The stream carried them down so quickly that they were soon far ahead of their countrymen, who followed slowly and with difficulty by land. At first Orellana may have had no intention to betray the trust bestowed upon him by his commander; but on reaching the Marañon, the aspect of the stream rolling majestically to the east proved a temptation too strong for his ambition; and, forgetting his duty to his fellow-soldiers, he resolved to follow the course of the river, which seemed to beckon him onwards to riches and renown. But one among his followers, _Sanchez de Vargas_, whose name well deserves a record, had the courage to remonstrate against this breach of faith, for which he was landed as a criminal, without food or help of any kind. After a dangerous and romantic navigation of seven months, whose real adventures he afterwards embellished with fabulous tales of El Dorados and warlike Amazons, Orellana at length reached the mouth of the stream. Drifted by the current, he thence safely steered for the Spanish settlement in the island of Cubagua, and soon after embarked for Spain. The magnificence of his discovery threw a veil over his guilt; and having been appointed governor of the territory whose grandeur he had been the first to reveal, he once more crossed the ocean. But he was not destined to reach the scene where his ambition dreamt of exploits worthy to eclipse the fame of Cortes or Pizarro; a mortal disease befell him on the passage, and in the sea he found a nameless grave. But what had meanwhile become of the leader whom he had so basely abandoned in the wilderness? The consternation of Pizarro on not finding the bark at the confluence of the Napo and the Marañon, where he had ordered Orellana to wait for him, may well be imagined. But, imputing his absence to some unknown accident, he advanced above fifty leagues along the banks of the river, expecting every moment to see the bark appear with abundant provisions and joyful tidings. At length he met with the faithful Vargas, and now no doubt remained about the treachery of his lieutenant and his own desperate situation. The spirit of his stoutest-hearted veterans sank within them; all demanded to be led back instantly, and Pizarro, though he assumed an appearance of tranquillity, did not oppose their inclination. But they were now 1,200 miles from Quito, and a march of many months had to be made without the hopes which had soothed their previous sufferings. Hunger compelled them to sacrifice all their dogs and horses, to devour the most loathsome reptiles, to gnaw the leather of their saddles and sword-belts. All the Indians and 210 Spaniards perished in this wild expedition, which lasted nearly two years. When at length the survivors arrived at Quito, they were naked like savages, and so worn out with famine and fatigue that they looked more like spectres than men.