the Mexicans glut their long-repressed desires for blood. Upon the night air rose the shrieks and groans of the wounded and dying, and the appealing cries of the unfortunate victims, who were dragged into the canoes and carried off to be murdered upon the sacrificial stone. The second canal finally became so filled with the dead and dying, horses, baggage, and artillery, that those remaining alive in this terrified throng found a passage over them across the water and hurried along the causeway to the third canal. This soon became filled like the other with dead and wounded prisoners and soldiers, and over this horrible bridge the wretched remnant of the army escaped to solid land, Cortez and his captains, those who were at liberty to do so, clapped spurs to their horses and galloped along the causeway.
In the courts of a small place called Popotla, the remains of which may be seen at this day, the survivors of the vanguard halted to await information of their miserable comrades. Cortez and a few of the cavalry went back as far as the first canal, and there met the captain, Alvarado, wounded and on foot, limping along with his lance in his hand. He had with him but fifteen or twenty soldiers of the rear-guard, and they told Cortez it was vain to wait for more, as all had perished. When Cortez learned this it is said that the tears ran from his eyes, for there were in the rear-guard nearly one hundred and fifty of his bravest soldiers, besides one of the most gallant of his captains, Velasquez de Leon, whom he dearly loved. Alvarado told them that, after the horses had been killed, about eighty of them collected in a body and forced the second canal upon the corpses of the slain; he, himself, if we may believe his own story, saved his life by a tremendous leap; placing his lance at the bottom of a canal he vaulted across the broad space to the other side. This story, whether false or true,
