An erect, martial figure stood respectfully at the entrance of the tent.
“Yes,” said the General, pushing the papers from him. “I have been studying your drawings of the defensive works at San Antonio Garita and find them entirely comprehensive. A council of officers has 437 been called, and perhaps it will be as well for you to remain.”
“At what time shall I be here, General?”
“It is about time now,” answered the commander-in-chief, consulting his watch. “You have quite recovered from your wounds?” he added, kindly.
“Yes, thank you, General.”
“I see by the newspapers you were reported dead. If your friends read that it will cause them needless anxiety. You had better see that the matter is corrected.”
“It is hardly worth while,” returned the young man, slowly.
The commanding general glanced at him in some surprise. “A strange fellow!” he thought. “Has he reasons for wishing to be considered dead? However, that is none of my business. At any rate, he is a good soldier.” And, after a moment, he continued: “Cerro Gordo was warm work, but there is warmer yet in store for us. Only Providence, not the Mexicans, can stop us. But here are the officers,” as General Pillow, Brevet-General Twiggs and a number of other officers entered.
The commander-in-chief proceeded to give such information as he had, touching the approaches to the city. Many of the officers favored operating against San Antonio Garita, others attacking Chapultepec. Saint-Prosper, when called on, stated that the ground before the San Antonio gate was intersected by many 438 irrigating ditches and that much of the approach was under water.
“Then you would prefer storming a fortress to taking a ditch?” said one of the generals, satirically.