exploring expedition, during which various little bits of gold had somehow or other found their way into the pockets of himself and his companions.

Ordaz mechanically put up his hand to his neck as he spoke, as though feeling beforehand the sensation of a rope about it. He had angered Cortes very greatly but a few weeks since, by standing up boldly for what he declared to be the rights of Velasquez, the Governor of Cuba, in regard to the present undertaking. On that occasion he had the pleasure of passing twenty-four hours on board one of the ships in irons. There was no knowing whether this resolute, prompt commander might not treat him to something worse now, and so his anxious question--

"What was it that Morla stole?"

Cabrera noticed both the involuntary action and the tone of voice, and answered both with a mischievous--

"Ah, my noble Ordaz, hast heard that the commander thinks of overhauling all our possessions, to see how much each of us has that may help to drown us, if hanging cords run short. Instead of feeling that long neck of thine, thou hadst better learn the Indian art of diving. Morla is to swing for stealing a couple of fowls, thou art as like to sleep beneath the waves for thy golden borrowings. So to confession with thee at once, like a good Catholic."

"Who talks of good Catholics," exclaimed Don Pedro de Alvarado, coming hurriedly up to the group as the men stood gossiping. "There is as good a fighting man, as ever drew sword upon the enemies of Spain, going to be sent full gallop into purgatory just for wringing the necks of a bird or two."

"Or rather," corrected Montoro, "for wringing the fingers of those who held them, is perchance nearer to the truth."

"Well, well," said Alvarado, "put it as you will, most noble and virtuous Señor Diego; but I know this, that the man is a first-rate soldier, and our numbers are small enough already."

"Ay, and if they need diminishing," assented Cabrera, "the redskins are like enough to do us a favour that way when they get the chance, if the horrible air hereabouts do not do it first. Besides, poor Morla hath made restitution."

"Hath he so?" asked Montoro with a more relenting accent in his voice. "I feared that he had killed the owners of the fowls. Otherwise--I do lament his heavy punishment."

"Thou art in earnest?" said Alvarado eagerly, and stepping nearer to the last speaker, who looked hurt as well as surprised.

"Surely I am in earnest. Why canst thou doubt it, Alvarado?"

"Well," was the rather hesitating answer, "to tell truth, Diego, I thought thou hadst of late years given so much pity to our adversaries--"

"Our adversaries!" interrupted Montoro indignantly. "Callest thou these poor, simple, hospitable peoples of this New World our adversaries? That were, verily, to add mockery to our many barbarities." There was a brief, angry pause before Montoro recovered himself, and said more gently--"But there, Don Pedro, I meant not thus to break in upon thy speech. I crave pardon. Thou wouldst have said that I give too much pity to the Indians to have ought to spare for my own brethren?"

"Even so," came the blunt reply.

"And even so it is not," was the answer back. "And I will prove it, by attempting anything thou mayest suggest, for the rescue of this man Morla from his impending fate. What wouldst thou?"

"First to grasp thee by the hand for a true good comrade," was the impulsive reply. "And then--"

"Well, and then? Fear not to tell me thy will," said Montoro more warmly and cordially. "You see, I stand pledged now to help you."

"Yes, I see--I know," said the other stammering, and turning his eyes somewhat cautiously from side to side. At last he muttered quickly in an undertone--"Diego, there are here too many quick-eared listeners; I will seek you in your tent an hour hence. The man is not to die till nightfall."