While the American sentries growled:
“Post Number One (or Two, or Three). All’s well.”
Six miles out from the city were the ruins of the ancient Aztec Indian town of Cholula, with a pyramid of clay and stone blocks two hundred feet high, mounted by one hundred and forty steps. When Cortez, the conquerer, came through here in 1520 the pyramid was used for human sacrifices, and the never-dying fire to the Aztec gods was kept alive on top by the priests. But Cortez destroyed the city and killed six thousand of the people. Now there was no city, and no fire, and on top of the pyramid a church had been erected.
This was such a historic place that the troops were marched out to it, a brigade at a time, for an excursion. The Fourth Infantry with the First Brigade of the First Division, under General Worth and Colonel Garland, made the trip, one clear day, when old Popocatepetl and Iztaccihuatl seemed to be within musket shot instead of seventy-five miles away. Beyond those two mountains lay the City of Mexico, the goal.
“We are the ones to get there,” thought Jerry. The Regulars themselves were no discouraging sight—fifteen hundred well-trained soldiers marching at ease, bearing their veteran flags; the artillery officers brilliant in red trappings, the infantry marked by white, and the general staff gold-braided and gold-epauletted.
To be sure, whenever the troops started for anywhere spies in Puebla immediately galloped into the country to carry the news to Mexican lancers. But who feared the lancers?
General Scott came from behind. He and his staff swept along the column of platoons, and slackened to ride abreast half way.
The officers there had been discussing the scenery. Some gave the palm to glistening Popocatepetl, some to Iztaccihuatl, some to the red-roofed city, some to the fields of green, and some to the great pyramid surmounted by the church. But General Scott said, in his loud voice, so that the drummers and fifers of the Fourth heard plainly:
“Gentlemen, I differ with you all. My greatest delight is in this fine body of troops, without whom we can never sleep in the Halls of Montezuma, or in our own homes again.”
The speech traveled up and down the column and everybody cheered. Old Fuss and Feathers certainly appreciated good soldiers.