, and truly
enough, when they looked down into the valley, they saw it filled with a
mighty host of warriors who had been gathered together by Cuitlahua, and
stationed at this point to dispute the passage of the Spaniards. Every
chief of importance had taken the field with his whole array. As far as
the eye could reach extended a moving mass of glittering shields and
spears, mingled with the banners and bright feather-mail of the
caciques, and the white cotton robes of their followers. It was a sight
to dismay the stoutest heart among the Spaniards, and even Cortes felt
that his last hour was come. But since to escape was impossible, he
disposed his little army to the best advantage, and prepared to cut his
way through the enemy or perish in the attempt. He gave his force as
broad a front as possible, protecting it on each flank with his cavalry,
now reduced to twenty horsemen, who were instructed to direct their long
lances at the faces of the enemy, and on no account to lose their hold
of them. The infantry were to thrust, not strike, with their swords, and
above all to make for the leaders of the enemy, and then, after a few
brave words of encouragement, he and his little band began to descend
the hill, rushing, as it seemed, to certain destruction. The enemy met
them with the usual storm of stones and arrows, but when the Spaniards
closed with them, their superiority became apparent, and the natives
were thrown into confusion by their own numbers as they fell back from
the charge. The infantry followed up their advantage, and a wide lane
was opened in the ranks of the enemy, who receded on all sides as if to
allow them a free passage. But it was only to return with fresh fury,
and soon the little army was entirely surrounded, standing firmly,
protected on all sides by its bristling swords and lances, like an
island in the midst of a raging sea. In spite of many gallant deeds and
desperate struggles, the Spaniards found themselves, at the end of
several hours, only more deeply wedged in by the dense masses of the
enemy. Cortes had received another wound, in the head, his horse had
fallen under him, and he had been obliged to mount one taken from the
baggage train. The fiery rays of the sun poured down upon the nearly
exhausted soldiers, who were beginning to despair and give way, while
the enemy, constantly reinforced from the rear, pressed on with
redoubled fury. At this critical moment the eagle eye of Cortes, ever o