"How much?"

Manga Colorada held up five fingers.

"Five hundred?"

A unanimous grunt.

"It is all I have," said Coronado.

The chiefs made no reply.

Coronado rose, walked to his horse, took two small packages out of his
saddle-bags and slipped them slily into his boots, and then carried the
bags to where the chiefs sat in council. There he held them up and rolled
out five _rouleaux_, each containing a hundred Mexican dollars. The
Indians tore open the envelopes, stared at the broad pieces, fingered
them, jingled them together, and uttered grunts of amazement and joy.
Probably they had never before seen so much money, at least not in their
own possession. Coronado was hardly less content; for while he had
received a thousand dollars to bring about this understanding, he had
risked but seven hundred with him, and of these he had saved two hundred.

Four hours later the camp had vanished, and the Indians were on their way
toward the southwest, the moonlight showing their irregular column of
march, and glinting faintly from the heads of their lances.

At nine or ten in the evening, when every Apache had disappeared, and the
clatter of ponies had gone far away into the quiet night, Coronado lay