Men and horses
were overturned in the fury of the assault, and the foremost
files, rolling back on those below, spread ruin and consternation
in their ranks. De Soto in vain endeavoured to restore order,
and, if possible, to charge the assailants. The horses were
blinded and maddened by the missiles, while the desperate
natives, clinging to their legs, strove to prevent their ascent
up the rocky pathway. De Soto saw, that, unless he gained a
level ground which opened at some distance before him, all must
be lost. Cheering on his men with the old battle-cry, that
always went to the heart of a Spaniard, he struck his spurs deep
into the sides of his wearied charger, and, gallantly supported
by his troop, broke through the dark array of warriors, and,
shaking them off to the right and left, at length succeeded in
placing himself on the broad level.
Here both parties paused, as if by mutual consent, for a few
moments. A little stream ran through the plain, at which the
Spaniards watered their horses; *12 and the animals, having
recovered wind, De Soto and his men made a desperate charge on
their assailants. The undaunted Indians sustained the shock with
firmness; and the result of the combat was still doubtful, when
the shades of evening, falling thicker around them, separated the
combatants.
[Footnote 12: Ped. Sancho, Rel., ap. Ramusio, tom. III. fol.
405.]
Both parties then withdrew from the field, taking up their
respective stations within bow-shot of each other, so that the
voices of the warriors on either side could be distinctly heard
in the stillness of the night.
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