Then, like that! Fray Ignatio died.

He died--his heart stopped--on the path between Guarico and La Navidad.
He had been preaching, and then, Guarin told me, he put his hand to his side, and said, "I will go home!" He started up the path, but at the big tree he dropped.

Men and women ran to him, but the butio was dead.
We buried Fray Ignatio beneath the cross on the hilltop.

The Indians watched, and now they knew that we could die.
The heat increased.
At first Diego de Arana sent out at intervals exploring parties.

We were to learn, at least, Guacanagari's country.