They always treated me kindly on this march, giving me Indians to procure grass for my horse, and doing me many services. To me and all of us, their sentence appeared cruel and unjust, and their deaths most undeserved. After this, we continued our march with much circumspection, being apprehensive of a mutiny among the Mexican troops in revenge for the execution of their chiefs; but these poor creatures were so exhausted by famine, sickness, and fatigue, that they did not seem even to have bestowed a thought on the matter. At night we came to a deserted village; but on searching we found eight priests, whom we brought to Cortes. He desired them to recal the inhabitants, which they readily promised, requesting him not to injure their idols in a temple close to some buildings in which Cortes was quartered, which he agreed to, yet expostulated with them on the absurdity of worshipping compositions of clay and wood. They seemed as if it would have been easy to induce them to embrace the doctrines of our holy faith; and soon brought us twenty loads of fowls and maize. On being examined by Cortes about the bearded men with horses, they said that these people dwelt at a place called _Nito_, at the distance of seven suns, or days journey from their village, and offered to guide us to that place. At this time Cortes was exceedingly sad and ill-humoured, being fretted by the difficulties and misfortunes of his march, and his conscience upbraided him for the cruelty he had committed upon the unfortunate king of Mexico. He was so distracted by these reflections, that he could not sleep, and used to walk about at night, as a relief for his anxious thoughts. Going in the dark to walk in a large apartment which contained some of the Indian idols, he missed his way and fell from a height of twelve feet, by which he received a severe contused wound in his head. He endeavoured to conceal this circumstance from general knowledge, and got his wounds cured as well as he could, keeping his sufferings to himself.