cult and perilous, as we are told by Condamine, who descended it in
1743, to be undertaken without the aid of a skilful pilot. Yet the daring
Spaniards accomplished it safely. Many times their vessel narrowly escaped
being dashed to pieces on the rocks or in the rapids of the stream. Still
greater was the danger of the voyagers from the warlike forest tribes, who
followed them for miles in canoes and fiercely attacked them whenever they
landed in search of food.

At length the extraordinary voyage was safely completed, and the
brigantine, built on the Napo, several thousand miles in the interior,
emerged on the Atlantic. Here Orellana proceeded to the island of Cubagna,
from which he made his way, with his companions, to Spain. He had a
wonderful story to tell, of nations of Amazons dwelling on the banks of
the great river, of an El Dorado said to exist in its vicinity, and other
romances, gathered from the uncertain stories of the savages.

He found no difficulty, in that age of marvels and credulity, in gaining
belief, and was sent out at the head of five hundred followers to conquer
and colonize the realms he had seen. But he died on the outward voyage,
and Spain got no profit from his discovery, the lands of the Amazon
falling within the territory assigned by the Pope to Portugal.

Orellana had accomplished one of the greatest feats in the annals of
travel and discovery, though his glory was won at the cost of the crime of
deserting his companions in the depths of the untrodden wilderness. It was
with horror and indignation that the deserted soldiers listened to the
story of Vargas, and found themselves deprived of their only apparent
means of escape from that terrible situation. An effort was made to
continue their journey along the banks of the Amazon, but after some days
of wearying toil, this was given up as a hopeless task, and despair
settled down upon their souls.

Gonzalo Pizarro now showed himself an able leader. He told his despairing
followers that it was useless to advance farther, and that they could not
stay where they were, their only hope lying in a return to Quito. This was
more than a thousand miles away, and over a year had passed since they
left it. To return was perilous, but in it lay their only hope.

Gonzalo did all he could to reanimate their spirits, speaking of the
constancy they had shown, and bidding them to show themselves worthy of
the name of Castilians. Glory would be theirs when