The handful of cavalry, consisting almost entirely of the personal friends and officers of Cortez, cleared the way for the head of the column by repeated and desperate charges; while the infantry, with pike and sword, maintained a front that the Aztecs, although fighting with the greatest bravery, were unable to break.
The Tlascalans fought as stoutly as the Spaniards.

Their native land lay almost within sight, and the love of home, and the remembrance of many a victory gained over the Aztecs, animated them to rival the steadfastness of their white comrades.
Yet though unbroken, the little force was but as an island in the midst of an ocean.

The attacks, although always repulsed, were constantly renewed.

The gaps in the ranks of the enemy were filled up with fresh combatants and, as hour after hour went on, even the most hopeful in the Spanish band began to feel that the contest could have but one termination; and that they would be overcome, not so much by the arms of the Aztecs, as by fatigue, thirst and hunger.
The cavalry had performed prodigies of valor.

Breaking up into knots of threes and fours, they had charged into the dense crowd of the enemy; clearing a way for themselves with lance and sword, and by the weight of the horses and armor.