words by which the council decided for Cortés were to him as drops of perspiration on the lately fevered brow, which tell that the crisis is passed.
There was another cloud about this time appearing on the horizon of the fortunes of Cortés. During his stay at Tlascala the men of Narvaez began again to moot the subject of return. The golden vision of Mexico's treasures had been rudely dissipated, leaving only the remembrance of hardships and disgrace. The flowery Antilles appeared more alluring than ever to these gold-seekers, only too many of whom were more accustomed to the farm than to the camp. They could think of nothing but the ease and security of the fertile plantations, where nature unloaded its wealth, and where docile natives ministered to every want. In furtherance of this idea it was urged on Cortés, by Duero and other leaders, to retire to Villa Rica before the Mexicans had succeeded in their efforts to cut off his retreat. There they would intrench themselves while awaiting aid from the islands and arranging a fresh campaign, having the vessels to fall back on, if necessary. But to these intimations Cortés would not for a moment listen. And there were many reasons for this — his ambition to be all or nothing in this enterprise, his crimes against Velazquez, his irregularities regarding the king's interests, which only brilliant success could redeem. As well might they talk to the unyielding hills; he would join his dead comrades in the canals of Mexico, or voluntarily ascend to the sacrificial stone, but he would not turn back from this adventure.
When the general revealed his firm intention to renew the campaign as soon as possible, the outcry became loud. The Noche Triste and the narrow escape at Otumba had left impressions too horrible to be easily forgotten. They shuddered at the thought of renewing such risk, and cursed the gold which had allured them to former discomfitures. If the general wished to throw away his life he might do so, but
