apping was brought about by
an unexpected event. A party, consisting of some ten or fifteen men,
many of them officers, suddenly appeared, and marched boldly out of the
gorge.

As these struck the level ground we could hear the "_Alto_!" of Raoul;
but instead of halting, as their companions had done, several of them
drew their swords and pistols and rushed down the pass.

A volley from both sides stopped the retreat of some; others escaped
along the sides of the cliff; and a few--not over half a dozen--
succeeded in entering the gorge. It was, of course, beyond our power to
follow them; and I ordered the deployed line to close in around the
prisoners already taken, lest they should attempt to imitate their
braver comrades.

We had no fear of being assailed from the ravine. Those who had gone
down carried a panic along with them that would secure us from that
danger. At the same time we knew that the tyrant would now be alarmed
and escape.

Several of the Rangers--_souvenirs_ of Santa Fe and San Jacinto--
requested my permission to go upon his "trail" and pick him off.

This request, under the circumstances, I could not grant, and we set
about securing our prisoners. Gun-slings and waist-belts were soon
split into thongs, and with these our captives were tied two and two,
forming in all a battalion of a hundred and fifteen files--two hundred
and thirty men.

With these, arranged in such a manner as we could most conveniently
guard them, we marched triumphantly into the American camp.

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR.

A DUEL, WITH AN ODD ENDING.

After the battle of Cerro Gordo, our victorious troops pursued the enemy
on to Jalapa, where the army halted to bring up its wounded, and prepare
for an advance upon the capital of Mexico.

The Jalapenos did not receive us inhospitably--nor the Jalapenas either.
They expected, as a matter of course, that we would sack their
beautiful city. This we did not do, and their gratitude enabled our
officers to pass their time somewhat agreeably. The gay round that
always succeeds a battle--for dead comrades are soon forgotten amidst
congratulations and new titles--had no fascination for me.

The balls, the _tertulias_, the _dias de campo_, were alike insipid and
tiresome. _She_ was not there--and where? I knew not. I might never
see her again. All I knew was that they had gone up the country--
perhaps to Cordova or Orizava.

Clayley shared my feelings. The bright eyes