He had been for more than five years among the Indians when another tribe of Indians met with his tribe, perhaps drawn by the fame of the white medicine-man, and among their captives he recognized with joy three of his own comrades—­Castillo, Dorantes, and a Barbary negro called Estevanico (Little Stephen).  He told them of his experience, and found them glad to have him teach them whatever of the arts of the medicine-man he himself knew.  After that, the four friends traveled more or less in company, and persuaded the Indians to go westward, where they thought that there might be a chance of meeting with some of their own people.  They finally reached a point at which the Indians explained that they dared not go further, because the tribe which held the country further west was hostile.

“Send to them,” suggested Cabeca, “and tell them we are coming.”

After some argument the Indians sent two women, because women would not be harmed even in the enemy’s country.  Then the four comrades set out into the new land.

Among them they knew six Indian dialects, and could talk with the people after a fashion, wherever they went.  Even when two tribes were at war, they made a truce, so that they might trade and talk with the strangers.  At last Castillo saw on the neck of an Indian the buckle of a sword-belt, and fastened to it like a pendant the nail of a horse-shoe.  His heart leaped.  He asked the Indian where he got the things.  The Indian answered,

“They came from heaven.”

“Who brought them?” asked Cabeca.

“Men with beards like you,” the Indian answered rather timidly, “seated on strange animals and carrying long lances.  They killed two of our people with those lances, and the rest ran away.”

Then Cabeca knew that his countrymen must have passed that way.  His feelings were a strange mixture of joy and grief.

As they went on they came upon more traces of Spaniards, parties of slave-hunters from the south.  Everywhere they themselves were well treated, even by people who were hiding in the mountains for fear of the Christians.  When Cabeca told the Indians that he was himself a Christian they smiled and said nothing; but one night he heard them talking among themselves, not knowing that he could understand their talk.

“He is lying, or he is mistaken,” they said.  “He and his friends come from the sunrise, and the Christians from the sunset; they heal the sick, the Christians kill the well ones; they wear only a little clothing, as we do, the Christians come on horses, with shining garments and long lances; these good men take our gifts only to help others who need them; the Christians come to rob us and never give any one anything.”

The next day Cabeca told the Indians that he wished to go back to his own people and tell them not to kill and enslave the natives.  He explained to them that this wickedness was not in any way part of his religion, and that the founder of that religion never injured or despised the poor, but went about doing good.  When he was sure that there were Spaniards not many miles away, he took Estevanico, leaving the other two Spaniards to rest their tired bones, and with an escort of eleven Indians went out to look for his countrymen.