Such was the enemy the little army of Spaniards now saw advancing upon them in countless numbers. Silent and solid as a wall they awaited the attack. When they had come within bowshot, the battle opened with terrible yells and a shower of arrows which darkened the air. The Spaniards replied with a cannon and musketry fire, which covered the ground with heaps of the closely crowded enemy. The Indians, however, were undaunted. They filled up the void, threw sand in the air to conceal their losses in a cloud of dust, and after another flight of arrows came to a hand to hand struggle. The Spaniards did their best to overcome superiority of numbers, but the impetuosity and the multitude of the enemy were so great that they could not long withstand them. Their ranks were already broken through in several places, and a general massacre seemed imminent when suddenly Cortes appeared with his cavalry and charged into the midst of the enemy. It was a new and dreadful sight to the poor Indians, who had never before beheld horsemen. They thought they were huge monsters, half man and half beast, and were so overcome with fear that their weapons dropped from their hands. The Spaniards improved the opportunity to get into order again, the cannon fire was renewed, and, attacked upon every side, the panic-stricken Indians incontinently fled. Satisfied with this display of his superior power, Cortes at once ordered that the fugitives should be spared and only a few of them captured in order to make a peaceful arrangement with the whole nation. Eight hundred Indians lay dead upon the field, and only two Spaniards, but seventy of the latter were wounded. All the Indians who were not too severely wounded had fled. The field was made the site of a city, which, in honor of the day and the event, was called Santa Maria de la Vittoria, and afterward became the capital of the country.