a small force, torn by jealousy and private quarrels, and a defensive fight at this stage of his enterprise would almost surely be a losing one.  The territory of Caonaba included the most mountainous and inaccessible part of the island, where that wily barbarian could hold out for years; and as long as he was loose there would be no safety for white men.  To the Admiral, who was just recovering from a severe illness, the prospect looked very gloomy.

Pedro the Vizcayan cabin-boy, who was his confidential servant, was crossing the plaza one day with a basket of fruit, when Alonso de Ojeda stopped him to inquire after his master’s health.

“His health,” said Pedro, “would improve if I had Caonaba’s head in this basket.  I wish somebody would get it.”

Ojeda laughed, showing a flash of white teeth under his jaunty mustachios.  Then he grew thoughtful.  “Wait a moment, Pedro,” he said.  “Will you ask the Admiral if he can see me for a few minutes, this morning?”

When Ojeda appeared Colon detected a trace of excitement in the young man’s bearing, and tactfully led the conversation to Caonaba.  He frankly expressed his perplexity.

“Have you a plan, Ojeda?” he asked with a half smile.  “It has been my experience, that you usually have.”

Ojeda felt a thrill of pleasure, for the Admiral did not scatter his compliments broadcast.  He admitted that he had a plan.

“Let me hear it,” said Colon.

But as the youthful captain unfolded his scheme the cool gray eye of the Genoese commander betrayed distinct surprise.  It seemed only yesterday that this youngster had been a little monkey of a page in the great palace of the Duke of Medina Coeli, when he was entertained there, on arriving in Spain.

“You see,” Ojeda concluded, “I have observed in fighting these people that if their leader is killed or captured, they seem to lose their heads completely.  I think that with a dozen men I can get Caonaba and bring him in.  If I do not—­the loss will not be very great.”

“I should not like to lose you,” said the Admiral, with his hand on the young man’s shoulder.  “Go, if you will,—­but do not sacrifice your own life if you can help it.”

Ojeda had faith in his talisman, and he also believed that if any man could go into Caonaba’s territory and come back alive, he was that man.  He knew that he himself, in the place of the chief, would respect a man whom he had not been able to beat.

With ten soldiers he rode up into the mountains, his blood leaping with the wild joy of an adventure as great as any in the Song of the Cid.  To be sure, Caonaba would not in his mountain camp have any such army as when he surrounded the fort, for then he commanded whole tribes of allies.  In case of coming to blows Ojeda believed that he and his men with their superior weapons could cut their way out.  Still, the odds were beyond anything that he had ever heard of.