he steep
declivity, steed, rider, and soldier rolling from crag to crag until
they were dashed to pieces in the valley. In this desperate struggle the
alferez or standard-bearer of the master, with his standard, was lost,
as were many of his relations and his dearest friends. At length he
succeeded in attaining the crest of the mountain, but it was only to be
plunged in new difficulties. A wilderness of rocks and rugged dells lay
before him beset by cruel foes. Having neither banner nor trumpet by
which to rally his troops, they wandered apart, each intent upon saving
himself from the precipices of the mountains and the darts of the enemy.
When the pious master of Santiago beheld the scattered fragments of his
late gallant force, he could not restrain his grief. "O God!" exclaimed
he, "great is thine anger this day against thy servants. Thou hast
converted the cowardice of these infidels into desperate valor, and hast
made peasants and boors victorious over armed men of battle."

He would fain have kept with his foot-soldiers, and, gathering them
together, have made head against the enemy, but those around him
entreated him to think only of his personal safety. To remain was to
perish without striking a blow; to escape was to preserve a life that
might be devoted to vengeance on the Moors. The master reluctantly
yielded to the advice. "O Lord of hosts!" exclaimed he again, "from thy
wrath do I fly, not from these infidels: they are but instruments in thy
hands to chastise us for our sins." So saying, he sent the guides in the
advance, and, putting spurs to his horse, dashed through a defile of the
mountains before the Moors could intercept him. The moment the master
put his horse to speed, his troops scattered in all directions.
Some endeavored to follow his traces, but were confounded among
the intricacies of the mountain. They fled hither and thither, many
perishing among the precipices, others being slain by the Moors, and
others taken prisoners.

The gallant marques of Cadiz, guided by his trusty adalid, Luis Amar,
had ascended a different part of the mountain. He was followed by
his friend, Don Alonso de Aguilar, the adelantado, and the count
of Cifuentes, but in the darkness and confusion the bands of these
commanders became separated from each other. When the marques attained
the summit, he looked around for his companions-in-arms, but they were
no longer following him, and there was no trumpet to summon them. I