at horse and rider were at first supposed to be one supernatural
animal. When the white men dismounted the people fled in horror,
believing that the ferocious beasts were going to eat them.

It became evident that with the fierce chief Caonaba to reckon with,
military strength and capacity would be the only means of holding the
country. The commander could not count on patriotism, religious
principle or even self-interest to keep the colonists united. In this
tangled situation one of the few persons who really enjoyed himself was
Alonso de Ojeda. Instead of spending his time in drinking, quarreling or
getting himself into trouble with friendly natives, the young man seemed
bent on proving himself an able and sagacious leader of men. A little
fortress of logs had been built about eighteen leagues from the
settlement, in the mining country, defended on all sides but one by a
little river, the Yanique, and on the remaining side by a deep ditch.
Gold dust, nuggets, amber, jasper and lapis lazuli had been found in the
neighborhood, and it was the Admiral's intention to send miners there as
soon as possible, protected by the fort, which he called San Tomas.
Ojeda happened to be in command of the garrison, in the absence of his
superior, when Caonaba came down from his mountains with an immense
force of hostile tribes. The young lieutenant in his rude eyrie, perched
on a hill surrounded by the enemy, held off ten thousand savages under
the Carib chief for more than a month. Finally the chief, whose people
had never been trained in warfare after the European fashion, found them
deserting by hundreds, tired of the monotony of the siege. Ojeda did not
merely stand on the defensive. He was continually sallying forth at the
head of small but determined companies of Spaniards, whenever the enemy
came near his stronghold. He never went far enough from his base to be
captured, but killed off so many of the best warriors of Caonaba that
the chief himself grew tired of the unprofitable undertaking and
withdrew his army. During the siege provisions ran short, and when
things were looking very dark a friendly savage slipped in one night
with two pigeons for the table of the commander. When they were brought
to Ojeda, in the council chamber where he was seated consulting with his
officers, he glanced at the famine-pinched faces about him, took the
pigeons in his hands and stroked their feathers for an instant.

"It is a pity," he said, "th