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 with the commander and his guard. Right gallantly Narvaez fought, but a spear at last pierced his left eye, and he sank to the ground crying, "Santa Maria, aid me! I am slain!" With a supreme effort his men dragged him into the sanctuary on the summit, and there they made their last stand. In vain; Martin Lopez, the shipwright, a very tall man, set fire to the thatch of the roof, and those inside were forced to rush out into the midst of their foes.

"Victory! Victory for the Espíritu Santo! Long live our king and Cortés! Narvaez is dead!" shouted the victors, and at the cry the captains defending the other teocallis at once surrendered. As for the officer who had talked of broiling the ears of Cortés for his breakfast, he was seized with a sudden illness and could fight no more. The victory was won. A handful of men, without cannon or horses, had completely vanquished the strong force of Velasquez. Narvaez, not dead, but sore wounded, lay a helpless prisoner. The darkness and the storm had been the greatest aid to the attackers, and myriads of fire-flies had been mistaken by the sleepy garrison for an army with matchlocks. Very shamefaced were the soldiers of Narvaez when the morning dawned and they saw by how small a force they had been vanquished. Surrounded by his captains, Cortés, a mantle of orange colour thrown over his shoulders, sat in state to receive the homage of his rival's officers and cavaliers. Willingly enough they came to kiss his hand, not sorry, perhaps, to change commanders. 171