As Cortez gazed upon the feeble band of mangled and bleeding soldiers which now alone remained to him, even his stern heart was moved, and he bowed his head and wept bitterly. We can not regret that some drops of retributive woe were wrung from the heart of that guilty conqueror. He had overwhelmed a benighted nation with misery. Under the divine government, such a crime can not go unpunished, and the penalty must descend either in this life or in that which is to come. But this was no time to indulge in grief. It was necessary immediately to find some shelter for the wearied troops. The Mexicans were preparing to renew the attack, and the inhabitants of Tacuba were assembling in arms. At a little distance, on a rising ground, Cortez discovered a large stone temple. He immediately took possession of it, and here found not only temporary shelter, but, fortunately, provisions for his almost famished troops. Here, for a day, the Spaniards beat off the foe who incessantly assailed them. "And God only knows," says Cortez, "the toil and fatigue with which it was accomplished; for of twenty-four horses that remained to us, there was not one that could move briskly, nor a horseman able to raise his arm, nor a foot-soldier unhurt who could make any effort." They were now on the western side of the lake. It was necessary to pass around the northern shore of this vast expanse of water, as the country was there thinly populated, and they would be consequently less liable to attack. The road led a distance of nearly a hundred miles over mountains and through marshes to the eastern shore. From there, a march of more than sixty-four miles was necessary before they could reach the territory of Tlascala, which was the first point where they could hope for any relief. Under the guidance of a Tlascalan soldier, the despairing band commenced its march. They advanced the first day and night but nine miles, fighting incessantly all the way. For six days, with hardly any respite, they continued their retreat. Their only food they gathered as they hurried along, of berries, roots, and green corn. They were continually assailed by the indefatigable foe; but with their few remaining horses, their steel swords, and the energies which European civilization confers, they beat off their assailants and continued their flight. As the horses were needed to beat off the swarming foe, the sick and wounded were compelled to hobble along, as they could, on crutches. "Next to God," says Cortez, "our greatest security was in our horses." One horse was killed. The Spaniards eagerly devoured his flesh, "not leaving," says Cortez, "even his skin, or any other part of him, so great were our necessities." Cortez, who promptly recovered from his momentary weakness, manifested the utmost sereneness and imperturbability of spirit, shared every hardship of the soldiers, and maintained their confidence in him by surpassing all in the gallantry and the magnanimity of his courage.