fore, as they set forth on a two days' march toward the northeast. And Owaza was happy and so was the old chief, who accompanied them himself, though why he was happy about it Owaza could not guess.
They had marched for almost two days when the chief sent one of his own men forward with a message.
"It is to my friend," he said, "to tell him to come and meet us and lead us to his village." And a few hours later, as the little caravan emerged from the jungle onto a broad, grassy plain, they saw not far from them, and approaching rapidly, a large band of warriors. Owaza halted.
"Who are those?" he demanded.
"Those are the warriors of my friend," replied the chief, "and he is with them. See?" and he pointed toward a figure at the head of the blacks, who were approaching at a trot, their spears and white plumes gleaming in the sunshine.
"They come for war and not for peace," said Owaza fearfully.
"That depends upon you, Owaza," replied the chief.
"I do not understand you," said Owaza.
"But you will in a few minutes after my friend has come."
As the advancing warriors approached more closely Owaza saw a giant white at their head—a white whom he mistook for Esteban—the con-
