CHAPTER XXX. 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.

"Ah! Ah!" he said, examining him attentively; "What is your name, my good fellow?"

"López, General."

"Good. So he is near here?"

"Yes, General; in ambush with three hundred horsemen."

"And he places you at my disposal?"

"Yes, General, for as long as you may want me."

"Tell me, López, do you know this country?"

"I was born in it, Excellency."

"Then you are capable of guiding us?"

"Wherever you please."

"Do you know the enemy's position?"

"Perfectly, Excellency; the heads of Generals Berriozábal and Degollados' columns are not more than a league from Toluca, where they intend to make a long halt."

"At what distance are we from Toluca?"

"Following this road, about three leagues, Excellency."

"That is a long way: is there no shorter road?"

"There is one that shortens the distance by more than two-thirds."

"?Caray!" the general exclaimed, "We must take it."

"Yes, but it is narrow, dangerous, and impracticable for artillery; even cavalry will not pass it without great difficulty."

"I have no artillery."

"In that case the thing is possible, General."

"I ask no more."

"Still, with your Excellency's permission, I will offer a bit of advice which I think good."

"Speak."

"The road is rough; it would be better to dismount the cavalry, send the infantry on ahead, and let the cavalry follow, leading their horses by the bridle."

"That will delay us a long time."

"On the contrary, General; we shall go faster on foot."

"Very well: how long before we reach Toluca?"

"Three-quarters of an hour. Is that too long, General?"

"No; if you keep your promise, I will give you ten ounces."

"Although it is not interest that directs me," López said with a laugh, "I am so certain of not making any mistake, that I regard the money as gained."

"Well, if that is the case, take it at once," the general said, giving him his purse.

"Thanks, Excellency; now we will set out when you like: but order your soldiers to maintain the deepest silence, so that we may come upon the enemy unawares, and attack him before he has time to look about him."

Miramón sent a soldier to General Cobos with orders for him to fall back as quickly as possible; then he made his soldiers dismount, placed the infantry in front, four abreast, the greatest width possible, and the dismounted cavalry formed the rearguard. General Cobos soon returned, and Miramón told him in a few words what was going on. The President placed himself at the head of the troops, having his own horse and the guide's led behind him, in spite of the entreaties of his friends.

"No," he replied to their solicitations, "I am your chief; as such, the greater part of the danger falls on me. My place is here, and I remain."

They were compelled to let him act as he pleased.

"Shall we start?" Miramón asked López.

"I am ready, General."

They set out: all their movements had been performed in the deepest silence, with admirable rapidity and precision. López had made no mistake; the path along which he led the troops was so rocky and difficult, that they advanced much more rapidly on foot.

"Does this path run any long distance?" the President asked the guide.

"Within half a gunshot of Toluca, General," he answered, "at that point it ascends until it commands Toluca, and then it is easy for cavalry to descend to the town at a gallop."

"Hum! There is both good and bad in what you say."

"I do not understand your Excellency."

"Hang it! It is clear enough, I fancy: suppose the Puros have placed a line of sentries on the heights, our project will be thwarted, and our expedition rendered fruitless. You did not reflect on what you were doing when you led us here."

"Pardon me, Excellency; the Puros know that no corps keep the field; they believe themselves certain of having no attack to apprehend, hence they do not take precautions, which they consider useless; moreover, the heights to which you refer are too remote from the spot where they will camp, and much too high for them to dream of crowning them."

"Well," the general muttered; "I must place my trust in Heaven! Now that I am here, I will not recoil."

They continued their advance with redoubled precautions. They had been for about five and twenty minutes on the path, when López, after looking searchingly around, suddenly halted.

"What are you doing?" the general asked.

"As you see, Excellency, I am stopping. On the other side of that bend before us the path begins to ascend, and we are not more than a musket shot from Toluca. With your permission, I will go on ahead, to make sure that the heights are not watched, and that you have a free passage."

The general looked at him attentively. "Go," he at length said; "we will await your return before we push on. I trust to you."

López took off his weapons and hat, which were not only useless to him, but might betray him; and lying down on the ground, he began crawling in the Indian fashion, and soon disappeared among the bushes that bordered the path. At a signal from the President, the word to halt ran rapidly along the ranks, and the army stopped almost instantaneously. Several minutes elapsed. The generals had drawn nearer, and surrounded the general. The guide did not return, and the anxiety was great.

"That man is a traitor," General Cobos said.

"I do not believe it," Miramón at once replied: "I am sure of the person who sent him to me."

At this moment the bushes were parted, and a man appeared. It was López, the guide. His face was calm, his eye bright, his step confident. He approached the President, stopped at two paces from him, saluted, and waited till he was spoken to.

"Well?" Miramón asked.

"I have advanced to the very crest of the heights, Excellency," he replied. "I have distinctly seen the bivouac of the Puros. They do not suspect your presence, and I believe that you can act."

"Then they have not posted a line of sentries on the heights?"

"No, General."

"Good! Lead me to the entrance of the path, for I must examine the ground before I arrange my plan of attack."

López picked up his gun and hat.

"I am ready," he said.

They advanced. Behind them, at a short distance, came the army. Everything was deserted, as the guide had announced. Miramón examined the ground with the most serious attention.

"Good!" he muttered; "I know now what remains for me to do." and, addressing the guide, he said, "So, your master is in ambush to attack the enemy in the rear?"

"Yes, Excellency."

"But, how to warn him, so that his attack may coincide with ours?"

"Nothing is easier, Excellency. You see that tree which stands alone on the top of the heights?"

"Yes, I see it; what then?"

"I have orders to cut off the head of that tree at the precise moment when you commence the attack. The disappearance of the crown of the tree will be the signal for him to charge."

"By heavens!" he exclaimed; "That man was born a general: nothing escapes him. Go to the tree, climb up it, and hold yourself in readiness. When you see me raise my sword in the air, you will lop off the crown with one blow of your machete. You have understood me?"

"Perfectly, Excellency; but after that, what shall I do?"

"Whatever you like."

"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.