marched at intervals of twenty-four hours, beginning on that day, made an aggregate of 4733, of whom the rank and file numbered 1400 regulars and 3000 volunteers. The rule was to sound reveille at three o'clock and set out at dawn — the regiments of each column taking turns in leading it; and the engineer company, usually known as "the pick and shovel brigade," marched in advance of all to mend the road.[1]
There was need enough of its work. The meaning of "Tamaulipas" is high mountains; and while the blue of the Sierra Madre grew daily fainter, the principal range of the state rose constantly higher in front, until the summit was crossed, and the troops began to descend into the tropical region of the coast. Much of the route was boggy or rocky or steep; the drinking-water often came from stagnant pools; and for nearly three days the only chance to see human beings outside of one's own column was when, on surmounting a hilltop, the gleaming steel and white wagons of another brigade could be made out, one day's march away — perhaps only six or eight miles — on another eminence.[2]
But as the troops approached their destination they felt repaid for every hardship and effort. The road became deep sand, indeed, but near it spread a sunny and many-hued lake full of emerald islets, pirogues laden with odorous fruits, and myriads of noisy widgeon, teal and other water-fowl; while on the other hand the live-oak, the bay-tree, the rubber-tree, the banyan, the palm, the flag-leaved aloe, and many a nameless tree, bush and vine made a dense forest, illumined with brilliant orchids and more brilliant parrots and macaws, each of which seemed like a year of sunsets epitomized. A soft, salubrious breeze from the Gulf caressed their faces; and when, surmounting the last hill on the tenth day of their march, they saw the grand, leisurely Pánuco rolling luxuriously on through fields and forests, a wilderness of spars and masts filling the harbor of Tampico, and the American flag — dear emblem of country, home and kindred — waving proudly over white walls and green gardens, a tear of delight ran down many a tanned cheek.[3]
Stationed mostly at some distance above or below the town according to the usual policy of the American commanders, they now devoted themselves to drilling and counting the
