Then Balboa commanded the others to rest, while he went alone to the top.

“And this,” muttered Pizarro to the man next him, “is the man who is always saying that there is enough glory for all!”

Saavedra’s quick ear caught the remark.  He smiled rather satirically.  He, and he alone, knew the true reason for this action of Balboa’s.

“Juan,” the commander had said to him while they were wading through their last swamp, “when we are somewhere near the summit I shall go on alone.  I want no one with me when I look down the other side of that range.  Whether I see a mere lake, which these savages may call a sea, or—­something greater, I am not sure I shall be able to command my feelings.  I will not be a fool before the men.”

Balboa’s heart was thumping as he climbed, more with excitement than exertion.  No one but Saavedra had so much as an inkling of the importance his success or failure would have for him personally.  The whole of his future lay on the unknown other side of that hill.  He shut his eyes as he reached the top—­then opened them upon a glorious view.

A vast blue sea sparkled in the sunshine, only a few leagues away.  From the mountain top to the shore of this great body of water sloped a wild landscape of forest, rock, savanna and winding river.  Balboa knelt and gave thanks to God.

Then he sprang to his feet and beckoned to his followers, who rushed up the hill, the great hound Leoncico bounding far ahead.  When all had reached the summit Father Andreas de Varo, motioning them to kneel, began the chant of Te Deum Laudamus, in which the company joined.  The notary of the expedition then wrote out a testimonial witnessing that Balboa took possession of the sea, all its islands and surrounding lands, in the name of the sovereign of Castile; and each man signed it.  Balboa had a tall tree cut down and made into a cross, which was planted on the exact spot where he had stood when he first looked upon the sea.  A mound of stones was piled up for an additional monument, and the names of the sovereigns were carved on neighboring trees.  Then Balboa, leading his men down the southern slope of the mountain, sent out three scouting parties under Francisco Pizarro, Juan de Escaray and Alonso Martin to discover the best route to the shore.  Martin’s party were first to reach it, after two days’ journey, and found there two large canoes.  Martin stepped into one of them, calling his companions to witness that he was the first European who had ever embarked upon those waters; Blas de Etienza, who followed, was the second.  They reported their success to Balboa, and with twenty-six men the commander set out for the sea-coast.  The Indian chief Chiapes, whom Balboa had fought and then made his ally, accompanied the party with some of his followers.  On Michaelmas they reached the shore of a great bay, which in honor of the day was christened Bay de San Miguel.  The tide was out, leaving a beach half a league wide covered with mud, and the Spaniards sat down to rest and wait.  When it turned, it came in so fast that some who had dropped asleep found it lapping the bank at their feet, before they were fairly roused.