boiling tide of battle sufficiently to enable those who were most sorely pressed to be gradually withdrawn, yet not until sixty-two Spaniards and a multitude of allies, besides many killed and wounded, had fallen captives and victims in the hands of their implacable enemies.
It was yet day when the broken band withdrew from the city, and returned to the camps either on the first slopes of the hills, or at the terminations of the causeways. But sad, indeed, was the spectacle that presented itself to their eyes, as they gazed towards the city, through the clear atmosphere of those elevated regions, when they heard the drum sound from the top of the Great Teocalli. It was the dread signal of sacrifice. The wretched Spaniards, who had been captured in the fight, were, one after another, stretched on the stone in front of the hideous idols, and their reeking hearts, torn from their bosoms, thrown as propitiating morsels into the flames before the deities. The mutilated remains of the captives were then flung down the steep sides of the pyramid, to glut the crowds at its base with a "cannibal repast."
Whilst these repulses and dreadful misfortunes served to dispirit the Spaniards and elate the Aztecs, they were not without their signally bad effects upon the auxiliaries. Messages were sent to these insurgent bodies by the Emperor. He conjured them to return to their allegiance. He showed them how bravely their outraged gods had been revenged. He spoke of the reverses that had befallen the white men in both their invasions, and warned them that a parricidal war like this could "come to no good for the people of Anahuac." Otomies, Cholulans, Tepeacans, Tezcocans, and even the loyal Tlascalans, the hereditary enemies of the Montezumas and Guatemozins, stole off secretly under the cover of night. There were of course exceptions in this inglorious desertion; but it seems that perhaps the majority of the tribes departed for their homes with the belief that the tide had turned against the Spanish conqueror and that it was best to escape before it was too late, the scandal or danger of open treason against their lawful Emperor. But, amid all these disasters, the noble heart of Cortéz remained firm and true to his purpose. He placed his artillery again in position upon the causeways, and, never wasting his ammunition, contrived to husband it carefully until the assaulting Aztecs swarmed in such numbers on the dykes that his discharges mowed them down like grass as they advanced to attack him. It was a gloomy time, requiring
