rear, last of all, came Alvarado. There was a
strange current in the lake, and as he stood all alone at the last
opening, confronting the pursuers, his horse having been killed under
him, a swift movement of the water swept away the gorged mass of
bodies. Torches in the canoes enabled the Aztecs to recognize
Alvarado, Tonatiuh, the child of the sun. His helmet had been knocked
off and his fair hair streamed over his shoulders. He indeed would
{187} be a prize for their sacrifice, second only to Cortes himself.
With furious cries, the most reckless and intrepid leaped upon the dyke
and rushed at him. At his feet lay his neglected lance. Dropping his
sword, he seized his spear, swiftly plunged the point of it into the
sand at the bottom of the pass, and, weighted though he was with his
armor, and weak from his wounds and from the loss of blood, leaped to
safety on the other side. To this day, this place of Alvarado's
marvelous leap is pointed out. Like Ney, Alvarado was the last of that
grand army, and like the French commander, also, he might properly be
called the bravest of the brave.

Darkness was not the usual period for Aztec fighting. It was this
alone that saved the lives of the remaining few for, having seen
Alvarado stagger to freedom along the causeway, the Aztecs concluded
that they had done enough and returned to the city rejoicing. They
took back with them many Spaniards and Tlascalans as captives for
sacrifice and the cannibalistic feast which followed.

When day broke, Cortes sitting under a tree, which is still to be seen
in Mexico,[8] ordered the survivors to pass in review before him. They
numbered five hundred Spaniards and two thousand Tlascalans and a score
of horses. Seven hundred and fifty Spaniards had been killed or taken
captive and four thousand Tlascalans. All the artillery had been lost,
seven arquebuses had been saved, but there was no powder. Half the
Spaniards were destitute of any weapons and the battle-axes and spears
which had been saved {188} were jagged and broken. Their armor was
battered and the most important parts, as helmets, shields,
breastplates, had been lost. Some of the Tlascalans still preserved
their savage weapons. There was scarcely a man, Spanish or Tlascalan
who was not suffering from some wound.

It is no wonder that when Cortes saw the melancholy and dejected array,
even his heart of steel gave way and he buried his face in his hands
and burst int