HOW COLUMBUS GAINED A QUEEN FOR HIS FRIEND.

When you wish very much to do a certain thing it is dreadfully hard to
be patient; it is harder still to have to wait. Columbus had to do both.
The wars against the Moors were of much greater interest to the king and
queen of Spain than was the finding of a new and very uncertain way to
get to Cathay. If it had not been for the patience and what we call the
persistence of Columbus, America would never have been discovered--at
least not in his time.

He staid in Spain. He grew poorer and, poorer. He was almost friendless.
It seemed as if his great enterprise must be given up. But he never lost
hope. He never stopped trying. Even when he failed he kept on hoping and
kept on trying. He felt certain that sometime he should succeed.

As we have seen, he tried to interest the rulers of different countries,
but with no success. He tried to get help from his old home-town of
Genoa and failed; he tried Portugal and failed; he tried the Republic of
Venice and failed; he tried the king and queen of Spain and failed; he
tried some of the richest and most powerful of the nobles of Spain
and failed; he tried the king of England (whom he got his brother,
Bartholomew Columbus, to go and see) and failed. There was still left
the king of France. He would make one last attempt to win the king and
queen of Spain to his side and if he failed with them he would try the
last of the rulers of Western Europe, the king of France.

He followed the king and queen of Spain as they went from place to place
fighting the Moors. He hoped that some day, when they wished to think
of something besides fighting, they might think of him and the gold and
jewels and spices of Cathay.

The days grew into months, the months to years, and still the war
against the Moors kept on; and still Columbus waited for the chance that
did not come. People grew to know him as "the crazy explorer" as they
met him in the streets or on the church steps of Seville or Cordova, and
even ragged little boys of the town, sharp-eyed and shrill-voiced as all
such ragged little urchins are, would run after this big man with
the streaming white hair and the tattered cloak, calling him names or
tapping their brown little foreheads with their dirty fingers to show
that even they knew that he was "as crazy as a loon."

At last he decided to make one more attempt before giving it up in
Spain. His money was gone; his friends were few; but he