Having thus removed the obstacles to their advance, the Spaniards entered Quaraqua's town, which they quickly spoiled of all the gold and other valuables it contained. This booty Balboa shared equitably among his followers, reserving for himself no more than any other got, after deducting one-fifth the total amount for the king of Spain. By his eminent fairness to the soldiers, and by his courageous bearing on every occasion, Balboa wins the admiration of all who become cognizant of his exploits; but alas! his escutcheon is stained with the blood of many innocents. Among the prisoners taken in the town were fifty or sixty male Indians, dressed in robes of white cotton after the manner of women, and these, their enemies said, were given to unnatural crimes and followers of the devil. Whether they were or not, the Spaniards did not pause to inquire, but let loose their blood-hounds, who tore them limb from limb. The village which Balboa had won at such cost of blood and suffering was situated at the very foot of the mountain whence, the Indians told him, the great sea could be distinctly seen. He had brought woe and desolation to its homes, but by his harsh measures the Indians had been thoroughly cowed, and, after sending back the subjects of Chief Ponca, he selected guides and carriers from the surviving Quaraquanos. As his men were exhausted by the fatigue of fighting, and in need of all their energies for what was to come, he ordered them early to rest, after they had partaken of a bountiful supper supplied from the provisions found in the village. Some were disabled by their wounds, and these were to remain behind while he, with the strong and able-bodied, pushed on over the last stage of their eventful journey. Having made every preparation for the morrow, after posting sentinels about the camp, Balboa retired to his hammock, but not to sleep. The events of the day had been so exciting that he lay awake all night, thinking, not of what had occurred, however: not of the lives he had taken, the crimes he had committed; but of what he was to see from that rock-ribbed mountain-peak, with its head in the stars above the sombre forest. It stood out black against the sky, provokingly near, yet aloof and isolate--this peak which he had sought for many months. It had stood there for uncounted centuries, and during the æon of its existence it had never been visited by civilized man. He, Balboa, would be the first to scale its sides and stand upon its summit, the first to gaze upon the view it might reveal. Such thoughts as these kept Vasco Nuñez de Balboa awake while his soldiers slept. So absorbing were they that he hardly heard the groans of the wounded, the cries of anguish from the poor wretches on the battlefield. Wives, mothers, and children of the dead warriors were groping in the darkness for their loved ones, and when they found the objects of their search they rent the air with piteous lamentations.