“But before the end, the Great Chimu foresaw the coming of defeat. He resolved to bury the Great Treasure of his dynasty. And this has never been found. Much of the tremendous wealth of the Incas was loot from the Chimus, but the Great Treasure escaped them.
“When the Spaniards came,” continued Ferdinand, “they learned the story of the Great Chimu and how he had hidden the Great Treasure. Into the ruined temples and palaces of Chan Chan and of other cities of the Chimu kingdom, they delved. Vast treasure thus was recovered, and sent to Spain. But the Great Treasure—no. This, says my father, has never been found.”
Seeing how eager the boys were to hear of these old tales, and nothing loth himself to talk about them, Ferdinand on another occasion repeated the legend of the “Enchanted City of the Caesars.”
“This story, so far as any public or semi-public record goes,” he said, “was first made known through the sworn statements of two Spaniards who arrived in Concepcion, Chile, in 1557. They declared that for seventeen years they had lived in the Enchanted City. But while these statements gave details of the origin and existence of the Enchanted City, they supplied no accurate data for its location. Now, however, I have reason to believe, another statement has come to light, made by another member of de Arguello’s little band, and giving more definite data. And it is this statement which my father possesses.
“But I can see how eager you are, how puzzled by what I have said, and I shall begin at the beginning. That will be better, perhaps.” And Ferdinand smiled at the three shining-eyed friends surrounding him.
“To begin, then,” he said, “it was in the days when Pedro de Valdivia was setting out from Peru to conquer this land of Chile, then a province of the overthrown Inca empire, that a galleon from Spain was wrecked on the coast of Tierra del Fuego at the southern tip of South America. That is a wild and inhospitable coast, devoid of verdure, where not even game is to be found. They must either march forward or die.
“The captain of the band was Sebastian de Arguello. He had with him some 200 soldiers and sailors, thirty conquistadores or gentleman adventurers of Spain who sought fortune in Peru, three priests, and a score of women.
“They were a thousand miles from the nearest Spanish settlements in northern Chile, but there was nothing to do if they would survive except attempt to reach them.
“So the march began, through the great forests of arbor vitae and along those rugged, barren coasts. In those days, there were giants in the land. For that is Patagonia, and it is not so many years ago that the last of the giant Patagonians of ancient days passed away. They were real giants, six and a half feet tall, terrible fighters in guerrila warfare. Day and night they attacked from ambush, and dread, indeed, must have been the times when the Spaniards were forced to abandon the seacoast and attempt to thread the forest, for always the giants would be lying in wait.
“At length, however, the little band won its way through Patagonia, with numbers reduced from the fighting, and seven of the women dead from the unendurable hardships of the march. Yet they had but conquered one danger to encounter a greater. They are now on the borders of Auraucania.