were sad and desponding when we thought of the desperate state of our
cause. We (the officers) were sitting in a circle round the general
and Alcalde, both of whom appeared uneasy and anxious. More than once
they got up, and walked backwards and forwards, seemingly impatient,
and as if they were waiting for or expecting something. There was a
deep silence throughout the whole bivouac; some were sleeping, and
those who watched were in no humour for idle chat.

"Who goes there?" suddenly shouted one of the sentries. The answer we
did not hear, but it was apparently satisfactory, for there was no
further challenge, and a few seconds afterwards an orderly came up,
and whispered something in the ear of the Alcalde. The latter hurried
away, and, presently returning, spoke a few words in a low tone to the
general, and then to us officers. In an instant we were all upon our
feet. In less than ten minutes, the bivouac was broken up, and our
little army on the march.

All our people were well mounted, and armed with rifles, pistols, and
bowie-knives. We had six field-pieces, but we only took four,
harnessed wit twice the usual number of horses. We marched at a rapid
trot the whole night, led by a tall, gaunt figure of a man who acted
as our guide, and kept some distance in front. I more than once asked
the Alcalde who this was. "You will know by and by," was his answer.

Before daybreak we had ridden five and twenty miles, but had been
compelled to abandon two more guns. As yet, no one knew the object of
this forced march. The general commanded a halt, and ordered the men
to refresh and strengthen themselves by food and drink. While they
were doing this, he assembled the officers around him, and the meaning
of our night march was explained to us. The camp in which the Mexican