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 thousand warriors, were carrying the materials for the ships. Sandoval distributed his Spaniards among the Tlascalans, and onward they toiled over the mountains, expecting at every turn to be attacked. Only the devastating smallpox can explain the inertness of the Aztecs in allowing this all-important convoy to reach Tezcuco unopposed. In pomp and triumph, with drums beating and trumpets sounding, the long array defiled for six hours through the city gates with shouts of "Castilla! Castilla! Tlascala! Tlascala! Long live his Majesty the Emperor!" Well might they exult, for it was indeed, as Cortés himself said, "a marvellous thing that few have seen or even heard of—this transportation of thirteen warships on the shoulders of men for nearly twenty leagues across the mountains!"

"We come," proudly said the Tlascalan chiefs to Malinche, "to fight under your banner, to avenge our common quarrel, or to fall by your side. Lead us at once against the foe!"

"Wait," replied Cortés. "When you are rested you shall have your hands full."

Not yet could the brigantines be launched, for the canal was still unfinished, so the general resolved to employ the time of waiting in subduing the cities on the northern shores of Lake Tezcuco. Sandoval was again left in command of the garrison, while Cortés himself led the expedition.

Before the Spanish cavalry and cannon fell city after city, until at last the victors, rounding the lake to its western shore, came to Tacuba of painful recollection. There stretched the fateful causeway, 225