Roger was supporting Cacama, and another prisoner lay dead at their feet.
Roger stooped and snatched off his mantle; then, lifting Cacama in his arms, forced his way through the press to the edge of the causeway, just as a canoe ran up alongside, and a number of Aztecs sprang ashore.
"Cuitcatl!" Roger shouted, at the top of his voice.
"Here," the young noble exclaimed, as he sprang forward.
"Here is Cacama," Roger cried.
At the same moment, he received a stunning blow on the back of his helmet from one of the Spaniards, who took him for a Mexican; and fell down the side of the causeway, into the water, with his burden in his arms.
When Roger recovered his senses, he was lying in a canoe, which was being paddled rapidly.

He had been insensible but a few minutes, for the cries of the combatants still sounded close at hand.
Cuitcatl was bending over him.
"How is Cacama ?" he asked, as soon as he could speak.
"Alas! He is dead," Cuitcatl replied.

"You did your best to save him, Roger.
"He spoke but once, after we had got him into the canoe.

He said 'Protect my wife, Cuitcatl; and save our friend.'" "Where are you taking us ?" Roger asked next.
"We will land some distance up the lake.

There I will obtain bearers, and carry Cacama home, that he may be buried as one of his rank should be.