ll odds the best general the country possessed,
responded that the march proposed for Taylor was too long, too
difficult, and that it was likely to result in disaster. The shorter and
only practicable route, he asserted, was by way of the sea and Vera
Cruz. He was also known to be politically opposed to any war whatever.
Thereupon, a number of prominent men, who disagreed with him, set
themselves at work to have him removed or put aside, that a commander
might take his place who was not so absurdly under the influence of
military science, common sense, and of the troubles which might be
encountered in marching seven hundred miles or more through an enemy's
country. There were, it was said, eloquent politicians, who did not
know how to drill an "awkward squad," but who felt sure of their ability
to beat Old Scott in such an agreeable affair as a military picnic party
to the city of Mexico.

The young military scholars in the camp near Fort Brown were ignorant of
all this. They were satisfied with their present commander, as well they
might be, for he was a good one. They were satisfied with themselves,
and were enthusiastically ready to fight anything which should be put in
front of them. They were dreadfully dissatisfied with camp life,
however, and especially with the fact that they and all the other raw
troops of that army were forced to undergo a great deal of drill and
discipline in hot weather. Perhaps, if this had not been given them,
they would hardly have rendered so good an account of themselves in the
severe tests of soldiership which they underwent a few months later.

The first doubt that came to Ned Crawford that morning, as his eyes
opened and he began to get about half-awake, related to his hammock and
to how on earth he happened to be in it. Swift memories followed then of
the norther, the perilous pull ashore, the arrival at the Tassara place,
and the people he had met there. He recalled also something about
silver coffee-urns and Moorish warriors, but the next thing, he was out
upon the floor, and his head seemed to buzz like a beehive with
inquiries concerning his immediate future.

"Here I am," he said aloud. "I'm in Mexico; in Vera Cruz; at this house
with Senor Zuroaga; and I don't know yet what's become of the _Goshhawk_.
I don't really ever expect to see her again, but I hope that Captain
Kemp and the sailors didn't get themselves drowned. I must see about
that, first thing. Then I suppose I mu