f carnage and devastation, while loud and
prolonged peals sounded like the ominous voice of the spirit of
destruction riding on the storm, and exulting over the scene of death.
But the Spaniards, though moved by the sight of their companions falling
around, could not be subdued by the gloomy prospect before them, for it
is the attribute of noble courage, while it sympathises with the brave,
to continue in the path of honor and duty undaunted and undismayed.

Flash now followed upon flash, and by their livid and unearthly
reflection appeared the gallant leader and his band, more resolute in
proportion to the fury of the warring elements. The caves and wild
recesses echoed with the hollow moaning of the blast, mingled with the
shouts of the combatants. Chilling was the scene; more chilling still
when the pause made by the raging storm was filled up with the more
terrific noise of the falling rocks and stones which came thundering
down. Aghast the Christians beheld, by the vivid flashes, the descending
destruction; now a block rolled along dyed in the blood of their gallant
companions, and again some uncouth and unfashioned fragment had gathered
in its career a broken limb, a nerveless arm, or a bleeding leg. The
channels were now filled with the water that rushed down the sides of
the mountain, forming gurgling eddies around the crushed bodies of the
fallen, and mingling their blood with the turbid waters in their descent
below.

Such an accumulation of misfortunes began to dishearten the Christians,
whose forces were reduced to half their number. Don Pedro, Count de
Urena, and other principal chiefs were wounded, others dead; and an
horrific shout on the left, commanded by Don Antonio de Leyva, announced
some dreadful catastrophe in that direction.

The renegade, with a valiant reinforcement, had by a dexterous
manoeuvre cut off the retreat of the Christians in that quarter; and,
though they had fought with the most desperate courage, they were
completely routed, and the greater number slaughtered on the spot.
Savagely Bermudo dealt his blows on his own countrymen, and vented his
diabolical feelings on many brave and innocent men to take vengeance for
the wrongs he had sustained from one. But few men escaped from this
promiscuous carnage, and those few cut their way with frenzied courage
through the ranks of the enemy, bearing the bleeding body of their
chief, Don Antonio de Leyva.

The rage of the storm had by this