Again he heard of gold still further north, and despatched two horsemen, with Indian guides, to visit the country; and once more they returned with copper; gold there was none. They wandered still further, advancing into Alabama, where was a large Indian town, Mavilla, afterwards Mobile. The Indians rose in arms; a battle ensued; the Spanish cavalry were victors: it was the bloodiest battle ever known in Indian warfare. The Indians fought for nine hours, and several thousands were slaughtered; the town was burned to ashes, and numbers of Indians perished in the flames. The Spaniards also lost many of their number, together with horses and the whole of their baggage. Their situation was terrible in the extreme; food they had none, nor medicines for the wounded—all were lost. Fortunately for them, however, the spirit of the Indians was so completely broken, that they could no longer molest them. Spanish ships, from Cuba, now awaited them with supplies in Pensacola Bay, near Mavilla. But, fearing that his disheartened soldiers might leave him, and as he had no tidings of gold and great glory to send home, and was too proud to send any other, he turned away from the sea-coast, and again advanced inland. Winter overtook them in the northern parts of Mississippi, with severe frost and snow, and they established themselves in an Indian village, which the inhabitants had deserted at their approach, and in the fields of which the maize still remained uncut. The Indians returned in the depth of winter and in the dead of night, and set fire to the village. All that had been saved from the fires of Mavilla was now destroyed; they lost all their beloved swine, many of their horses, and all their clothes. Their sufferings were intense. De Soto ordered the chains to be taken from the captives, and new weapons to be forged. Clothed in skins and mats of ivy-leaves, he still advanced further west in search of the land of gold. For seven days they wandered on through wildernesses of forest and morass, and reached the Indian settlements in the vicinity of the Mississippi. De Soto was the first European who beheld that mighty river. He saw it then as the familiar trader on its banks beholds it now, rolling its immense mass of waters through a rich alluvial soil, more than a mile broad, and carrying trees and timber down its turbid flood. In May, 1541, the Spaniards, having constructed boats, crossed the river, and proceeded westward into Arkansas. The natives, regarding them with reverence, and believing them to be the children of the sun, brought their blind to them, that they might receive sight. “Pray only to God who dwells in heaven,” replied de Soto, “and He will give you what you need.”