od which overlooked the Spanish pueblo,
and Cortes determined to capture it. With a large body of chosen men
he attempted its escalade. It was crowded to the very top with the
most resolute {181} Aztecs, and they fought for it with the courage of
fanaticism and despair itself. The feather shields were no match for
the steel cuirasses. The wooden clubs, stuck full of sharp pieces of
obsidian, could not compete on equal terms with the Toledo blades.
Step by step, terrace by terrace, the Spaniards fought their way to the
very top. As if by mutual consent, the contests in the streets stopped
and all eyes were turned upon this battle in the air.

Arriving at the great plateau upon the crest, the Spaniards were met by
five hundred of the noblest Aztecs, who, animated by their priests,
made the last desperate stand for the altars of their gods.

"And how can men die better,
Than in facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of their Fathers,
And the temples of their Gods?"

In the course of the terrific conflict which ensued, two of the bravest
leaped upon Cortes, wrapped their arms around him, and attempted to
throw themselves off the top of the temple, devoting themselves to
death, if so be, they might compass their bold design. It was on the
very verge of eternity that Cortes tore himself free from them.
Singled out for attack because of his position and because of his
fearlessness in battle, his life was saved again and again by his
followers, until it seemed to be miraculously preserved.

After a stupendous struggle the summit of the temple was carried. Amid
the groans of the populace, the Spaniards tumbled down from its
resting-place the hideous image of the war-god, and completed in Aztec
eyes the desecration of the temple. They were victorious, but they had
paid a price. Dead Spaniards {182} dotted the terraces, the sunlight,
gleaming on their armor, picking them out amid the dark, naked bodies
of the Mexicans. Of those who had survived the encounter, there was
scarcely one but had sustained one or more wounds, some of them fearful
in character. The Mexicans had not died in vain.

Leaving a guard at the temple, Cortes came back to the garrison. The
attack was resumed at once by the natives. Attempts were made to burn
the thatched roofs of the pueblo. A rain of missiles was poured upon
it. The Spaniards made sally after sally, inflicting great slaughter,
but losing always a little themselves. The