Fort St. Thomas; and, after the manner of lion-hearted people, liked him
none the worse for that.

Ojeda proposes that the King should accompany him to Isabella to make
peace. No, says Caonabo. Then Ojeda tries another way. There is a
poetical side to this big fighting savage, and often in more friendly
days, when the bell in the little chapel of Isabella has been ringing for
Vespers, the cacique has been observed sitting alone on some hill
listening, enchanted by the strange silver voice that floated to him
across the sunset. The bell has indeed become something of a personality
in the island: all the neighbouring savages listen to its voice with awe
and fascination, pausing with inclined heads whenever it begins to speak
from its turret.

Ojeda talks to Caonabo about the bell, and tells him what a wonderful
thing it is; tells him also that if he will come with him to Isabella he
shall have the bell for a present. Poetry and public policy struggle
together in Caonabo's heart, but poetry wins; the great powerful savage,
urged thereto by his childish lion-heart, will come to Isabella if they
will give him the bell. He sets forth, accompanied by a native retinue,
and by Ojeda and his ten horsemen. Presently they come to a river and
Ojeda produces his bright manacles; tells the King that they are royal
ornaments and that he has been instructed to bestow them upon Caonabo as
a sign of honour. But first he must come alone to the river and bathe,
which he does. Then he must sit with Ojeda upon his horse; which he
does. Then he must have fitted on to him the shining silver trinkets;
which he does, the great grinning giant, pleased with his toys. Then, to
show him what it is like to be on a horse, Ojeda canters gently round in
widening and ever widening circles; a turn of his spurred heels, and the
canter becomes a gallop, the circle becomes a straight line, and Caonabo