rom his feet and throwing
him across my body. Thrice that rush came like a rush of the sea, and
each time the stand of the Aztecs weakened. Now their circle was broken
and the swords of the Spaniards flashed up on every side, and now the
red ray lay within the ring upon my heart.

'Smite, priest of Tezcat,' screamed the voice of the astronomer; 'smite
home for the glory of your gods!'

With a fearful yell the priest lifted the knife; I saw the golden
sunbeam that rested full upon my heart shine on it. Then as it was
descending I saw the same sunbeam shine upon a yard of steel that
flashed across me and lost itself in the breast of the murderer priest.
Down came the great flint knife, but its aim was lost. It struck indeed,
but not upon my bosom, though I did not escape it altogether. Full upon
the altar of sacrifice it fell and was shattered there, piercing between
my side and that of Otomie, and gashing the flesh of both so that our
blood was mingled upon the stone, making us one indeed. Down too came
the priest across our bodies for the second time, but to rise no more,
for he writhed dying on those whom he would have slain.

Then as in a dream I heard the wail of the astronomer singing the dirge
of the gods of Anahuac.

'The priest is dead and his gods are fallen,' he cried. 'Tezcat has
rejected his victim and is fallen; doomed are the gods of Anahuac!
Victory is to the Cross of the Christians!'

Thus he wailed, then came the sound of sword blows and I knew that this
prophet was dead also.

Now a strong arm pulled the dying priest from off us, and he staggered
back till he fell over the altar where the eternal fire burned,
quenching it with his blood and body after it had flared for many
generations, and a knife cut the rope that bound us.

I sat up staring round me wildly, and a voice spoke above me in
Castilian, not to me indeed but to some comrade.

'These two went near to it, poor devils,' said the voice. 'Had my cut
been one second later, that savage would have drilled a hole in him as
big as my head. By all the saints! the girl is lovely, or would be if
she were washed. I shall beg her of Cortes as my prize.'

The voice spoke and I knew the voice. None other ever had that hard
clear ring. I knew it even then and looked up, slipping off the
death-stone as I looked. Now I saw. Before me fully clad in mail was my
enemy, de Garcia. It was HIS sword that by the good providence of God
had pierced the breas