s of the priests on the lofty
temples, by the blowing of horns, and the beating of the great war
drum.

"The game has begun," he said. "We shall see how many Spaniards
remain alive, when the sun rises. Long before they can get across
the causeway, our people will be upon them. We shall not see the
triumph, for without defensive armor we shall fall, in the
darkness, beneath the missiles of our own people. That matters not.
Better to die at the hands of a Mexican, struggling to be free,
than at those of these treacherous invaders."

The missiles showered down thickly upon the column, from the
houses, till they emerged from the street and made their way out on
to the causeway. Then they became exposed to the storm of arrows,
darts, and stones from the canoes on the lake. By their officer's
orders, the soldiers immediately in charge of the prisoners drew
their swords and formed a circle round them; with orders to fall
upon and kill them, at once, did they make the slightest movement
to escape. Roger translated to the captives the officer's assurance
that, although he was most anxious for their safety, he had no
resource but to order the soldiers to slay them, at once, if they
made any movement to escape.

"We shall not try to escape," Cacama said. "How can we do so, with
our hands bound?"

During the long pause that ensued, before the rear of the column
passed over the bridge on to the causeway, the impatience among the
soldiers was great. Many had already fallen beneath the missiles of
the enemy. Scarce one but had received wounds, more or less severe.
Several of the prisoners, too, had fallen.

"What is it?" Cacama asked, as the cry of despair went up; when it
became known that the bridge was immovable, and that there were no
means of crossing the breaks in the causeway, ahead.

He muttered an exclamation of triumph, when Roger repeated to him
the news he had just learned.

"That settles it," he said. "Their fate is now sealed. The gods are
at last fighting again for Mexico.

"Roger, I am sorry for you, I am sorry for my wife, and for
Amenche; but I rejoice for my country. If you should escape this
night, Roger--and you have more chance than most, since you speak
our language--do all you can for them."

"You may be sure that I shall do that, Cacama; but the chance of
any escaping seems, to me, a small one. Still, it may be that some
will get over alive. The Spaniards have their faults, Cacama, but
they are g