ly wild; of Ponce de Leon, who had sought for
the Bimini Isle, where arose a fountain whose waters could cause men
to grow young again; of the Sieur D'Ottigny, who set sail for the
Unknown in search of wealth, singing songs as if bound for a bridal
feast; and of Vasseur, who first brought news of the distant
Appalachian Mountains, whose slopes teem with precious metals and with
gems beyond price. But always the narration would return to El Dorado
on the shores of Parima. Then the little boy would ask, "But, Grandpa,
is it true, or is it only a faery-tale? Was there ever such a city,
and does it exist to-day?" Whereupon the old gentleman would grow very
serious and would reply, "Certainly there is such a city, my dear; for
when I was young I went in search of it, and your father is out there
finding it to-day."

After which answer he would get out maps, and show the child the red
lines, which were his own journeys, and the exact spot in the
watershed of the Orinoco where he believed the city to stand. Then
they would reason about it together, bending low beneath the lamp,
tracing out the various routes of past explorers, until his mother
came in and, seeing what they were so busy about, carried him off to
bed. At an early age he discovered that his mother approved neither of
the grand-father's stories, nor of her husband's absence. She was
often at pains to tell him that there was no such city, that the
stories were all fables, and that his grandpapa had wasted his fortune
and talents in its search. But the boy believed in the fables, for he
liked to think of his father as sailing up the Great Amana, where the
deer feed along the banks, until at last he came to the golden city
where the men are like gilded statues. He was sure that his papa would
return rich one day, bringing with him an Inca princess for his son to
marry.

But, when his father did return, he brought back with him only a
fever-shattered body for his wife to nurse, and a plucky belief that
he would succeed next time. Ah, but those were good days which he had
spent by his father's bedside, when he had gazed on that fair-haired,
soldierly man who had trodden in Raleigh's footsteps! He remembered
how his father had laughed when he had asked in awe-struck tones
whether he might be allowed to kiss his hands, and how he had said,
"If I do not find, you will seek for it some day"--and then he had
felt proud. How eagerly he had listened when the two explorers,