Ned examined the whole affair, piece by piece, from head to foot, and then he turned away from his inspection, for the room behind him was getting dim and it was time for him to look at his lamp. He took out a match as he went toward the table at the window, and in a moment more he was busy with a wick which seemed to be determined not to burn for him.

"It's an old whale-oil lamp," he remarked. "Mother had one, once. I remember seeing her try to light it and it would sputter for ever so long. There! It's beginning to kindle, but it's too big for me to carry around and hunt for books with. I wish I had a smaller one. Hullo! Here's one of the biggest of those old concerns, right here on the table."

It was a folio bound in vellum, and when he opened it a great deal of dust arose from the cover which banged down. Then Ned uttered a loud exclamation, and was glad he had succeeded in lighting the lamp, for there before his eyes was a vividly colored picture of a most extraordinary description. Moreover, it unfolded, so that it was almost twice the size, length, and width of the book pages.

"They are all in Spanish," he said, "but I guess I can read them. They're more than a hundred years old. People don't print such books, nowadays. Nobody would have time enough to read them, I suppose, and they couldn't sell 'em cheap enough. This is wonderful! It's a picture of the old Mexican god, Huitzilopochtli."

There was an explanatory inscription, and the artist had pictured the terrible deity sitting upon a throne of state, gorgeously arrayed in gold and jewels, and watching with a smile of serene satisfaction the sacrifice of some unfortunate human victims on the altar in the foreground at the right. One of the priests attending at the altar had just cut open the bosom of a tall man lying before him, and was tossing a bleeding heart upon the smoking fire, where other similar offerings were already burning.

"That must have been a horrible kind of religion," thought Ned. "I'm glad that Cortes and his men in armor came to put an end to it. Senora Paez told me that in only a few years before he came, and her great-grandfather and his father with him, those priests cut up more than twenty thousand men, women, and children. He's a curious kind of god, I should say, to sit there and grin while it was going on."

He could not linger too long over one picture, however, for he had discovered that there were others in that volume which were as brilliantly colored and as interesting. On the whole, it was not necessary to hunt for anything better than this the first evening, and it appeared as if he were asking a useless question of the steel-clad warrior in the corner, when at last he turned to him to say:

"Did you ever see anything like this before? I never did. Were you there, in any of these battles? This is the way that Cortes and his cavalry scared the Indians, is it? They were awfully afraid of horses. You can buy horses for almost nothing, nowadays, anywhere in Mexico. I've learned how to ride 'em, too, but didn't I get pitched off by some of those ponies! It would have scared mother half to death. I wish I could see her to-night, and show her some of these pictures. I'd like to see Bob and the girls, too. They never saw a book like this."

He had examined a number of the pictures, and the lamp was burning fairly well, but a long time had elapsed since he came into that room, and he was not at all aware of it.

"Senor Carfora?" called out a voice in the doorway. "Oh, you are here. You did light the lamp. I was almost afraid you were in the dark."

"No, I'm not," said Ned. "I made it burn, and I've been looking at all sorts of things. These pictures are just wonderful."

"Oh!" she said, "I would not be in this room in the dark for anything! I know all those things in that book, though. They are hideous! But they say that that suit of armor has the worst kind of ghost in it."

"Maybe it has," said Ned. "I don't believe he can get out, anyhow. He's just stuck in it. I'd rather wear the clothes I have on."

"Well," she replied, "mother sent me to find if you were here, and it is dreadfully late—"

"Oh, yes!" interrupted Ned. "I suppose it is time for me to go to bed. I'll go, but I mean to see all there is in this library, senorita. I won't try to read it all. I don't care for ghosts, but I'd like to see one."

"I do not care for them in the daytime, either," she told him. "But old Margarita, the Tlascalan, says that they come at night and sit here and tell stories of all the Mexican idol gods. All of them hate us, too, because we turned them out of their temples, and I hate them."

"I'm glad they are gone, anyhow," said Ned, but it was really time to go, and he carried some of the most brilliant of those illustrations into some of his dreams that night.



CHAPTER XI.

NED'S NEWS

"Hullo, young man! I've been looking for you. How are you?"

"Captain Kemp!" shouted Ned, in astonishment. "Where did you come from? Who dreamed of seeing you here?"

"Nobody, I hope," said the captain; "but here I am, and I've brought you half a dozen letters. They are among my baggage. First thing, though, tell me all about yourself. Where have you been?"

They were standing in the grand plaza, not many paces from the front of the cathedral, and Ned had come there for another look at the building which had taken the place of the old-time temple of the murderous Mexican god of war. He was wildly excited for a moment, and he began to ask questions, rather than to tell anything about himself.

"Keep cool, now, my boy," said the captain. "We don't know who's watching us. I didn't have much trouble in running the Yankee blockade at Vera Cruz. I brought a cargo from New York, just as if it had been sent from Liverpool, but I've had to prove that I'm not an American ever since I came ashore. Spin us your yarn as we walk along."

Ned was now ready to do so, and the captain listened to him with the most intense interest, putting in remarks every now and then.

"All this," he said, "is precisely what your father wishes you to do, if you can do it. The way of it is this. He knows, and we all know, that this war can't be a long one. As soon as it's over, his concern means to go into the Mexican trade heavier than they ever did before. They think it will be worth more, and I mean to be in it myself. So it just suits him to have you here, making friends and learning all about the country you are to deal with. He says you are in the best kind of business school. There will be a fortune in it for you some day."

"I don't exactly see how," remarked Ned, doubtfully.

"Well," replied the captain, "not many young American business men know ten cents' worth about Mexico. You'd better go right on and learn all there is to know. Keep shy of all politics, though. This war is going to break Paredes and a lot of others. After they are out of power, your own friends, like Tassara, Zuroaga, and the rest of them, may be in office, and you will be in clover. It's a wonderfully rich country, if it were only in the right hands and had a good government. I'll give you the letters when we get to my lodgings. Then I must make my way back to Vera Cruz, but I had to come all this distance to get my pay from the authorities. I obtained it, even now, only by promising to bring over another cargo of British gunpowder, to fight the Yankees with."

That was a thing which Ned did not like, but he could not do anything to prevent it. He could not expect an Englishman to be an American, and it was all a matter of trade to Captain Kemp, aside from his personal friendship for Ned and his father. There was more talk of all sorts, and Ned obtained a great deal of information concerning the war and what the United States were likely to do. After he had received his precious letters, however, and had said good-by to Captain Kemp, he almost ran against people in his haste to reach the Paez mansion. He did not pause to speak to anybody on arriving, but darted up-stairs and made his way to the library. It was lighter now in the wonderful book-room, and the man in armor did not say anything as Ned came in. In a moment he was in the chair by the window, and he appeared to himself to be almost talking with the dear ones at home, from whom he had so long been separated.

"Stay where you are," he read from his father's long letter, and at that hour he felt as if he did not wish to stay. He dropped the letter on the table, and leaned back in his chair and looked around him. Pretty soon, however, a little slowly to begin with, but then faster and faster, the strong and fascinating spirit of adventure came once more upon him. His very blood tingled, and he sprang to his feet to all but shout to his mailed acquaintance in the corner:

"Yes, sir, I'll stay! I'll do anything but become a Mexican. Tell you what, before the war's over, I mean to be in the American army, somehow. I don't exactly see how I'm to do it, though."

It was time to go down-stairs and report to his faithful friends, for he knew it would be very mean not to do so, and the first person he met was Senora Tassara herself.

"I have letters from home!" he exclaimed, bluntly—"newspapers, too!" and she held up both hands in astonishment, as she responded:

"Letters from the United States? How on earth did they come through the blockade, and how did they know where you are?"

"I guess they didn't," said Ned. "The English captain that used to command the Goshhawk brought them. I met him at the plaza, hunting for me. He was a friend of General Zuroaga, and besides, the British consul at Vera Cruz knew I was with Colonel Tassara's family. So, if I hadn't met him, he would have tried to find you. My father writes that I am to stay in Mexico, and learn all about it."

"I am glad of that," she said. "Why, you could not get out at all just now without danger to yourself and getting all of us into trouble."

"I wouldn't do that for anything!" exclaimed Ned, and then he went on with his tremendous budget of miscellaneous news.

It was an exceedingly interesting heap of information, for the captain had given him both English and American journals, which were a rare treat at that time in the interior of the beleaguered Mexican republic. Senora Tassara was busy with these, when Ned and all the other news-bringers were pounced upon by a yet more eager inquirer.

"Senor Carfora!" exclaimed Felicia, her black eyes flashing curiously at him. "Where did you get them? I never before saw such big newspapers. They won't tell us about our army, though."

"Yes, they will," he said, and, while she was searching the broad-faced prints for army information, he repeated for her benefit all that he had previously told her mother. Poor Senorita Felicia! She did not obtain at all what she wanted, for there were no accounts of brilliant Mexican victories. All of these must have been meanly omitted by the editors, and at last she angrily threw down a newspaper to say to him:

"Senor Carfora, I am glad you are to stay here, but you will never be anything better than a gringo, no matter how much you learn. I was up in the library this morning, and I pulled out six more books for you. You may read them all, if they will do you any good. One of them is about Spain, too. What I want to do is to travel all over Spain. It must be the most beautiful country in the world."

Ned had noticed long ago that her eyes always grew dreamy whenever her thoughts were turned toward the peninsula which has had so wonderful a history, but he did not know that his own longings for foreign travel were very like her own in their origin when he replied:

"Well, I'd like to see Spain. I mean to some day, but I want to see England first, and Scotland and Ireland. One of my ancestors was an Irishman, and the Crawfords were from Scotland. It isn't as hot a country as Spain is. You are a Mexican, not a Spaniard."

"So I am," she said, "and most of the Mexicans are Indians. We ought to have more Spaniards, but we can't get them. Anyhow, we don't want too many gringos to come in. They are all heretics, too."

Ned knew what she meant, and he hastened to tell her that his country contained more church people of her religion than Mexico did, and he added, to her great disgust:

"And our priests are a hundred times better than yours are. General Zuroaga says so, and so does your father. I don't like your Mexican priests. The general says he wishes they were all dead, and their places filled by good, live men from Europe and the United States."

"Felicia," interrupted her mother, "you must not talk with Senor Carfora about such things. What I wish is that we had the American common schools all over our poor, ignorant country. Oh, dear! What if this horrible war should prove to be really a blessing to us? As things look now, we are to have another revolution within a year. More men will be shot, just as they have been before, and nobody can see what the end is to be."

It was now time for the noonday luncheon, and they went to the dining-room, where Senora Paez herself was glad to see the foreign journals and to know that Ned had letters from home.

Many things appeared to be settled, as far as he was concerned. At all events, his mind was no longer to busy itself with wild plans for squirming out from among the Aztecs and finding his way to the United States. After luncheon he went up to the library again. At first it was only to read his letters over and over, and then it was a kind of relief to go to his books and try to forget everything else in going on with his queer schooling. It was unlike any that his old schoolmates at the North were having, and he caught himself wondering what kind of man it might make of him. He could not tell, but he was to have yet another lesson that day, and with it came a promise of a strange kind of vacation.

It came to him in the evening, when he was so tired of books that he preferred the company of Senorita Felicia, no matter what saucy or overpatriotic things she might see fit to say to him. They were sitting near one of the drawing-room windows, when Senora Paez came quietly behind him and touched him on the shoulder.

"Come with me," she said. "There is a man up in Senora Tassara's room who wishes to see you."

"O Senor Carfora!" whispered Felicia. "Don't say a word! I know who it is. Go right along. He is an old friend of yours."

Up jumped Ned, and he and the senorita followed Senora Paez eagerly. Half a minute later, he felt as if he had never been so astonished before in all his life, for his hand was heartily grasped, and the voice of General Zuroaga said to him:

"Here I am, Senor Carfora. How are you?"

"Oh, but I'm glad to see you!" exclaimed Ned. "I'm all right, but isn't it awfully dangerous for you to be here?"

"It would be, if some men knew it," replied Zuroaga, "or if I were unwise enough to remain too long. The fact is that I can give you only a few minutes, anyhow, this evening. I must be out of the city before daylight, if I can, but I will return at the end of a week or so. Then I shall take you with me to the valley of the Tehuantepec. You must see all that region. After that I shall have a tour to make on political affairs, through several States, and you will have a chance to see two thirds of the republic before winter."

"That is just what my father would wish me to do," said Ned, and he proceeded to tell the general the contents of his letters and all the news he had heard from Captain Kemp.

"Very good!" said Zuroaga, at last. "I would have been glad to have seen the captain. He is a rough sort of fellow, but he can be depended on. It is evident that your father's firm trusts him, but I believe they do not know exactly all that he has been doing. He is quite willing to make a few dollars for himself while he is working for others."

The general was in good spirits, but more than once he spoke of the necessity he was under of keeping out of the reach of his old enemies, and among these he appeared to consider the absent Santa Anna even more dangerous, in the long run, than President Paredes himself. Senora Tassara had now joined them, but she seemed disposed to be silent, and most of the conversation was in the hands of Senora Paez. It was noticeable that she appeared to have a remarkably good knowledge of the politics of her country. Perhaps, if Ned had been a few years older and the least bit of a politician, he might have suspected the truth, that she was one of the most subtle plotters in the whole country. If she was also a deadly enemy of President Paredes, it was because she was a sister of a revolutionary leader whom he had caused to be shot, years ago, without the formality of a court-martial. Ned saw her eyes flash and her bosom heave when she spoke of him, and after that he somehow felt safer than ever under her roof. He also saw that she and General Zuroaga were the best of friends, and that they had a long private conference of their own.

"I guess he feels at home here," thought Ned, as he went down-stairs with Felicia and Senora Tassara, and his confidence in that state of affairs grew stronger as he walked along the central hall of the house.

"Pablo!" he exclaimed, to a man who lay sprawled out upon the floor, but the general's Oaxaca follower made him no reply. He and three more like him, who lay near him, were sound asleep, and there was no good cause for stirring them up just then.

"They are all well armed," said Ned to himself. "The general will be protected when he rides away in the morning. But this is the biggest kind of thing to come to me. The best I can do will be to take to my books till he gets back. Oh, but won't it be grand fun to make a complete tour of the mountains and of all the Pacific coast of Mexico? He says I shall see the tallest peaks of the Cordilleras and that I may visit some of the great silver mines."

With all that exciting expectation running through his head, it was not easy for him to get to sleep that night. When he arose in the morning, his friend, the mysterious general, had already departed.



CHAPTER XII.

A STORM COMING

"A monarchy! a monarchy! nothing but the one-man power will ever do anything for this miserable multitude of Indians, negroes, and rebellion-making Spanish aristocrats. Royalty is our only resource, and I am nearly ready to strike the required blow. I think that Don Maria Paredes would make as good an emperor as Augustin de Yturbide, and he will wear the crown of Mexico somewhat longer. But I must look out for Santa Anna. If he were to return from Cuba too soon, there would be nothing left for me but to have him shot as soon as he came ashore. Or else he might have me shot not many days afterward. His emissaries and spies are all the while working against me, but I shall catch some of them. Oh, how I would like to get hold of that venomous conspirator, Zuroaga!"

The President and practically the dictator of the nominal republic of Mexico was standing in his own luxurious chamber of the government palace in the city of Mexico. He was in the full uniform of a general officer, for he was preparing to ride out and attend a review of a division of the really large army which he had gathered to move against the American invaders at the north. He deemed himself favored by fortune, for all things had thus far appeared to operate in the direction of his high ambition. He was in possession of undisputed power, and his time for making his supremacy permanent had arrived. It was the morning of the 4th of August, 1846, and it promised to be a splendid day for a parade. He had eloquently appealed to all the patriotism in the land, and he had used his last dollar in raising the troops who were to win his victories and place him firmly upon the throne of Anahuac, the lost throne of the Montezumas. A large part of his forces had already marched, and he was now to follow with the remainder. It was high time that he should do so, for General Taylor's army was daily drawing nearer the Mexican lines at the city of Monterey. Not many minutes later, he rode away from the palace, attended by a brilliant staff, through crowded streets, where every hat went off and all the voices shouted "Viva Paredes" with every appearance of enthusiasm.

That morning Ned Crawford had not felt like going out of the city to see any review. Days had passed since the departure of General Zuroaga, but Ned's head was full of what his friend had said to him, and he did not care much in what direction his feet might take him. So, having all that responsibility to themselves, they carried him on across the city until, when he looked around him, he saw that he had almost reached the front gate of the out-of-date fort, which was known as "the citadel." It always contained a large garrison, not by any means for the defence of the capital from external foes, but for the protection of whatever might be the "government" for the time being from any sudden tumult or attempted revolution. There were officers and a squad of soldiers standing a few paces out in front of the wide-open military portal, and they all were gazing intently in the same direction. Ned also turned to look, but all that he could see was a solitary rider, upon what seemed to be an all but exhausted horse, urging the panting animal toward the citadel.

"Colonel Guerra!" exclaimed Ned. "What has brought him all the way from Vera Cruz? Has our army come? Is the city taken?"

Nothing of that kind had yet occurred, but there was a reason for the arrival of the trusted commander of the important fortress on the sea. Ned was very near him when the horse fell, and his rider sprang to the earth, covered with dust and evidently in great excitement. The officers at the gate rushed forward toward him, and one of them loudly demanded:

"Colonel Guerra! What is it? Has he come? All is ready here!"

Guerra himself had not fallen with his horse. Off came his hat and his sword flashed from the sheath, while his voice rang out clearly, fiercely:

"Viva Santa Anna! The entire force at Vera Cruz and the garrison of San Juan de Ulua have pronounced for him. He is now on his way home from Havana. We shall soon have with us the one hero who can save us from the American invaders and from the tyranny of King Paredes!"

Possibly, this had been the day calculated upon for the arrival of precisely such tidings. It might even have been that all these officers and soldiers were gathered there, prepared both to hear and to act, while President Paredes should be temporarily absent from the city. At all events, they were swinging their hats, drawing their swords, and their enthusiastic acclamations for the returning general were at once followed by a rush back into the citadel and a hasty closing of its gates. When that was done, and when the rest of the garrison had joined in "pronouncing" for Santa Anna, the military control of the Mexican capital had passed out of the hands of President Paredes.

It was startling news, therefore, which was brought out to him by a friendly messenger, as he rode so proudly on in front of his shouting soldiery, believing that they were all his own and ready to do his bidding. The grand review ended instantaneously, and he came galloping back in all haste to look out for his tumbling crown. He came with his brilliant staff and a mixed crowd of friends and unfriends, only to discover that crown and throne and scepter had disappeared like the changing figures in a kaleidoscope. He could not even order anybody to be arrested and shot, for the Vice-President, General Bravo, and all the members of the national Congress, then in session, were thoughtfully saying to themselves, if not to each other:

"Santa Anna is coming! The seacoast forces are already his. He will be right here in a few days. We must be careful what we say or do just now. We do not even know what these new troops will say to this thing."

They were not to remain long in ignorance upon that point. As the news went out from regiment to regiment that afternoon, the undisciplined, ragged mobs of raw recruits began to shout for Santa Anna. Perhaps many of them had previously served under the one-legged veteran of the old French and Texan wars and at least half a dozen revolutions.

Ned Crawford turned and hurried homeward, as soon as he felt sure that his head was still upon his shoulders and that he had heard his remarkable news correctly. His eyes were busy, too, and he heard what men were saying to each other. Excited shouts were carrying the errand of Colonel Guerra swiftly over the city, and everywhere it was discovering hearers as ready for it as had been the officers at the gate. He may have been looking a little pale when he entered the parlor of the Paez mansion, for Senora Paez at once arose and came to meet him, inquiring, anxiously:

"Senor Carfora, what is the matter? Has anything happened?"

"Santa Anna—" began Ned, but she stepped quickly forward and put her hand upon his mouth, whispering sharply:

"Speak lower! we do not know who may hear you. What is it?"

She took away her hand, and Ned also whispered, as he hurriedly told her what he had seen and heard at the citadel. As he did so, her face and that of Senora Tassara, standing by her, grew much paler than his own.

"My dear Mercedes," said Senora Tassara to her cousin, "this is all as my husband and General Zuroaga predicted. But the tiger is not here yet, and by the time he arrives they will be beyond his reach. It takes some days to travel from Vera Cruz to the city of Mexico. Senor Carfora, you are in no danger. Neither are we."

"No!" angrily exclaimed Senora Paez. "Not for to-day nor to-morrow, perhaps, but down goes the Paredes monarchy! Ah, me! There is a terrible time coming for poor Mexico. Who shall tell what the end of it all will be!"

"Nobody!" said Senora Tassara, sadly, but Felicia whispered to Ned:

"Senor Carfora, the gringos could not do us much harm if their army had a revolution springing up behind it at home. I wish they had one."

"I don't," replied Ned. "If we did have one, though, it would be bigger than this is. I don't believe we have any Santa Annas to make one, anyhow. There isn't a man in all America that would think of being king. I guess that if we found one we'd hang him."

"Well," said Felicia, "President Paredes would like to hang a great many people, or shoot them, but I hope he can't. What are you going to do?"

"He does not know, dear," interposed her mother. "We must stop talking about this thing now. Some of our friends are coming in. It is better to let them tell us what has happened, just as if we had not heard it at all. Be very careful what you say."

Perhaps everybody in the Paez mansion was accustomed to that kind of caution, and when a number of excited women neighbors poured into the parlor to bring the great tidings and discuss the situation, they found no one in it who was to be surprised into saying a word which might not have been heard without offence by the friends of either Paredes or Santa Anna.

Great changes in public affairs may produce changes in the plans of individuals, and it was not remarkable if General Zuroaga's intended week of absence should be somewhat shortened. It may have ended at the moment when the garrison of the citadel "pronounced" in favor of the tyrant in exile and against the tyrant in nominal power. Ned, however, had a small surprise waiting for him. It actually arrived not a great while after luncheon, when he was feeling as if he would like to sit down by himself and think over this very curious piece of political business. He went up into the library, as the safest kind of thinking-place, and, hardly had he opened the door, before he discovered that it had another tenant besides the man in armor in the corner.

"General Zuroaga!" he exclaimed, in astonishment.

"Not quite so loud, please," quietly responded the general. "Yes, Carfora, here I am. Here I must hide, too, for a few hours. The camp is no longer a safe place for me, even in the disguise I was wearing. There is really nothing more to keep me there now. I do not need to run any further risks on account of Paredes and his tin monarchy. He is already utterly ruined. I must get out of the reach of Santa Anna's lieutenants, however, if I do not wish to be locked up. You and I can slip away all the more easily while this tumult is going on, and by noon to-morrow we may be well out on the road to Oaxaca. Will you be ready?"

"It's just what I was wishing for!" exclaimed Ned. "I know enough to see that it isn't a good thing for Senora Paez to have me in the house. She has troubles enough of her own. So has Senora Tassara. If an enemy of theirs found that they had a gringo here, it would make things worse for them. They've been real good to me, but I want to go with you."

"Right!" said the general. "And there will be sharp eyes on the watch while Santa Anna's friends are getting ready for his arrival. He may appear to come peaceably, but do I not know him? He never yet forgot or forgave an enemy. He will come back to settle up all old accounts."

"Well," said Ned, "we need not be here to be shot at. I packed up, all ready, days ago. But, general, I guess I can ride better than I did the other time. I don't need to have so fat a pony."

"My dear fellow," replied the general, soberly, "you will be mounted on a horse that can make a swift run, if necessary. I am glad that you will know what to do with him."

In other things than horsemanship, Ned had made wonderful advances since he came ashore out of the norther, in the Bay of Vera Cruz. It was as if he had grown a number of years older in becoming so much more experienced. Moreover, he knew so much already about the plots and counterplots which were going on that it was of little use to keep some things from him. He was, in fact, almost full-grown as a Mexican conspirator, and he was sure to do whatever he could against either a monarchy under Paredes or a dictatorship under Santa Anna. It was a full hour later when they were joined by Senora Paez. She came on a special errand, for almost her first remark was:

"General, there will be danger from robbers of all sorts. I shall not dare to keep a great deal of money in the house. I have not much, either, that I can spare for yourself, but you must take this and spend it to beat them. What's more, I want you to take my jewels with you and hide them somewhere in the mountains. Senora Tassara's are already in a safe place. I hope Senor Carfora has enough."

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Ned. "I have hardly spent anything, and Captain Kemp gave me another hundred, from father. I almost wish it were all in bank-bills, though, for gold and silver are heavy things to carry."

"Well, as to that," laughed the general, "I do not know what kind of paper money we could make in Mexico, just now. That sort of thing will do only under a pretty solid government. But then, a dollar will go further in this country than it will in the United States. It looks as if horses were worth only five dollars a head, and men about half as much. There are too many that seem ready to sell themselves for nothing."

He said that wearily and sadly, for he was at heart a true patriot and he believed himself to be doing his best to bring a better state of things out of all this anarchy and confusion.

Senora Paez left the room. Ned and the general lay down on the floor to sleep for awhile, and it was just when the first dim light of dawn was beginning to creep in at the narrow window that Pablo came to awaken them. He put his finger on his lip as he did so, and they understood that there might be danger close at hand. It was not until they were out of the house, however, leaving it silently by way of the back door, that he ventured to whisper:

"General, there is a guard already stationed in front. President Paredes is making his last effort to stop his downfall, and he has heard that you are in the city. All your friends will be closely watched, to-day."

"I wanted to say good-by to them," began Ned, but here they were.

"General, this is the jewel case," said Senora Paez, as she handed him a small rosewood box. "Here is the money. Now, Senor Carfora, be a brave fellow. Learn all you can of our poor country. I hope to see you again."

Senora Tassara was saying something in a very low voice to Zuroaga, when Felicia turned to Ned and said to him:

"You are a wicked gringo, but I like you pretty well and I do hope you will get away safely. Take good care of yourself."

"Well, senorita," replied Ned, "I will do that, and so must you. I'd rather be out among the mountains than here in the city. You'd be safer there, too. Anyhow, you are not a Mexican. You are a Spaniard and you would rather be in Spain."

"Maybe I would, just now," she told him with a very melancholy look in her brilliant black eyes. "But I do love Mexico, and I do know enough to wish we were not to have any more revolutions. That is, not any more after Paredes and Santa Anna and some other men have been killed."

"That is the way they all feel about each other," broke in the general. "Come, Carfora. We have horses waiting for us on one of the back streets."

There were a few hasty good-bys then. The three fugitives passed out of sight among the shadows of the buildings, and the women returned to the house to wait for the downfall of King or Emperor Paredes.



CHAPTER XIII.

THE REVOLUTION

There had been a curious impression upon the minds of some American statesmen that General Santa Anna would return to his native country with a purpose of making peace. It was for that reason that he was permitted to pass unhindered through the blockading fleet in the Gulf, but he had no such idea in his cunning and ambitious head. His real objects in returning were to take vengeance upon his enemies, to restore himself to the supreme power which he had lost by the revolution of 1840, and, for that purpose, to prosecute the war with the United States with all possible vigor. His personal feeling in that matter might have been understood by recalling the fact that his downfall had resulted from his severe defeat in attempting to conquer the earlier American settlers in Texas. On his arrival in Vera Cruz, on the 16th of August, a proclamation which he at once issued, denouncing alike the monarchical ambition of President Paredes and the wicked invasion of Mexico by the armies of the northern republic, opened the eyes of all concerned. When, however, with all the troops at his disposal, he slowly approached the city of Mexico, he put on a cloak of patriotic moderation. The existing government, consisting of Vice-President Bravo and the Congress, had succeeded in imprisoning and then in banishing their would-be emperor, Paredes. They now, as the returning exile drew near the capital, offered him a temporary dictatorship of the disordered national affairs, but he modestly replied that he did not desire so much. He had returned, he said, as a pure and unselfish patriot, only to serve his country. All that he would be willing to accept would be the absolute control of the army, as if any power worth speaking of might be supposed to remain outside of his bayonets and lances. This small request was readily granted, and from that hour onward he was, for the time being, more completely the dictator of Mexico than he or any other man had ever been before. He entered the city and assumed command on the 15th of September. Only a week later, on the 22d and 23d, the fall and surrender of Monterey strengthened his hold upon the people, for it made them feel more keenly than ever their need of a good general. He certainly did act with great energy, for, as early as the 8th of October, he had advanced with his army as far north as San Luis Potosi, and was straining every possible resource to prepare for his coming conflict with General Taylor. It is said that he even mortgaged his private property to obtain the money required for his military supplies.

During all these weeks and months there had been stormy times in the Congress of the United States, and the war of the politicians was by no means ended. General Winfield Scott, however, had been left at the head of the army, with authority to invade Mexico in any manner he might choose, but with about half as many troops as he declared to be necessary for such an undertaking. It was late in December, 1846, when General Scott in person arrived at the mouth of the Rio Grande and assumed the direction of military operations. As he did not propose any considerable further advance into Mexico, except by way of Vera Cruz, he decided to take his best troops with him to that field of the coming campaign. This meant that General Taylor was to lose nearly all his regular army men and officers, their places being filled, as to numbers, by new regiments of exceedingly brave but untried volunteers. He was therefore left to face, with raw troops, any intended onslaught of Santa Anna, who would bring with him several times as large a force, of all sorts, most of it composed of recent levies, imperfectly organized and disciplined. It remained to be seen which of the two kinds of men, the Mexican Indian or the American rifleman, could be the more rapidly changed into a trained soldier, fitted for a hard day's fight.

Throughout all the interior of Mexico there was a fair degree of peace and order, although robber bands were reported here and there. No signs of a coming revolution appear to have been discovered, for nearly all the great leaders who might have set one on foot were either banished or shot, or were serving in Santa Anna's army, half hoping for his defeat and destruction that he might be taken out of the way of their ambitions.

There came one cloudless day near the end of February, when a kind of cool and beautiful summer seemed to rule over all the fair land of Anahuac, except among the snow-clad Cordilleras. There were roses in bloom in many gardens of the city of Mexico, and all things in and about the national capital wore an exceedingly peaceful air. The very guards at the citadel were pacing listlessly up and down, as if they were lazily aware that all evil-minded gringos and other foes of their comfort were several hundreds of miles away. At the city gates there were no sentries of any kind, and a young fellow who rode in on a spirited pony, at an hour or so after noon, was not questioned by anybody as to where he came from or what he was doing there. He cast sharp glances in all directions as he rode onward, but he seemed to have no need for inquiring his way. He went steadily, moreover, as if he might have business rather than pleasure on his hands, and he did not pull in his pony until he had reached the front of the Paez mansion. There was no one on the piazza but a short, fat old woman, in a blazing red cotton gown, who sprang to her feet almost as if he had frightened her, exclaiming:

"Senor Carfora!"

"Dola!" he responded, sharply. "Don't say another loud word! Are either of the senoras at home? I must see them right away."

"Oh, yes!" she said, turning to run into the house. "I will tell them. They are in the parlor, and the senorita."

Down sprang Ned and hitched his pony to a post, but then he hurried through the front door as quickly as Dola herself had done. Perhaps it was well that he should get in without being recognized by too many eyes. He did not have to actually get into the parlor before he was welcomed, for a light form sprang out into the hall, and Felicia herself shouted, eagerly:

"Oh, Senor Carfora! Are you here? This is wonderful!"

"Senorita," he interrupted her, "I have letters for your mother and Senora Paez. Where are they?"

"They are right here," she said, "but we have letters, too. All the flags in the city are out and they are firing salutes of rejoicing."

"I saw the flags," he said, "and I heard some firing, but what on earth are they rejoicing over? Is there any news?"

The two grown-up women were standing behind her, with faces in which there was no joy whatever when Felicia exultingly told him:

"Why, have not you heard? General Santa Anna has beaten your gringo army all to pieces. The United States fleet is coming to Vera Cruz with another army, and the American soldiers will not dare to come on shore. All they can do will be to sit there in their ships and look at the city."

"Come in, Senor Carfora," said Senora Paez. "I cannot tell you how glad we are to see you. Yes, we have very important letters. I may suppose that yours are from the general. Please let me have them."

"Do, Senor Carfora!" said Senora Tassara. "I cannot wait a moment. We will retire to read them, and, while we are gone, Felicia may tell you all the news from the great battle at the north."

"Yes, so I will," she exclaimed. "And I want him to tell me all about the places he has been in, and what he has been doing."

In a moment more they two were alone in the parlor, and she was repeating to him the substance of Santa Anna's report of the manner in which, at the hard-fought battle of Angostura, or Buena Vista, on the 22d of February, he had shattered the American army under General Taylor. He had, he said, effectively prevented its further advance into Mexico, and there was really a strong appearance of truth in his way of presenting the consequences of the battle, for the American army seemed to have retreated. Horse after horse had been ridden to death in taking such great tidings to the city of Mexico, and, for the hour, at least, the great Mexican commander was more firmly fixed in supreme power than ever.

Of course, the triumphant bulletin did not make any mention of the fact that General Taylor had had no intention of advancing any further, being under express orders from General Scott not to do so, and that Santa Anna's well-planned and at first nearly successful attempt to crush the northern invaders had really proved a failure. Ned Crawford listened to Felicia's enthusiastic account of the battle with a curious question in his mind which he was too polite to utter.

"Why," he thought, "if Santa Anna was so completely victorious, did he not make General Taylor surrender?"

There was no one to inform Ned that the Mexican commander had invited General Taylor to do so before the fight was half over, and that the stubborn old American had unkindly refused the invitation. At this moment, however, the senorita's tongue began to busy itself with quite another matter. The United States fleet, under Commodore Connor, had, indeed, begun to arrive in front of Vera Cruz on the 18th of February, with a vast convoy of transport ships under its protection, having on board the army of General Scott. Neither Ned nor the senorita was aware, however, how many important questions have to be answered before so many military passengers might undertake to land, with all their baggage, within possible reach of the artillery of an enemy. Felicia, for her part, was positive that they all were too badly scared by the Castle of San Juan de Ulua and by the bad news from Buena Vista to so much as try to make a landing.

"General Santa Anna himself is now marching down to meet them," she told him, "with his whole victorious army, and he will crush them as fast as they can get out of their ships."

Owing to the grand reports from their army, this was precisely the idea which was forming in the minds of all the people of Mexico.

"Oh, Senorita Felicia!" said Ned, as if he were quite willing to change the subject. "I've had a wonderful time. I've been travelling, travelling, travelling, everywhere with the general."

"Tell me all about it!" she commanded him. "I want to know. It seems to me as if I had been shut up here and had not seen anybody."

"Well, I can't tell it all just now," he said, "but when we left here we hurried all the way to Oaxaca. Then we stayed there awhile, among his own people, and nobody gave us any trouble. No, I mustn't forget one thing, though. A band of those mountain robbers came one night, and we had an awful fight with them—"

"Did you kill any of them?" she asked, hastily. "They all ought to be killed. They are ready to murder anybody else."

"Well," said Ned, "we beat them, and ten of them were shot. I was firing away all the while, but I don't know if I hit any of them. It was too dark to tell. The rest of them got away. But I've hunted deer, and I killed a good many of them. I shot a lynx, too, and a lot of other game. There's the best kind of fishing on the general's estates. I like fishing. Then we went south, to the Yucatan line, and I saw some queer old ruins. After that, the general's business took him away up north of Oaxaca, and I went with him, and I saw half the States of Mexico before we finished the trip. I've seen the silver mines and Popocatepetl and Istaccihuatl, and I don't care to ever see any higher mountains than they are."

"I have seen Popocatepetl," she said, "and it almost made me have the headache. They say it is full of sulphur, to make gunpowder with."

Before she could tell anything more about the possible uses of the tall, old volcano, her mother reentered the parlor.

"Senor Carfora," she said, "Felicia will have to give you up. Here are some letters for you that came while you were absent. You had better read them now, for I cannot say how long it will be best for you to remain here. Step this way a moment, if you will."

Ned followed her, all in a sudden whirl of excitement at the unexpected prospect of hearing from his far-away home, but she still held his promised envelopes in her own hand, while she said to him:

"My dear young friend, you know that Colonel Tassara is with his regiment. He was in the thickest of the fight at Angostura. He was wounded, but he hopes to recover soon, and we have not told Felicia. He writes me that it was really a lost battle, and that the fall of Santa Anna is surely coming, but that nobody can foretell what course he will take, cruel or otherwise, when he and his army return to fight with General Scott, on the road from the sea to this city. Go and read your letters, and then I will see you again."

Felicia had to give him up, and away he went. The best place to read home letters seemed to him to be the library, and when he entered the dim old room, he half imagined that the man in armor nodded at him, and tried to say how d'ye do. After that, Ned almost forgot that he was in Mexico, while he devoured the news from home. It was a grand thing to learn, too, that the letters which he had feared would never get to New York had all been carefully delivered under the kindly care of the British consular system. He had never before felt quite so high an admiration for the British Empire as he acquired just then.

"I'll do something good for the next Englishman I get hold of!" he declared, with energy, and then he sat still and stared around the room.

"It was just as well," he said, "that I did not stay here and try to read all those books. I read enough about the ancient times, too. What father wanted me to know about is Mexico as it is now, and I've seen a great deal of it. What I want to see next is our army, and I'm going to find my way to Vera Cruz. Then I'll get on board an American ship, somehow or other. I wonder if the Mexican officers will manage to arrest me between this and the seacoast."

That was a point worth thinking of, for General Zuroaga had told him very plainly that some ignorant or overhasty patriot might easily find an excuse for calling him a spy, and having him shot at a moment's notice. He did not have a long time to consider that matter, however, for the door opened, and the two senoras walked in, with clouded faces.

"Senor Carfora," said Senora Tassara, "you will have no time to lose. General Zuroaga is right, and his letter must go at once to his friend, General Morales, who is now in command at Vera Cruz. So must one from my own husband. It is important, for the best interest of Mexico, that Morales should know the whole truth. That is, he must be informed that he cannot expect any help from Santa Anna's beaten army. Are you too tired to set out immediately? I can give you a fresh horse."

"I'll go!" exclaimed Ned. "My pony isn't tired. He is a first-rate traveller. I want something to eat, though, and I wish I knew whether or not the army patrols will stop me on the way."

"I can take care of that," said Senora Paez. "I have had to send special messengers before this. You will be able to show a government pass."

As she spoke, she held out to him a sealed envelope. Where or how she had obtained such a thing, she did not explain, but it was an official envelope, and on it was a printed lettering which might have been translated: "Government Business. From the Headquarters of the Army. Despatches from His Excellency, General Bravo." In her own handwriting was added, moreover: "To His Excellency, General Morales, Vera Cruz."

"There!" she said. "If it becomes necessary, show that, and any man hindering you will be promptly punished. Do not show it if you can help it, however, for there are many kinds of army officers nowadays."

"I have seen some of them," said Ned, but what he was really thinking about most seriously, at that moment, was the supper he had asked for, and he was well pleased to be led down into the dining-room.



CHAPTER XIV.

THE DESPATCH-BEARER

There are hills to climb, on the crooked highway from the city of Mexico to the sea, but the greater part of the distance is down, down, down, for its highest point is over seven thousand feet above tidewater. It was in a pass leading over this ridge that Ned Crawford looked around him, up and down and ahead, and exclaimed, as well as his chattering teeth would let him:

"Well, I'm glad there are no snow-drifts in my way. I suppose the army men look out for that. But don't I wish I had an overcoat and some furs! Old Mount Orizaba can get up a first-class winter on his own account."

It looked like it, and this part of his experiences had not been at all provided for. The Cordillera was very white, and its garment of snow and ice went down nearer to its feet than when Ned had first seen it. Moreover, the pony which had travelled so well when he cantered away from the Paez mansion, some days before, was showing signs of exhaustion, and it was manifestly well for him that he was now going down instead of climbing. So it was for Ned, and his uppermost wish was to hurry down into a more summery climate. He was still doing so, to the best of his shivering ability, two hours later, when a loud summons to halt sounded in the road before him.

"Whoop!" shouted Ned, and the soldier, who had presented his bayonet so sternly, was greeted as if he had been an old friend. Rapid explanations followed, in Spanish, but before they were completed an officer had made his appearance from a small but comfortable guard-house at the side of the road. He was only a lieutenant, and he appeared to gaze with more than a little awe upon the superscription of Ned's precious government envelope. He turned it over and over, and almost smelled of it.

"Senor Carfora!" he exclaimed. "This must not be delayed for a moment! You must ride on, if it kills you. Come in and get a dinner. We will give you a fresh mount. Tell us the news while you are eating."

"I will do so," replied Ned, with a tremendous effort to stop shivering and look important. "But I will say that I was told that any man interfering with that despatch would be shot in one hour."

"Beyond a doubt!" declared the lieutenant, with emphasis. "It would serve him right, too. This is no time for trifling with orders."

A hearty dinner by a blazing log fire made the despatch-bearer feel a great deal better, but at the end of it no mercy was shown him. His fresh pony was ready, and he was ordered to mount and ride. He did so without offering any objections, and he carried with him the lieutenant's written pass, for possible use further down the mountain. It was a good thing to have, but he was called upon to present it only twice, receiving in each instance positive instructions to push onward if it killed him and his new pony.

"I can't stand this much longer!" he exclaimed, as the sun was setting. "I'm almost beyond the snow-line. I think I'll disobey the guards a little, but I'll keep on obeying Senora Paez. She told me on no account to try to sleep in a large town or village. They are all military posts, and too many questions might be asked. I'll try a hacienda, just as I did on the other side of the mountains. Everybody wants to hear the news."

Everybody in that region was also genuinely hospitable, and it was barely dusk when Ned rode in at the gate of a substantial farmhouse, to be welcomed with the utmost cordiality. Men, women, and children crowded eagerly around him, to hear all he could tell them of the great battle and victory of Angostura, and of the current doings in the capital city. A warm bed was given him, and after a long sleep he awoke somewhat better fitted for whatever else might be before him. Once more he pushed on, but before noon of that day all signs of winter were far behind him. He had passed through more than one considerable village, but so had other travellers, coming or going, who bore about them no appearance of being worth the attention of the military authorities. Another and another night in wayside farmhouses compelled him to admire more than ever the simple ways and the sincere patriotism of the Mexican farmers. All the while, however, his anxieties concerning the result of his perilous errand were growing upon him, and he was obediently using up his army pony. It was the forenoon of the third day before he was aroused from his other thoughts into anything like enthusiasm for the exceeding beauty of the luxuriant vegetation on either side of the road.

"Leaves! flowers! grass!" he exclaimed. "Oh, how beautiful they all are! Summer here, and winter only a few miles away. Hurrah for the tierra caliente! It's a bully place at this time o' year."

At all events, it was a pleasanter place to be in than any icy pass among the Mexican sierras, and his thoughts were at liberty to come back to his present situation. He was not now upon the Cordoba road, by which he had left the gulf coast ever so long ago. This was the highway from the city of Jalapa. He was cantering along only a short distance from the seashore, and he was within a few miles of the gates of Vera Cruz.

"I remember them," he was thinking. "I never had a good chance for a look at the walls, but I suppose I shall have one pretty soon. I wonder if they are thick enough to stop a cannon-ball. Captain Kemp told me they were built all around the city, but he didn't say how high they are."

Walls there were, indeed, but their masonry was not the next thing that was to be of especial interest to Ned. There is no kind of stonework which can compare, under certain circumstances, with the point of a lance or the edge of a machete, and the bearers of a number of such weapons were to be seen coming toward him at a gallop.

"It looks like a whole company of lancers!" exclaimed the anxious despatch-carrier. "Now I'm in for it! Everybody I met on the way was civil enough, but these may be a different kind of fellows."

Whether they were or not, the whole force under General Morales was in a state of unusual excitement that day, for the report was going around that the American army brought by Commodore Connor's fleet was rapidly coming ashore near Sacrificios Island, only three miles south of Vera Cruz. If Ned himself had been aware of it, he might have changed his plans and ridden right in among his own friends. As it was, however, in less than three minutes he had cantered in among a swarm of angry Mexicans and glittering spear-points. Their state of discipline was witnessed to by the fact that the captain in nominal command of them had some difficulty in obtaining from them permission to ask his own questions of this newcomer. When at last he succeeded in doing so, without first having his captive run through by a lance, it shortly looked as if Ned had been learning diplomacy, if not strategy also, during his varied and wonderful Mexican experiences.

"Senor Captain," he said, quite coolly, pulling out his official envelope, "I am ordered to deliver this to General Morales in person. I am commanded to answer no questions. Any man daring to hinder the delivery of my despatches will be shot. They are important."

"Where are you from?" came savagely back.

Ned only pointed at the envelope and shut his mouth hard.

"What is your errand to General Morales?"

Ned's brain was working with tremendous rapidity just then, and one of his swift thoughts got away from him.

"Captain," he said, "you had better ask that question of his Excellency, General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna."

The officer's swarthy face turned pale for a moment, and all the men who had heard Ned's reply broke out into loud vivas for their great commander-in-chief, the illustrious victor of the bloody field of Angostura. The entire company became at once the zealous guardians of that sacred envelope, which so few of them could have read, and the captain was forced to restrain his curiosity, and allow Ned to continue, keeping his mouth closed. For all that, however, the despatch-bearer was still a prisoner, and was to be conducted as such to the presence of General Morales. The lancers turned their horses toward the city, and the gates were reached as quickly as Ned's tired pony could carry him. At this barrier, of course, there were other guards and officers of higher rank, and there might have been further delay, or even danger, if Ned had not promptly exhibited the magical envelope, while the captain himself repeated his own words for him, and curtly added:

"His Excellency, General Bravo! Viva Morales! Viva Santa Anna!"

That last word sealed the matter. The envelope was returned to its bearer, and he was conducted onward under the care of two colonels, several other officials, and a half-dozen of watchful lancers.

Ned shortly understood that General Morales had returned from the Castle of San Juan de Ulua to go out for a telescopic inspection of the American landing, and was now at his headquarters in the city.

"I guess I shall feel better after I get to him," thought Ned, as he and his excited party halted before the headquarters building. "I may get stuck with a machete yet, if I have to wait long out here."

He was neither to be delayed nor slaughtered, and in a few minutes more he was ushered into a handsomely furnished chamber, where the general was sitting, apparently entirely calm and self-possessed, surrounded by his staff and a throng of other important men, soldiers and civilians. He did not say a word while a colonel of the escort was delivering his report concerning this messenger, but he was all the while sharply scrutinizing Ned from head to foot.

"Gentlemen," he then said to those around him, "this may be something of extraordinary importance. Come with me, Carfora!"

He arose from his chair, and Ned silently followed him into another room. As soon as they were shut in here by themselves, he turned fiercely upon the young despatch-bearer and demanded:

"Have you said anything to those men? Have you told a living soul what you know about these tidings?"

"No, general, not one word to anybody," replied Ned, bravely, but there was a strange thrill at his heart, for he saw that he was in deadly peril.

Morales tore open the envelope, and found in it several official-looking papers which it did not take him long to read; but now Ned took out from an inner pocket three others which were much smaller. The general's face flushed fiery red, and his eyes were flashing with excitement while he swiftly examined them.

"Carfora," he exclaimed, "you are too young to have been sent on such an errand as this. General Bravo! Colonel Tassara! Senora Paez! General Zuroaga! Ah, Santa Maria! And our brave army was shattered at Angostura, after all. This is dreadful news! You shall die before I will allow you to spread it among my men!"

"I shall not do so," said Ned, with his heart in his throat "But may I not tell them that General Santa Anna has checked the invasion at the north? Ought I not to say that he is now marching down to defend the capital, and that he is going to strengthen your army at Vera Cruz? Why, general, that is just what he is going to do."

The general was silent for a moment, and appeared to be lost in thought.

"No, not now!" he then whispered between his set teeth, but Ned heard him. "If I shot him, it would make enemies of Zuroaga and the Tassaras and Senora Paez. Bravo would not care. Carfora," he added, aloud, "you may go. You may talk as you have said, but you must not leave the city, and, if you say one word about our being defeated at Buena Vista, I will have you shot. There are too many desertions already, and I can't afford to have my whole army stampeded by bad news."

There was, therefore, an imperative military reason for keeping secret the truth concerning Santa Anna's great victory, and Ned responded:

"General Morales, everybody will be asking me questions. I guess I know exactly what you wish me to tell. I was ordered to keep my mouth shut."

"See that you do!" growled the general. "Or a musket-ball will shut it for you. Go out now. If I want you, I shall be able to find you."

They walked out of the inner room together, and they found the main office crowded, as if many more had hurried in to hear the expected news.

"Gentlemen! Fellow citizens!" shouted the general, enthusiastically, as he waved his packet of despatches over his head. "This is glorious! Our illustrious commander-in-chief, after having given such a severe lesson to our barbarous invaders at the north, is marching with his entire force to our own assistance. He will soon crush our assailants on the seacoast as he has the gringo mob under Taylor!"

A storm of cheers responded, and the entire crowd seemed disposed to exchange hugs and handshakes, while he turned to an officer at a table.

"By the Way, major," he said, "write an order for quarters and rations for General Bravo's messenger, Carfora. I may need him again in a few days. Keep track of him. He is a civilian, but he is a trusted agent of certain parties whom you may know."

The major began to write something, and, as he did so, Ned believed that he heard him muttering words which sounded like: "Humph! Messenger of his Excellency, Santa Anna! We will take good care of him!"

Then the general carelessly signed the paper, which the major prepared for him, and Ned walked quietly out into the open air. Once there, however, he took a hasty look at his "order for rations," and discovered that with it he had now in his possession a full headquarters army pass, which permitted him to come and go anywhere, through the gates and all the lines, without hindrance from anybody. He was established as an accepted and even honored confidential despatch-bearer of the commander-in-chief of all the armies of Mexico. He was not now to get entirely away without difficulty, however, for the whole building had been full of men who were eager for all the news he could give them, and they had followed him. They seized upon him as if he had been the last edition of an evening newspaper, containing the reports of all the past and with, probably, the news for to-morrow morning also somewhere inside of him. He did not get away from them for some time, and when he did so, at last, he was sure of being recognized by a considerable number of patriotic Mexicans, if they ever should meet him again. That might make him safer, although he was no longer in any immediate danger. Moreover, although he was not in uniform, the cut and quality of his clothing informed every person he met that he belonged to the higher orders, while the machete at his side and the pistols in his belt appeared to indicate that he was in some way connected with the army.

"I know what I want to do next," he was thinking. "My pony and my satchel are at the headquarters stables. I can get them whenever I want them. I must go to the Tassara place. I can find it. Then I must manage to put them there, so that I won't have to show myself at the headquarters unless I'm sent for."

He had no difficulty in finding the Tassara homestead, and there was no observer anywhere near him when he stood in front of the dwelling which had been his first hospitable refuge in Mexico. It had now, of course, a lonely and shut-up look, and there was no getting in at the front door, for much knocking failed to bring a door-keeper. Giving that up, therefore, he made his way around to the rear, through the unoccupied stables.

"There is hay enough here for my pony," he remarked, "but I had half expected that the house would be turned into quarters for troops."

He may have overlooked the fact that the Tassaras were friends of General Morales, and that their house was under his protection. If it were supposed to be so, nevertheless, he had cause to forget it again when he came to the back door, for it stood wide open, with an appearance of having been unlocked with a hammer.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed. "I wonder if there is anybody in there now?"

The thought somehow made him draw his machete, and he went on into the house as if he were looking for a fight. The dining-room was entered first, and it was utterly empty. Not so much as a chair was left, although its owners had certainly not taken any furniture away with them in their hasty escape by night, with Ned and Zuroaga. It looked a little queer, to say the least, and, as he went on from room to room, he found precisely such a state of things everywhere else.

"I declare!" said Ned. "Either their friends or some robbers have cleaned this place of all there was in it that was worth stealing. Not so much as a bed left. I'll go and take a look at my old room. It was a cubby-hole of a place, but it would do first-rate for me now."

Perhaps it was so small and so out of the way that Ned had an agreeable surprise ready for him when he reached it, for there still hung his hammock, and nothing else in the room had been molested.

"Hurrah!" he shouted. "I've looked into every other room in the house, and this is the only one they didn't finish. I guess I'll camp here to-night, after I've been out to get something to eat."

It was true that he had orders for army rations, if he had known where to find them, but he was also able to purchase whatever he might need, and he preferred to do so. At the same time, he had a clear understanding that, if he expected to ever see the United States again, he had better not show a great deal of cash in the city of Vera Cruz just now.

"There are plenty of fellows here," he remarked, "who would cut my throat for a silver dollar, let alone a gold piece."

He sheathed his machete peaceably, and went out by the back door, determining to let as few people as possible suspect that the Tassara mansion contained a boarder,—or it was more nearly correct to say lodger. This was a wise decision to make, but he was not to hunt far for his supplies that evening. Hardly had he gone a hundred paces from the Tassara place before he was unceremoniously halted, and it was not by a lancer this time. Before him, blocking his way, stood a very fat and apparently much astonished woman.

"Madre de Dios!" she loudly exclaimed. "Senor Carfora! Santa Maria! Santa Catarina! San Jago! Diablos! Where did you come from?"

Ned had never before heard himself called by all those pet names, but he knew at a glance that this was no other than Anita, formerly the cook of Senora Tassara, and believed to be a devoted friend of the family.

"Anita!" he exclaimed. "I'll tell you!" and he proceeded to do so, to her great gratification, for she was as hungry for news as he was for his rations.

"You come to my house," she said, "and I will give you something fit to eat, and that is a good deal to say in Vera Cruz in these days. Santa Maria! How these ragged banditti do devour everything. We are to be devoured by the accursed gringos, too, and we must eat while we can."

Her idea, as a good cook, appeared to be that, if several thousands of people were about to be shut up and starved to death, they ought all to feed themselves as liberally as possible before the actual process of starvation should begin. Ned felt a strong sympathy with that notion, as he walked along with her, and he was ready to tell her anything but the perilous truth concerning the lost battle at the north. As to that, it was quite enough to assure her and half a dozen other patriotic Mexican women, who were at her humble home when he went in, that the great and successful General Santa Anna was hastening to rescue them from the American barbarians who were at this hour getting ashore with a great deal of difficulty through the surf, which was wetting every uniform among them. If anything at all resembling a "norther" had been blowing, the landing would necessarily have been postponed until it had blown over. Among other things, however, Ned told Anita of his visit to the house, and when the very good supper was ended, she led him to a room which must have contained at least a third of all the space under her roof. It was anything but hollow space now, for it was heaped to the ceiling with furniture, beds, bedding, and a miscellaneous collection of other household goods.

"There, Senor Carfora!" she said, exultingly. "The Puebla robbers did get some things, but we saved all these. They were not ready to carry off heavy stuff, and when they came again, with a cart, at night, it had all been cared for. The senora has not lost so much, after all."

"You are a faithful woman!" said Ned, admiringly. "I'm glad, too, that they could not steal the house, for I want to sleep there."

"It's the best place you can find," she told him. "But you had better always bar the door at night, and sleep with your machete and pistols where you can reach them."



CHAPTER XV.

UNDER FIRE

"Where am I?" exclaimed Ned, as his eyes came lazily open the next morning, and in a moment more they were open very widely.

He knew the room he was in, and his thoughts came swiftly back to him. There hung his sheathed machete at the head of the hammock, and his pistols lay at his side. There was as yet only just enough light to see them by, but he sprang out and began to get ready for his first day in a besieged city. His satchel and pony, he remarked, would be safe enough at headquarters, and he could go after them whenever he might need them.

"I'll go to Anita's for breakfast," he added. "I can pay her for it, too. Then I want to see the American fleet, if I can. Oh, but am I not glad that General Zuroaga gave me that old telescope? I've seen lots of mountains with it, and now I'll make it show me the ships and the army. Oh, my soul and body! I'm part of the garrison of Vera Cruz."

That was stretching the facts of the case a little, but he certainly was serving under the wrong flag that morning. He felt queer and lonely in that empty, robber-haunted house, and he was glad to get out of it without being seen. Anita welcomed him enthusiastically, for he had brought to her and her neighbors the good news of the coming of Santa Anna's victorious army, and he was a young Mexican patriot for whom she was glad to cook a good breakfast for a fair price. After that was eaten, however, Ned's perplexities began, for the first Mexican officer whom he met, on leaving Anita's house, curtly demanded a look at his papers. He was altogether too well dressed a fellow to be allowed to pass by unnoticed. With almost a fainting heart, Ned produced the pass given him by the major at headquarters, but the next moment the brave soldier's arms were around him, and he was hugged as a true comrade who had ridden hard and far to bring good tidings.

"I will show you the gates myself!" exclaimed the lieutenant, for such he was. "I shall be in command of a patrol that is going out toward Sacrificios for a look at the gringos. Come on with me."

This was precisely what Ned was wishing for, and, as they hurried along, he was pumped for all the news he had and a good deal more. In fact, he found it a task of some difficulty to obey the stern commands of General Morales and still keep within the truth.

A gate was reached and passed, the officer at the gate receiving a kind of pay in news, and then Ned drew a long breath, for he suddenly remembered that he had left the city, contrary to orders.

"Never mind," he said to himself, "I'm inside the Mexican army lines."

In a moment more, he had forgotten everything but his spy-glass, a pretty good one, for he and the squad of patrollers were at the summit of a low sand-hill, and there before them, only two miles away, the boats of the ships of war and the transport ships were coming and going through the surf with loads of American soldiers. With them, and on all the vessels in the offing, Ned saw something which had never before seemed to shine so splendidly, and it brought the hot blood fiercely from his heart to his cheeks, because he could not just then break out into a hurrah for the Stars and Stripes. The hurrah did get up into his throat, but there it had to stop, and it almost choked him. His prudence got the better of it, somehow, and his next thought was:

"Oh, but won't they have a tough time getting their cannon ashore!"

He was not so far wrong, for that was a problem which was troubling General Scott and his engineers, but there was one thing more which Ned did not so much as dream of. In one of those boats a tall man, who was not in uniform, was leaning forward and gazing earnestly at the shore.

"Mexico!" he muttered. "Ned is in there somewhere. I must have a hunt for him as soon as I can. I wonder if I did right to ever let him go. Even after we take Vera Cruz, there will be a long campaign and any amount of hard fighting. O Ned, my son, where are you?"

Ned was there, indeed, very near and yet very far, and he was wondering, as were many American officers and soldiers, why the Mexicans did not cannonade the invading army while it was coming ashore. They might have done so effectively, and in a day or two they did put a few guns in position to send an occasional shot, but all the harm they did was to kill one man.

The patrol party had now performed its duty, and it marched back again, but in that morning adventure Ned had discovered that he was really free to come and go. Perhaps the Mexican commander had forgotten him in the pressure of his other affairs. Even when Ned went to the headquarters for his pony and baggage, he was treated by everybody as a young fellow of no importance whatever, and at dinnertime he was able to tell Anita all about the terrible ships and the swarms of invading gringos on the shore.

That night the lonely room in the Tassara house was almost too lonely. Ned lay awake in his hammock through long hours, and was glad that he had two armies to think of, so that he might keep from listening for possible footsteps outside of his little chamber, or for an attempt by some marauder to force open his door. He had barred that, and he had fastened his window firmly, but he could not feel entirely secure, and he got up twice to go to the door and listen.

Day after day went by from that time in very much the same manner, and Ned believed that he was learning a great deal about war, whether or not it would ever do him any good in business affairs after the war had come to an end. The entire American army, guns and all, reached the shore in safety, and all the while Santa Anna and his army were reported as coming, coming, but they did not come, and the hearts of the besieged garrison and the terror-stricken people began to die within them.

"They will be too late now," thought Ned, but he did not dare to say as much to any of his Mexican friends.

From time to time he had been out to ply his telescope upon the fleet and upon the army. He knew that all the American camps had been established beyond the reach of any guns in the city fortifications, and he had watched with intense interest the slow, sure processes of a regular siege, conducted by a rarely capable general. He had seen the erection of battery after battery, of which General Scott's artillerymen were as yet making hardly any apparent use. He did not quite understand that, in merely being there, more and more of them, those batteries were already capturing the city. They were sending so few shots at the walls, or even at the grim Castle of San Juan de Ulua, because the American general wished to take Vera Cruz without bloodshed, if he could, and he came very near to the accomplishment of his humane purpose. Undoubtedly, he would have succeeded in starving out the city, if he, too, had not received daily notice of the nearer approach of Santa Anna and all the forces which he could gather. Nobody but that general himself and his confidential officers knew how really few they were, or how unfit to assail the Americans in their fortified camps on the shore of the sea. So, a final day came when the surrender of Vera Cruz was formally demanded, under the awful penalty of a general bombardment by the American fleet and army in case of a refusal. Resistance, it was declared, was now hopeless, and there was no military necessity for killing anybody. General Morales sent back a positive rejection, for he still entertained a faint hope of the timely arrival of assistance, and he did not inform General Scott how sadly he had failed in all his attempts to obtain supplies for the inhabitants and his army. Famine was already beginning to threaten all of the poorer classes who had neglected their opportunities to leave the city, or who had been unable to do so. As for Ned Crawford's provisions, he had continued to board with Anita, or with any mess of military men among whom he might happen to be. He had made many acquaintances, and he had found the ragged, unpaid, illiterate Mexican soldiers a genuinely hospitable lot of patriotic fellows. He came to his supper somewhat late on the evening of March 21st, and that night, after going to care for his pony, he came back and slept on a blanket on the floor of Anita's kitchen. On the morning of the 22d, he had but just walked out into the street when suddenly all the air around him seemed to be full of thunder. Roar followed roar, and peal followed peal, and then he heard affrighted shrieks in all directions. The bombardment had begun!

"O Madre de Dios!" moaned the voice of poor Anita behind him. "O Senor Carfora! We shall all be killed! What shall we do? Oh, the wicked gringos! What did they come here for? I never did them any harm."

That was a terrible war question which was troubling Ned himself. Whatever might have been the evil doings of either of the two governments, or of all the scheming, ambitious politicians, the helpless people of Mexico were in no manner to blame. Why, then, he asked himself, should any of them, like Anita, for instance, be killed by cannon-shot or torn in pieces by bursting shells? He could not settle the matter in his mind just then, but he said to her, encouragingly:

"Don't be so badly scared. Up here in this northern part of the town, we are as far away from the shooting as we could be. I'll go over to the southern side of the city and see what is going on. As soon as I find out, I'll come back and tell you."

"Oh, do!" she said, "but do not get killed. Come back and get some dinner. I will cook you a real good one, if you will."

That was something of a promise, for he knew that she was one of the prudent folk who had looked out for their supplies in time, but he walked away toward the southerly wall and the forts with a strong feeling that he must be in the middle of a kind of dreadful dream. He reached the line of antiquated and defective defences, which had been good enough long ago, but which were not constructed to resist modern artillery. Old as it might be, the wall was in the way of his intended sightseeing, but he saw a ladder leaning against the masonry, and up he went without asking permission of anybody. He was now standing upon the broad parapet, with his glass at his eye, and he was obtaining a first-rate view of the bombardment. On the land, stretching away to the west and south, were the long lines of the American batteries, within a not very long range of him, and from each of them at intervals the red sheets of fire burst forth, while over them the black clouds of powder smoke arose to be carried away by the brisk March wind that was blowing. Far away to his right, or seaward, all at anchor in the positions assigned them, lay the United States ships of war, of all kinds and sizes, and these, too, were getting at work, although they were as yet by no means putting forth their whole destructive power. It was as if they were but studying this siege business, getting the ranges correctly, and were preparing to do worse things than this in the days which were to come. Ned was gazing intently at a great 44-gun ship, which appeared to be sending her missiles at the castle, when a heavy shot from one of the batteries struck the wall within a few yards of him. It seemed to go deeply in, and the entire top of the parapet was torn away for a width of several feet. Ned hurried at once to get a good look down into the chasm, for it was the first time that he had seen anything of the kind.

"I wonder if our shot are doing this kind of thing for their batteries yonder," he said aloud, in the Spanish which was now habitual with him, but at that moment a not unfriendly hand was laid upon his shoulder, and a quiet, firm voice said to him:

"What are you doing here, Senor Carfora? You seem to have no fear."

"General Morales!" exclaimed Ned, in astonishment. "No, your Excellency. I was not thinking of that, but of this big hole. I was wondering if the walls of the castle are not stronger than these. If they are not—"

"They are much stronger, my brave fellow," interrupted the general. "I am going over now to see how they are standing it. The Americans are very accurate gunners. Now, sir, you must not expose yourself in this manner. You are not a soldier. Go back into the city!"

"General," said Ned, pointing in the direction of the cathedral, "do, please, look! Some of their shot go over the wall and strike away inside. I am safer here than I would be in yonder. What I am afraid of is that a great many of the women and children may be killed. I think, sir, that you ought not to be here, either. You are the general."

"My boy," said Morales, sadly, "I was thinking of the non-combatants myself. This firing of the Yankees at the city is hideous. But it is war, and it cannot be helped. Ah, me! Feeling as I do this morning, I would ask nothing better than that one of these accursed shot or shell should come for me. I would a hundred times rather die than be compelled to surrender Vera Cruz."

He again motioned Ned toward the ladder, and no disobedience was possible. He himself followed, for his solitary reconnoissance was ended, and he had been practically assured that his walls were of small value against heavy siege-guns. When he reached the ground, several subordinate officers came to join him, and Ned heard him say to them:

"That reckless young scamp, Carfora, has the nerves of an old soldier. He will make a good one by and by. We need more like him, for some of our artillerymen left their guns under the American fire."

There was never any lack of courage among men of his kind, a Spaniard descended from the old conquistadors, while some of the officers around him were Indians fit to have led their tribes for Montezuma against the men of Hernando Cortes.

As Ned walked homeward, he halted several times to tell some of his army acquaintances what he had seen from the wall, and how he had talked about it with General Morales. No doubt they esteemed him more highly than ever for his patriotism and high social standing, but he spoke also of the danger to the people, and they were sure that his heart was with them. Truth to tell, so it was, for the bombardment shortly became to him more horrible than ever. Something he could not see passed over his head, with a hiss that was almost like a human screech. Then followed a loud explosion, and there before him, on the bloody pavement, he saw the mangled corpses of a Mexican mother and two small children, who had been killed while they were hurrying away to a place of safety.

"Oh, the poor things!" sobbed Ned, as he burst out into tears. "What had they to do with the war!"

He could not bear to take a second look at them, and he hurried on, but when he reached the house he did not say anything about them to Anita. He told her about the batteries and the ships, and about the brave general on the parapet, and then she and her friends who were with her went away back into the kitchen, to be as safe as possible from flying shot and shell. It was not, they appeared to think, at all likely that any wicked gringo gunner would take aim at that kitchen.

As for Ned, he had only come in to go out again, for keeping indoors, with all that cannonading going on, was altogether out of the question.



CHAPTER XVI.

GENERAL SCOTT AND HIS ARMY

"There they come! They are going to march right in! But what I want, most of all, is to see the general himself. There he is!"

Telescope in hand, Ned Crawford was standing on the parapet, near one of the southerly gates of Vera Cruz, watching the triumphant entrance of the American army. He could hardly have told whether he was more glad to see them come, or because the siege and the bombardment were over. He was already familiar with the various troops of Mexico, and he knew that some of them, but not many, could perform their military evolutions in pretty good style. The one thing which struck him most forcibly now, however, as his glass was aimed here and there over the approaching columns and lines, was that at no point was there a flaw or a defect in the orderly movements of the American soldiers. With admirable drill and under perfect management, they swung forward across the broad level between their earthwork batteries and the badly shattered wall of the captured city. Compared with them, the garrison which had surrendered was, for the greater part, only a little better than an ill-provided, half-armed, undisciplined mob. Wealth, arms, civilization, scientific generalship, had all been on the side of the great republic of the North, and there had been no doubt, from the beginning, as to what the result must be. The one important seaport of Mexico, with all its foreign commerce, was now under the control of the United States, and could not be taken from them.

Ned saw one of the advancing lines melt beautifully into the shape of a long column, and file through the gate near him. Then followed a section of field artillery and a small detachment of cavalry. All these were to be admired, of course, but his eyes watched them only for a moment, for just behind the horsemen came an exceedingly brilliant cavalcade, in front of which rode the remarkable man whom Ned was most anxious to see.

Beyond a doubt, General Winfield Scott had many severe critics and not a few personal enemies. By these, he was said to be arrogant, blunt in manners, opinionated, and also a military martinet with terribly unvolunteer ideas relating to the rigid discipline required for success in war. He had seen, however, a deal of hard service in the war of 1812 and otherwise, and his military record was without a flaw. There were good judges, both in America and Europe, who believed and declared that for the management of a difficult campaign he had no superior among the generals then living. He was now actually called upon to prove that he could perform apparent impossibilities under very trying circumstances and with somewhat limited resources. Physically, he was a large, fine-looking man, and he was even excessively particular concerning the fit and elegance of his parade uniform. He was therefore looking his best when he rode in to take possession of Vera Cruz.

Ned went down a ladder as soon as he could, after breathlessly staring at the great commander, but he did not succeed in witnessing the formalities of the surrender, whatever they were. The crowds in his way were too much for him, but not long after General Scott and his staff disappeared through the portal of the building which had been the headquarters of poor General Morales, Ned worked his way through a throng of downcast Mexicans toward a young officer who appeared to be in command of about a half company of infantry. From the excitement of the moment and from a good many months of daily custom, he spoke to the lieutenant in Mexican Spanish, in a recklessly eager manner and without touching his hat.

"What on earth do you want?" was the curt and gruff reply. "I'm only Lieutenant Grant. You'll have to see somebody else, whatever it is. You had better go and speak to one of the staff."

If Ned had really been a young Mexican, speaking no tongue but his own, he might not have understood that perfectly. As it was, however, he at once broke out with energy into a language to which he had for some time been unaccustomed. Even now, nevertheless, he forgot to touch his hat.

"Well, Mr. Grant," he said, "I've been all over the country. I've been in the city of Mexico and among their troops, and I believe I know a lot of things that I ought to report to General Scott, or somebody."

It was a patriotic idea which had been growing in his mind all that morning, and it had driven out of him every ounce of bashfulness.

"You have, have you?" said Grant. "I declare. Seems to me you speak English pretty well for a greaser—almost like a born American. I guess the general's willing to hear almost anything. But you will have to see some member of the staff. Hullo! I say! Captain Lee! Here's a kind of spy. I think you'd better hear him. I can't leave my post."

"Spy?" exclaimed Ned. "No, I'm not any such thing, but my name is Edward Crawford, and I'm from New York. I got stuck in Mexico and I couldn't get out. I've been all around everywhere. Things are mixed—"

"Grant," said Captain Lee, "he may have something worth while. I'll take him in to see Schuyler Hamilton. Let the captain pump him."

Captain Robert E. Lee was not exactly off duty at that hour, for he and other engineer officers had been ordered to make a survey of the fortifications, but he was there to receive instructions and he could take Ned in with him. He was a taller, handsomer fellow than Grant, and he was all of three times as polite in his treatment of Ned. Perhaps, however, Grant's first manners had been damaged by being addressed in such a style, in Spanish, by an excited young Mexican.

In went Ned and Lee, and there was no difficulty in obtaining an interview with Captain Hamilton. Ned had never heard of him before, but he was now aware, from Captain Lee, that he was a descendant of General Philip Schuyler and General Alexander Hamilton of the Revolutionary War. Ned thought of Senora Tassara's great ancestors for a moment, and then he did not really care a cent for pedigree. He even startled Hamilton himself by the energy and rapidity with which he told what he knew of the condition of things throughout the country, the movements of Santa Anna, and the political plots and conspiracies. Hamilton was a slender, graceful young man, handsomer than even Lee, and with piercing black eyes.

"Lee," he said, "the cub is a genuine curiosity. I can't imagine how on earth he learned so much. He isn't a fool, by any means. General Scott will be at liberty in a few minutes, and Crawford must see him."

"All right," said Lee. "I have my instructions now, and I'll leave him with you. They say the old castle's badly knocked in pieces."

If, as Lee intimated, the fortress of San Juan de Ulua was just then in bad condition, so was Ned when he heard what they were going to do with him. He had supposed that his errand had been completely done to the sharp-eyed staff officer, but now they threatened to bring him before the general, whom he considered the most tremendous man on the earth. It was a little too much, but he drew a long breath and stood as straight as a ramrod, looking very red indeed. In three minutes more he was brought face to face with the commander-in-chief of the armies of the United States, and he felt as if he had been surrounded and compelled to surrender. Captain Hamilton reported the matter in the fewest words possible, but all the while the general had been watching Ned, looking right through him, and in a moment Ned found himself feeling perfectly easy. If General Scott had been his uncle, he could not have spoken to him in a kinder or more carelessly familiar way. He questioned him about all his experiences, and an acute listener might have gathered that he paid more attention to Ned's political information than to anything of a strictly military nature.

"Hamilton," he slowly remarked, at last, "General Taylor did an exceedingly good thing for us down here, after all. The battle of Buena Vista was our own battle. Santa Anna will not be able to raise another army like the one that was so roughly handled up there. If it had been here, in good shape, we would have had ten times as much trouble in taking Vera Cruz. Santa Anna's power is already half broken."

"Perhaps a little more," suggested Hamilton.

"Perhaps," said the general, "but our patriotic young friend here has made a valuable report. Ah, McClellan! You and Beauregard are to make the inspection of the castle with Captain Lee. Take Crawford back to Grant, as you go. He may serve with the Seventh as an unenlisted man. Let him have his orders, Hamilton. He is a brave fellow."

Out went Ned with a pair of as yet undistinguished officers, both of whom were to be heard of again in after time, and it did not occur to the very much elated "scout," as he now considered himself, to correct General Scott's apparent idea that Lieutenant Ulysses S. Grant was a particular friend and guardian of his.

"Now, if this isn't bully!" he thought. "I've been on the Mexican side all the while till now. I've been kind of part of the garrison of Vera Cruz, but I've been praised by General Scott, for all that. I wonder what our folks at home would say to it!"

It was a grand thing to think of, and Ned felt as proud as if he had been promoted for storming an enemy's entrenchments.

There was another experience of an entirely unexpected character just before him, however. Hardly had McClellan and Beauregard turned him over to Grant, and while the latter was inspecting the order written by Captain Hamilton, Ned was suddenly shaken from head to foot. Not that anybody, Mexican or American, was actually handling him roughly, but that a hoarse, eager voice at his right ear exclaimed:

"Edward! My son! Is this you? Are you a prisoner?"

"No, Mister," responded Grant, before Ned could gather his wits to utter a word. "He isn't a prisoner, but I'm ordered to stick him into the outside of the Seventh somewhere. Is he your son?"

"He is, lieutenant," said Mr. Crawford. "And, oh, how glad I am!"

"Father!" Ned had shouted, as a pair of strong arms went around him. "How did you happen to be here?"

"I came on one of our own supply-ships," said Mr. Crawford. "I'll tell you all about it by and by. I had all but given up hearing anything of you, and we sail for New York to-morrow. Lieutenant, I haven't seen him for more'n a year. I want a good long talk."

"Of course you do!" said Grant, heartily. "Take him along, and let him report at the camp of the Seventh to-morrow morning. You may go now, my young greaser, but you'd better get on another rig than that before you come."

"He will do that," said Mr. Crawford. "Come along, Ned. Let's go where we can be by ourselves. I want to hear your whole yarn, from beginning to end, and I've all sorts of things to tell you."

"Father," said Ned, "I know just the place. We'll go and get supper at old Anita's, and we can talk all the way. Hurrah! How's mother?"

All the most important home news followed quickly after that, and Ned felt that the capture of Vera Cruz was more important than ever.

"I am going to let you stay here, though," said his father. "You can learn more than in any other way that I know of."

"That's what I want," said Ned. "And now I shall be in our army."

The father and son were not walking very fast, but they could talk rapidly, and they had a great many things to say. They had some things to see, as well, for everywhere, as they went, they encountered detachments of United States soldiers patrolling the city, restoring order and setting things to rights. That they were doing so appeared to be a tremendous surprise to large numbers of the inhabitants, who had almost been expecting to be ruthlessly plundered, if not murdered outright, by these cruel barbarians from the awful republic of the North. Not all of them were panic-stricken in this way, however, for when the house of old Anita was reached, she was standing in the doorway, and she greeted them loudly with:

"O Senor Carfora! I knew all the while that you were a gringo. I am so glad that we have surrendered! Santa Maria Gloriosa! Praise all the saints! We shall have no more cannonading! We shall have plenty to eat!"

"That is just what we want, Anita," replied Ned. "This is my father. He has come to see me, and you must give him some dinner. Then I will tell you all about General Scott and the American soldiers."

She had neighbors with her, as usual, and some of them had become accustomed to regarding Ned as a kind of newsboy. They were now also prepared to thank a large number of religious personages that he was a genuine gringo, and on good terms with the conquering invaders, who were henceforth to have the control of affairs in Vera Cruz.