“DIEGO, DIEGO, wake up! Suppose you should be caught napping like this; you would have a hard time with the master of the pages, I can tell you!”

Diego opened his eyes, sprang to his feet, assumed a military attitude, and was all awake in a moment. It was Don Felipe who spoke, and they were in a splendid corridor of the palace at Barcelona. It was magnificently carpeted from the looms of Granada; and long, narrow windows let in a flood of sunshine upon splendid pictures on the walls, which were decorated with trophies of arms, the great curved simitars of the Moors with jeweled handles, Moorish shields and breastplates cunningly wrought with gold, and marvelous daggers and other arms. White statues gleamed against the dark-red walls, and everywhere were the beauty and splendor of a royal palace.

As Don Felipe spoke the great carved doors at the farther end of the corridor were thrown wide, and Queen Isabella, with a glittering suite of ladies and gentlemen in attendance, was seen about to enter. At the threshold, however, the Queen paused. The great Cardinal, Pedro Gonzalez de Mendoza, the first subject in Spain, appeared, followed by his secretary. The Cardinal saluted the Queen with profound respect, who engaged in conversation with him. Both Diego and Don Felipe recognized the Cardinal at once, a tall, handsome man of commanding appearance, wearing a black robe edged with scarlet and a black and scarlet skull-cap, while around his neck hung a gold chain from which depended a superb cross of jewels.

Diego and Don Felipe, standing side by side, their right hands upon their sword-hilts, their left hands raised at the salute, could yet talk without being heard by the Queen and her train at the end of the long corridor.

“I told you,” said Don Felipe, in a whisper, without turning his head, “that you would find the master of the pages a much more difficult person than Fray PiÑa. Suppose you had been caught asleep while waiting for the Queen?”

“I should have been mortified beyond words,” whispered Diego, as motionless as Don Felipe. “But the truth is that, with rising at four o’clock and having the horse exercise and the sword exercise and then studying and standing many hours and doing many errands and sitting up late at night, I am sometimes half dead for want of sleep.”

“It is not an easy business, being at court,” was Don Felipe’s answer.

Then, as they saw the Queen advancing, they remained respectfully silent. The Queen was dressed as usual with quiet splendor, but wearing few jewels. She wore a robe of crimson cloth, and her beautiful auburn hair was as usual coifed with pearls. DoÑa Christina walked a short distance behind the Queen.

As she approached, talking in a low voice with the Cardinal, who walked by her side, and followed by DoÑa Christina and a number of ladies and gentlemen of the court, the Queen was so absorbed in what she was saying that she did not observe either Diego or Don Felipe. Her voice was pitched low, almost a whisper; but both youths heard her say distinctly to the Cardinal:

“And so, my Lord Cardinal, the rumor has come from Portugal that the caravels were seen entering the Tagus on the fourth day of March. It is unconfirmed, and in some respects improbable. Why should the Admiral land in Portugal before coming to Spain?”

“He may have put in by stress of weather or for repairs, madam,” the Cardinal replied, in a low and earnest voice. “Many unforeseen things might induce the Admiral to make the first port possible if, indeed, he has returned from that strange voyage.”

The Queen glanced backward and seemed to grow suddenly conscious of the presence of Diego and Don Felipe. Diego’s ruddy face had turned deadly pale, although he still maintained his rigid military attitude.

“Come here, Don Diego,” said the Queen, stopping, “and you, Don Felipe. Tell me when does the exercise in the manÈge begin for Prince Juan and the pages?”

“In half an hour, madam,” responded Diego, advancing and bowing low as the Queen spoke.

“Then we shall have the pleasure of seeing the exercises in the manÈge,” said the Queen, in her usual gracious manner. “DoÑa Christina, will you say to the Princess Katharine and to DoÑa Luisita that they may be present to see the exercises in the manÈge?”

The Queen resumed her earnest conversation with the Cardinal, and the rest of the suite passed on. When the great doors at the other end of the corridor had closed after the royal train, Don Felipe said to Diego:

“You heard the Queen’s words, and what the Cardinal replied?”

“Yes,” answered Diego. “It seemed as if my heart stopped beating. Now it thumps hard enough, I can tell you.”

“But there is no time to count heart-beats,” said Don Felipe. “We have not a moment to spare if we are to be ready in half an hour for the manÈge.”

Without another word both ran the long length of the corridor, through various winding passages, and up a narrow stairway until they came to the rooms of Prince Juan, where Diego knocked. Prince Juan, who was alone, himself opened the door. He inherited his mother’s noble simplicity of character, and, while fully understanding the duties of his position, he treated his pages, all youths of his own age, like companions of his own rank.

“The Queen and her ladies will be present in the manÈge,” breathlessly burst out Don Felipe, “and we thought your Highness would wish to know it.”

“Certainly I should. Many thanks, Felipe,” cried Prince Juan. “When the Queen honors our exercises we must show at our best.”

Prince Juan ran down the stairs, breakneck, followed by Diego and Don Felipe, through the winding passages, across the wide courtyard, into a long colonnade that led to the great circular riding-school. It was an immense space covered with tan-bark, with galleries for spectators. Adjoining it was a large room surrounded with alcoves, in which the arms and riding paraphernalia were kept. This room was soon filled with the pages, twenty youths, all lithe, active, and eager to show their accomplishments before the Queen. All, including Prince Juan, disappeared within their alcoves, where there were valets to assist them in changing their clothes. They kept up, meanwhile, much talk and laughter, Prince Juan joining as an equal in their merry preparation. One only, Don Diego de Colon, usually the merriest of them all, was silent. In a few minutes they trooped out, dressed in leather surcoats and riding-breeches and boots with huge spurs, and wearing light helmets. Prince Juan was dressed exactly like the others, except that on his helmet was engraved a small crown, and on the breast of his jacket of Cordovan leather was also a small crown embroidered in gold. The young prince noticed the silence and pallor of Diego, and, going up to him, put his arm kindly within Diego’s, saying:

“What is the matter, Don Diego? You are as solemn as an owl.”

“There is a report abroad, so I heard her Majesty the Queen say to the Cardinal de Mendoza, that the ships of my father, the Admiral, had been seen in the Tagus. That is enough to make one silent, is it not, your Highness?”

“Indeed it is,” replied Prince Juan. “For my part, I often dream at night that the Admiral has returned and has discovered a new world for Spain. Ah, Don Diego, what a great day that will be for Spain!”

There was no time to say more as the trumpet-call sounded for the riding-hall, into which the pages now marched. The grooms were bringing in the chargers, the finest breeds of Andalusia, celebrated for its horses, their coats like satin, their muscles like steel, their hoofs black and polished. The horses knew well enough for what they were brought, and were keen for the sport. Before mounting, Don Tomaso de Gama, the Daredevil Knight, reckoned the most accomplished horseman in Spain and master of the riding-school, appeared. He, too, wore riding-dress and a glittering casque. He gave the order at once to mount, that they might have a warming-up canter before the Queen and her ladies arrived. Then began a quick gallop around the circular space, the horses’ hoofs sounding softly on the tan-bark. In a few minutes the signal was given to retire, and the young horsemen all filed out through an arched gateway into the great courtyard of the stables beyond.

At this moment the Queen, preceded and followed by her ladies and attended by several gentlemen and escorted by the Cardinal, entered the ladies’ gallery. The Queen sat with DoÑa Christina on one side of her and the Cardinal on the other. Many ladies were sitting on chairs behind her, and on the step below the Queen’s chair the Princess Katharine and DoÑa Luisita sat on silken cushions. DoÑa Luisita looked no longer a child, but a charming young lady.

Four trumpeters with silver trumpets were stationed at the farther side of the great circular hall, and at a signal from the Queen played a fanfare. At that the doors under the archway were flung open, and the long line of pages entered headed by Prince Juan. As he dashed through the great archway, sitting square and steady upon a splendid black horse, the Queen’s eyes lighted up with pleasure at the appearance of this gallant youth.

When Prince Juan came abreast of the Queen’s gallery, he pulled up quickly, the horse rising for a moment on his haunches and then standing like a statue, as Prince Juan saluted first the Queen and then the other ladies present. The same thing was done by each of the twenty pages, every charger acting with an intelligence almost human. When the Daredevil Knight, the master of riding, brought up the rear of the line, his horse, too—a sinewy chestnut charger—stood on his haunches and then came down gracefully on his knees as if making an obeisance to the Queen, then rose and stood as still as a bronze horse. The Queen was charmed with this pretty trick of horsemanship, and, leaning over, bowed and smiled and waved her hand to the Daredevil Knight. Then the exercises began, Prince Juan always riding first and the Daredevil Knight last. They galloped around the ring twice to show their manner of ordinary riding. Then the grooms brought four rings, which they hung at the four quarters of the circle; and the pages, with glittering lances, rode around, taking the rings as they went. Some took all the rings, while others took only three or sometimes two. Next a stuffed horse with a manikin mounted on him was rolled in; and each young horseman, galloping by at full speed, had to knock off the manikin’s head with a single blow of the sword, and again passing it had to dismount at full speed, taking up the head, and mount again. This was most exciting, and some of the pages failed to get the head. Prince Juan, however, succeeded in getting it each time. There were various other tricks of horsemanship shown which amused and delighted the Queen and her ladies, especially the Princess Katharine and DoÑa Luisita. In one of the feats, Prince Juan galloping past the gallery, his horse apparently shied and unseated him. A cry of dismay went up which changed to a burst of applause when Prince Juan sprang back and stood up on his horse’s back, galloping around the tan-bark in that fashion, followed by all the other pages. All through Diego and Don Felipe acquitted themselves with credit. It was usually the pleasantest hour of the day with them all, this hour in the manÈge, and when there were no spectators it was a time of jokes and merriment. But Diego felt as if he were in another world. He went through his part well, but mechanically, and his look was so grave that DoÑa Luisita whispered to the Princess Katharine:

“What can be the matter with Don Diego to-day? His body may be here, but his mind is somewhere else.”

When all was over the Queen sent for Don Tomaso and questioned him upon the proficiency of her son and his companions. The Daredevil Knight, who was as frank as he was brave, assured the Queen that Prince Juan was an admirable horseman, but there were several of the pages who surpassed him. Don Felipe he considered the best horseman of them all.

“I believe what you tell me,” replied Queen Isabella, “for I see that you tell the truth and are no flatterer and do not tell me that my son excels all, although I see that he does well.”

The nobility of the Queen was such that all about her were encouraged to tell the truth, and not to seek to deceive by flattery and falsehood.

It was nearly six o’clock when the pages left the riding-hall, and in a half-hour they were washed and dressed in their ordinary clothes and were seated at supper at the long table in their dining-hall. Everything was good but plain, as it was the wish of the King and the Queen to bring Prince Juan up as a soldier rather than a courtier. At one end of the table sat the great Duke of Medina Coeli, governor of the pages; and at the other end sat Don Tomaso de Gama, the Daredevil Knight. The Duke was a rigid governor, and made no difference in his discipline between Prince Juan and any of the other youths under his charge. The sovereigns interfered in no way with this discipline, and Prince Juan had to ask permission from the stern Duke for everything he wished to do, as much as any of his attendant pages. Nevertheless, the governor had a kindly heart. He encouraged the pages to talk at their meals, using this as a means of discovering their natural temper and disposition. They often spoke with the enthusiastic hopes of boyhood of the return of the Admiral; their patriotism was aroused in his favor; and they looked forward with eager confidence to the day when he would add a magnificent empire to the Kingdom of Spain. This had secured for Diego perfect good-will among his companions, none of whom had ever taunted him with his humble origin or had spoken of his father except with the highest respect.

On this evening a singular silence prevailed at the pages’ supper. The young men spoke in undertones among themselves, and Diego was conscious that strange looks were cast upon him. When supper was over and the pages, with Prince Juan, retired to their study-hall, where they had an hour of study, Diego found out the cause of the silence and suppressed excitement. The pages crowded around him; and Prince Juan, acting as spokesman, said:

“Two reports have come this day, Diego; one that Captain Martin Alonzo Pinzon has landed at Bayonne, and the other that your father, the Admiral, has returned in a caravel which is anchored in the Tagus. I do not know who was the messenger that brought the letter from Captain Pinzon, nor the person who brought the news from Portugal.”

“But it is true, my Prince!” shouted Diego, raising his arms in triumph above his head. “I know it, I feel it! For a fortnight past I have had the feeling that my father was nearing land. The stories of the dreadful storms and tempests have not frightened me. Each day my father has been in my mind, and I dream every night of him. Ah, my Prince, it is true!”

Then, seizing Don Felipe in his strong arms, the two youths hugged each other and rubbed their cheeks together in a rapture of boyish affection. Their companions around them broke into an involuntary cheer, led by Prince Juan. They were young and sanguine, and found it easy to believe in anything which redounded to the glory and honor of their country.

Over the noise a ringing voice was heard at the door, that of the Daredevil Knight.

“The presence of Don Diego de Colon is required by the governor of the pages.”

An instant silence fell upon the shouting and cheering youths. They could see through the open door the soldierly figure of the governor, who in general permitted no noisy outbreaks; but to-night he said no word and uttered no rebuke. The door closed immediately after Diego, and the Duke said to him:

“Come with me at once, Don Diego, to the presence of her Majesty.”

Diego followed the Duke and Don Tomaso as they rapidly walked through the halls and corridors of the palace toward the wing occupied by the Queen and the King. Nothing was said except a brief inquiry made by the Duke of Don Tomaso as to when King Ferdinand might be expected to return from a hunting expedition upon which he had that day started.

“In five days the King will return,” was Don Tomaso’s reply.

When they reached the door of the Queen’s private apartments it was opened at once by DoÑa Christina. The Queen was alone except for her favorite lady-in-waiting and Cardinal Mendoza. For the first time in all the years that Diego had seen the Queen, she showed deep agitation. Usually of calm demeanor, she was that night extremely restless, sometimes sitting in her stately chair, again rising and walking about the small but richly furnished room lighted with silver lamps. As soon as Diego entered, the Queen spoke to him kindly, saying to the Duke:

“Tell Don Diego what we have heard.”

Then the Duke spoke.

“A Portuguese merchant has just arrived, reporting that on the third of March, the weather off the mouth of the Tagus being very wild and stormy, a caravel was seen in great distress. The tempest continued very violent all that day, and the caravel was in great danger of being dashed to pieces on the rock of Cintra. The people watched it all day, making many prayers for the mariners in such peril, but unable to be of any assistance to them. The storm continued the best part of the night, but subsided, and the next morning broke fair and sunny. The caravel had survived and was entering the mouth of the Tagus with a fair wind. It was said to be the NiÑa with the Admiral, your father, in command, and several men of a strange race on board with animals and objects hitherto unknown. The merchant says that a large Portuguese ship-of-war, commanded by Don Alonzo d’Acunha, one of the greatest captains in Portugal, was anchored in the Tagus, and that Don Alonzo sent a boat to the caravel commanding that her captain report on board the Portuguese ship to give an account of himself. The caravel’s commander refused to go, sending word in reply that he outranked Don Alonzo d’Acunha, being under letters patent of the King of Arragon and the Queen of Castile, Admiral of the Ocean Seas, Viceroy and Captain-General of all lands to the westward. He therefore desired that Don Alonzo d’Acunha, as his inferior in rank, should pay him a visit of ceremony.”

“That was my father!” cried Diego, forgetful of all etiquette, his soul in a tumult of pride and joy.

The Queen, who was walking about the room restlessly while the Duke spoke, instead of rebuking the lad, came up to him and, laying a hand upon his shoulder, said, smiling proudly:

“And there your father showed the true and lofty spirit of a Spanish admiral. Small might be his ship, but great must be his soul. Happy am I in having an admiral who knows so well how to maintain the honor of his flag.”

The Queen sat down, her face aglow, her eyes sparkling; and, turning to DoÑa Christina, she put her hand in that of her lady-in-waiting and said:

“We are but women; but we have hearts like men.”

Diego stood throbbing and palpitating and longing to hear more. The Duke continued quickly:

“The merchant left Portugal soon after this happened. There are, however, some discrepancies in his story. He says that the caravel was the NiÑa, while the Admiral sailed in the Santa Maria. The merchant also says that the caravel’s commander was to proceed to Lisbon instead of coming direct to a Spanish port. Again, at almost the same moment the Portuguese merchant appeared, a messenger came bearing a letter from Captain Martin Alonzo Pinzon, at the port of Bayonne, saying that land was found to the westward; but that he was separated from the Admiral many weeks ago and knows not if he still survives. All might be explained except the persistence with which the Portuguese merchant insists that the commander of the caravel was undoubtedly going to Lisbon, and that he saw, before leaving, the preparations to travel thence by land.”

Then the Cardinal said:

“If the King of Portugal commanded the Admiral to come to Lisbon, he could scarcely refuse. And, in that event, how poignant must be the regret of the King of Portugal, who abandoned the glorious project offered him by the Admiral and left it to your Majesty and King Ferdinand to reap the glory of it.”

“Ah!” cried the Queen. “Once more have you, my Lord Cardinal, spoken words of wisdom. One thing seems certain, two of the ships have returned. How unfortunate it is the King is not here! However, if more definite news comes, I will send messengers for the King. You may go now, Don Diego. I will send a messenger to La Rabida telling the Prior, Juan Perez, of what we have heard.”

Then Diego’s soul became possessed with courage. He went up to the Queen’s chair and, kneeling on one knee, said:

“Will your Majesty pardon me for what I am about to ask? May I go with that messenger to La Rabida? My father gave his word that unless driven elsewhere by stress of weather he would make his first landing in Spain at the port of Palos. I saw him depart, my Queen, and a voice like the voice of God spoke in my heart, saying, ‘He will return with immortal glory.’ His first thought next his sovereigns will be for his sons, for me and my little brother. If my father lands at Palos and I am not there, it will give him a pang, for my father loves his children with all his heart. May I go, my Queen? Oh, let me go, let me go, my Queen!”

Diego, in his eagerness, had laid his hand upon the Queen’s robe. Her eyes, ever kind, grew more kindly; but while maintaining her own authority well she never forgot the authority of others. She turned to the Duke and said, smiling:

“My Lord Duke, can you spare this young man from his duties and studies for a little while. It is an occasion which so far has never arisen but this once in the life of a royal page.”

“If your Majesty requests it,” replied the Duke, “leave shall be given to Don Diego, and I agree with your Majesty that the occasion is so great that Don Diego may well be excused.”

Diego, overjoyed, kissed the Queen’s hand and thanked the Duke. The Queen nodded by way of dismissal. It was then obviously time for Diego to retire; but he stood irresolutely glancing toward the door, but apparently unwilling to leave. He looked imploringly at DoÑa Christina, who, smiling, went toward him. The next moment the Duke smiled and the Queen laughed outright as they heard Diego say to DoÑa Christina, in a loud whisper:

“Oh, how much would Don Felipe like to see the caravel come in!”

“I am sure he would,” responded Don Felipe’s mother, amused at Diego’s straight-forward simplicity.

Then Diego, looking around and seeing only smiling faces, went and knelt before the Queen.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “together Don Felipe and I saw the caravel depart. Don Felipe believed in my father as much as I do, and if he had not we should not have been like brothers, but we should have fought like tigers. Don Felipe was ever good to me from the beginning. He was a grandee of Spain, and I was the son of a poor Genoese navigator; but Don Felipe never let me feel the difference between us. He has ever been the best of friends and comrades to me, and now for me to see the caravel come in and Don Felipe not to—”

Diego sighed heavily, while the Queen and all present could not forbear smiling.

“Could you, my Lord Duke, grant the request of this young man?” asked the Queen.

The Duke hesitated a moment, and Diego thought he would be refused. He rose, the picture of dejection, and, hanging his head, said mournfully:

“Poor, poor Felipe!”

The Queen at that laughed once more. Diego, turning to DoÑa Christina, said sadly:

“Madam, I would ask you to plead for Don Felipe with the Duke; but if the Duke will not grant the Queen’s request I am afraid he will not listen to any one else.”

“But I shall obey the Queen’s wishes,” said the Duke. “I will give Don Felipe leave also; but you are to start upon your return two days after the caravel arrives.”

A thrill ran through Diego, his eyes shone, his mouth opened wide with delight; and Queen Isabella, who understood youth well, nodded to him again as a sign of dismissal. Diego retained his senses enough to make an obeisance to the Queen and low bows to the Cardinal, the Duke, and DoÑa Christina. Then, slipping out of the door, he ran like a deer back to the hall of the pages. As he entered it Prince Juan sprang forward and, clasping him around the neck, shouted:

“Tell us all, all, all!”

The other pages, with Don Felipe, clustered around; and Diego, with Prince Juan’s arm about his neck, poured forth the story told by the Portuguese merchant, and also the news that the Pinta had arrived at Bayonne.

“And the Duke has given me leave, and Don Felipe, too, to go to Palos immediately to see the caravel come in. I knew that it would be so hard for him to stay here when I went to Palos and saw all the people crowding the quays and shores and the caravel come sailing in with my father on the poop.”

“And why,” cried Prince Juan, shaking Diego, “cannot I see that glorious sight as well as you and Don Felipe?”

“Because your Highness is a royal prince,” answered Diego. “Your Highness cannot run about the country as we do. We are not heirs to thrones, we are not so important, and so we have more liberty.”

The door opened, and Father de Deza, tutor to Prince Juan and master of studies, entered. Instantly all sat down and took their books, Prince Juan with the others, but the minds of all were elsewhere speculating upon the glorious discovery, the gain of new worlds for Spain.

It was the way of the Duke to act quickly, and the next day by noon Diego and Don Felipe were starting off with a party consisting of Don Tomaso de Gama, Alonzo de Quintanilla, the Queen’s accountant, and a dozen men-at-arms. De Quintanilla was to make official records of the return of the ship, to take charge of important papers, and carried a letter from Queen Isabella to the Admiral.

As the cavalcade trotted out of the courtyard of the palace, Prince Juan, watching from a window and surrounded by all the pages, wore a melancholy countenance; he longed to be of the travelers. From another window on a level with the heads of Diego and Don Felipe watched DoÑa Christina and DoÑa Luisita. The last picture impressed upon Diego’s mind, as he rode out of the courtyard in the cavalcade, was DoÑa Luisita’s soft and beautiful eyes gazing after him. But his absence was not likely to be longer than eight or ten days, and never did a young man set out on a journey which meant more of hope and happiness than did Diego. The return of his father not only meant the sight of the best and tenderest of fathers returning from a long and hazardous voyage, but it meant a triumph for the Admiral so great that Diego was dazzled as he contemplated it. How insignificant appeared the greatest title by that of the Admiral of the Ocean Seas, Viceroy and Captain-General of all Lands to the Westward! It meant unending fame for the Admiral and splendor for all his descendants. Diego remained silent as they passed through the narrow streets of the town of Barcelona, skirted the harbor, bright in the spring sun, and the blue Mediterranean beyond. Soon they were in the open country. It was the ninth day of March, and the vegetation in the sunny climate of southern Spain was already well advanced. When they struck the highway through the forests there was a faint, delicate green upon the trees, and the sweet and pungent odor of the coming leaves perfumed the air. In the fields the peasants tilled the rich earth and laughed and sang as they toiled.

Don Tomaso was the leader likely to be most popular with youths of the age of Diego and Don Felipe. He rode ahead, trolling in his rich voice the canzonets and popular ballads of the day—all relating to love and war. His famous chestnut horse seemed proud of being bestridden by so superb a horseman, and whinnied with delight and caracoled as they traveled rapidly along the highway. At evening the Daredevil Knight scorned inns and castles, saying:

“Let us sleep like soldiers in our cloaks, and not seek soft beds like ladies and carpet knights.”

Diego and Don Felipe were willing enough for this, and their supper around the campfire seemed to them the most delicious meal they had ever eaten. The Daredevil Knight, whose flow of spirits and energy seemed inexhaustible, told them stories of his adventures in camps and in the tilt-yard and in tournaments in France as well as in Spain. When they at last settled to sleep, wrapped in their cloaks and blankets, Diego put a stick of wood under his head by way of being more comfortable. The Daredevil Knight, seeing this, rose and kicked the log away, crying indignantly:

“You are too fond of luxury, Don Diego, if you cannot sleep without a pillow under your head; you are not fit for a soldier.”

Diego remained meekly silent; and Don Felipe, who was reaching out for another stick of wood to use for the same purpose, withdrew his hand and appeared to be sleeping soundly. Neither slept much, however; their veins throbbed with excitement; and, as they watched the quiet stars overhead, the thought of the story told by those stars to the Admiral on the trackless ocean thrilled them both. They were late in falling asleep, and slept so soundly that they were only awakened by Don Tomaso’s kicks and reproaches for being such sluggards. The sun was just rising, their morning meal was prepared, their horses groomed, and everything ready for their departure. Mindful of his father’s habits of singular neatness, Diego boldly said:

“Before we start I must wash in yonder brook.”

“I washed half an hour ago,” replied the Daredevil Knight. “If we had depended on you and Don Felipe an enemy might have come and surprised us all and carried you both off without waking you, I suppose. Oh, very enterprising knights will you and Don Felipe make!”

Neither Diego nor Don Felipe minded Don Tomaso’s jokes; but they privately arranged to be up in advance of him next morning. That day was a repetition of the rapid and joyous travel of the day before. They were passing through the richest parts of Spain, with many castles and splendid residences in sight, and they encountered noblemen and gentlemen upon the road who urged Don Tomaso to stop at least for dinner or supper in their houses. But to each one Don Tomaso gave courteously the same reply:

“I travel on urgent business for her Majesty the Queen, and I cannot stop except for needed rest and refreshment.”

He made no mention of the names of either Diego or Don Felipe, not wishing any one to suspect his errand in advance.

That night they slept again in the open on the banks of the Guadalquivir, which narrowed suddenly at that point. Next morning, by break of day Diego and Don Felipe were awake and, rising noiselessly, were careful not to disturb any of the other sleepers; and, going to the banks of the river, a short distance off, had a bath so cold it made them shiver, but soon brought a warm glow to their healthy young bodies. When they returned to their companions all were up and awake except Don Tomaso, to the great joy of Diego and Don Felipe. The Daredevil Knight lay snoozing peacefully. They even ate their morning meal without awaking him, and at last, when Alonzo de Quintanilla called to Don Tomaso, Diego and Don Felipe were sitting on their horses as if ready to start. Don Tomaso sprang up in great confusion and made a hurried toilet and a still more hurried breakfast. When they finally started off in the glorious spring sunrise, Don Tomaso said, laughing, to Diego and Don Felipe:

“You have once caught me napping; I predict that I will catch each of you a thousand times.”

That day they drew near the coast, and on the next, about four o’clock, when the afternoon sun was at its richest, they caught the far-off gleam of the blue Atlantic.