Balboa, meanwhile, was approaching the Atlantic sea-coast with a light heart, and a feeling that all would go well with him. What was his surprise when he was met by a cavalier called Pizarro, with an armed force, and was told that, by orders of the Governor, he was a prisoner. Yet he submitted quietly and was taken to Darien in irons. There he found that the irascible Governor had determined to try him for treason, and, if he could, to do away with him. A trial was soon held, and the venturesome navigator was charged with treasonable intentions. There was no evidence against him that was not trumped-up for the occasion, yet he pleaded his innocence in vain. “How preposterous is this charge of my determination to usurp the power here,” said he. “I have four vessels and three hundred devoted followers upon the other coast. Should I have so wished, I could have sailed away far beyond the Governor’s reach, and could have founded a colony of mine own in far-distant Peru. My coming here is good evidence that I had no desire to disobey the summons of the Governor. I am innocent of these so-called offenses.” In spite of all that he could say, the judges found him guilty, yet recommended mercy because of his wonderful discoveries and evident patriotism for Spain. The Governor, however, would entertain no suggestion of this nature. “If he is guilty, let him die, and the sooner the better,” said the irate Pedrarias, scowling. “To the block with him!” So they took brave Balboa out and beheaded him in spite of all the renown which he had won. The discoverer of the Pacific met his end with calm indifference, and, as the news of this was borne to the people of Darien, many wept tears for the man who had founded their city and had brought much honor to the Spanish flag. Thus, in the very prime of his manhood, perished one of the greatest explorers which the world has produced, and, although he was foully and brutally murdered by his own people, his fame will last as long as men love those of courage, of daring, and of imagination. HERNANDO CORTÉS: CONQUEROR OF MEXICO. (1485-1547) _Lift high the golden goblets and quaff to our leader bold,_ _Who came from Cuba’s heated sands to gather Aztec gold,_ _His heart was big with courage; with his hands he seized the helm,_ _And he gathered the power and gained the dower of Montezuma’s realm._ _The muffled war drums mocked him, from the top of the white stone wall,_ _And the maddened priests reviled him as they heard his trumpets call._ _His Tlascalan allies trembled at the curse of the warriors red,_ _But the cry was ever “Onward!” to the city’s fountain head._ _To the top of the teocalli where the eagle banner floats,_ _Where the evil gods are smiling and Huitzilopochtli gloats;_ _Up! Up! our leader clambered. Up! Up! and won the prize,_ _Hurrah! Hurrah! for Cortés! Come victors, drink as we rise!_ SONG OF THE SPANISH CAVALIERS, 1519. HERNANDO CORTÉS: