The Rebel Chief: A Tale of Guerilla Life

by Gustave Aimard

THE SORTIE.

As Miramón had stated to the adventurer, at five o'clock, a.m. precisely, he left Mexico at the head of his troops. His forces were not numerous, they only consisted of three thousand five hundred men, infantry and cavalry, without artillery, on account of the execrable roads along which he was obliged to march. Every cavalryman carried an infantry soldier behind him, in order to render the march more rapid. It was really a coup de main that the President was about to attempt, a most hazardous one, but for that very reason it had numerous chances of success. General Miramón rode at the head of the army, in the midst of his staff with whom he gaily conversed; on seeing him thus calm and smiling it might have been fancied that no anxiety disturbed his mind; he seemed on leaving Mexico to have resumed that happy carelessness of manner which the anxieties of power had made him so rapidly forget. The morning, though rather fresh, promised a beautiful day, a transparent mist rose from the ground as the sunbeams became more ardent. A few herds could be seen scattered over the plain; some recuas of mules led by arrieros and proceeding to Mexico incessantly crossed the line of march; the well cultivated ground offered no trace of war, and, the country, on the contrary, seemed to enjoy a profound calm.

Some Indians were running along the roads, driving oxen to the city, others were carrying their fruit and vegetables, all were in a hurry and carelessly singing, in order to dispel the weariness and length of the road. On passing the President, whom they knew well, they stopped in amazement, took off their hats and bowed to him with an affectionate respect. Ere long, by Miramón's orders, the troops entered almost insurmountable paths, on which the horses only advanced with great difficulty. The country became more abrupt and diversified: the march became more rapid, and silence was re-established in the ranks of the troops: they were approaching the enemy.

At about ten o'clock the President ordered a halt to rest the horses and give the soldiers time to breakfast. Usually no sight is so curious as a Mexican army. Every soldier is accompanied by his wife, who carries the provisions and prepares his meals. These wretched women, exposed to all the frightful consequences of war, camp at some distance from the troops when they halt, which give the Mexican armies the appearance of an emigration of barbarians. When a battle is being fought, they remain impassive spectators of the contest, knowing beforehand that they will become the prey of the victor, but accepting, or rather yielding with philosophic indifference to this hard necessity. This time it was not so; the President had expressly prohibited any woman from following the army, the soldiers therefore carried their provisions ready cooked in the alforjas hanging behind the saddle; a precaution which, while avoiding a considerable loss of time, had the additional advantage of rendering fires unnecessary.

At eleven boot and saddle was sounded, and the troops at once fell into their ranks. They were approaching Toluca, the spot where the President resolved to await the enemy. The road, cut up by deep ravines, which could only be crossed with great difficulty, became almost impracticable; still, the soldiers were not discouraged; they were the élite of Miramón's troops, his most faithful partizans, who had accompanied him since the beginning of the war. They had redoubled their ardour in the presence of obstacles which they surmounted laughingly, encouraged by the example of their young general, who marched bravely at their head, and thus gave them a sample of patience and self-denial.

General Cobos had been detached to reconnoitre at the head of twenty resolute men, in order to watch the enemy's march, and warn the general as soon as he caught sight of them, by falling back unseen on the main body. Suddenly Miramón perceived three horsemen galloping toward him, supposing, correctly, that they were the bearers of important news. He spurred his horse, and hastened to meet them. He soon joined them. Of these three men, two were soldiers; the third, who was well mounted and armed to the teeth, appeared to be a peasant.

"Who is this man?" the President asked of one of the soldiers.

"Excellency," he replied, "this man presented himself to the general, asking to be led to you, for he says he is the bearer of a letter which must be handed to you personally."

"Who sent you to me?" the President asked the stranger, who stood motionless before him.

"I pray your Excellency first to read this letter," he answered, as he drew a sealed note from his dolman, and respectfully handed it to the general. Miramón opened it and rapidly read it.