But as yet they knew little of the character of their foe. There were among Montejo's command veterans who had borne the brunt of the fight during the darkest hours of the Noche Triste, but even they had not seen a more appalling sight than that which greeted them, when, on the early dawn of a winter day, toward the close of 1527,[1] they approached this town. "Hordes of Indians, hideous in their warpaint, came forth," says Oviedo, "like fiercest devils from their lurking place;" and so vast was their number that it seemed as if all the rulers of Yucatan had massed their forces for the coming struggle. Nor could they have selected a spot more favorable for a battle-field. The ground was narrow, unfavorable for the action of cavalry, and such that the Spaniards being unable to deplore their ranks could make but little use of their fire-arms, and were in danger of being crushed by the mere weight of the enemy's columns.
While Montejo was speaking words of cheer to his men and bidding them stand firm before the shock, his voice was drowned by the uproar of the oncoming masses, as they mingled with their war-cries the shrill blasts of their conch-shell trumpets. Flights of arrows were aimed at the Spaniards at short range, and the next moment their lances pointed with sharpened flint, and wielding double-handed swords of hardest wood, the Indians grappled with their foe. Nevertheless the adelantado held his ground, and beating back the assailants a short distance let loose at them his cavalry and blood-hounds. The horsemen were in turn pushed back by sheer weight of numbers, and again the natives advanced to the attack.
Thus till dark the combat lasted, neither side gaining decisive advantage. The night was spent by the Spaniards in dressing their wounds and obtaining what little rest they could, the natives meanwhile bringing up fresh reënforcements. With the morning the
- ↑ The exact date of this battle cannot be ascertained, but it was certainly near the close of this year. Cogolludo, Hist. Yucathan, 77-8.
