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On the 3d of March, 1540, De Soto's army left Anhayca, which is said to have been near the site of Tallahassee, and marched northward. They had spent some time with the Indians at this town of Anhayca, and had sent out parties that committed depredations wherever an Indian settlement could be found.
De Soto thought this country might be somewhere in Florida, and prepared to search for the Gilded Man, or in the Spanish language El Dorado. THE COMRADES OF DE SOTO. More than six hundred men, some of them from the oldest families of the nobility of Spain and Portugal, flocked to De Soto's banner.
Pressing on without delay, they soon reached Uribaracaxi, which town it is supposed was situated near the head of the Hillsborough river, which stream empties into Tampa Bay. The chief was still absent, in his place of refuge, amidst the fastnesses of the forest. All of De Soto's friendly endeavors to draw him from his retreat proved unavailing.
While this design was in agitation, Cabeca de Vaca, one of those who had survived the expedition of Narvaez, appeared in Spain, and for purposes of his own spread abroad the mischievous falsehood, that Florida was the richest country yet discovered. De Soto's plans were embraced with enthusiasm.
The historians of De Soto's expedition mention Indian merchants who sold salt to the inland tribes. "In 1565 and for some years previous bison skins were brought by the Indians down the Potomac, and thence carried along-shore in canoes to the French about the Gulf of St. Lawrence. During two years six thousand skins were thus obtained."
These were of the Mitchigamea tribe, who, with the Chickasaws and others of the Muskoki family, fought the Spaniards so valiantly. Canoes were putting out above and below, to cut off the explorers' retreat, while some young warriors on the shore were hastily stringing their bows, all animated doubtless by bitter memories of white men inherited from Soto's time.
It was not beautiful, it was not even picturesque, but its size, its loneliness and its desolation gave it a somber grandeur, which all the travelers felt. It was the same river that had received De Soto's body many generations before, and it was still a mystery. "We know where it goes to, for the sea receives them all," said Mr. Pennypacker, "but no man knows whence it comes."
"I happen to know that he has been laying his plans for weeks to get here, frequenting Soto's and other restaurants, and scraping acquaintances with some of my friends. The Duke of Tadchester brought him won a few hundreds from him at baccarat, I suppose. His grace will never again find these doors open to him." Francis' attention had wandered.
There was certainly not a soul in Soto's that night who did not know that Bobby Fairfax had been arrested in the bar below for the murder of Victor Bidlake, had taken poison and died on the way to the police station. Yet the same number of dinners were ordered and eaten, the same quantity of wine drunk.
A thrush was singing noisily. A few yards away they heard the soft swish of the river. "Tell me," she asked curiously, "my father still speaks of you as being in some respects an enemy. What does he mean?" "I will tell you exactly," he answered. "The first time I ever spoke to your father I was dining at Soto's. I was talking to Andrew Wilmore.
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