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The desperado told his story: "Jest got a bead on him had him sure pop never see a squarer mark when somebody mounted me pitched me clean out of my hole." "Who?" demanded Coronado, a rim of white showing clear around his black pupils. "Dunno. Didn't see nobody. 'Fore I could reload and git in it was gone." "What the devil did you stop to reload for?" "Stranger, I allays reload."
"That is just what we must try to do," returned Thurstane deliberately. "The question is," he resumed after a moment of business-like calculation of chances "the question is mainly this, whether we can go twenty-five miles quicker than they can go thirty-five. We must be the first to reach the river." "We can spare a few beasts," said Coronado. "We must leave the weakest behind."
Meanwhile, in 1513, the Spaniard Balboa had crossed the Isthmus of Panama and waded into the Pacific, sword in hand, to claim it for his king. Then came the Spanish explorers Ponce de Leon, De Soto, Coronado, and many more and later on the conquerors and founders of New Spain Cortes, Pizarro, and their successors.
When the Spaniards under Coronado first entered the land more than three hundred and fifty years ago in search of the seven cities of Cibola, they found upon the desert sufficient evidence of an extinct race to prove that the land was once densely populated by an agricultural and prosperous people. When or how the inhabitants disappeared is unknown and may never be known.
"Reckon he hain't been squarely finished." "Stop!" ordered Coronado. "He is not an Apache. He is some pueblo Indian. See how much he is hurt." "Skull ain't broke," replied Texas, fingering the wound as roughly as if it had been in the flesh of a beast. "Reckon he'll flop round. May do mischief, if we don't fix him."
When Coronado heard of the pueblos of Arizona and New Mexico, he may have confounded them with the towns of Oppas, and to this day the seven cities of Cibola are a legend of our desert. Harold's Norsemen were told by the wild Skraelings of Maine of a pale-faced people farther south, who walked in processions, carrying white banners and chanting.
Stanley, clutching Coronado by the arm and staring eagerly at his anxious eyes. "It is fever," he returned, making a great effort to control his rage and terror. "Give her warm water to drink. My God! give her something."
"We shall have to get those fellows off that trail and put them across the Bernalillo route," said Coronado to Garcia. "The pigs! the dogs! the wicked beasts! the devils!" barked the old man, dancing about the room in a rage. After a while he dropped breathless into a chair and looked eagerly at his nephew for help. "It will cost at least another thousand," observed the younger man.
"You're big; I'm not," said Susan, rubbing her head against him as he sat beside her on the stump. But his nearness brought her dimples back, and the sober mood passed. "Bill, if I die and you remarry, promise me, oh, promise! that you won't bring her here!" "No, darling, my second wife is going to choose Del Monte or Coronado!" William assured her. "I'll bet she does, the cat!"
On this truncated pyramid he distinguished, or thought he distinguished, one or more of the pueblos of the Moquis. He could not be quite sure, because the distance was fifteen miles, and the walls of these villages are of the same stone with the buttes upon which they stand. "There is our goal, if I am not mistaken," he said to Coronado. "When we get there we can rest."
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