Coronado himself crossed Arizona to Zuni—­the pueblo of the Indians that Fray Marcos had gazed upon from a hill, but had not dared approach—­and took it by storm, receiving a wound in the conflict which laid him up for a while and made it necessary to send his lieutenant, the Ensign Pedro de Tobar, to further conquests to the north and west.  Hence it was that Tobar, and not Coronado, discovered the pueblos of the Hopi Indians.  He also sent his sergeant, Cardenas, to report on the stories told him of a mighty river also to the north, and this explains why Cardenas was the first white man to behold that eloquent abyss since known as the Grand Canyon.  And because Cardenas was Tobar’s subordinate officer, the high authorities of the Santa Fe Railway—­who have yielded to a common-sense suggestion in the Mission architecture of their railway stations, and romantic, historic naming of their hotels—­have called their Grand Canyon hotel, El Tovar, their hotel at Las Vegas, Cardenas, and the one at Williams (the junction point of the main line with the Grand Canyon branch), Fray Marcos.

Poor Coronado, disappointed as to the finding and gaining of great stores of wealth at Zuni, pushed on even to the eastern boundaries of Kansas, but found nothing more valuable than great herds of buffalo and many people, and returned crestfallen, broken-hearted and almost disgraced by his own sense of failure, to Mexico.  And there he drops out of the story.  But others followed him, and in due time this northern portion of the country was annexed to Spanish possessions and became known as New Mexico.

In the meantime the missionaries of the Church were active beyond the conception of our modern minds in the newly conquered Mexican countries.

The various orders of the Roman Catholic Church were indefatigable in their determination to found cathedrals, churches, missions, convents and schools.  Jesuits, Franciscans and Dominicans vied with each other in the fervor of their efforts, and Mexico was soon dotted over with magnificent structures of their erection.  Many of the churches of Mexico are architectural gems of the first water that compare favorably with the noted cathedrals of Europe, and he who forgets this overlooks one of the most important factors in Mexican history and civilization.

The period of expansion and enlargement of their political and ecclesiastical borders continued until, in 1697, Fathers Kino and Salviaterra, of the Jesuits, with indomitable energy and unquenchable zeal, started the conversion of the Indians of the peninsula of Lower California.

In those early days, the name California was not applied, practically speaking, to the country we know as California.  The explorers of Cortes had discovered what they imagined was an island, but afterwards learned was a peninsula, and this was soon known as California.  In this California there were many Indians, and it was to missionize these that the God-fearing, humanity-loving, self-sacrificing Jesuits just named—­not Franciscans—­gave of their life, energy and love.  The names of Padres Kino and Salviaterra will long live in the annals of Mission history for their devotion to the spiritual welfare of the Indians of Lower California.