never-dying fire to the Aztec gods was kept alive on top by the priests. But Cortez destroyed the city and killed six thousand of the people. Now there was no city, and no fire, and on top of the pyramid a church had been erected.
This was such a historic place that the troops were marched out to it, a brigade at a time, for an excursion. The Fourth Infantry with the First Brigade of the First Division, under General Worth and Colonel Garland, made the trip, one clear day, when old Popocatepetl and Iztaccihuatl seemed to be within musket shot instead of seventy-five miles away. Beyond those two mountains lay the City of Mexico, the goal.
"We are the ones to get there," thought Jerry. The Regulars themselves were no discouraging sight—fifteen hundred well-trained soldiers marching at ease, bearing their veteran flags; the artillery officers brilliant in red trappings, the infantry marked by white, and the general staff gold-braided and gold-epauletted.
To be sure, whenever the troops started for anywhere spies in Puebla immediately galloped into the country to carry the news to Mexican lancers. But who feared the lancers?
General Scott came from behind. He and his staff swept along the column of platoons, and slackened to ride abreast half way.
The officers there had been discussing the scenery. Some gave the palm to glistening Popocatepetl, some to Iztaccihuatl, some to the red-roofed city, some to the fields of green, and some to the great pyramid surmounted by the church. But General Scott said,
