eheld with horror this outbreak of Indian fury. Springing
forward he shouted to the patriots, in a loud voice, to desist.

"Death to the traitor!" cried the Spanish commandant, who was still
fighting desperately at the head of the remnant of his squadron.
"_Muera!_" repeated he, as he fired off his last pistol at Manuel. He
missed him, and had just raised his sabre to repair the badness of his
aim, when a blow from a club brought horse and rider to the ground.

"Hold your hands!" cried the young nobleman. "Hold, and give quarter!"

"_El tiempo de la mansedumbre se ha pasado!_" muttered Jago and his
Indians. "The day of mercy is long gone by."

"By the eternal God, I will split the skull of the first who strikes
another blow!" shouted Manuel.

But his endeavours to suspend the slaughter were fruitless. His voice was
drowned amid the furious yells of the Indians. At that very moment the
vesper bells from Cholula came sounding up the mountain, and those of the
various villages of the plain chimed in with an indescribably peaceful and
soothing harmony.

"Ave Maria!" exclaimed a hundred Indian voices. "Ave Maria!" repeated
Metises and Zambos; and all, friends and foes, let their blood-dripping
hands sink, and bending their wild, excited gaze upon the earth, clasped
and kissed the medals of the Virgin of Guadalupe which were hung round
their necks, and in tones of musical monotony began to pray--"Ave Maria,
audi nos peccadores!" All heads were bowed, all hands folded; and,
kneeling upon the corpses of the slain, these raging foes implored, in
humble formula, forgiveness for themselves and their erring
fellow-creatures.

The shades of evening had spread themselves over valley and plain; in the
barranca it was already darkest night; but the mountains of the Sierra
Madre still glowed in the red rays of the setting sun, their snow-capped
summits flaming aloft like gigantic beacons. At the same time multitudes
of eagles and vultures rose upon the wing, mingling their screams with the
groans of the dying and the agonized cries of the wounded. Every
circumstance seemed to unite to render the scene in the highest degree
sublime and horrible.

The bells ceased ringing, and scarcely had the echoes of their last chime
died away, when the Indians arose from their devotional posture, gazed at
each other for a moment with lowering and significant glances, and then,
without uttering a word, sprang upon the few remaining dragoons wit