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 cavaliers. Then came a large band of Tlascalans bearing the portable bridge. They were escorted by the captain Magarino and forty picked Spaniards, who had all sworn to defend to the death their charge on which so much depended. In the centre, protected by a strong guard, under the command of the general himself, came the baggage, the artillery, the wounded, the prisoners, and the women. Marina and Montezuma's daughters were carried in curtained palanquins. The rearguard, consisting chiefly of the infantry of Narvaez, was commanded by Alvarado and Leon. In silence they all filed past, and then Cortés, with one last look of bitter regret at the palace where he had lorded it as ruler of an empire, galloped out into the night after his devoted army.

Through the silent city they hurried, starting at every sound, for might not the enemy spring up at any moment from the dark alleys on either side? And how could they fight entrapped in the street, and burdened with wounded and baggage? But only the tramp of the horses, the rumble of the carriages, and the driving rain and wind broke the stillness of the night.

With a sigh of relief and a prayer of thanksgiving, Sandoval passed with the vanguard out from the cramping street on to the open causeway, which was broken by three canals. At the first gaping chasm they waited for Magarino and his bridge. Suddenly a loud shrill sound pealed forth, and the hearts of the fugitives stood still. As they listened with strained white faces, another blast rang out and yet another, until from every quarter of the city the 194