South American Fights and Fighters, and Other Tales of Adventure

by Cyrus Townsend Brady

  {315}

  VI

  Being a Boy Out West

  I am in some doubt as to whether to call this particular reminiscence"Pants That I Have Worn" or "Trousers Like Those Mother Used to Make."For either name seems admirably suitable to the situation.

  I was the oldest son in a numerous family, and therefore had theheritage of my father's clothes. He was an exceedingly neat andcareful man, and never--to my sorrow be it said--did he ever wear outanything, unless it were an apple switch on me or my brothers. I hadto wear out all his old clothes, it seemed to me. It was not a matterof choice but of necessity with me. My younger brother always escaped.By the time I had finished anything, there was no more of it. It wentperforce to the ragman, if he would condescend to accept it.

  There was a certain sad, plum-colored, shad-bellied coat that flashesathwart my memory in hideous recollection, which wrapped itselfportentiously about my slim figure, to the great delectation of myyoung friends and companions, and to my corresponding misery. I canrecall their satirical criticisms vividly even now. They enjoyed ithugely, especially the little girls. Think of a small--say"skinny"--little boy, about nine or ten years old, in a purpleshad-bellied coat which had been made to fit (?) him by cutting off thesleeves, also the voluminous tails just below the back buttons!

  {316} I could never understand the peculiar taste my father manifestedin his younger days, for when I recall the age which permitted me towear cut-down clothing (and that age arrived at an extraordinary earlyperiod in my existence, it appeared to me), such a fearful andwonderful assortment of miscellaneous garments of all colors, shapesand sizes as were resurrected from the old chests in the garret, wherethey had reposed in peaceful neglect for half a generation, theuninitiated can scarcely believe.

  The shad-bellied coat was bad enough--you could take that off,though--but there was something worse that stayed on. Fortunatelythere is one season in the year when coats in the small Westernvillage, in which I lived, were at a discount, especially on smallboys, and that was summer. But on the warmest of summer days the mostrecklessly audacious youngster has to wear trousers even in the mostsequestered village.

  One pair rises before me among the images of many and will not down.The fabric of which this particular garment was made was colored alight cream, not to say yellow. There was a black stripe, a piece ofround black braid down each leg, too, and the garment was as heavy asbroadcloth and as stiff as a board. Nothing could have been moreunsuitable for a boy to wear than that was. I rebelled and protestedwith all the strength of my infantile nature, but it was needs must--Ihad either to wear them or to remain in bed indefinitely. Swallowingmy pride, in spite of my mortification, I put them on and salliedforth, but little consoled by the approving words and glances of mymother, who took what I childishly believed to be an utterlyunwarranted pride in her--shall I say--adaptation or reduction? Thosetrousers had a {317} sentimental value for her, too, as I was to learnlater. As for me, I fairly loathed them.

  Many times since then, I have been the possessor of a "best and onlypair," but never a pair of such color, quality and shape. They wereoriginally of the wide-seated, peg-top variety, quite like the fashionof to-day, by the way--or is it yesterday, in these times of suddenchanges?--and when they were cut off square at the knee and shirred orgathered or reefed in at the waist, they looked singularly like thetypical "Dutchman's breeches." I might have worn them as one ofHendrik Hudson's crew in "Rip Van Winkle"--which was, even in thosedays, the most popular play in which Joseph Jefferson appeared. Youcan see how long ago it was from that.

  Well, I put them on in bitterness of heart. How the other boys greetedme until they got used to them--which it seemed to me they never would!Unfortunately for them, anyway, they had only one day, one brief day,in which to make game of me; for the first time I wore them somethinghappened.

  There was a pond on a farm near our house called, from its owner,"Duffy's Pond." The water drained into a shallow low depression in alarge meadow, and made a mudhole, a cattle wallow. Little boys have afondness for water, when it is exposed to the air--that is, when it ismuddy, when it is dirty--which is in adverse ratio to their zest fornice, clean water in a nice clean tub. To bathe and be clean does notseem instinctive with boys. And how careful we were not to wet thebacks of our hands and our wrists except when in swimming! And howhard did our parents strive to teach us to distribute our ablutionsmore generally!

  {318} Well, Mr. Duffy did not allow boys to swim in his pond, whichmade it all the more inviting. It was a hot August day when I firstput on those cream-colored pants. Naturally, we went in swimming.Having divested ourselves of our clothing--and with what joy I cast offthe hideous garment!--we had to wade through twenty or thirty yards ofmud growing deeper and more liquid with every step, until we reachedthe water. We were having a great time playing in the ooze when Mr.Duffy appeared in sight. He was an irascible old man, and did not lovehis neighbors' children! He had no sympathy at all with us in oursports; he actually begrudged us the few apples we stole when they wereunripe and scarce, and as for watermelons--ah, but he was an unfeelingfarmer!

  Fortunately, he had no dog with him that morning, nothing but a gun--anold shotgun with the barrels sawed off at half their length, loadedwith beans or bacon, or pepper or sand, I don't remember which--theywere all bad enough if they hit you. The alarm was given instantly,and we made a wild rush for the tall grass through that mud. You canfancy how dirty we became, splashing, stumbling, wallowing in it. Mr.Duffy, firing beans at us from the rear, accelerated our pace to afrightful degree. Fortunately again, like Hamlet, he was "fat andscant o' breath," and we could run like deer, which we did. _En route_I grabbed my shirt with one hand and those cream-colored pants with theother.

  The mud of that pond was the thick, black, sticky kind. It stainedhideously anything light that it touched, as irrevocably as sin. Thosetrousers had been clasped against my boyish muddy breast or flappedagainst my muddy, skinny legs, and they were {319} a sight to behold!There was no water available for miles where we stopped. We rubbedourselves off with the burnt grass of August and dusty leaves as wellas we could, dressed ourselves and repaired home.

  I was a melancholy picture. The leopard could have changed his spotsas easily as I. Yet I well remember the mixture of fierce joy andterrified apprehension that pervaded me. I arrived home aboutdinner-time. Father was there. "Wh--what!" he cried in astonishment."Where have you been, sir?"

  "Those," sobbed my mother in anguished tones, "were your father'swedding trousers! I gave them to you with reluctance and as a greatfavor, you wretched boy, and--and--you have ruined them."

  I was taken upstairs, thoroughly washed, scrubbed--in the tub, whichwas bad enough--and when sufficiently clean to be handed to my father,he and I had an important interview in the wood-shed--our penalinstitution--over which it were well to draw the curtain. There was ahappy result to the adventure, however: I never wore the cream-coloredpants again, and hence my joy. The relief was almost worth the licking.

  Some of the material, however, was worked up into a patchwork quilt,and of the rest my mother made a jacket for my sister. My mother couldnot look upon those things without tears; neither could I! Why is itthat grown people will be so inconsiderate about a little boy's clothes?

  It was the fashion of many years before I was born for people--that is,men and boys--to wear shawls. There was a dearth in the familyexchequer on one occasion--on many occasions, I may say, but this {320}was a particular one. I had no overcoat, at least not one suitable forSunday, and really it would have been preposterous to have attempted tocut down one of father's for me. That feat was beyond even my mother'sfacile scissors, and she could effect marvels with them, I knew to mycost. It was a bitter cold winter day, I remember, and my mother, inthe kindness of her heart, brought to light one of those long, narrow,fringed, brilliantly colored plaided shawls, so that I should not missSunday school. I was perfectly willing to miss it, then or
any othertime, for any excuse was a good one for that. But no, I was wrapped upin it in spite of my frantic protests and despatched with my littlesister--she who wore the cream-colored trousers-jacket--to the church.Strange to say, she did not mind at all.

  We separated outside the house door, and I ran on alone. I had evolveda deep, dark purpose. I went much more rapidly than she, and as soonas I turned the corner, and was safely out of sight, I tore off thathateful shawl and when I arrived at the meeting-house I ignominiouslythrust it into the coal heap in the dilapidated shed in the corner ofthe lot. I was almost frozen by the time I arrived, but any conditionwas better than that shawl.

  The Sunday school exercises proceeded as usual, but in the middle ofthem, the janitor who had gone into the coal house for the wherewithalto replenish the fires, came back with the shawl. I had rammed itrather viciously under the coal, and it was a filthy object. Thesuperintendent held it up by finger and thumb and asked to whom itbelonged.

  "Why, that's our Johnny's" piped up my little sister amid a verydisheartening roar of laughter from the {321} school. There was no usein my denying the statement. Her reputation for veracity was muchhigher than mine, and I recognized the futility of trying to convinceany one that she was mistaken. At the close of the session I had towrap myself in that coal-stained garment and go forth. I was attendedby a large delegation of the scholars when the school was over. Theydid not at all object to going far out of their way to escort me home,and they left me at my own gate.

  It was Sunday, and it was against my father's religious principles tolick us on Sunday--that was one of the compensations, youthfulcompensations of that holy day--but Monday wasn't far off, and father'smemory was remarkably acute. Ah, those sad times, but there was fun inthem, too, after all.

  There was a little boy who lived near us named Henry Smith. He and Iwere inseparable. He had a brother three years older than himselfwhose name was Charles. Charles was of course much taller and strongerthan Henry and myself, and he could attend to one of us easily. Butboth of us together made a pretty good match for him. Consequently wehunted in couples, as it were. Charles was unduly sensitive about hisChristian name. I think he called it his unchristian name. Not the"Charles" part of it, that was all right, but his parents hadinconsiderately saddled him with the hopeless additional name of PeterVan Buskirk Smith! All we had to do to bring about a fight was toapproach him and address him as "Peter Van Buskirk." He bitterlyresented it, which was most unreasonable of him. I recall times whenthe three of us struggled in the haymow for hours at a time, Peter VanBuskirk, furiously angry, striving to force an apology or retraction,and Henry and I having a glorious time refusing him.

  We were safe enough while we were together, but when he caught usalone--O my! I can remember it yet. He was always Charles, at thattime, but it was of no use. Yet notwithstanding the absolute certaintyof a severe thrashing when he caught us singly, we never could refrainfrom calling him "Peter Van Buskirk" when we were together.

  Why is it that parents are so thoughtless about the naming of theirchildren? I knew a boy once named Elijah Draco and there was anotherlad of my acquaintance who struggled under the name of Lord Byron.That wasn't so bad, because we shortened it to "By," but "Elijah Draco"was hopeless, so we called him "Tommy," as a rebuke to his unfeelingparents.

  Charles Peter Van Buskirk was a funny boy. He was as brave as a lion.You could pick him up by the ears, which were long--and shall I sayhandy?--and he never would howl. We knew that was the way to tell agood dog. "Pick him up by the ears; an' if he howls, he'll be nofighter!" And we thought what was a good test for a dog could not beamiss for a boy.

  He had a dog once, sold to him for a quarter when it was a pup by aspecious individual of the tramp variety, as one of the finest"King-Newf'un'lan'--Bull Breed." His appetite and his vices were inproportion to his descriptions, but he had no virtues that we coulddiscover. With a boy's lack of inventiveness we called him "Tiger"although anything less ferocious than he would be hard to find. He wasmore like a sheep in spirit than anything else. But Charles thought hesaw signs of promise in that pup, and in spite of our disparagingremarks he clung to him. Charles knew a lot about dogs, or thought hedid, which was the same thing.

  I remember we were trying to teach Tige to "lead" one day. He had nomore natural aptitude for leading than an unbroken calf. The perversedog at last flattened himself down on his stomach, spread-eagledhimself on the ground, and stretched his four legs out as stiff as hecould. We dragged him over the yard until he raised a pile of dirt andleaves in front of him like a plow in an untilled field. He would not"lead," although we nearly choked him to death trying to teach him.Then we tried picking him up by the ears, applying that test forcourage and blood, you know! You might have heard that dog yelp formiles. He had no spirit at all. Charles Peter Van Buskirk wasdisgusted with him.

  We got out a can of wagon-grease and spotted him artistically to makehim look like a coach-dog, which was legitimate, as coach-dogs arenotoriously remarkable for lack of courage. They are only forornament. That was a pretty-looking animal when it rained. We changedhis name, too, and called him "Kitty," regardless of his sex. It wasthe last insult to a dog, we thought, but he never seemed to mind it.I feel sorry for that dog as I look back at him now, and it ratherprovoked Charles when we subsequently asked his opinion of any otherdog. This we did as often as there were enough of us together to makeit safe.

  When we felt very reckless, we used to go in swimming in the river,which was a very dangerous proceeding indeed, for the Missouri is atreacherous, wicked {324} stream, full of "suck-holes" and whirlpoolsand with a tremendous current, especially during the June "rise." Thepractice was strictly forbidden by all right-minded parents, includingour own. Frequently, however, in compliance with that mysterious sign,the first two fingers of the right hand up-lifted and held wide apart,which all boys over a thousand miles of country knew meant "Will you goswimming?" we would make up a party after school and try the flood.

  Father usually inspected us with a rather sharper eye, when we camesneaking in the back way after such exercises. For a busy man, fatherhad a habit, that was positively maddening, of happening upon a boy atthe wrong time. We used to think we had no privacy at all.

  "Hum!" he was wont to say, looking suspiciously at our wet, sleek headsand general clean appearance--clean for us, that is, for the MissouriRiver, sandy though it was, was vastly cleaner than Duffy's Pond orpuddles of that ilk--"been in swimming again, have you? In the river,I'll be bound."

  Two little boys, my brother and I would choke out some sort of amumbling evasion in lieu of a reply.

  "How did you get your hair wet?" the old man would continue, rising andfeeling two guilty little heads.

  "Per-perspiration, sir," we would gasp out faintly.

  "And that vile odor about you? Hey? Is that perspiration, too?"sniffing the air with a grim resolution that made our hearts sink.

  We had been smoking drift-wood, the vilest stuff that anybody can putin his mouth. This was enough to betray us.

  "It's no use, boys; you needn't say another word," father would add inthe face of our desperate and awful {325} attempts at an adequateexplanation. "You know what I told you. Go to the wood-shed!"

  Oh, that wood-shed! "Abandon ye all hope who enter here" should havebeen written over its door. Often mother would interfere--bless hertender heart!--but not always. Father was a small man of sedentaryhabits, not given to athletic exercises. A board across two barrelsafforded a convenient resting-place for the arms and breast of the oneappointed to receive the corporal punishment, and a barrel stave was anexcellent instrument with which to administer it. I said father was asmall, weak man. When he got through with us we used to think he wouldhave made a splendid blacksmith. Our muscles were pretty strong, andour skin callous--"the hand of little use hath the daintiertouch!"--but they were as nothing to his. We always tired of that gamebefore he did, although we played it often.


  Two of us, I recall, have carried large tubs up the steep bank from theriver to the train at 4 A. M. on a summer morning, when the circus cameto town. We were proud to be privileged to water the elephants, but itkilled us to split wood for a day's burning in the kitchen stove. Wenever were good for anything except assisting the circus people, oncircus day. School was torture, and it was generally dismissed.

  Our father was mayor of the town, and the mayor's children usually gotin free. On one occasion we yielded to the solicitations of our mostintimate friends and assembled thirty of them in a body. This group ofchildren of all ages and sizes--and there was even one lone "nigger" init--we were to pass through the gate by declaring that we were themayor's children.

  "Great heavens!" cried the ticket man, appalled {326} at the sight,"How many blame children has the mayor of the town got? Is he aMormon, anyway, or what? An' how about that one?" pointing to thedarky.

  Father was standing near. We had not seen him. He turned and surveyedthe multitude, including the black boy, that we had foisted upon him.It was a humorous situation, but father didn't see it that way. Hesent all of us home with a few scathing words. My younger brother andI wanted to go to that circus more than we ever wanted to go to anycircus before. We slept in a half-story room with windows opening onthe porch roof. That night we climbed out on the roof and slid downthe porch to the ground at the risk of breaking our necks.

  Henry and Charles met us by appointment. We none of us had any moneyand we resolved to sneak in, our services at watering the elephants notbeing considered worthy of a ticket. My brother and I got in safelyunder the canvas in one place. Henry succeeded in effecting anentrance in another, but Charles Peter Van Buskirk got caught. A flatboard in the hands of a watchman made a close connection with hisanatomy. Charles was hauled back, well paddled and sent home.Circuses were a tabooed subject where he was concerned for some timethereafter.

  William, my brother, and I clambered through the legs of the crowd onthe seats after we got into the canvas tent. As luck would have it, weran right into the arms of our father. I was paralyzed, but Williamburst out with a boldness that savored of an inspiration, "Why father,you here? I thought you were going to prayer-meeting."

  Everybody laughed, father said nothing; some one made room for us, andwe watched the performance {327} with mingled feelings of delight andapprehension. The wood-shed loomed up awfully black as we passed itthat night. We held our breath. However, father never said anythingto us but, "Good night, boys. I hope you had a good time."

  We certainly had. And we escaped the usual licking, deserved though itwas. And it wasn't Sunday, either.

  But where was I? O, yes! Charles Peter Van Buskirk one Saturdaymorning announced his intention of going on an expedition across theriver. Over the river from where we lived was "Slab Town," dilapidatedlittle settlement of no social or moral consideration. The oldcaptain, the pilot of the wheezy ferry-boat _Edgar_, was our swornfriend, and allowed us to ride free as often as we could get away.Charles intended crossing the river to get pawpaws. A pawpaw is aneasily mashed fruit, three or four inches long, with a tough skininclosing a very liquid pulp full of seeds, and about as solid as acream puff, when it is dead ripe. It grows on a low, stunted bush-liketree.

  We were mighty fond of pawpaws, but little fellows as we were didn'tdare to cross the river and venture into "Slab Town" or its vicinity,for such an excursion within its territory usually provoked a fightwith the young ruffians of that hamlet, who hated the village boys asaristocrats.

  "You'd better not go over there, Charles," we advised him timorously."Those Slab Town boys will take your pawpaws away from you."

  I can see now the chesty movement with which Charles stuck out hisbreast, threw back his shoulders, curved inward and swung his arms, andwent away basket in hand, remarking in a lordly manner; "Aw, who'sgoin' to take _my_ pawpaws?"

  {328} It was evening when the rash youth returned. He came slinking upthe back alley in a vain endeavor to elude observation, but we had anumber of his and our friends on the watch for him--to see that hereturned safely, of course--and we gave him a royal greeting. We hadbeen true prophets, though without honor in Charles's sight. The SlabTown boys had taken his pawpaws in a spirit of aggressiveappropriation, which was bad enough, but with rare and unusualgenerosity they had afterward returned them to Charles. They had notput them back in his basket, however, but had heaped themindiscriminately upon his person. It appears that he must have run formiles pursued by a howling mob of all the ruffians over there, engagedin the happy pastime of throwing soft, mushy pawpaws at him. Charlescould hardly see; in fact he could hardly walk. He was plastered withpawpaws from his head to his feet.

  Thereafter when we wanted to provoke a fight, all that was necessarywhen the unappreciated portion of his name was flung at him and was notsufficient to awaken his ire, was to throw out our chests, hold backour shoulders, curve our arms and say in a throaty voice, "Who's goingto take _my_ pawpaws?"

  I feel tempted to use the old phrase in certain modern circumstancesto-day when it seems to fit some bold and reckless endeavor. I havenever forgotten Charles's "who's-goin'-to-take-_my_-pawpaws" air!

  We were sometimes able to get a little money together by doing oddjobs--not for our parents, however, but for the neighbors. We hadplenty of odd jobs to do at home, but such work was a matter ofobligation and not remunerative, nor was it interesting. With thismoney Henry and I each bought a game-chicken, {329} which we keptcooped up separately in the back lot behind the stable. Neither fathernor mother knew anything about it, of course.

  We would let these two game-cocks out half a dozen times a day. Theywould rush at each other fiercely, but before the battle was fairly on,we would summarily part them, and put them back in their coops, whichwere placed opposite each other, when they would indulge inchicken-swearing and personalities as much as they desired. Theirappetites for fighting were whetted indeed. In fact, there was so muchanimosity engendered between these two birds that they would rushtogether like two express trains trying to pass each other on the sametrack whenever they were turned loose. There was no time sparring fortime or position. It was fight from the moment they saw each other,although we never let them strike more than one blow or two. Ahalf-minute round was enough for us. I think it really scared us.

  Charles, in spirit of revenge, let them out one day during our absence.When we got back from school we had only one chicken between us. Itwas a wonderful chicken, for it had beaten the other, although theconquered bird had fought until it had been killed. We burned him on afuneral pyre as a dead gladiator, with much ceremony and boyishspeaking. We wanted to sacrifice to his _manes_ a hen as his wife, butfinally concluded to abandon that part of the ceremony; mother keptcount of the hens, you see.

  Of course, Julius Caesar (as we named him) had the run of the yardthereafter, there being no one to oppose him. He led a very peacefullife until our next door neighbor bought a large Shanghai rooster. Iforgot now what particular breed our rooster was, {330} but he wassmall, not much larger than a bantam. The Shanghai rooster, which wasa huge monster, had the most provoking crow, large, loud andaggressive. An alley intervened between the yard where he held forthand our yard. One day we came home from school and looked for ourchicken. He was gone!

  We hunted everywhere for him, but could not find him. We missed thecrowing of the Shanghai rooster, which had been frequent andexasperating, I have no doubt. The yard was very silent. We pursuedour investigations with zeal and finally reached the alley. It hadbeen raining heavily for almost a week, and the alley was a mass ofblack, sticky mud. Gazing anxiously over the fence, we heard a feeblechirp from a large gob of mud in the alley. It was our rooster!

  The Shanghai had rashly ventured into supposed neutral ground in thatalley and had crowed once too often. The little game cock had squeezedthrough the fence and come over to investigate the situation. They hadfought there in the mud. The m
ud was too deep for the Shanghai to runand the bantam killed him. During the battle the victor had become socovered with mud that he could neither move nor crow nor see. He wasin a worse state than Charles with the pawpaws, and indifferent tohonors.

  We took him and washed him. He seemed none the worse for hisadventure, but that battle must have been a royal one. It was thesecond one we had not seen! We felt like the Roman public deprived ofits "_Circenses_." We really never did see that chicken fight, for hegot the pip or something, a few days after, perhaps from the microbesin the alley, and in spite of our careful nursing, or possibly becauseof it, he died. He died just in time, too, for after we had put {331}him away with more ceremony than we had used before, father who had gotsome inkling of the affair, suddenly broke out at supper: "Boys, areyou keeping game-cocks in the back lot? Fighting-chickens, eh?"

  "No, sir," we both answered meekly, with a clear conscience and asteady eye.

  We had lots of pets in those days; some time they may serve for anotherstory.

  THE END

  {335}

  INDEX

  A

  Abancay, battle of, 102. Acla, Spanish settlement, 45-49 Aguilar, Geronimo de, 122 Alcantara, Martin de, 54, 106, 107 Alderete, the King's Treasurer, 205-212 _Alfred_, the, Jones's first ship, 283 Almagrists, the, 106, 111 Almagro, Diego de, 57-67; 88-93; 101-104; 107 Diego, the son, 104, 108, 109 Alvarado, Pedro de, called Tonatiuh, 102, 109, 174, 184, 186, 187, 194 Amazon River, 105 America, Central, 3 South, 3, 4, 18, 27 Anahuac, Empire of, 125 Andalusia, New, 7 Antigua del Darien, Maria de la, 20, 23-27; 33-41 Arbolancha, 42 Arguello, the notary, 48, 49 Arrows, poisoned, used by Indians, 10, 11, 13, 14 Astor, John Jacob, 261-272 Fur Trading Company, 262 Astoria, 262-276 Atahualpa, 71-92; 108 Avila, Pedro Arias de, called Pedrarias, 32-35; 42-50; 56 Ayxacatl, 169,176 Aztec Empire, 115, 116, 125, 132 Holy of Holies, 134 wealth, 135 last of the Kings, 219 Aztecs, the, 69, 116, 125-130; 133, 176, 182-187; 194-198; 215-219

  B

  Badajoz, 53 Bahamas, the, 4 Balboa, Vasco Nunez de, accompanies Encisco to San Sebastian, 19 placed in charge at Antigua, 20 seeks to serve Nicuesa, 25 further adventures, 31-50 referred to, 107 Barron, James, 251, 252 Bastidas, an explorer, 5 "Battery of the Fearless," referred to, 74 (footnote) Bay, Chesapeake, 4 Bentham, Jeremy, 248 Biddle, Major Thomas, 255 Biru, land of, early name of Peru, 56 chieftain named, 56 _Bonhomme Richard_, the, 285, 286 Bowie, James, 252-254 knives, 253 Brackett, Charles, 305 Broderick, Senator, 256-258 Buccaneers, the, 3 Burr, Aaron, 248 C

  Cabot, John, 4 Cabral, Portuguese explorer, 5 Caceres, 53 Cacique, Indian, Caonabo, 6 Cemaco, 20 Careta, of Cueva, 36 Comagre, 37, 56 of Tenepal, 115 Monteczuma, so called in Cortes's letter, 156 Quahpopoca, 172 of Tlacuba, 216 Cannibalism universal among Aztecs, 126 Capac, Manco, 68, 85, 92, 93, 95, 111, 112 Huayna, 71, 108 Cape, de la Vela, 7 Gracias a Dios, 7 Careta, Cacique of Cueva, 36 Caribbean Sea, 3, 13 Carrero, Alonzo de Puerto, 123 Cartagena, 10, 18 Carvajal, 109-111 Castile, Golden, 8 King of, 40 Joanna of, 41 Castro, Vaca de, 109 Caverns, Infernal, of Pitt River, 311 Caxamarca, massacre of, 73-85 Cempoalla, town of, 135 Cacique of, 135 people of, 135, 166 Central America, 3 Chalcuchimo, 72, 85, 92 Chapus, field of, 109 Charles V., of Spain, 82, 88, 92, 95, 109, 137, 147, 217, 218, 220 Chase, Owen, mate of the _Essex_, 231 Chaves, Francisco de, 106 Chesapeake, Bay, 4 American ship, 251 Chili, Almagro goes to, 93 Valdivia partially conquers, 109 Men of, 102-107 coast of, 231, 237 Cholula, 140, 145, 146 Cholulans, the, 145, 146, 194 Cilley, Jonathan, 255, 256 Cipango, referred to, 37 Claverhouse, compared with Cortes, 120 Coatzacualco, Province of, 115 Colmenares, Rodrigo de, 23 Columbus, Christopher, 4, 5, 6, 23, 37, 117, 132 Diego, 9, 35 Comagre, Indian chief, 37, 56 Conception, a whaling ground, 231 Cordova, Gonsalvo de, 117 Cortes, Hernando (or Fernando), mentioned, 9, 75, 107; lands at Vera Cruz, 116; story of his birth and early life, 117; voyage to Santo Domingo and Cuba, 118; described by Helps and Diaz, 118-120; expedition to Mexico, 120-125; march to Tenochtitlan, 130; personal character of, 133; describes Tlascala, 138-140; massacres Cholulans, 145, 146; describes Mexico, 147-162; meets Montezuma, 162-167; seizes the Emperor, 171-173; Mexico rebels against, 175; attacks Mexico, 192-218; the end of, 218-223; descriptions of, 223-228 Cosa, Juan de la, 4, 5, 7, 10, 12 Costa Rica, 21 Coya, the Inca's legal wife, 72 Crook, George, 301-311 Crozier, William, captain of the brig _Indian_, 240 Cuba, 3, 16, 55, 120 Cueyabos, 16 Cuitlahua, 136, 176, 191 Cuzco, 75, 85, 87, 92, 93, 102-111

  D

  Darien, Isthmus of, 5, 26, 32, 37, 55, 109 Maria de la Antigua del, 20, 23-27; 33-41 Quevedo, Bishop of, 33, 44 _Dauphin_, Nantucket Whaler, 242 Davila, another name for Pedrarias, 32 (footnote) De Candia, 66, 73, 79, 104, 109 Decatur, Stephen, 251, 252 De Soto, Hernando, 33, 67, 68; 77-89; 107 Despotism, communistic, form of government on South American coast, 68 Diaz, Bernal, 119, 124, 134, 135, 167, 179 (footnote), 223, 224, 225 Porfirio, 224 Dickinson, Charles, 248-250 Dios, Nombre de, 23, 36 Disappointment, Cape, 269, 270 _Duras, Duc de_, an East Indiaman, 285

  E

  El Dorado, 9, 57, 59, 93 El Galan, nickname of Pedrarias, 33 El Justador, nickname of Pedrarias, 33 Encisco, 8; 17-20; 31, 32, 42, 66 English, their first appearance on the South American coast, 5 Espinosa, 33, 48, 60 Esquivel, Juan de, 9 _Essex_, the whaleship, 231-242 Estremadura, birthplace of the Pizarros, 53 birthplace of Cortes, 117

  F

  Felippo, the interpreter, 82, 89, 90 Ferdinand, King, of Spain, 5, 7, 41 Fiske, John, 4, 43, 63 (footnote), 122, 125, 168, 226 Florida, 4 Fonseca, Bishop, 7, 33 Fox, Ebenezer, 268, 269 "Furor Domini," name given to Pedrarias, 43

  G

  Gallo, Island of, 62 Garavito, Andres, 47 Gasca, 110-112 Golden Castile, 8 Gonzales, Francisca, 54 Gorgona, Island of, 63 Graves, William J., 255, 256 Grijilva, Juan de, 120 Guatemoc (or Guatemotzin), 137, 177, 191, 193, 194, 216, 225 Guatemotzin, popular name for Guatemoc, 191, 216 Guayaquil, Gulf of, 67 Gulf, of Mexico, 3 explorations on, coast, 5 of Darien, 5, 20, 55 of Uraba, 7 of Venezuela, 7 of San Miguel, 56 of Guayaquil, 67 Guzman, Tello de, 50

  H

  Hamilton, Alexander, 248 Helps, Sir Arthur, the historian, referred to, 63 (footnote), 70, 78, 118, 124, 178, 188, 220, 224 Herrera, referred to, 179 (footnote) Honduras, 4, 5, 8, 13, 219 Hopkins, Sterling A., 257 Horn, Cape, 266 Horses introduced to the natives of South America, 13 Huarina, battlefield of, 110 Huascar, son of Huayna, 72, 85, 108 Huitzilopochtli, Aztec god of war, 126, 127, 184

  I

  Inca, the young, Manco Capac, 68 the Empire, 69 civilization, 69 "Child of the Sun," 71 Pizarro's capture of the, 75-84 ransom and murder of the, 85-92 and Peruvians strike for freedom, 93-102 Incas, the, 69-112 _Independence_, the, privateer, 284 _Indian_, the brig, of London, 240 Indian wife, Balboa's, 37, 44, 47, 48 Indians, Warm Spring, 302-306 Indies, the, 7, 8, 10 Isabella, Queen, and her court mentioned, 6 Island, of Gallo, the, 62, 63 (foot-note) of Gorgona, the, 63 of Puna, 67 Island, St. Mary's, 231, 242 Ducie, 239, 242 of Massafera, 240 Islands, Society, 237 Sandwich, 237, 267 Cape Verde, 264 Falkland, 265 Vancouver, 271 Isles of Pearls, 59 Isthmus, of Darien, 5, 26, 32, 37, 109, 116 of Panama, 5, 27, 50, 110 Ixlilxochitl, referred to, 179 (footnote) Ixtaccihuatl, 144 Iztatapalan, 195

  J

  Jackson, Andrew, 248-250 Jamaica, 8, 17 Jones, John Paul, 281-297 William Paul, 290-295 Mrs. Willie, 290, 296 Colonel Cadwallader, 296 Joy, Matthew, mate of the _Essex_, 231, 239 Juarez, Benito, 224

  K

  King, John II. of France, referred to, 86 (footnote) Kirk, referred to, 63 (footnote)

  L

  _Leopard_, British ship, 251 Lepe, an explorer, 5 Lewis, James, 263-277 Lima, 93, 98, 101, 105, 111 Lorenzana, Archbishop, referred to, 198
(footnote) Louden, Mary Paul, sister of John Paul Jones, 291 Luque, 60-67 Lyons, James, 305

  M

  McKay, 262-277 MacNutt, referred to, 128, 225 Maddox, Dr., 252 Madigan, John, 307-311 Magellan, referred to, 39 (footnote), 61 (footnote) Straits of, 109 Main, the Spanish, 3, 5 Malinal (or Marina) 115, 116; 123-125; 135, 145, 219 Malinche, shorter form of Malintzin, 124, 208, 209, 217 Malintzin, Aztec name for Cortes, 124 Marco Polo, referred to, 37 Maria, Donna, daughter of Cortes, 223 Marina, Malinal, baptized as, 124 Markham, referred to, 4, 63 (footnote), 78, 87 Massacre of Caxamarca, 73-85 Maxixcatzin, 141 Mayas, the, 122 Medellin, native city of Cortes, 117 Mexico, the Gulf of, 3, 116 the country of, 53, 127 Aztec Empire of, 115, 125 shores of, 117 City of, 125, 137, 146-162 Republic of, 126, 224 valley of, 144, 218 King of, 217 Mexitl, one of the names of Aztec war god, 126 Montezuma Xocoyotzin, Emperor of Mexico, 115; sends messengers to Cortes, 135, 137; described, 136, 137; and the Tlascalans, 140, 141; agrees to receive Cortes, 143; meeting with Cortes, 162-168; seizure of, 171-173; deposed, 176; end of, 178-180

  N

  Napoleon at Toulon, referred to, 74 (footnote) Narvaez, Panfilo de, 174, 175 Navigators, the fifteenth-century, 4 New Andalusia, 7 Newity, Nootka village, 271 Nicuesa, Diego de, 3, 5, 8, 20, 27 Nombre de Dios, 23, 36 Nootkas, the, 271

  O

  Ojeda, Alonza de, 3; heads first important expedition along South American coast, 4; second voyage, 5; arrives at Santo Domingo, 8; adventures of, 10-19; referred to, 55 Olano, Lope de, 21, 22, 24 Ordaz, 144 Orellano, commander under Gonzalo Pizarro, 105 Orgonez, 102, 103 Orinoco, the, 4 Otumba, valley of, 191 Otumies, tribe of, 141 Ovando, an explorer with Nicuesa, 7 Oviedo, quoted, 56, 57, 179 (footnote)

  P

  Pacific, the, so called by Magellan, 39 (footnote) discovery of, 39-42 Balboa reaches, 45 Painala, town of, 115 Lord of, 115 Panama, Pedrarias dies at, 50 Pedrarias the founder and governor of, 56 Pizarro living in, 57 Pizarro sends ship to, 62 Pedro de los Rios, governor of, 62 referred to, 63, 65, 66 States, 116 Parnell, W. R., 306-311 "Pearl Coast," the, 4 Pedrarias, 32-35; 42-50; 107 Perez, Gomez, 111, 112 Peru, 40, 53, 63, 64, 66, 68, 93, 95, 105, 109, 237 Peruvians, the, 69-102 Pettis, Congressman Spencer, 255 Philip II., 65 Pizarrists, the, 106 Pizarro, Francisco, 9, 16, 18, 38-40; 48, 54, 55-107 Hernando, 54, 55, 67, 79, 93, 96-108 Juan, 54, 96-99 Gonzalo, the father, 53, 54 Gonzalo, the son, 54, 96-101 Pedro, 90 Pizarros, the, 46, 67, 96, 104, 105, 108-110 Pizons, the, explorers, 5 Pollard, James, captain of the _Essex_, 231 Popocatepetl, 144 Popotla, 190 Porto Rico, 5 Potosi, the mines of, 65, 109, 110 Prescott, the historian, referred to, 63 (footnote) reference to account of Inca civilization by, 69 reference to amount of Inca's ransom, according to, 87

  Q

  Quarequa, Indian chief, 39 Quetzalcoatl, Toltec god, 129, 136 Quevedo, Bishop of Darien, 33 Quichua, the language of Peru, 82 Quinones, Antonio de, 202 Quito, 71, 91, 105, 109 Quiz-Quiz, 72, 85

  R

  Rada, Juan de, 105-112 _Ranger_, the, one of Jones's ships, 284 Ribero, Diego de, 21, 22 Rios, Pedro de los, 62, 65 Ruiz, 60-63 (and footnote), 65, 66

  S

  Sacsahuaman, 94, 97-99 Salamanca, University of, 117 Salinas, the plains of, 103 San Mateo, 67 San Miguel, 41, 56, 73 San Sebastian, 14, 16, 17, 19 Santiago River, 66 Santo Domingo, 8, 14, 19, 118 "Scourge of God," the, name given to Pedrarias, 43 Sea, Caribbean, 3 Sea of the South, so called by Balboa, 39 _Serapis_, the battle with the, 285-287 Shoshone nation, 301-304 Slavery, human, introduced into Peru by Christians, 95 South Sea, the, so called by Balboa, 39 voyage, 44 Pizarro's first sight of, 56 Spanish, Main, the, 3, 5 Court, the, 6, 7 rule in Mexico, 226 in Peru, 226 "Starvation Harbor," 58, 59

  T

  Tabascans, the, 116, 123, 134 Tabasco, 122 Tacuba, 190, 199, 206, 216 Tafur, Pedro, 62-65 Talavera, 16, 17 Temixtitan, name for Mexico, 147, 148, 162 Temple of the Sun, at Cuzco, 87 Tenochtitlan, or City of Mexico, 125 the march to, 130-137 Teocalli, 145 Terry, Ex-chief Justice, 256-258 Teules, Aztec name for Cortes and his followers, 136 Texcoco, 136 Tezcatlipoca, Aztec god, 127 Tezcocans, the, 194 Tezcoco, province of, 194; lake of, 195 Thorn, Jonathan, 261-275 Tianguizco, 199 Tlacopan, 128 Tlaloc, Aztec god of waters, 126 Tlaltelulco, 199 Tlascala, 136, 138-140, 141, 190-192 Tascalans, the, 140-144, 166, 191-219 Toltecs, the, 125, 129, 130 _Tonquin_, the ship, 261-277 Toparca, 92 Torquemada, referred to, 179 (footnote) Totonacs, the, 136 Toulon, Napoleon at, 74 (footnote) Treasure, the, of Peru, 64 Trujillo, 53, 66 Tumbez, town of, 65 Almagro made Governor of, 66 Pizarro lands at, 68

  U

  Uraba, Gulf of, 7

  V

  Valdivia, lieutenant of Francisco Pizarro, 31, 109 Valparaiso, 240, 242 Valsa, the river, 45 Valverde, Fra Vincente de, 80-83; 90, 91, 111 Vega, Garcilasso de la, 63 (footnote) Vela, Blasco Nunez, 109 Velasquez, Diego de, 118-121; 131 Juan, 183-186 Venezuela, Gulf of, 7 Veragua, 5, 13, 27 Vera Cruz, 116, 130, 134, 135 Vespucci, Amerigo, 4

  W

  Wallace, Lew, quoted, 131, 178 Weeks, Armorer, 269-277 Wells, Samuel, 252 Winsor, 4

  X

  Xaquixaguana, valley of, 110, 111 Xicalango, traders of, 116 Xicotencatl, 141-143 Xuaca, 85

  Y

  Yucatan coast, 122 Yucay, mountains of, 100

  Z

  Zamudio, 20, 31, 32, 35, 38