There came with Pizarro to Peru, a Spanish cavalier destined to make a name that will live as long as the history of the United States of America shall be read. His name was Hernando de Soto. He was a young, daring fellow, with a mind combining many noble qualities. He was ambitious, brave as a lion, and possessed excellent judgment. Without him it is doubtful if Pizarro would have succeeded in his conquest. He early formed a strong attachment for Estevan and next to Nicosia seemed his best friend.

Pizarro wanted a small party of horse to explore the wooded skirts of the vast sierra on the east and south, and De Soto and Estevan were selected to lead the expedition. Nicosia asked to become one of the party, but Pizarro refused his request. Soto watched the expression on his face as he turned away, and, as the party rode toward the Andes, he asked Estevan:

"How long have you known Nicosia?"

"I met him first at Panama."

"There is some deep mystery about him." "There is."

"Can you guess what it is?"

"No."

De

They did not discuss the subject further, for there seemed no key to the solution of the problem. In all their journey toward the foot-hills of the

Andes the matter was not mentioned again. They were destined to be the first white men to gaze on the wonders of Peruvian scenery, and for days they wandered through forests, beneath giant branches, through which the mountain winds swept in a weird and solemn symphony. A few savages were seen; but they fled into deeper forests at sight of the strangers. De Soto returned and made a report to Pizarro of what he had seen. After spending some time in reconnoitering the country, Pizarro came to the conclusion that the most suitable place for a settlement was in the rich valley of Tangarala, thirty leagues south of Tumbez, and traversed by streams which communicated with the ocean.

To this spot the army repaired, and with great ceremony began building the first town of the Europeans in Peru. Pizarro named the town San Miguel. Here he rested for some time with his troops, preparatory to his great achievement.

Estevan still lived in the hope that some ship from Panama would bring him tidings of Inez; but he was still doomed to disappointment. His mysterious friend Nicosia noted his drooping spirits and became serious on his account. He knew not the cause of Estevan's despondency, for, lover-like, the young cavalier kept his secret safely locked in his breast.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A CITY OF GOLD.

THE time had come for the Spaniards to cross the Andes and march to the interior. Caxamalca and Cuzco, the dream of the conqueror's life, lay beyond those snow-capped mountains. Their march had, hitherto, been along roads where they could occasionally catch a glimpse of the broad and lovely sea. It was with a sigh of deep regret that Estevan heard of the intended march across those wonderful mountains; not that he dreaded the journey, for he loved to explore great, unknown wilds, and there were no heights he would not dare climb, and no depths he would not descend, in search of the wonders and wealth of the earth; but not a word had he received from Inez since leaving Spain, and he began to entertain fears that he was forgotten. Perhaps, after all, Antonio might have won her from him. But for fear of being branded a coward he would have left Pizarro and returned to Panama.

One evening, late in September, De Soto came

to the tent in which Estevan and Nicosia were

sitting.

"To-morrow we leave San Miguel for Caxamalca," he said.

Estevan made no response. Although every step across those mountains took him further from Panama and Inez, yet he was tired of inactivity, and as she had not answered his letter, he felt the more willing to place the great natural barrier between them.

"The sooner we go the better; anything is more bearable than this inactivity," he declared, with a sigh.

Nicosia raised his soft, dark eyes to his face. "Can I go with you?" he asked.

"I suppose every one who wishes can go." "But I mean at your side-your comrade." "I know not what disposition Pizarro may make of his men, and we must obey his orders."

Without another word Nicosia rose and left the

tent.

"I know where he has gone," remarked De Soto. "So do I."

"All will depend upon the humor in which he finds Pizarro."

"I hope, for the boy's sake, his mood may be amiable."

"Have you solved the mystery about him?"

"No."

"Won't he tell you anything of his life, who he is, where he has lived, and the cause of his strange attachment for you?" asked De Soto.

"He will reveal nothing. All I know of him is that he is well acquainted with the world. He has travelled or read much. He seems acquainted with every part of this mysterious country."

After a few moments Nicosia returned as quietly as he had left, a happy gleam in his eyes indicating that he had found Pizarro in one of his agreeable moods.

Five months after landing at Tumbez, on the 24th of September, 1532, Pizarro marched at the head of his hardy adventurers out from the gates of San Miguel, leaving a party there to colonize the valley and await the recruits under Almagro. Putting himself at the head of his troops, the chief struck boldly into the heart of the country in the direction where, he was informed, lay the camp of the Inca. This was perhaps the most daring enterprise yet engaged in by any Spaniard in the New World. With a handful of followers, and, as yet, few Indian allies, he determined to penetrate the very heart of a powerful empire, and present himself face to face before the Indian monarch in his own camp, encompassed by the flower of his victorious army.