slain by the mounted troops. Others
crowded through the fort and endeavored to escape by the narrow
bridges. Many were jostled off, and in the swift current were drowned.
But a few moments elapsed ere the fort was in the hands of the
Spaniards. Its floor was covered by the gory bodies of the slain.
Still, not a few had escaped, some by swimming, some by the bridges.
They immediately formed in battle array upon the opposite bank of the
river, where they supposed they were beyond the reach of the
Spaniards.

Again they raised shouts of defiance and insult. De Soto was not in a
mood to endure these taunts. Just above the fort he found a ford.
Crossing with a squadron of horsemen, they rushed with gleaming sabres
upon the savages, and put them instantly to flight. For more than
three miles they pursued them over the plain, till wearied with
slaughter. They then returned, victors, slowly and sadly to their
encampment. Peace and friendship would have been far preferable to
this war and misery. Even their victory was to the Spaniards a great
disaster, for several of the men were slain, and many severely
wounded. Of the latter, fifteen subsequently died. De Soto remained
four days in the encampment, nursing the wounded, and then resumed his
weary march.

He still directed his footsteps in a westerly direction, carefully
avoiding an approach to the sea, lest his troops should rise in
mutiny, send for the ships, and escape from the ill-starred
enterprise. This certainly indicates, under the circumstances, an
unsound, if not a deranged mind. For four days the troops toiled along
through a dismal region, uninhabited, and encumbered with tangled
forests and almost impassable swamps.

At length they came to a small village called Chisca, upon the banks
of the most majestic stream they had yet discovered. Sublimely the
mighty flood, a mile and a half in width, rolled by them. The current
was rapid and bore upon its bosom a vast amount of trees, logs, and
drift-wood, showing that its sources must be hundreds of leagues far
away, in the unknown interior. This was the mighty Mississippi, the
'father of waters.' The Indians, at that point, called it Chucagua.
Its source and its embouchure were alike unknown to De Soto. Little
was he then aware of the magnitude of the discovery he had made.

"De Soto," says Mr. Irving, "was the first European who
looked out upon the turbid waters of this magnificent river;
and that event