mass, they mow an instant path to the charmed centre. The wave of disorder strikes the sacred guard, while the unruly horse of Cortés, bearing him unresistingly onward, overturns the litter of the generalissimo, and hurls the bearers to the ground. “Victory!” shouts Cortés, when he recovers his breath; and “victory! victory!” echo his people, while Juan de Salamanca plunges his lance into the body of the prostrate chief, and seizing the sacred banner, presents it to the general as his rightful trophy.42
The welcome cry of Cortés electrified the whole Spanish line, while the warriors lately so triumphant stood stupefied with dismay. With the disappearance of the palladium their courage had fallen, while the Spanish soldiers, with the confidence and strength of joy, rushed from wing to wing upon them. The warriors wavered; then, with one more searching glance in the direction of the guiding emblem, they became convinced that their leader had indeed fallen. Consternation followed; the panic from the centre overtook the more distant, and valiantly
as they had fought before, as cravenly did they now flee.43