"Get your range by the map, captain," spoke General Worth to Captain Huger. "Then throw a few shell in the direction of the plaza and capital buildings. I don't particularly care where they land, as long as they notify the authorities that we are here and have the city at our mercy."
"Cut your fuses for sixteen hundred yards," Captain Huger ordered. "With shell, load!"
"Number One, ready! Fire!"
"Boom!" The twenty-four-pounder had spoken. "Crash!"
"Number Two, ready! Fire!"
"Boom-m!" And—Crash!"
That was the big mortar bomb. Darkness had gathered. The flames from the two guns redly illuminated the gateway littered with spoil—shone upon the bodies of the Mexican gunners who had fallen, rammers in hands; the explosions of the shells lighted the roofs and towers in the center of the city, almost a mile eastward. The distant cries of alarm echoed anew. Three shells were thrown from the twenty-four-pounder, five from the mortar.
"That will do," General Worth bade.
An aide from General Scott raced in.
"General Worth! The general commanding sends his compliments, and the information that General Quitman is in possession of the Belen gateway. You are directed to entrench yourself here before the San Cosme gate, and await further orders in preparation for a final assault in the morning, if necessary."
General Worth smiled.
"My compliments to General Scott. As you see,
