At this time a terrible fight was raging all around them. The natives had gained a footing on the causeway, and the Spaniards were fighting hand to hand with them. "I am mortally wounded, Roger," Cacama said. "Most of the others have already fallen. It is better so. I have lived long enough to see vengeance taken on our oppressors. "Roger, there is one chance for you. Wrap round you one of our mantles. In the darkness, none will see that you are not a Mexican, and they will not shoot at you. "Listen, there is Cuitcatl's war cry. I know his voice; and doubtless they have discerned our white dresses, in the darkness, and he is trying to rescue us." The crowd, pressing along the causeway, had swept the guards away from the prisoners--indeed, there were now scarcely any prisoners left to guard. Unprotected by any defensive armor, most of them had fallen very early in the conflict. Roger was supporting Cacama, and another prisoner lay dead at their feet. Roger stooped and snatched off his mantle; then, lifting Cacama in his arms, forced his way through the press to the edge of the causeway, just as a canoe ran up alongside, and a number of Aztecs sprang ashore. "Cuitcatl!" Roger shouted, at the top of his voice. "Here," the young noble exclaimed, as he sprang forward. "Here is Cacama," Roger cried. At the same moment, he received a stunning blow on the back of his helmet from one of the Spaniards, who took him for a Mexican; and fell down the side of the causeway, into the water, with his burden in his arms. When Roger recovered his senses, he was lying in a canoe, which was being paddled rapidly. He had been insensible but a few minutes, for the cries of the combatants still sounded close at hand. Cuitcatl was bending over him. "How is Cacama?" he asked, as soon as he could speak. "Alas! He is dead," Cuitcatl replied. "You did your best to save him, Roger. "He spoke but once, after we had got him into the canoe. He said 'Protect my wife, Cuitcatl; and save our friend.'" "Where are you taking us?" Roger asked next. "We will land some distance up the lake. There I will obtain bearers, and carry Cacama home, that he may be buried as one of his rank should be. As to you, we must think what had best be done. None of those with me know who you are; believing, in the darkness, that you are one of ourselves. They are my own men, and I can rely upon them when their blood is cooled; but it were best that, at present, they remained in ignorance. Bathalda is in the bow, and his influence and mine will be sufficient to control them, when we are once out of hearing of the conflict. Nothing, save my duty to Cacama, would have withdrawn me from it; but they must do without me. Not a Spaniard will see tomorrow's sun. "Are you badly hurt, Roger? It is too dark to see anything."