the brink of the
pyramid, now and again to vanish down its side, ten or twelve of them
together. Some of the priests also joined in the fight, thinking less of
their own deaths than of the desecration of their temples, for I saw
one of them, a man of huge strength and stature, seize a Spanish soldier
round the middle and leap with him into space. Still, though very
slowly, the Spaniards and Tlascalans forced their way towards the centre
of the platform, and as they came the danger of this dreadful end grew
less, for the Aztecs must drag them further.

Now the fight drew near to the stone of sacrifice, and all who remained
alive of the Aztecs, perhaps some two hundred and fifty of them, besides
the priests, ringed themselves round us and it in a circle. Also the
outer rim of the sunbeam that fell through the golden funnel, creeping
on remorselessly, touched my painted side which it seemed to burn as hot
iron might, for alas, I could not command the sun to stand still while
the battle raged, as did Joshua in the valley of Ajalon. When it touched
me, five priests seized my limbs and head, and the father of them, he
who had conducted me from the palace, clasped his flint knife in both
hands. Now a deathly sickness took me and I shut my eyes dreaming that
all was done, but at that moment I heard a wild-eyed man, the chief of
the astronomers whom I had noted standing by, call out to the minister
of death:

'Not yet, O priest of Tezeat! If you smite before the sunbeam lies upon
the victim's heart, your gods are doomed and doomed are the people of
Anahuac.'

The priest gnashed his teeth with rage, and glared first at the creeping
point of light and then over his shoulder at the advancing battle.
Slowly the ring of warriors closed in upon us, slowly the golden ray
crept up my breast till its outer rim touched the red circle painted
upon my heart. Again the priest heaved up his awful knife, again I shut
my eyes, and again I heard the shrill scream of the astronomer, 'Not
yet, not yet, or your gods are doomed!'

Then I heard another sound. It was the voice of Otomie crying for help.

'Save us, Teules; they murder us!' she shrieked in so piercing a note
that it reached the ears of the Spaniards, for one shouted in answer
and in the Castilian tongue, 'On, my comrades, on! The dogs do murder on
their altars!'

Then there was a mighty rush and the defending Aztecs were swept in upon
the altar, lifting the priest of sacrifice f