"In that case, I shall rejoin my master."
He took his horse from the asistente who was holding it, and calmly proceeded toward the tree. Miramón divided his infantry into three corps, and placed his cavalry in reserve. All these arrangements made, the troops began to ascend the heights. When they reached the top—"Forward! Forward!" Miramón shouted, waving his sword, and rushing down the slope. The whole army rolled after him like an avalanche.
On seeing the President raise his sword, López deftly lopped off the crown of the tree, on the top of which he was; then, when this exploit was accomplished, he stepped down, leaped on his horse, and galloped after the army. The sudden appearance of Miramón's troops caused a frightful disorder in the bivouac of the Puros, who were far from expecting so sharp and vigorous an attack, as their spies had assured them that no corps kept the field. The soldiers ran to their arms, and the officers tried to organize a resistance: but even before the ranks could be formed, the President's troops were upon them, and charged them furiously to the shouts of—
"Long live Mexico! Miramón! Miramón!"
The generals who commanded the Puros, brave and intelligent officers, strove a tremendous resistance. At the head of those troops who had succeeded in forming their ranks, they kept up a murderous fire, while the guns placed in battery decimated the President's infantry. The affair was becoming serious. The Juaristas had the advantage of numbers. Having recovered from the panic they at first felt, there was reason to fear that, if the combat was prolonged, they might assume the offensive. At this moment loud shouts were heard in their rear, and a large body of cavalry rushed upon them with couched lances. Taken between two enemies, the Juaristas believed themselves betrayed. They lost their heads, and began to disband. Miramón's cavalry appeared at this moment, and vigorously charged the enemy. The combat then degenerated into a massacre: it was no longer a fight, but a butchery. The Juaristas, attacked in front, on the flank, and in the rear, broke and fled. The retreat began, and was soon changed into a rout. General Berriozábal, General Degollado, his sons, two colonels, all the officers composing their staff, fourteen guns, a large quantity of ammunition and arms, and nearly two thousand prisoners, fell into Miramón's hands. The President had seven men killed, and eleven slightly wounded. The battle had only lasted twenty-five minutes. The victory was complete. Capricious fortune granted a last smile to the man whose ruin she had resolved on.
[CHAPTER XXXI.]
TRIUMPH.
This unforeseen victory, so brilliant and, complete, gained by Miramón over veteran troops commanded by renowned officers, restored courage and hope to the terrified partizans of the President of the Republic. The temper of the troops changed to such an extent, that they no longer doubted the triumph of their cause, and in a few minutes grew to regard it as definitively gained. Amid the general joy, Miramón alone entertained no illusions as to the value of the victory he had gained. For him this new lustre cast on his armies, which had so long been victorious, was only the last and brilliant flicker of an expiring torch. He was too thoroughly acquainted with the precarious position to which he was reduced, to entertain for a single moment delusive hopes. Still in his heart he thanked fortune for the last smile she had deigned to grant him, and which would prevent him from falling from power like a common man. When the cavalry sent in pursuit of the fugitives, to prevent them from rallying, at length rejoined the main body, which had remained on the field of battle, Miramón, after granting his troops two hours' rest, gave orders to return to Mexico.
The return of the expeditionary force was not nearly so rapid as its preceding march. The tired horses only advanced with difficulty. The infantry had dismounted to escort the prisoners, and thus the cannons and numerous baggage waggons, which had been captured and now followed the army, could only pass along a wide and beaten road, which compelled Miramón to follow the high road and occasioned him a delay of several hours. It was about ten at night when the vanguard of the expeditionary force reached the garitas of Mexico. It was quite dark, and yet the city appeared in the darkness, flashing with an innumerable quantity of lights.