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 nine miles to thim Halls o' Montezumy, an' plenty o' room for batteries acrost the way. If I don't miss my guiss there'll be troops an' guns a-hurryin' already, 'round by the city an' down to head us off. I hear tell that not two mile north is the first o' the trouble—a place called San Antonio, bristlin' wid guns; an' Cherrybusco beyant, lookin' the same. An' bogs, an' outworks, an' the city walls beyant that."

"Weel," quoth Private MacPheel, "may the bullets be distributed same as the pay, an' mony a braw fallow win through."