In quest of gold; being a romance dealing with the remarkable expedition of Ferdinand De Soto ad his cavaliers to Florida in the year 1539

Chapter I. "the Muster."

Only one thought filled the young man's mind. It was that of getting away, away from the old town with its familiar streets and the country round about he knew so well, away from his teachers, his schools and his unlearned lessons, away from his home, its pleasant hours and a mother's admiration. Juan de Leon simply wished to get away, away with the noblest sons of Spain and a thousand lovers of Western adventure, away from a place where, as a youth, he had been a general favorite, the very idol of the boys of Seville.

Now, the popular de Leon sought new worlds to conquer. His thoughts that April day were far away, across the "Great Ocean." Standing in the ranks of de Soto's "chosen ones," he gripped his lance like a seasoned veteran, looked not about him at the staring crowd, nor cast stolen glances at the fair damsels who had come to view the muster of the men and watch the ten ships leave the little harbor.

At last his hopes were to be realized. It was no longer a dream, but soldier-life in earnest. His face that day told the tale. He saw, in imagination, the gold and glories of the Incas of Peru. He felt the joy of sailing in the fleet, destined, he believed, to return victorious and rich. He seemed to scent

the land of the fabled fountain, and enjoyed the frat t grance of its distant flowers. . He heard the persist ent affirmation of all who had gone before, as they cried : "Florida is the richest country in the world."

His loyal heart leaped with pride when the gallant de Soto rode past in review of his troops. De Soto and the young de Leon hailed from the same town, and had been neighbors. Often had Juan heard those wondrous tales of the famous lands away to ward the setting sun. Frequently had he ridden with the Adelantado of Florida, and listened en tranced to accounts of thrilling adventures in Peru, and unconsciously stole from the great explorer his estimate of the man who dealt so treacherously with the noble Incas, and when de Soto let fall indignant words against Pizarro, his young admirer's eye flashed a ready sympathy and his head bowed in hearty approval.

His hero was without question more honorable than Pizarro, more wise and hearty than the de Leon, who with panting steps pursued the fountain of youth through miry dale and shaggy forest. He saw in de Soto no enfeebled warrior with whitened locks and withered face. It was the picture of a man but recently turned forty, a gentleman of re spectable, yet undistinguished parentage, born in the province of Estremandura, among the moun tains, where abounded wild passes and swift rivers, where the men who there first saw the light of day were persons of unusual energy and boldness. Juan had heard of the Estremandurans and knew them as a "grave, taciturn people, inoffensive in peace, but indefatigable in war. They had formed the most reliable detachments in the Spanish army,"

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and were deservedly renowned for their skillful horsemanship.

But whatever the dignity of de Soto's descent, he began his career as a mere soldier of fortune. All his estate, says his Portuguese historian, was but "a sword and buckler," yet on this account also he was all the more a hero to the youthful and as piring Juan. Everybody knew how Ayllon had failed in Florida and never returned to tell the story of his folly, how Narvaez in the same vain pursuit left his body in an unmarked grave at sea; yet thousands were ready to follow de Soto, the new leader. Juan de Leon shared with the multi tude this unbridled confidence, and pursued the trail for fame and fortune.

So, with the mailed knights, Juan de Leon took his stand in the land of his birth, at San Lucar. He had entered the little village of the sea early in the day, yet not too early to avoid the multitude which had traversed the sandy shores and undulating plains extending along the Guardalquivir and the sea.

He passed round the Moorish castle which lifts its ancient head from the rising hill above the town, and at length found his way to the quarters of the cavaliers of Spain. Among them he was thoroughly at home. Not so popular as Nuno Tobar, the short termed lieutenant-general of Cuba and Florida, not so highly favored as Luis de Moscoso de Alvarado, the camp-master general — not so honored with a worthy trust as Juan de Anasco, the royal account ant ; yet Juan de Leon moved in his element among the lances of that goodly host.

Rodrique Gomez met him at the door of the gen eral rendezvous.

"On time to-day, de Leon," said Rodrique. "Promptness is well, but let's hope for proper dress and armament in addition, at this review. Were you among the ornamented knights, last muster, when so many of our countrymen were silk attired, with doublets and cassocks pinked and embroidered, as though we were to march through the public square eager to win the plaudits of the women and children of the town?"

"Nay, Rodrique, the Adelantado had taught me better far than all such vanities. You must remem ber in that last assembly I stood proudly with the men of Portugal and with chagrin watched my own flesh and blood depart to lay aside their feath ery uniforms and return to-day in coats of mail. But wasn't the Adelantado sorely vexed at the un seasonable ostentation of our countrymen! But here he comes and, behold, the concourse of glitter ing knights which follow him.

"My greetings to you, Rodrique. Tell me, have you full lists of the men, statements of pedigree and the number of parcels which they wish to carry with them to those distant shores? Know you the number of wives the men will take ? I mean," con ditioned de Soto, as Rodrique smiled, "I mean how many of our wealthy men will take their wives along as I shall Isabel, my queen. I trust the needs of all are satisfied, and that our treasury will not be bankrupt before we sail. So many knights, I find, are brave, but poor; adventurous, but not as yet successful in the acquisition of that which means

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so much to us, the treasured gold. And, Rodrique, mark this well, if any Spaniard comes in holiday at tire, as though we were upon a summer pic-nic, lead him down to the sea and throw him headlong. Ah, here is de Leon, with polished armor, and look about now. What an array of curiosities and an tiques we shall display this day when the warriors assemble in righting uniforms ! Since I sent those fellows home, I should judge, they have raised the dead of twenty centuries, and robbed them of their arms. Glance at Cabeca, yonder, with that rusty coat of mail, and there is Dorantes with a battered headpiece, and Castello and the others with indif ferent lances. Yes, it will be a remarkable display ; but yet the men are brave and true, and in due time, after the ocean is passed, and a few days' journeys are recorded, when a show of arms is made among the natives of the Eastern wilds, and a skirmish or two to our credit, every man will have his full re ward," and the Adelantado of Florida closed his conversation with the assurance of a man who boastingly takes his armor off victorious, at the close of battle.

While the muster was in progress, and the visi tors from all Spain were assembling to witness the heralded departure and speed them on their way, and, while Rodrique Gomez was busy at his tasks, and Juan de Leon was soon to take his place finally in the line of lances, two figures passed along the street where stood the parish church, the sacred shrine of San Lucar since the Fourteenth Century. On the steps of the old church they paused, rested awhile and talked. They were from the suburbs, modest men, with hardened hands of toil, true hearts, and minds observant of passing events.

"Yes, Garcia," began the elder of the two, "Grave doubts disturb my mind. Last night I had a vision of the youths of Spain wasting their manhood on endless barrens and terrible swamps, falling by the silent windings of malarial creeks. Surely have not all reports from this land of Florida been over drawn and colored to becloud the eyes of the strong, brave and adventurous ? The real picture is one of tiring hardships without one redeeming feature to make the scene a bright one. I tell you, Cabesa de Vasa will not return to such tortures which he has already tasted to the full. He may take a title or will try his hand at public office in the Western world. He may talk about the riches of that land, and the great wealth yet to be brought from yonder shores to Spain; but will he go himself again? I tell you, Garcia, de Vasa will not go, or if he goes he will loiter in the cities and towns of the New World, and let others tread the unbeaten roads, sink in the sullen swamps, or stop the poisoned ar rows of those hostile tribes."

"My good friend Perez," said the other, "I think you speak more truly than you know. This vast unexplored region, called by Ponce de Leon Flor ida, will simply prove a graveyard for the best and bravest of our men. These nine hundred knights or more, who have come so merrily into town for get that de Leon and Narvaez found no gold ; but simply disaster and death. But methinks as surely as my name is de Marchine, that some in San Lucar and Seville have strong forbodings of ill.

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My brother's daughter, the beautiful Leonora, is somewhat troubled in heart, not only because she dreads to lose the sweet companionship of the in trepid Juan de Leon, but because her kinsfolk, and I too, her father's brother, have expressed our selves, in no uncertain words, that we believe some earnest souls will not find the gold they seek, but melancholy griefs instead."

From the church steps the old men heard the coming of the band of priests, which was to sail with the adventurous army. The conversation halted while the company filed out, and as they passed discoursed upon the mission whither they were bent.

"I seek not wealth," professed the honest Barbidilla. "I go because I have heard the call of new worlds to be conquered for the Church, strange peoples, who have never heard the Saviour's name, nor even seen his glorious cross. I shall raise the crucifix in every town, and as it rises, give the call to worship and bow down."

"Yes, brother Barbidilla, ere long we will greet you as Bishop of Florida, or some new named land of savage tribes ; but our toil will be well rewarded in offices in the Church which correspond to our well-used opportunities."

The speaker was a man of twenty-eight, distin guished looking in his priestly garb, with face marked in lines of determination and eyes which were full of kindly humor, free from lust, or the pride of life.

"We shall be of much help to the expedition. You know, Barbidilla, when men are away from home and Church, they oftentimes forget what they should remember, and do deeds which at home and in Church they themselves would condemn. The freedom of the new land, may lead to license, and we must stay the tide of sin which may arise, bring pardon to the sinner, and work for righteousness and holy joy."

He turned as he finished, and, like a man meet ing an old friend, saluted Garcia de Marchine, as in a moment's pause of conversation he watched the marching ambassadors of the Church.

"All's well, de Marchine, I trust. Your three score years and ten must leave their mark. You look well. You rest, I fancy, not because exhausted, but because to hurry is not your habit. I know you rest to pholisophize and go profitably on your way. I hope to see you at the muster, and have you wave us a last farewell, and God bless you. One-half hour is the full length of time, before the call to stand in line, be counted, and led upon the ships. Fare well till then."

The two patriarchs were left alone but for a moment. Waiting until the party of priests had turned the corner, they themselves arose and fol lowed in the train of the soldiers, sight-seers, strange faces from the country, mothers seeking a last look at their sons, and sweethearts prolonging their good byes, and pledging faith and loyalty. In the dis tance they could see the ribboned spears and, at times, above the crowd, a helmeted head. Sud denly Garcia moved forward. At the crossing be fore him his quick eye recognized familiar forms. Two people walked side by side, a man in armor

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and a woman, young and of attractive beauty. They talked as they walked, the man with divided inter est, in contrast with the seriousness of the maid.

"Juan," she said, "I have hoped you would not go. The mere quest of gold, as your father says, is a cause unworthy of your zeal. To war against those savage tribes, throw them into confusion with your guns so strange to them, devastate their towns and then perhaps find no gold for all the trouble to yourselves and wrong to them, all this is far from knightly. But, Juan, you are my knight, remember, in whatever land you bear the lance, or in whatever cause you use it."

"Leonora, let's forget the expedition, just for thirty minutes, which is all the time we shall have together. One of these minutes has already passed since you have talked to me like a mother telling her boy not to go away from home. Yes, Leonora, I must go."

Then their faces met, and their eyes — hers and his — and, as Garcia de Marchine and his friend following on behind cast their wandering glances to ward the distant couple, they thought they saw their lips meet as well as face and eyes. Well, yes, they did. Juan couldn't help it, and Leonora didn't try to stop him. Thus they sealed their love and talked, grew serious while they presumed to be gay. Thus Juan de Leon took his stand beneath the shadow of coming wealth and glory, and thus he and Leonora glad of hearts as lovers spent the cherished moments of their parting.

Chapter II. 'the Delayed Ship."

"The ships have sailed, dear uncle." "Yes, my child; I also watched them go." "I didn't see you, Uncle Garcia, nor did I know you had come to town to help us send our heroes on their glorious way."

"No, Leonora; quite true, you did not realize my presence hereabout. You were too busy with your kind farewells, and one in particular, I might venture to affirm, was sweet to you. The birds of San Lucar have told me something. Two young people, the man resembling Juan, the woman, bear ing your fair looks — so the birds say — spent thirty minutes saying good-bye, and the couple said it well, with suitable acts and appropriate accompani ments. Yes, I too, was near the water's edge when you waved your tired hand to young de Leon on the San Christoval. Surely he is highly favored by a berth upon the Adelantado's own ship, the largest of the fleet, which also bears, you know, the Governor's wife, the gracious Isabel, with all her family and ambitious retinue. Too bad it was, that one ship was delayed. A mistake, I fancy, or perhaps careless preparation delayed them so they sail not until to-morrow."

"To-morrow, to-morrow, Uncle; to-morrow?" "Yes, to-morrow the boat will make another at tempt to brave the ocean and no doubt next day will

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catch the waiting ships. At any rate stopping at the Canaries, they will tarry for her coming, and thence make their way together westward."

In placid meditation Leonora spoke, half to her self and yet ostensibly to Garcia de Marchine: "I wonder, I wonder,"

"Why wonder, Leonora?"

"Oh, nothing, uncle, nothing. I simply wondered whether it would now be too late for another eager heart to go by this belated ship."

"Your heart, Leonora? I supposed that was al ready on its way upon the San Christoval."

"Yes, it is. I confess it ; but yet I wonder as I said before. I wonder if there is yet room for a further addition to the party," and that night the girl's wonderment assumed the aspect of determi nation. She thus conspired within herself : "Yes, I will board the ship. I will. I know the com mander. Father's friend, Captain Arias. I have some gold, a dozen ducats. This I will take, set sail to-morrow, and surprise Juan at the Canaries, or in the new-found countries."

And so, without floating banners, flashing ar mor, sounding trumpets or discharging ordnance, but with exuberant spirit and a soul firmly fixed upon its new resolve, the lover of Juan de Leon planned that night the means of her departure with the cavaliers of Spain, taking the last, the tarrying caravel.

Like a scholar late at school the tenth vessel of the fleet hurried forth from home. Rising and falling upon the heaving bosom of the deep, it spread its wings upon the unbroken stretch of blue.

It pointed its prow toward its first stopping place, those islands, set like jewels in the murmuring and waiting sea. But before it reached that island port where the twice five boats were to be so hon orably received, they sighted in the distance the sails of the San Christoval and her sister ships. The others saw her too, and like the parent birds, which hover protectingly about their needy young, reshaped their course and silently drew near. The hearts of all on board beat with the rising exhila ration of reunion. The lost had been found, and the waves lapping and folding in the wake of the speeding ship were symbolic of the joyous reas sembling of all the fleet. Captain Arias at his post on deck, fixed his eyes upon the flag ship. He fan cied he saw the heroic form and face of his in spiring leader Ferdinand, and seemed to hear him say: "Captain, we greet you once more to our number. Let's hasten on. No more delays, simply one stop to make our supply of provisions and arms secure." And in reply to this imagined greeting the Captain's face brightened with joyous hopes and anticipated triumphs. Then he muttered to himself: "'Twill be an hour yet before we come together," and as he spoke he turned. Someone had come to his side. It was the sailor de Balbour. "Captain, you're needed below," he said. "We've one more passenger than we supposed. It's a wo man, sir, concealed in one of those casks we brought aboard on leaving port. She's a fair one, and well equipped with good outfit, and almost a dozen ducats to pay her way. Come down and question her. Her name, she says, is Leonora de Marchine, a

I?

daughter of a friend of yours, she stoutly affirms."

"De Marchine, de Marchine," the captain mur mured, as he followed the sailor to the row of casks below. "De Marchine, I know him well, also his daughter Leonora. We must at once enroll her among our number. She need not have come this way, but might have sailed in yon Christoval, where reigns her mother's school-friend, Isabel, wife of the trusted Ferdinand. So soon he hears of our new-found passenger he surely will claim the fair adventuress as belonging to his own chosen party."

The great cask lay sidewise on the deck with opened top, from which the frightened Leonora had crawled. About her, as she prepared to plead for favor, were gathered Spanish knights, priests of the Church, sailors of the caravel, among whom was at least one well-paid accomplice.

"Kind captain," the trembling girl cried, "as my father's friend, let me stay and sail upon your ship."

The captain smiled, and his smile seemed reas suring to the maiden.

"But," again he smiled. "But," he repeated, try ing to seem severe, "we must put you off this ship." And Leonora, uncertain of her fate, again besought him, scarcely daring to take the officer's words in fun.

"Please, sir, please let me sail with you to those distant lands. I shall fully pay my way, and father will reward you."

The captain of the vessel then spoke seriously: "Daughter, you should not have thus played stow away. I am full willing to bear you on the way to the far West ; but I am convinced your friends upon the Christoval will want you, and that is why I say — of course in fun — you cannot stay upon this ship. There's a jolly party on the other vessel. I'll signal the Adelantado as his boat approaches."

The captain then left her, and again appeared on deck to salute the Commander of the fleet, the be loved de Soto.

With completed number the boats were now to gether. The accustomed salutations had been given, the needed questions answered and the fleet was ready for its coming quota of storms and calms on its journey to the Canary Islands. Leonora, finding her way to deck, watched the little boat put off from the San Christoval, and draw near her ship. Never before had sunshine and fresh air seemed so sweet to her. She breathed deep and long, and drank eagerly the gentle breeze, like a thirsty man the cooling spring; then looked across the waves where rocked the little life boat, now rising on the whitened crest, now sinking to the watery valley, yet ever coming, borne by the push ing flood and the strong strokes of the rowers. She saw the crew and two distinguished passengers gently lifted to the deck on which she stood. It was the Adelantado and Rodrique Gomez.

"My Leonora," began de Soto. "I have heard of your remarkable exploit, how, nestling in a cask, you came aboard the boat like so much cargo. Daring girl you are. Surely you have caught the spirit of this expedition and deserve from my hands an appointment of command of troops on special hazard. I have brought Rodrique Gomez along that you might tell him what we may do for you.

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Dona Isabel and myself invite you to join our party on the Christoval, if you so desire ; or you may wait till we stop to-morrow, or next day, at the Islands, then join us as we set sail again."

Leonora bowed appreciation. She would wait till land was reached, not risk a dreaded splashing by returning in the little boat that day, with the Chief and his men. De Soto now had left her and she stood alone with Rodrique. The two had been friends in old Seville where, as companions of Juan, they had often met. In fact, were playmates there in early youth.

"Well, sister what may be your pleasure?" The courteous Rodrique spoke with intelligent smile, which seemed to say : "I know, I know" ; and he did. He knew tlit inspiration of her daring ven ture at sea.

"Surely, you will join the merry crowd on the Christoval, for never yet has such a brilliant throng of talent and good looks embarked on such a voy age. Nuno Tobar is there. He can tell you won drous tales of rich Peru. There also is Luis de Moscoso, rich cavalier, with sumptuous equipment ; and there are relatives of the Governor, captains of the infantry and standard bearers to the army. And there also is Juan de Leon, and you know I have kept the best name till the last," said Rodrique, again smiling. "Surely now you will come back with us in spite of a generous ducking on the way."

"You certainly must have a jolly time," the girl remarked. "But, tell me, how is our friend Juan?"

"Our friend, Leonora? Ought you not use the singular and say 'my friend ?' But let it reman 'our friend/ for de Leon is a good fellow and friend. I like him much, nor am I alone in my liking among those who sail. In fact, your friend is a general favorite on our boat. We couldn't sail so happily without our Juan. I do not see why you hesitate to go at once. Just borrow one of those suits of mail to keep off the spray and a helmet to keep your hair dry and come along."

"Now, Rodrique, you are no longer serious. Let the matter of my coming to your ship rest for the time. At the Canaries, perhaps, I shall leave the protecting care of Captain Arias, and sail upon the Christoval ; but enough of that for the present. Tell me, are any of the youths of Spain homesick?"

"Not yet, Leonora. We shall have too much pleasure till we reach Florida to think of home, and after that, perhaps, we shall then have too much fighting and labor to think of aught else except war and work."

"I have heard some wise men in Spain voice some such sentiments, just before your sailing, Rod rique," she said, and turned her face away; but as she did so Rodrique turned. Both looked in the same direction, toward the deck of de Soto's ship, where stood Juan. He waved his hand in saluta tion, and in response Leonora sent him her fondest greeting across the sea.

The winds seemed to whisper a sweet love song and the waves of the old ocean echoed the refrain. Leonora's heart was glad, and with laughter as light as that of a child's she turned once more to Rodrique, resuming their interrupted conversation. From the closed palm of the man's left hand there

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hung a section of a string of pearls, lustrous and precious. He raised the hand. They flashed into the open. The girl's eyes saw them at a glance, and wondered. She had seen them before. They were the little trinkets Juan had purchased from Estevanico, the negro who sailed to Spain with Cabeca de Vaca, after the wretched men had wandered from tribe to tribe in the Florida wilds for six long years. At Seville with Juan she had wished them hers, and supposed some day, as a gift from her lover, they would find a resting place upon her neck. She fixed her eyes for a closer vision, when across the deck like an arrow from its bow, came Tachuco, the only Indian on the fleet. He had been captured on the western mainland, carried to Cuba and thence unwillingly to Spain, in the ship which bore Cabeca and his men. And now again re turned ostensibly in kindness to assuage his in jured feelings and his love for home ; but in reality to play the part of guide and pilot of the troops in their quest of gold. He was a sort of favored pas senger on the ship, wandered about the boat at will, and did no man's bidding, but his own. Yet as an Indian, he never forgot that first sad contact with the white man, when coming innocently to their camp, admiring their clothing, their horses and their loud-sounding guns, he found himself a prisoner, ruthlessly dragged from his familiar forests and thence swept away to strange and startling sights, to scenes which stirred, but failed to satisfy his untamed soul.

So Tachuco's eye was on the necklace. Next second his hand reached out and grasped it, stealthily yet securely ; and with vehement acclaim, speak ing in accentuation rather than in actual words, he said, "White man, that's mine. For seven moons and more I have waited and watched to see it ap pear among the stolen treasures of the knights of Spain. It was my mother's, a token of love from him I call my father. I'll have it, if I must die for it."

And as he spoke he held upon the string of pearls like a drowning man the rope thrown for his res cue. Gomez paused a moment, looked about him, thought of law and order, smarted at the savage rush of the mad Indian and then exclaimed: "Tachuco, give it back, and all will be well."

The Indian, as with frozen features and eyes fixed upon the white man, answered, " Tis mine, and 'twill be mine, or none shall have it. I will throw it in the sea, and feast the fish with a costly meal, before these pearls shall adorn the fairest form of the white man's squaw."

Noble of bearing, stalwart of body, he stood, an untainted denizen of his native wilds, as firm, he seemed, as the undiscovered Rockies, he would rather die than yield. He had said his say, and would withdraw in stately parade, across the deck; but Gomez stepped athwart his path, with rising indignation written large upon his face. "Indian !" he cried. He had him quickly by the throat, and just as quickly lost his hold. Leonora screamed. Hurried footsteps marked the scurry of the men as though responding to a call to arms for some mysterious fight. Toward the water's edge the men still fought, while the form of de Soto appeared,