"One of the chief objects of this colonization scheme is to procure slaves, for the supply at Cuba and San Domingo is almost exhausted," replied De Soto. Estevan was about to enter a further remonstrance when De Soto suddenly led his mind to a more absorbing topic. "I have a surprise in store for you, Señor Estevan," he said.

"A surprise? What can it be?"

"As I was mustering my forces at Havana to embark, a new recruit presented himself, an old Can you not guess his name?"

friend of yours.

"I cannot."

"The Indian boy, Nicosia."

"Mother of Jesus!" and Estevan staggered as if he had been dealt a blow. De Soto was amazed at his strange emotion; but not understanding the cause, he concluded that it must be the result of surprise. After a few moments, during which he regained his composure, Estevan asked where Nicosia was, and if he could be assigned to his command. Certainly," De Soto answered. "I expected you would make this request, and had already decided on the arrangement. You were inseparable in Peru, and I supposed you would be the same in Florida. Where has the Indian boy been since his return from Peru?"

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"In Cuba, I believe."

"He has not been with you?"

Estevan shook his head in the negative. "There is some deep mystery about this young fellow which I cannot solve."

"No more can I, governor. Let me have Nicosia with me as soon as possible."

Estevan had grown suddenly pale, and his form, never known to quake in battle, was now trembling like an aspen-leaf. Walking apart to himself, he thought over the strange matter.

"There is something strange and incomprehensible in this Indian blood. A race the origin of which is unknown, with thought, manner and passions all new to us, is bound to be a mystery."

Nicosia joined him. The same sweet, humble, loving face which had been his guardian angel in Peru had come to follow him through the wilds of Florida. Once more he felt the magic spell of those dark, watchful eyes, and her sympathetic care. The troops were landing their horses, cattle, mules, hogs and effects, and Estevan had a few moments' leisure.

"Come with me," he said.

Nicosia, with downcast eyes, and olive cheek much paler than usual, followed him down the path, through tropical forests, into the dense everglades, where he paused and turned suddenly on Nicosia.

"Christoval!"

"No! not Christoval. Remember that I am Nicosia," she answered. "Nicosia, the Indian boy."

"While in that garb you are to be known to all others as Nicosia; but to me you are Christoval."

A glad, happy light dawned on her face, and she gave utterance to an almost suppressed cry of joy.

"You must to others be Nicosia, the Indian boy, but I will not forget that you are my dearly beloved sister. Why did you come, Christoval?"

Turning those great, soft eyes, all beaming with impassioned, overmastering love, to him, she answered:

"I learned you had joined De Soto and knew you would be in danger, so I followed to be ever near. Were you hard pressed, my hand could defend you, and if you were wounded or sick, I might be at hand to nurse you back to life and health."

For a moment Estevan stood gazing at her, an expression of pain and wonder on his face.

"Did my mother tell you she had received a letter from me?" he asked, after a pause.

"She did not."

"Know you nothing of what that letter contained ?"

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'Nothing," answered the disguised girl, her

beautiful eyes wide opened in wonder.

"Perhaps she received your letter after I disappeared to join De Soto at Havana. Did you write of me?"

"Yes," he answered, with a bitter sigh. "I could not forget my poor sister, who had dared so much to follow me through the wilds of Peru.” He did not tell her all that letter contained; of his secret marriage to Inez, for some reason, he had not the power to tell her. "What am I to do with

you now?"

"Nothing," she quickly answered.

"Allow me

to accompany you, and the army will not know but that I am an Indian boy. But for Nicosia, your body would have found interment in Peru.”

"I owe my life to you, Christoval, and would be happy to grant any request you would make; but I cannot consent to your going on this dangerous crusade. De Soto will soon send the ships back to Cuba, and you must go with them."

She shook her head; but he was firm in his command, and, fearing that he might force her to return, she stole away the night before the ships sailed on their return to Cuba, and could not be found, having secreted herself in one of the deepest everglades. Estevan, though the only one who surmised the correct cause of her disappearance, was much alarmed, fearing she had been captured by some band of Indians. He asked De Soto's per

mission to take a small party and go in search of the supposed Indian boy. His request was granted, and with a score of horsemen he set out on the search, which was as dangerous as it was futile. About a league from the camp of the Europeans, a large party of Indians was discovered. At sight of the steel-clad warriors mounted on those strange awe-inspiring beasts, they let fly a shower of arrows at them, one of which struck the breast-plate of Estevan.

"Lower visors-charge!" cried Estevan. With visors down and lances couched, they bore down on the Indians, all of whom save one fled in terror. That single savage fell on his knees imploring the cavaliers by gestures and piteous cries to spare him. Estevan's keen lance was almost at his breast, when, suddenly, to the amazement of all, he cried. in the Castilian tongue:

"I am a Christian!

me not!"

"Saints be praised!

I am a Christian! Slay

Can it be true?" cried

Estevan, dropping his lance, leaping from his saddle and seizing the hand of the poor wretch. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Jean Ortiz, a native of Seville, and for ten years I have been a slave or a wanderer in the