De Soto was only a few days’ journey from Pensacola, where the ship, which he had sent to Cuba for supplies, was to reach him. Yet, instead of heading for the ocean, he decided to march towards the north, evidently hoping to find some city where was gold and silver, similar to that which he had seen in the table-lands of Peru.
The El Dorado seekers accordingly marched northwest, and passed through a flat country where was much game. The Indians were treacherous and constantly annoyed them by attempting to steal their horses, and by attacking any parties which traveled at a distance from the main column. It was now December. As the weather grew chill, De Soto determined to spend the winter in some convenient spot, and, as he now came upon a well-built Indian town, which had recently been deserted, he reached the conclusion that this was the very place for which he had been in search. Accordingly, his cavaliers made themselves comfortable in the thatched huts of the Chickasaws, for such was the name of the redskins who had settled here.
Trouble was still in store for the adventurous gold-seekers.
After their many battles and long journeys, the men enjoyed themselves in hunting and in taking life easy. There was an abundance of corn stored here, so their horses grew sleek and fat, while their masters chased rabbits and other small game. All was peaceful. Apparently not an Indian was in the vicinity, so the guards relaxed their vigilance, grew somewhat careless, and unsuspectingly offered a tempting opening to any redskins who might wish to attack them.
One night the Chickasaws made good use of their opportunity to get even with the invaders of what they considered to be their sacred soil. It was towards the end of January and a fierce north wind was blowing. While the men were sleeping in their huts, suddenly a wild war-whoop welled upon the night air, and, as the wind howled dismally, the roofs over their heads burst into a crackling blaze. Fanned by the high breeze, the flames leaped into the air, and, in a moment the whole camp was red with fire. The Spaniards sprang to arms and rushed forth to the fray, some in their shirts, and many without their armor on.
What had happened?
Under cover of the darkness, and unheard, because of the blustering wind, the vindictive Chickasaws had approached their abandoned town and had furiously attacked it. They had poured in a volley of arrows with burning wisps attached to them, which quickly ignited the thatched roofs and sent a reddening glare over the scene of confusion. De Soto leaped upon his horse, but did so hurriedly and without tightening the girth. It turned with him and he pitched to the ground, falling upon his chest. Immediately the howling savages surrounded him and attempted to put an end to his life, but his men rushed to his assistance, beat off the shrieking Chickasaws, and dragged him by the feet to a position of safety. Leaping again to the saddle, with a mighty cheer, he led his men into the fray with such impetuosity, that the Indians disappeared into the blackness. Forty of the Spaniards had been killed, fifty of their precious horses had been prostrated by barbed arrows and flaming brands, while the larger part of their clothing, arms, their saddles and their provisions, had been consumed. They were also houseless, and the wind was bitterly chill. Fortunately, the Chickasaws did not again attack.
But the hostile savages did not leave them alone. When Spring came and the horsemen resumed their march, they were repeatedly harassed by the red men, who crept near them on every side, and cut down any unsuspecting Spaniard who wandered from the column.
Pursuing a northwesterly course, the cavaliers at length came upon a great force of the natives, who, stripped to their waists and painted with various colors, yelled their defiance and brandished their spears and arrows at the invaders. Nearby was their stronghold, a palisade surrounding their huts, which had three entrances. The Spaniards advanced in three columns to attack these openings.