"Forward!" the officers repeated.
The column started in good order, marching at quick step, with trailed arms.
We have mentioned the bridge which alone gave admission to the city: this bridge was barricaded, and at the other end was a house crowded with soldiers from the cellars to the azotea. A silence of death brooded over the plain. The Frenchmen marched on coolly, as if on parade, with heads raised and flashing eyes. On arriving within musket shot the walls were begirt with a line of fire, and a frightful discharge scattered death among the Frenchmen. The company at once broke into skirmishing order, and rushed onwards.
At this moment an unheard-of, incredible thing was seen—a city of 10,000 souls, surrounded by walls, and defended by a numerous garrison, attacked by 250 men fighting in the Indian way; that is, in skirmishing order. The artillery, dragged by its gunners, advanced at the same speed, and only stopped to load and fire.
Even before the Mexicans had time to look round the Frenchmen were on them like a whirlwind, attacked them at the bayonet's point, drove back the defenders of the bridge, and entered without a check the city, sweeping before them, in their irresistible attack, all that opposed their passage. Then the real battle began. The Frenchmen found themselves opposite four guns loaded with grape, which swept the whole length of the street at the end of which they were; while to the right and left, from windows and roofs, a shower of bullets pattered on them. The position was becoming critical. The count dismounted, and turning to his soldiers with the shout, "Who'll take the guns?" he rushed forward.
"We, we!" the Frenchmen yelled, as they chased after him with unexampled frenzy.
The artillerymen were sabred at their guns, the muzzles of which were immediately turned on the Mexicans. At this moment the count perceived, as in a cloud, Valentine and his hunters, who were fighting like demons, and massacring the Indians pitilessly, who tried in vain to resist them.
"Good heavens!" Black Elk said with beatitude at every blow he dealt, "it was a lucky idea of mine to come."
"It really was," Belhumeur replied; and he redoubled his blows.
Valentine had turned the city, and taking advantage of a forgotten ladder, escaladed the wall, and, without striking a blow, made prisoners the post stationed there, which was commanded by an officer.