The Stories of El Dorado

by Frona Eunice Wait

"I have met with nothing but kindness on the way. There has never been any attempt at an uprising."

And this was the truth.

The Gilded Man

THERE were none willing to say "God forgive him," is what history tells us of the end of Pizarro, whose throat was cut by some of the men he quarreled with over the treasures they had taken from the Children of the Sun, and I do not believe that any one was ever sorry that he perished like a wretched outcast. Of course, one of his brothers had heard of El Dorado, and he began to inquire closely of the Indians whether there really was such a person.

"Yes, there is," he was told, "and this chief smears himself all over with a sweet-smelling gum and sprinkles his body with fine gold-dust until he looks like a shining statue."

"Where does this chief live?"

"Not far from here, and his people are very rich in gold and emeralds."