e Spanish Crown thus recognized the
rank of Pizarro in American conquest. Cortez never earned and never
received such distinction.

This division of the honors led to very serious trouble. Almagro never
forgave Pizarro for coming out a greater man than he, and charged him
with selfishly and treacherously seeking the best for himself. Some
historians have sided with Almagro; but we have every reason to believe
that Pizarro acted straightforwardly and with truth. As he explained, he
made every effort to induce the Crown to give equal honors to Almagro;
but the Crown refused. Pizarro's word aside, it was merely political
common-sense for the Crown to refuse such a request. Two leaders
anywhere are a danger; and Spain already had had too bitter experience
with this same thing in America to care to repeat it. It was willing to
give all honor and encouragement to the arms; but there must be only one
head, and that head, of course, could be none but Pizarro. And certainly
any one who looks at the mental and moral difference between the two
men, and what were their actions and results both before and after the
royal grant, will concede that the Spanish Crown made a most liberal
estimate for Almagro, and gave him certainly quite as much as he was
worth. In the whole contract there is circumstantial evidence that
Pizarro did his best in behalf of his associate,--the ungrateful and
afterward traitorous Almagro,--an evidence mightily corroborated by
Pizarro's long patience and clemency toward his vulgar, ignoble, and
constantly deteriorating comrade. Pizarro had the head that fate could
not turn. He was neither crushed by adversity, nor, rarer yet, spoiled
by the most dazzling success,--wherein he rose superior to the greater
genius, but less noble man, Napoleon. When raised from lifelong, abject
poverty to the highest pinnacle of wealth and fame, Pizarro remained the
same quiet, modest, God-fearing and God-thanking, prudent, heroic man.
Success only intensified Almagro's base nature, and his end was
ignominious.

Having secured his contract with the Crown, Pizarro felt a longing to
see the scenes of his boyhood. Unhappy as they had been, there was a
manly satisfaction in going back to look upon these places. So the
ragged boy who had left his pigs at Truxillo, came back now a knighted
hero with gray hair and undying fame. I do not believe it was for the
sake of vain display before those who might remember him. That was
nowhere i