of us, and with it many other things.'



CHAPTER XXII

THE TRIUMPH OF THE CROSS


'Otomie,' I said presently, 'when will they kill us?'

'When the point of light lies within the ring that is painted over your
heart,' she answered.

Now I turned my head from her, and looked at the sunbeam which pierced
the shadow above us like a golden pencil. It rested at my side about
six inches from me, and I reckoned that it would lie in the scarlet
ring painted upon my breast within some fifteen minutes. Meanwhile the
clamour of battle grew louder and nearer. Shifting myself so far as the
cords would allow, I strained my head upwards and saw that the Spaniards
had gained the crest of the pyramid, since the battle now raged upon its
edge, and I have rarely seen so terrible a fight, for the Aztecs fought
with the fury of despair, thinking little of their own lives if they
could only bring a Spaniard to his death. But for the most part their
rude weapons would not pierce the coats of mail, so that there remained
only one way to compass their desire, namely, by casting the white men
over the edge of the teocalli to be crushed like eggshells upon the
pavement two hundred feet below. Thus the fray broke itself up into
groups of foes who rent and tore at each other upon the brink of the
pyramid, now and again to vanish down its side, ten or twelve of them