It was the Spanish captain's turn now, and he rose to his full height in his stirrups; for he had at last caught a glimpse of the eyes of the natives, an infallible sign that the moment for the crash was at hand. He had waited for it before on many an occasion, and had stood so in his stirrups. Then the crash had come, his sword had whirled this way and that, and the natives had disappeared as if they had sunk into the ground. He selected Teotlili, and rode full at him. "Shout! Shout and wave your arms!" The gallant noble never moved, for he had braced his courage to the task, a task which might well have caused the boldest to give way, particularly under the circumstances. He stood firmly, and at his signal the natives shouted lustily and tossed their hands into the air. Shrill whistles came from others, while at the same moment six crossbow shafts, tipped with iron taken from Spaniards who had fallen at Mexico, flew towards the horsemen. One struck the armour of the leader with a dull metallic sound, dinting it deeply but failing to penetrate. A second caught one of the troopers beneath the arm as he swung his sword above his shoulder, and, penetrating to his heart, brought him to the ground like a stone. Of the remainder, two found a mark in the horses, bringing them with a terrific concussion to the soil, where their riders were immediately surrounded. But the main body still swept on till close to the natives. Then indeed did Roger's advice bear good fruit. For suddenly the horses reared and pawed the air. Some swerved to one side, one of the last throwing his rider, while others turned, and charging into those who followed, caused the utmost confusion. But a considerable number who occupied a position in rear still kept on, and rode right over the enemy. Once clear, they halted for a few moments, and then, seeing some of their comrades had fallen, they turned and charged back again. However, a flight of crossbow shafts and the determined attitude of the natives caused them to reconsider their decision. They were stunned by their unusual want of success, and by the methods adopted by an enemy who had hitherto been almost helpless. Then, as the latter ran towards them, eager to renew the conflict, they swept round and galloped off to Tlascala, carrying their prisoner with them. The unfortunate Spaniards who had been left behind, and who were not already dead, were pounced upon with eagerness, and carried off to the nearest town, there to suffer the horrible fate which had almost come to Roger. But the greater portion of the enemy gathered about Teotlili, and discussed their plans for rescue. "Halt! Let us count our losses. A curse on the villains! Who could have expected such a manoeuvre?"