The infidel began the combat with the same agility he had displayed in leaping up to the platform. He uttered his yell, brandished his axe, and making a half circuit round the stone, suddenly darted upon it, and aimed a blow at Guzman. He was met by the Spaniard with an address and effect, that showed he had not overrated his skill. Rather meeting than avoiding the blow, he struck up, with his bucklered hand, not the macana, but the arm of the assailant, seemingly calculating that the shock of the rebuff would tumble him from the stone. It did more: it caused the Mexican to fling up his arms, in the instinctive effort to preserve his equilibrium. The next instant, Guzman drove his glassy axe deep into his uncovered side, and spurning him violently with the foot which was at liberty, the Mexican fell backwards upon the platform, writhing in the agonies of death. The whole combat was scarce the work of a minute. Those who drew in their breath as the Mexican sprang to the assault, had not taken a second inspiration, before their countryman was discomfited and dying. The infidels set up a scream, as much of approbation as surprise. The spirit of the Roman amphitheatre was felt around the Temalacatl of Mexico; and plaudits were bestowed upon a victor, when pity was denied to the slain. The vanquished and writhing combatant was dragged from the mound, and his place immediately occupied by a second, who leaped up with the same alacrity, and attacked with similar violence. "Fool that thou art!" muttered Guzman, with scorn and lofty self-reliance, "were there twenty such grasshoppers at thy back, yet should it be but boy's play to despatch thee." He caught the blow of the savage on his buckler, but greatly to his injury; for the sharp blades of the iztli severed it nearly in twain, and besides diminishing its already insufficient defence, inflicted a severe wound upon his arm. But it was the only blow struck by the barbarian. Infuriated by the wound, Guzman smote him over the head with his weapon, and with such rapidly continued blows as entirely confounded the Mexican, so that he made scarce any use of his shield. The first stroke tore the cayman-scales from his hair, and the next clove through his skull. Guzman's victory was as complete as before, but he found that several of the separate blades, or teeth of obsidian, that edged his weapon, were broken off by the blows. He beheld this with alarm, for having held up the axe, to show its dilapidated condition, and demand another, he found himself answered only by the appearance of a third antagonist. "Dogs and jugglers that ye are!" he cried, indignantly: "ye would cheat me then to death, by leaving me weaponless! St. Dominic, knaves! but I will sort your wit with a better wisdom.--Now, what a spectacle might I not make for my brother Christians on the dikes! Thou art playing quits with me, Cortes!--Hah, dog! art thou so ready?"