Mitla was sadly disappointed in the result of her meeting with the tzin; there appeared to be no cause for hope in a requital of her great love by a return of his. When the moment came for parting she would have slipped away to hide the signs of her despair, which she felt must be apparent; but the tzin prevented it by insisting on her going a short distance with him. So it happened, when the cortege moved away from the house, she was walking at his side; while Oxie, vivacious and happy, walked and talked with the prince.
The opportunity for the development of Oxie's suddenly acquired admiration for Hualcoyotl into a stronger sentiment had not been afforded, as in the case of Mitla for Euetzin; she was, therefore, under no restraint, though in that peculiar mental condition which would have required but little encouragement to arouse a passionate sentiment which was only slumbering, and not profoundly either.
The tzin had secured the hunter's promise that Mitla should accompany friends to Tlacopan, to be present at the tourney and contest for the king's prize. On learning this she became quite cheerful, in view of the fact that she would soon see him again, and the parting, as a consequence, had comparatively little of sadness in it for her.
Good-byes were said, and the hunter and his daughters returned to their home, feeling that sense of loneliness which ever follows the breaking up of associations that have become dear to the heart.
The prince bade adieu to the mountains, in the fastnesses of which he had suffered so much, with no feelings of regret. Ix had learned to love the solitude of his hermitage, and, while rejoicing in the prospect of being restored to his people and country, felt a tinge of sadness as he cast his eyes for the last time toward the mountain which had given him security for eight long years.
The battles of the Anahuacans were not fought on scientific principles. They had no conception of even the ordinary maneuvers of an army. What they did was done by main force and strategem. Their tactics were the result of untutored cunning, rather than intelligent design. To be sure, their armies were organized--as has been previously described--and, with their gaudy and glittering war paraphernalia of gorgeously decorated banners, bright shields, helmets, and cuirasses, presented a sight truly magnificent--according to the story of writers contemporaneous with the conquerors--as they moved forward in "so admirable order." They usually aimed to overwhelm an adversary, especially if the strength of numbers was on their side. They advanced amid the noises of rude drums, trumpets, and other instruments, singing their war songs, and vociferating their war cries, which was, no doubt, a kind of whistle-to-keep-up-your-courage proceeding. When on the defensive they resorted to cunningly devised ambuscades and other sudden surprises. They also practiced that peculiar manner of fighting common with savages, known as guerilla warfare, in which men have stooped to engage, in this nineteenth century, who claimed to be civilized.
