began to be intertwined with ours, had his likeness, so far
as went state and custom, to that Cuban chieftain whom Luis
Torres and I had visited. But this was an easier, less
strongly fibred person, a big, amiable, indolent man with
some quality of a great dog who, accepting you and
becoming your friend, may never be estranged. He was
brave after his fashion, gifted enough in simple things. In
Europe he would have been an. easy, well-liked prince or
duke of no great territory. He kept a simple state, wore
some slight apparel of cotton and a golden necklet. He
brought gifts and an unfeigned sympathy for that death
upon the sand bar.

He and the Admiral sat and talked together. "Gods
from heaven?"--"Christian men and from Europe," and
we could not make him, at this time, understand that that
was not the same thing. We began to comprehend that
"heaven" was a word of many levels, and that they ascribed
to it everything that they chose to consider good and that
was manifestly out of the range of their experience.

In his turn the Admiral was ready for all that Guacanagari
could tell him. "Gold?" His eyes were upon the
Indian's necklet. Removing it, the cacique laid it in the
god's hand. All Indians now understood that we made
high magic with gold, getting out of it virtues beyond their
comprehension. In return the Admiral gave him a small
brazen gong and hammer. "Where did they get the gold?"
Again like the Cuban chief this cacique waved his hand to
the mountains. "Cibao!" and then turning he too pointed