In the Pillow storming column Lieutenant Rogers, of the Fourth Infantry, was dying; so said Sergeant Mulligan; Lieutenant J. P. Smith, of the Fifth Infantry, was dead; Lieutenant Armistead, of the Sixth, who had placed the first ladder, was badly wounded.
But here was Hannibal.
"How'd you get on top?" he demanded.
"Guess I ran off."
"And you'll get a jolly good wigging for it You'll get the guard-house. No, maybe you won't—not after a victory. But wasn't that a fight?"
"I should rather say!"
"The old Eighth is cut up again. Lieutenant Selden was first on the castle, though. They don't think he'll die. Lieutenants Longstreet and Pickett and Merchant are wounded. Longstreet was carrying the regimental colors."
"Where's my brigade?"
"Down below. Worth had to keep somebody, didn't he? We aren't into the city yet. Hurray! There's Old Fuss and Feathers!"
General Scott had arrived. What a scene that was! The soldiers acted more crazed than ever; they thronged about his horse as they had thronged at Churubusco; they cheered and waved and cried. He tried to speak—he tried to grasp their hands—he was almost dragged from the saddle. His cheeks were wet, his eyes brimming.
"Fellow soldiers!" he shouted. "You have this day been baptized in blood and fire, and you have come out steel."
