follow his comrades the current
suddenly broke through the ghastly obstruction, and swept the channel
clear. His faithful horse had been killed under him; he himself was
sorely wounded; his friends were gone, and the merciless foe hemmed him
in. We cannot but be reminded of the Roman hero,--

"Of him who held the bridge so well
In the brave days of old."

Alvarado's case was fully as desperate as that of Horatius; and he rose
as manlike to the occasion. With one swift glance about, he saw that to
plunge into the flood would be sure death. So, with a supreme effort of
his muscular frame, he thrust down his lance and sprang! It was a
distance of eighteen feet. Considerably longer jumps have been recorded.
Our own Washington once made a running jump of over twenty feet in his
athletic youth. But considering the surroundings, the darkness, his
wounds, and his load of armor, the wonderful leap of Alvarado has
perhaps never been surpassed:--

"For fast his blood was flowing,
And he was sore in pain;
And heavy was his armor,
And spent with changing blows."

But the leap was made, and the heroic leaper staggered up the farther
bank and rejoined his countrymen.

From here the remnant fought, struggling along the causeway, to the
mainland. The Indians at last drew off from the pursuit, and the
exhausted Spaniards had time to breathe and look about to see how many
had escaped. The survivors were few in number. Small wonder if, as the
legend tells, their stout-hearted general, used as he was to a stoic
control of his feelings, sat him down under the cypress, which is still
pointed out as the tree of the _Noche Triste_, and wept a strong man's
tears as he looked upon the pitiful remnant of his brave army. Of the
twelve hundred Spaniards eight hundred and sixty had perished, and of
the survivors not one but was wounded. Two thousand of his allies, the
Tlaxcaltecan Indians, had also been slain. Indeed, had it not been that
the savages tried less to kill than to capture the Spanish for a more
horrible death by the sacrificial knife, not one would have escaped. As
it was, the survivors saw later three score of their comrades butchered
upon the altar of the great teocalli.

All the artillery was lost, and so was all the treasure. Not a grain of
powder was left in condition to be used, and their armor was battered
out of recognition. Had the Indians pursued now, the exhausted men would
have fallen e