covered with blood. Alvarado declared that these were all that remained of the division intrusted to him: all the rest, officers as well as men, and among them Velasquez de Leon, having been killed or made prisoners; that when he came to the third breach, not being able to face the enemy or to swim across, in an effort of despair he struck his lance in the bottom of the ditch, and leaped to the other side. This effort saved him.[13] The dawn of the next day found the Spaniards at Popotla, near Tacuba, and showed them more fully their misery. They lay scattered around at random, wounded, exhausted, and disheartened. More than half the Spaniards had perished, with four thousand of their allies. All the ammunition, artillery, and baggage was lost, together with most of the horses. No treasure whatever was saved; those soldiers who had foolishly laden themselves with it having perished for their folly. Well nigh all the Mexican prisoners had likewise perished; among them the prince Cacamatzin, a brother, a son, and two daughters of Montezuma. Velasquez de Leon, Francisco Morla, Francisco Sancedo, and Amador de Lariz, with many other Spanish officers, were missing. The gallant De Leon had been placed in command of the extreme detachment of the rear division, and not even one man of his party was now to be found. The scene touched the heart of Cortes; he who could brave every danger, overcoming every fear, could not now overcome the feelings of a man. As he looked upon the wretched remnant of his army, and thought of his brave companions who were lost, his heart swelled with sorrow; he sat down upon a stone, and the tears rolled down his face. The death of De Leon was more than he could well bear. He was not only a gallant comrade in arms, but a friend whose heart was ever true to Cortes. But greater disasters were possibly before him; and while this thought added to his misery, it taught him also the necessity of rousing his energies. Alvarado, Sandoval, Olid, Ordaz, Davila, and Lugo, were still around him; his faithful friends Doña Marina, Aguilar, and Father Olmedo, were yet alive. These, with the poor soldiers, were looking to him as their leader, and he felt the necessity of action. The country all around was in arms against him; a shelter from their fury was to be found immediately. He gathered his little force, and made a hurried march to Otoncalpolco, a temple nine miles westward from Mexico. Here parties of the enemy attacked him from time to time through the day, but by watchfulness and courage he managed to drive them back. Still his position was dangerous: if a large party should assault him, he could not resist long. He longed to reach Tlascala, as his only safe resting-place; yet it was far distant, and he knew that the Mexicans were watching to waylay him. He was in great anxiety, hesitating what he should do, when a Tlascalan came forward, and offered to conduct him to his own country by a secret pathway. CHAPTER VIII.