palaces. Those you will see. They are wonderful. They are worth ten times
the labor and danger which we shall encounter. Buildings eight hundred
feet long by two hundred and fifty feet deep, Mrs. Stanley. The
resting-places and wayside strongholds of the Aztecs on their route from
the frozen North to found the Empire of the Montezumas! This whole region
is strewn, and cumbered, and glorified with ruins. If we should go by the
way of the San Juan--"

"The San Juan!" protested Thurstane. "Nobody goes by the way of the San
Juan."

Coronado stopped, bowed, smiled, waited to see if Thurstane had finished,
and then proceeded.

"Along the San Juan every hilltop is crowned with these monuments of
antiquity. It is like the castled Rhine. Ruins looking in the faces of
ruins. It is a tragedy in stone. It is like Niobe and her daughters.
Moreover, if we take this route we shall pass the Moquis. The independent
Moquis are a fragment of the ancient ruling race of New Mexico. They live
in stone-built cities on lofty eminences. They weave blankets of exquisite
patterns and colors, and produce a species of pottery which almost
deserves the name of porcelain."

"Really, you ought to write all this," exclaimed Aunt Maria, her
imagination fired to a white heat.

"I ought," said Coronado, impressively. "I owe it to these people to
celebrate them in history. I owe them that much because of the name I
bear. Did you ever hear of Coronado, the conqueror of New Mexico, the
stormer of the seven cities of Cibola? It was he who gave the final shock