"The white man's God has triumphed," he said, "and the Aztecs have been defeated. You were right, Roger. Mere handful as they were, the white men have gained the day. Even now, I hardly know how it came about. Never did my countrymen fight more bravely. For hours, the Spaniards stood as a wall which we, in vain, tried to break. Thousands fell on our side, but not for a moment did we waver. Others took their places until, as the hours went on, the Spaniards grew weary, and victory seemed in our grasp. Their horsemen had charged through and through us, but though many chiefs were slain, it mattered little. The ranks closed up, and each time they fell back on their infantry, having achieved nothing. Their horses were weary, and their attacks grew more feeble. "Already, our cries of victory were raised. An hour more, and not a Spaniard would have remained on foot. Just at this time my command had been ordered up, and we were fighting in the front rank. "Suddenly I heard, from all parts of the field, loud cries. What had happened I knew not. We stood for a moment, irresolute, not knowing what had befallen us elsewhere. Then a panic seized my men. In vain I shouted and ordered. They were deaf to my voice. They were deaf to everything, save fear. "I was swept away with them, as a leaf on a stream. When at last I freed myself from the torrent, and looked round, I saw that the whole army was in mad flight; while the whites and Tlascalans, like hounds in pursuit of deer, were hanging on their rear, slaughtering all they overtook. "In vain I gathered a few men, and made a stand. It was useless. We were beaten down and overpowered. With the greatest difficulty I broke away and escaped; and had it not been for Bathalda, who fought side by side with me, I should have been taken by two or three fleet-footed Tlascalans. "For the present, all is lost. The fight cannot be renewed tomorrow, and before the sun sets the enemy will have reached the borders of Tlascala, and will be safe there." "But what was it that caused so sudden a panic in your ranks?" Roger asked. "It was the death of Cihuaca, our leader. The Spanish horse, headed, as I hear, by their general himself, burst through our ranks, cut their way to his litter, overthrew his bodyguard, and slew him. His death would have mattered little, as the victory was already won. We needed no further orders. We had but to keep on fighting, and the end would soon have come. It was simply a panic. None knew what had happened. The word passed from man to man, 'All is lost!' and, like a herd of deer, our bravest soldiers fled. It is not a thing to reason about--the gods deserted us, and we were no longer men. That is all I can tell you about it." And the chief flung himself down upon a pile of rugs. Wine and food were brought to him, and his wounds dressed.