heavy batteries had opened again, deluging Chapultepec; so he may not have heard.
Captain McKenzie espied him.
"What's this? What are you doing here?"
"You'll need a drummer, sir."
"Who sent you in?"
"Nobody, sir."
"Then go back immediately. Fall out!"
Jerry stepped aside; the column hurried by. He heard another voice. It was that of Sergeant Mulligan.
"Sure," said the sergeant, with a wink, "we've no time to waste argufyin'. Wance in the trees, an' nobody'll see ye."
Captain McKenzie was before and busy; probably had forgotten all about the matter. The other officers also had eyes and ears mainly for the front. The Cadwalader regiments were close behind. In the scramble over the wall there was a mixup. Jerry stuck. Worming on again he made for the storming column once more.
Rifles and muskets were cracking ahead. The Voltigeurs, searching the trees, yelled and fired; the enemy replied. The storming column, outstripped in the race, pressed faster. Assuredly in this hubbub no one would bother about a drummer boy.
General Pillow on his horse pushed to the fore. The Mexican skirmishers and the infantry from the ditch could be glimpsed, scurrying out of the timber for shelter higher up. The howitzers were coming—they tore through, horses tugging, cannoneers shoving, and from above the Mexican guns were throwing grape and shell down the hill into the wood. The
