the English residents of the city for burying their dead. General Scott and his staff had come up. He and General Worth were sitting their horses at the head of the column and surveying the road, which from here stretched eastward five hundred yards through the suburbs to the San Cosme gate.
"You will press right on, general," Old Fuss and Feathers abruptly said. "Carry the gateway in the shortest time possible and penetrate as far as the Alameda, three squares from the grand plaza. General Cadwalader is on his way and will act as reserve while holding his brigade here in the Campo Santo. Siege guns have been ordered up for you."
That was all. General Scott galloped back toward Chapultepec. The Cadwalader Voltigeurs and the Eleventh and Fourteenth Infantry were double-quicking in, bringing the Reno howitzers. The Eleventh and Fourteenth proceeded to take position in the Campo Santo. The Voltigeurs were directed to support the howitzers and attack with the First Division. The dragoons had been ordered to guard Tacubaya headquarters, it was said.
Jerry felt hungry. The sun marked mid-afternoon already. There was very heavy gunfire in the southeast around the Belen gate. Clouds of smoke enveloped the gate. The Quitman column had stormed—officers with glasses were insisting that the gate had been forced and that the Mexicans were trying to drive the Quitman column out. But the First Division had its own work now.
"Colonel Garland!" Lieutenant and Aide-de-Camp Pemberton, from General Worth, was delivering orders. "By direction of the division com-
