"De Leste has gone mad," said Alvarado.—"Shall we chase the runagates? See how they scamper!"
The words of Alvarado were true. No sooner had the golden banner fallen from its height, and been lost among the combatants, than there rose a dismal yell over the whole valley, and the vast multitudes, those near at hand, and those afar, alike, began to fly, and in the utmost confusion.
"Victory! praise be to God! to God and our noble St. James!" cried Cortes, with a shout, that thrilled to the hearts of the flying pagans. "Follow not the knaves: leave them to the foot—to the allies and our mighty champion, the Saint!—Soho, De Leste! return. Follow not after the knaves."
"'Tis De Olid," cried Don Pedro, "that halloos the hunt's-up. I tell thee, De Leste is mad!"
"Back to our Champion!" said Cortes.—"Hah! what saidst thou of De Leste?"
"That he is gone mad,—raving, besottishly, and very blasphemously mad; and that he deserted us, the moment he saw thee fling thy spear."
"God forbid the youth should prove to be as was his kinsman, before his death-day," said Cortes; "for a more gallant and sufficient soldier, though somewhat self-willed, have I never beheld.—Mad, sayst thou?"
"He swore to me, first," said Alvarado, with a devout shrug, "that that paynim god, Mexitli, descending the hill yonder, was mounted on his own good horse, Fogoso; which seems to me not unreasonable; for Fogoso was, in some sense, the best charger lost that night, (which God punish to the heathen for ever!) and, doubtless, Huitzilopochtli, if determined to go out a pricking, like a Christian knight-errant, would be wise enough to pick up the best ghost of Christian horse. And, secondly," continued Don Pedro, crossing himself, "he swore that his most holy valour, Santiago, who came down from the hill-top to help us, was no more than the ghost of his kinsman, the knight Calavar, who was drowned, horse and all, in the salt lake, near to Iztapalapan!—But ho! halon! let us follow the hunt!"
"Ha, my masters!" cried Don Hernan; "let us return, and fathom this marvel, for it may bode us much to know. But stay—I will not rob ye of pastime. As many of ye as will, spur after the hounds, and aid the Tlascalans."
So saying, and the foes now being scattered in flight over the neighbouring hills, the general returned towards the infantry; while the cavaliers, shouting, as if in a boar-chase, urged their steeds up the hills, in pursuit of the fugitives.